Daughter of Joy (19 page)

In the void she’d purposely created, fresh questions, myriad scenarios, crowded into Conor’s mind. Did the problem lie with her first marriage? Had her husband been cruel to her or forced his lovemaking on her until she’d come to loathe the marriage bed, and anything remotely related to it? Or, was it something more simple and direct, like a continuing fear of him or, even, some quandary over her growing feelings for him?

A wild hope flared. Could it be? Could Abby actually fear her own desires?

The question took Conor aback. He’d known for awhile now that things were changing between them. But never had he imagined a woman like Abby would ever want him.

Relief, then joy filled him. Yet, at the same time, both emotions were tempered by the realization of his profound responsibility in the matter. What Abby might be offering was a precious gift, a fragile flower that could be savored or thoughtlessly, greedily crushed. It all depended on the handling—
his
handling—of her offering.

If he had been a godly man, perhaps he would have known the proper way to approach Abby. But he wasn’t God-filled. After all these years, he did not even know how to begin again.

More importantly, he wasn’t so sure—even for Abby’s sake—that he dared try.

He groaned in exasperation and shoved a hand through his hair. “Why in the blazes do you have to make this so hard? Though I’ll admit to wanting you, I don’t want you like ‘all the others.’ If I did, it’d be far easier on the both of us.”

She shot him a quizzical look. “You’re beginning to confuse me.”

“Well, confusion can sometimes be the first step to enlightenment.”

“I suppose so.” Abby frowned. “If it were just us, this would all be easier, Conor. In time, we could work out our problems like two adults. But it isn’t just us.”

His heart sank. “Beth.”

“Yes.” Abby nodded. “Beth. If we allowed … allowed
things
”—she bit her lip and blushed again—“to grow warmer between us, and it didn’t lead to marriage, well, one way or another, I couldn’t stay on.”

“So, after just one kiss, we’re now speaking of marriage, are we?”

Abby rolled her eyes. Was the man truly as thickskulled as he seemed to pretend to be? “I’m not saying I’d ever want to marry you, Conor MacKay. But if you haven’t surmised it by now, that’s the only course any relationship I’d have with a man could eventually take.”

“As a matter of fact, I had pretty much surmised that about you, Abby.” He took a deep swallow of his coffee. “But I’ll tell you true. Marriage is the farthest thing from my mind, too. I am willing to go slowly, though, and see where this leads. That’s more than I’ve been willing to do with anyone else for a long while now.”

“That’s very flattering.” Abby tried to soften her next words with a smile. “But I repeat. While we dance about, testing and toying with the idea of possibly becoming more deeply committed, where does that leave Beth?
We
know it might lead to naught. Will Beth?”

“No, Beth might not understand. And, despite all our efforts to the contrary, she might still get hurt. I don’t want that to happen. But there are no guarantees in anything in life.” Conor hesitated, then locked glances with hers. “I wouldn’t risk hurting my daughter again for just any woman, Abby. But I just might for you.”

A sudden light flared in his eyes. “There’s more to this than Beth, though, isn’t there? If I were a betting man, I’d bet you’re just using her to hide behind rather than face your true feelings and risk being hurt again.”

For a long while, Abby rolled her mug between her hands, studying the swirling, black depths of her coffee. How could she make him understand, she wondered, when she barely understood herself?

“Perhaps you’re right, Conor,” she murmured at last. “Maybe that’s why it’s best you leave this be. Leave it be, and permit us to go on as before.”

“And forget about the kiss we shared? Forget about the feelings growing between us?” He exhaled a weary breath. “Blast it, Abby. There you go, running like some spooked mustang.”

She looked up at him then, and the expression in her eyes was haunted, anguished. “With the Lord’s help, I do the best I can, Conor. I’ve come a long way in picking up the pieces of my life since Thomas’s and Joshua’s deaths, in seeing it through here at Culdee Creek as long as I have. Perhaps I still have got a long way to go, but I must do it at my own pace. My pace, Conor. Not yours, or anyone else’s.”

“I respect that wish, Abby. Truly I do.”

“Then why can’t you be satisfied with our just being friends? It’s all I can deal with right now.”

“Friends?” Conor gave a bitter laugh. “If I haven’t made it clear enough, let me do so now. I want to be more than friends.”

“But not enough to think of taking me to wife.”

“That’s hardly an appropriate subject at present, and you know it. Besides, marriage is more than
I
can deal with right now.”

“Then we’re at an impasse,” she said softly. “I will not allow us to become more than friends. I won’t come to your bed or permit our relationship to take us that far.”

At her bluntly spoken words, once again Conor felt his anger rise. Suddenly he felt cast adrift in a sea of bewildering, distasteful choices. Friendship, he sneered to himself. He wasn’t so sure he even knew how to be friends with a woman, especially one he desired more and more with each passing day.

Yet here she sat, defying him, as immovable and unyielding as the mountains of the Front Range, as gloriously upright in her convictions. Humbling as it was for him to admit, Conor knew his own back was up against a wall. Abby had left him few options.

He sighed, lowered his head, and massaged his throbbing temples. What was he getting himself into here? First, he had been forced to swallow his pride and apologize for the incident with Brody Gerard. Whether Abby realized it or not, uttering those words of contrition had nearly ripped his guts out. And now he had to be the one to give in, concede defeat. The woman had bested him again!

“Fine. Fine,” Conor gritted through clenched teeth. “Though I don’t hold out much hope that this friendship idea will work, perhaps it is the best of all evils.”

“It is, Conor. For us,
and
Beth.”

He all but crushed his mug of coffee between his hands. Summoning his last ounce of willpower, he gave a curt nod of assent. “And Beth, of course,” Conor conceded, knowing he had no other choice. Or at least, he amended that quickly, no other choice for now.

Abigail Stanton hadn’t won. No, not by a long shot. There were many, many more skirmishes to come—and he was a master strategist in a war she knew very little of.

13

Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it.

Song of Solomon 8:7

True to his word, Conor made no further mention of the Christmas Eve kiss. For all apparent purposes, he appeared to have accepted Abby’s request that they just be friends. December faded into a typically cold, bitter Colorado January, and Abby began to relax once more in his presence. She buried her own, still confused feelings, pretending, as well as she could, that their passionate encounter had never happened.

Things resumed their usual, comfortable routine. Life seemed safe. Abby began to hope that all could be as before.

One snowy day near the end of January, Ella asked Abby and Beth to go sledding on some hills just north of the ranch. Tired of being cooped up inside, Abby readily agreed. By mid morning, the group was bundled in warm coats, boots, hats, and mittens, and happily dragging sleds behind them as they trekked up the first hill.

“Thank you for inviting us, Ella,” Abby exclaimed as she trudged through the knee-deep snow. “I really needed this.”

“Yes,” her friend admitted, “it does get a bit close indoors after a while. Considering there’s at least another three months left of cold and frosty weather, we may just need to make this a regular excursion.”

Abby grinned. “Most definitely.”

Ella cocked her head. “Do you know how to ice skate? There are several ponds not far away that freeze over very well at this time of year.”

“Oh, yes. I love it. I’ve even been told I’m quite the graceful skater.”

“Then you’ll have to give me lessons.” Ella laughed. “Not with the actual act of skating—I can handle that reasonably well—but with being more graceful. Devlin tells me I look like a lumbering ox on the ice.”

“It’s funny, isn’t it, how a man manages to lose whatever small shred of tact he possesses, once he has taken you to wife.” Abby reached the top of the hill. Below them, Beth and little Devlin Jr. had already taken off and were sailing down, their delighted shrieks reaching all the way up to the two women. “My Thomas—the Lord rest his soul—could get quite condescending at times.”

“Oh, I think Devlin means his little jibes all in good fun. Or, at least, most of the time.” The red-haired woman’s smile faded. “He just can’t help himself sometimes. It’s been a hard year, since Mary was born. Though the episodes are few and far between nowadays, Devlin can still occasionally get into one of his black moods.”

Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Abby,” she wept, “I just don’t know what to do with him anymore. I love Devlin so, and he loves me, but the d-doctor warned us not t-to—”

The conversation had taken a startling and quite unexpected turn. It was evident that Ella needed to talk. Abby glanced around. Not ten feet away lay several fallen, rotting trees. She gestured to them.

“Why don’t we sit over there, and wait for Beth and Devlin Jr. to rejoin us?” Leaving her sled where it lay, Abby took Ella by the arm and gently guided her to the fallen logs.

By the time they had taken their seats, Ella had managed to regain her composure. She quickly swiped away her tears and forced a tremulous smile. “It’s really nothing, Abby,” she said in an apparent attempt to reassure her. “I just get a bit weepy from time to time. You know how it is, what with all the responsibility of a husband and family.”

“Yes, I remember it well.” Abby took Ella’s hand in hers. “But I get the feeling this is something more than the usual demands and concerns of family life. I don’t wish to pry, but”—she flashed another grin—“besides being a graceful skater, I’ve got a very sympathetic shoulder to cry on.”

Ella sighed and looked away. “Doc Childress told me if I got myself in a family way again, I risked dying in the birthing. I bled badly after Mary came. Doc almost couldn’t save me. He said it would probably only get worse with each succeeding confinement.”

“I’m sorry, Ella.” Sympathy filled Abby. “I know how much you love your children.”

“Yes, I do.” Ella turned back to Abby. “But if two were all the good Lord wished me to have, I could content myself with that. The problem isn’t so much with having more babies, but with Devlin, and our religious beliefs. Well,” she added sadly, “more with
my
religious beliefs, I guess, than Devlin’s. At the very best, he’s lukewarm in his devotion to God.”

Though the MacKays attended the Episcopal Church, Abby knew they were both Roman Catholics. She also knew that it must be difficult for Ella to share such a highly personal matter. In better society, such things just weren’t routinely discussed.

“I assume then,” she said, addressing the subject with the greatest delicacy, “that female preventatives are out of the question. Is there nothing else you can do to avoid another confinement, save not perform your wifely duties?”

Ella hung her head. “No. Or at least very little else with any real chance of success,” she replied in a choked voice. “I fear this will tear our marriage apart.”

Just then, Beth and Devlin Jr. topped the hill. Abby smiled and motioned for Beth to go on sledding. The girl hesitated, then turned to her little playmate, set him back on the sled, and climbed on behind him. With another shriek of delight, they set off down the hill.

“If Devlin truly loves you,” Abby then said, returning her attention to Ella, “he’ll understand. The conjugal act isn’t all that necessary anyway, save to procreate children.”

Ella’s head raised. Surprise lifted her brows. “When a man and a woman are truly in love, Abby, the conjugal act is a very important part of the marriage. Their physical union is a great gift of the Lord’s, and one that’s deeply valued and enjoyed. Wasn’t it that way with you and your Thomas?”

At her friend’s sharp scrutiny, Abby felt her cheeks grow warm. In the flicker of an eye, the conversation had taken an unexpected turn. Now she—and her marriage—had become the focus.

“It doesn’t matter how things were between Thomas and me. I only wished to offer you comfort, to help put things in their proper perspective.”

“And I deeply appreciate your efforts. Truly I do.” Ella patted Abby’s hand. “I won’t pry further into your personal life with your husband.” She inhaled another deep breath. “For us—and especially for Devlin—conjugal intimacy is very important. But now that Doc has said this, well, Devlin’s even accused me of loving God more than him!”

Ella gave an unsteady laugh. “When it comes to the importance of the Lord in my life, he just doesn’t understand.”

Abby thought of Conor. As difficult as it had been to refuse his offer of a deeper relationship, she had been right to do so. If such problems could arise in a marriage where both spouses were Christians, even if one was lukewarm, how potentially catastrophic might it be when one had completely turned his back on the Lord?

“You must pray unceasingly that Devlin comes to understand.” Just as unceasingly, she added silently, as she had begun to pray of late that Conor might return to the Lord. “Perhaps this is a time of testing. If so, both of you will come out of it even stronger Christians and spouses than you were before.”

“Devlin has called on the brothel outside Grand View, Abby. At least four or five times since September.”

Abby choked back a gasp of dismay. “Oh, Ella. I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry,” she finally managed to say.

“Devlin doesn’t know that I know, Abby.” She turned more fully to face her. “I think he’s stopped going there. We were fighting a lot in those days. He’d gotten so upset that he had started drinking sometimes in the evenings after I went to bed.” She sighed. “I suppose he imagined it would dull his needs …”

Abby couldn’t imagine continuing to live with Thomas if she had ever discovered he had been unfaithful. “How can you stand to be in the same room with him now? How can you even bear to look at him, Ella?”

“How?” Ella’s eyes filled with tears. “Because I love him, Abby. Love him, and forgive him.”

“But is he truly repentant? Can you be certain he isn’t still sneaking off to the brothel from time to time?”

“I think Devlin’s sorry for what he did. He appears to have accepted my decision to abstain from any further intimacies. We don’t fight anymore, he doesn’t drink and, once again, he’s the loving, attentive man I first married.”

“Then why do you think this might tear your marriage apart?” Abby asked, now puzzled. “If Devlin has come to terms with the problem, and you’ve forgiven him—?”

“He’s a healthy, virile man, Abby!” Ella blurted, her voice raw with her grief. “He’ll try his best for a while now. But it can’t last forever. He’s going to get even more frustrated. And to tell you the truth, I don’t know how much longer I can last, either. I miss lying close to him at night, being held in his arms. Forgive me if this sounds crude to you, but I miss the touch of his flesh on mine, his tender caresses. And I miss the exquisite union of our hearts and bodies.” She moaned piteously. “If only I’d never known!”

If only I’d never known …

Ella’s words echoed in Abby’s mind. She realized that what Ella missed she had never truly known. Never known, and never wished to know … until she’d met Conor MacKay.

He drew her in so many ways. Drew her with his darkly handsome countenance, his piercing eyes, his tall, strong body, and his magnetically powerful personality. Yet it was the secret, undiscovered depths of his heart that beckoned to Abby most forcefully of all.

Beneath that aloof and arrogant façade lay an intriguing human being. He was brave and principled in his own way. He was capable of great gentleness and love. He was fair and generous to those who were loyal to him. And he was beginning to show he was capable of seeing her for the woman she was, and even respecting her beliefs and needs.

True, it had been a battle at times to eke out Conor’s reluctant demonstrations of respect, and convince him of the need for compromise. But he listened and, even in his worst moments, he heard and understood her. He seemed—save for the continuing thread of bitterness that wound through his life, and his adamant refusal to follow the Lord—everything Abby could wish for in a husband.

Yet, she fiercely reminded herself, she hadn’t come to Culdee Creek to find another husband. She had come to find herself. Abby still feared that the two might be mutually incompatible. Indeed, after her early experiences with her father and Thomas, she had a great deal of reason to fear.

Far better to keep to the straight and narrow path she had chosen after her husband and son had died. Far better to look heavenward, and eschew the call of the flesh. In time, with holy discipline and self-sacrifice, she could surely mute this heart-tugging attraction she felt for Conor.

And if she couldn’t … well, in time her work here would be done.

“I see that I’ve upset you.”

Like a voice calling from the mist, Ella’s statement beckoned Abby back. She gave a start, then focused her vision on her friend. “No, you haven’t upset me, Ella,” Abby said. “Rather, you’ve given me much food for thought.”

“About Conor?”

She hesitated. “Yes, about Conor.”

“Why do you fight your attraction to him so? Surely by now you’ve come to understand him and see him for the good man he really is.”

Abby met Ella’s questioning, bewildered gaze. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“Falling in love rarely is a simple thing. There are always two people involved, and those two people bring their past and all their hopes and fears into the relationship.”

“That’s just the problem.” Abby sighed. “Neither Conor nor I are ready. He’s already told me marriage is the furthest thing from his mind. And, for my part, I’m not so certain I’ll ever again be willing to submit to the domination of a husband.”

“Conor’s but a wounded animal, circling the idea of ever committing his heart again.” Ella smiled. “And you might well change your view of marriage, if you find the right man. Though Conor’s strong-willed, I hardly think he’s of a mind to dominate a woman. He learned that the hard way, with Sally.”

She laughed. “Besides, if I’m not far off the mark, I don’t get the impression you’d let a man dominate you, either. You certainly haven’t let Conor push you around.”

“It’s different once you’re married. You know as well as I do the Bible teaches that wives should be subject to their husbands.”

“It also teaches that a husband should honor his wife and love her as he loves himself,” Ella countered quietly. “How can a man truly do those things if he treats his wife like some possession, or even like a child? To my mind, to honor someone is to treat them with the utmost respect.” Ella wet her lips then forged on. “He cares for you, you know?”

She looked away. “I don’t want to hear that, Ella.” Abby’s voice dropped to a tortured whisper. “I don’t want to know.”

“Your denial won’t change what is.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen!”

“Neither did Conor, I’m sure. But it has. And the question now is: What are you going to do about it?”

Abby shook her head, misery swamping her. “I don’t know. He kissed me on Christmas Eve. I’ve never been so frightened in my whole life as I was afterwards, when I realized what we’d done, and how easily it could’ve led to … to other things.”