Raquel's Abel (22 page)

Abel had walked back to the car and was sitting in the passenger seat watching me. It must have been difficult to deliver such information.

I sat back down in the driver’s seat.

“I’m afraid I’ve turned our drive into a terribly melancholy affair.”

“No, not at all. I feel like I have the answer to a great mystery, even if it is bad news.”

“I prefer to console you, not bring you bad tidings.”

The image of my mother being so unhappy that she lied down in a bathtub and slit her wrists paraded through my mind. I winced from the pain.

“She was so melancholy,” Abel said. “She just couldn’t bring herself out of the depths of downheartness.” He reached his hand over and ran it down my arm.

I felt a tingle at his touch.

“I have always loved you since you were a little girl. Although you were always a beautiful baby, then a child, then a girl, and finally a woman, I loved your spirit. You were always able to see the good in someone or something. Now I feel my love is deepening.”

I moved my head toward him and tasted his lips. Then I realized. I pulled back. “Wait.”

His eyes opened wide.

“Abel, you’ve been flesh and blood for well over an hour now.”

His mouth dropped open. “Yes, I was having such a good time I hadn’t realized.”

“No. Don’t disappear on me.” I squeezed his hand.

“I have no intention of ever doing that

That afternoon, I was heavy with the knowledge my mother had taken her life. I’d always wondered what had actually happened the day my mother died so suddenly. Daddy had never been willing to talk about it and the feeling had nagged at me since then, as if I’d suspected something all along. At least I knew the truth now.

Should I tell Regina? My father had made her a victim. Maybe if she knew the truth, she’d know our father’s rejection of her was because of our mother, not because of her. On the other hand, Regina could interpret it in another way. She might decide she was responsible for our mother’s death.

About halfway home from Church Hill, Abel vanished. His disappearance didn’t bother me though. I knew he was able to keep his shape longer and that he was always close by.

Maria Elena had put the mail on the little table in the foyer. I sifted through the bills then focused in on the letter from the roofing company. I’d requested they give me an estimate on repairing the slate roof. Although not visible from the front, some of the rooms in the rear already had water damage. I slit the envelope and pulled out the letter. My eyes focused on the figure: $100,000 – and that was only to fix the problem areas, not replace the entire roof.

Where would I ever get that sum of money? And the roof wasn’t the only thing in need of repair. Would I have to get rid of the house I was born in?

Chapter Thirteen

A week later, I sat in my office trying to finish all of the necessary changes to the biography on Teddy Roosevelt, but all I could think about was how to get enough money to fix the roof. Realistically, even if $100,000 fell into my hands right now, that would only cover the roof. It wouldn’t include the landscaping. Many of the interior walls were brown with water leakage and some of that was because of faulty plumbing. Recently many of the bricks near the foundation had started coming loose. I needed a permanent solution. I stared at the computer screen again, trying to concentrate on how to write my conclusion summarizing Teddy Roosevelt’s life.

“Why you look as if you’ve swallowed a porcupine, bristles and all.”

A warmth ran up my spine. Whenever Abel was around, I felt a little better.

“What has gotten you so glum?”

I swiveled around to see Abel standing there in a pair of navy blue plaid pants and a bright yellow shirt.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing you can help me with.”

He took a breath that caused his chest to puff out. “Why would you assume I cannot assist you?”

I looked down at his bright white shoes.

“Come now, things can’t be all that bad?” He knelt down and caught my hands up in his. “Please,” he kissed my knuckles. “Tell me what is bothering my lady love.”

In spite of my melancholy, I felt my lips spread out into a smile. “You make me feel like I don’t have a care in the world.”

He stroked my fingers firmly. “I know that you are a capable woman, but it appears you have a concern that is overwhelming you.”

I blinked my eyes. Why should I tell him about my money problems since he wouldn’t be able to help me?

His jaw drew tight. “I insist you tell me what is on your mind.”

I pulled my hands back. “It’s money.”

His eyes grew dim and his usually upturned mouth turned somber. “Is there something you need?”

“No, it’s far worse than that.” I let my breath out leaving me feeling deflated. “It’s the house. I just can’t afford to maintain it any longer.”

He looked up at the walls where the plaster was starting to chip away. “Yes, this is a grand house full of wonderful memories, but it is such a waste to have all this for only a few people.”

“But parting with the home my great grandfather built…”

“Parting with it no, but it could be put to other uses.” His lips curled up at the ends again.

“Other uses? You mean like a very large bed and breakfast?”

“I mean, this old house was always meant to be an orphanage.”

“Orphanage?” I rolled the word across my tongue. “I’d never considered anything like that.”

“This place is so grand, you could house the children, a small clinic, and have plenty of room for you and your family.”

I imagined the house full of people again and I also thought about children coming to live here—forlorn children that had no other home. Turning this house into an orphanage was a real solution. Something my father and grandfather would have approved of.

I stood up. His eyes twinkled. He’d love to have all those children around. I hugged him.

He wrapped his arm around me. “I take it you like my idea.”

“Like it?” I pulled away and waved my hands in the air. “I love it. Children
should
be living here. The kitchen should be bustling with cooks and people should be eating in that big dining room every night.” I walked around my office. I pointed out the window. “We’ll expand the driveway for buses to come in and take the children to school in the morning and fix up the pool area and get a swimming instructor. Imagine.”

Abel’s cheeks were a bright pink as he beamed at me. “I’m proud my humble idea has made you so cheery.”

“Humble idea?” I laughed. “It’s a brilliant idea.”

Sheepishly, he crossed the room to where I stood. “I would like to be a part of your world, too.”

“Of course.” I brought my finger to my mouth. “Oh, I need to research this out. How can I make this happen? There are funds for things like this that come from the State. I just have to find out how to get it set up.” I sat back down at my desk and brought up a browser. I’d forgotten Abel was still in the room. “Please forgive me, but I need to make some phone calls.” I turned around, but he had vanished.

A week later, I felt like a peacock with its tail feathers caught in a meat grinder. The great idea of turning this house into an orphanage had been met with a wonderful reception. Unfortunately, social services assumed that because I could afford to donate the thirty-bedroom mansion, I could also afford to transform the structure into the orphanage. They practically laughed when I asked if the costs could be covered by public funds.

I pondered all of this as I got dressed for my next big dance competition. I pulled a new pair of sequined stretch leggings and let the bright red top fall over me. In order to keep my skin from hanging down to my knees, I wore two leotards under all my clothes. That was another thing I needed money for. I’d have to think about that later.

This evening, Owen and I were dancing against some couples that were rated very high in the world of ballroom dancing. I shivered as I put my dangly earrings on and tied my hair up in a high ponytail. As we got higher up in the competitions, the fact that Owen was a better dancer than I was really showed. He denied it, but the truth was that dancing wasn’t my goal in life. Writing was, and now maybe running an orphanage was another focus I’d like to pursue. Somehow, I had to convince Owen that he needed to find another partner. Someone who could devote more time and energy to dancing.

A few hours later we were dancing the Hustle, a fun disco step from the ’70s. I could tell we’d really wowed the judges by the way people were watching us with their mouths wide open. Owen wasn’t just a good dancer; he really knew how to arrange routines that could wow an audience. Next, we did a very sexy Brazilian Samba that had caused me to lose at least ten pounds while rehearsing it. Owen led me around in tiny circles as my hips swiveled. As an encore, we did a very slow waltz with grand majestic steps.

As we stood waiting for the judges to give us their scores, I watched Owen talking to a very petite dark-haired woman. I closed my eyes right before they read the numbers off. I prayed that I hadn’t held Owen back. If we didn’t qualify for the next round, it would be all my fault. How many times had I turned Owen down for rehearsals? How many times had he asked me for help choreographing routines and I’d been too busy?

I felt Owen grab me and spin me around. “We did it, girl!”