Smitten Book Club (15 page)

She handed him the contents. “Maybe I was just meant to be boring. Did you ever think of that? Born that way?”

“Maybe hang gliding is too much—your father said that. He thought we could start slowly. Fishing.”

“Fishing? That doesn’t sound much more adrenaline-inducing than reading. How about if you fish and I’ll bring a book along?”

“Mountain climbing?”

“Fishing would be great,” she said. “I assure you, I never missed out on anything. I can’t believe Daddy would suggest I jump from space like Felix Baumgartner to right that wrong. It’s not even a wrong. It’s just the way life is.”

“That might be true, but it doesn’t address his desire for you to get outside of the box. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t honor his last wishes?”

“I like my box, and it really doesn’t concern you.”

He grimaced. “Except that it does, because we in your father’s men’s group made him a promise. But all right, fishing it is. I’m picking you up on Saturday morning at ten. We’re going to have an adventure.”

“My mother—”

“Will be fine for one morning. Your father said so.”

“It took you a year. My mother isn’t as healthy as she was then. Why now?”

He didn’t dare tell her the truth. If she thought he was nuts for hang gliding, she would have found him certifiable if he told her that someday she’d be his wife.

It is a young man’s duty to make the initial overtures toward a closer relationship and romance. A young woman cannot be too reserved in this respect.

P
EARL
C
HAMBERS
,
The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship

CHAPTER SIX

A
fter coffee and the visit beyond the ski lodge with Wyatt, Abby’s day at the library was constantly busy. Story time brought in what seemed like every unruly toddler in the state of Vermont. She didn’t work in the children’s section, but it was an all-hands-on-deck kind of day when the nonreaders ruled the shelves. She closed up with Casey, carefully just exchanging pleasantries now that she knew her words might be parroted back to Wyatt. Not that she had anything to hide.

Rather than fumble with dinner, she stopped by Jake’s Restaurant and picked up takeout. Her mom loved the home-made soup and biscuits, while Abby opted for the ribs. She entered her house and put the plastic bag down on the dining hutch—an old library card catalog. When the steps got too difficult for her mother, the dining room table became her sewing room, and the card catalog was labeled with all of her supplies.

Her mother squealed at the sight of the bag. “Jake’s and
Dancing with the Stars
,” she said. “It doesn’t get any better. It’s late, so we’ll eat out here in the living room.”

Abby laughed. “You’re like a second grader on rainy-day lunch, when they get to watch a movie inside the classroom.”

Her mom offered a weary grin. “I know that when you pick up takeout from Jake’s, it usually means that it’s been a rough day for you. Tonight we can be a little lazy and watch TV while we eat.”

“Okay. Just let me put these in the kitchen.” Abby walked through the small combination living/dining room and entered the open kitchen. “What did you do today, Mom?” she called as she put the bag down.

“I’ve been sewing costumes for the church Christmas pageant. Today I did two sheep and an angel.”

Abby walked back toward the dining room to the old farmhouse table and surveyed her mom’s work. She felt the silky gossamer angel wings and noted the glistening sequins that outlined them. Two tiny sheep costumes, complete with velvet noses and felt eyes, lay beside them.

“I imagine a few of the kids I had at the library today might be wearing these at Christmas. I definitely can offer some advice on who
not
to put into the angel costume.”

“Oh, Abby! All of them are angels and you know it.”

She gave a guilty smile. “I do know it. Mom, these costumes are beautiful. I can’t believe you still have the patience to do this at your age. I wouldn’t have the patience now.”

“I had a good day today. I walked quite a bit without the walker and used the sewing machine all day without a crooked
stitch. When you don’t have your health every day, you have to make the best use of every good moment.”

Abby smiled. Her mother did indeed make the most of every moment. Greta Gray was active in mind and soul, but her constant bouts with dizziness made the days unpredictable. The inability to drive made her dependent on others, and Abby watched her mother struggle with the new reality with grace and hope.

“That’s wonderful.”

“And how was your day, Abby?”

“Story-time day.”

Her mother laughed. “You always have a few stories of your own on that day.”

“What did you eat today?” Abby asked.

“I warmed the leftover spaghetti from last night. It was wonderful.” Her mother was seated in a recliner and prepared to stand by latching onto an electric-blue walker.

“Stay there, Mom. I’ll bring the TV tray.”

“Oh, I hope those girls are wearing enough clothes tonight.”

Abby laughed. The two of them loved the show, but not the dancers’ costumes. Her mother always launched into a tirade on modesty.

“Your friend Heather came by this afternoon. She said she tried to see you at the library, but it was a mob house.”

“What did she want?”

“She made a pot of tea for us and talked about that book she left with you.
The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship
. Doesn’t that sound intriguing? And romantic?”

“Romantic?” Abby asked. “I’m not sure that’s the word I’d use. Do you remember that old lore about the gold mine on Curtis’s family homestead?”

Abby had become an expert on the buried treasure theme from years of people’s interest, but before the link to the book, there’d never been any proof that the story was real. Abby was still skeptical . . . but if the mystery could solve Molly’s troubles, or even ease them a bit, they had to try.

“Sure,” her mother answered. She flicked the television off, cutting short the newscaster’s recital of the seemingly endless troubles of the world.

“Heather and the girls think the answer might be in that old book. Maybe Pearl Chambers left clues as to the treasure’s whereabouts.”

“Well, that certainly sounds up your alley.”

Abby stood in the doorway between the rooms. “I have to admit I’m skeptical, but who would have thought the library sale would have been such a success?”

“God never lets a good deed go unpunished, does he?” Her mother grinned in that way she did—as if she knew some deep truth no one else was privy to.

“It would be great if it proved true. To take the burden off Molly financially would lift us all.”

“Heather thinks the answers might be coded in that book. I told her how when you were a small girl you could figure out any mystery. You thought you were Nancy Drew. Isn’t this exciting, to get a real mystery?”

“If I knew the treasure actually existed, yes.” She walked into the kitchen to grab cutlery for dinner. While her mother may use a TV tray, she wasn’t about to eat out of Styrofoam.

The woman had standards, and she’d taught Abby that anything done well was worth doing exceptionally. She always said people noticed details like that.

Abby set the TV tray with a chintz place mat and a linen napkin and carried it to her mother.

“You’re the one with the research skills, Abby. Heather said that all of Molly’s woes would be fixed if they could find that gold ore.”

Her mom’s face was alight at the possibility. Abby wished it were true, but an orchard of lost maple trees that grew upside down seemed more likely.

“I wish I had your enthusiasm, Mom, but if there were gold, wouldn’t it have been found by now?” Abby opened the china cabinet in the dining room, took out a big ceramic bowl, and poured Jake’s minestrone into it. She set it on a plate, tore off a piece of French bread, and served her mother. Walking back to the kitchen, she poured water from the electric kettle. She stirred some instant decaf coffee and sweetened it with real cream. She brought the coffee out and set it on the table alongside her mother’s chair.

“There could be gold. Where’s your imagination, Abby? This doesn’t sound like you.”

“I think I lost it with one too many readings of Dr. Seuss’s
The
Foot
Book
.”

“You need to do this. Heather said if anyone could find some kind of clue in the book, it would be you.”

Abby couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d wanted to. She’d do whatever she could to make life easier on Molly and her son. She took the book from the coffee table and studied it. The rugged edges were yellowed with age and the brown
leather cover was dark at the edges, but otherwise it seemed in remarkable shape for being so old. She ran her fingers over the title and opened up to the first hint for women from another era finding romance. “Who knows, maybe some of these old tricks work.” She raised her brows.

“I was looking at it this afternoon. I might have used a few of them to catch your father, but I’ll never admit to it.”

Abby read the first bit of advice aloud. “‘Prudence and virtue will certainly secure the right sort of husband material, but make sure that passion is present.’ ”

“What’s wrong with that?” her mother said. “It’s good advice. It doesn’t seem dated to me.”

“I’ve got the prudence and virtue; where’s the man?”

“One must be patient, I suppose.”

Abby sighed, closed the book, and went back to the kitchen. The only man in town interested in her wanted to hurl her off a cliff—okay, in fairness, he wanted her to get tugged into the air. Did that sound prudent or virtuous? She opened the foil container that held the barbecue ribs with broccoli on the side. Rather than grab a plate, she picked up a fork. She joined her mother in the living room and sat on the sofa, which was safely covered in plastic—as it always had been.

Her mother bowed her head and said a prayer over their takeout, and they began to eat.

“Mom, did Dad ever mention Wyatt Tanner to you?” Abby asked, as casually as she could.

“Not that I can remember. Why?”

“He says that they were in that Monday morning men’s group at church.”

“Maybe he was.” Her mom lifted her small shoulders. “It
was a bit like AA in some ways, I guess. The men prayed for each other and shared, but they kept their conversations to themselves.”

“AA? Mom! Dad never had a drink in his life.”

Her mother chuckled. “I’m only saying it was a private thing. He wanted to protect the men he prayed for and vice versa, so they felt safe.” She sipped her soup. “Otherwise, he told me everything.”

“Did he ever tell you that he wanted me to hang glide?”

Her mother dropped her soup spoon. “To do what?”

“Hang glide. It’s like hanging on a human-sized kite and floating through the air on the wind.”

“Is . . . that safe? Because it doesn’t sound safe.”

“Getting pulled off the ground by an airplane on a human-sized kite? I’m guessing it’s safe if it all works like it’s supposed to. Not so much if there’s a rogue wind or the like. That’s the problem with the idea.”

“I do know that your father felt that we gave you too sheltered of a life. We tried to take you camping once, but we were so old by then. I remember telling your father, ‘I just can’t sleep on the ground at my age.’ And he agreed. That was the last of our outdoor adventures. You might as well have been raised in the center of New York City for all the outdoor time you spent.”

“Mom, you gave me an incredible life. I wouldn’t want anybody else as my mother. I never wanted for anything, so this seems like a non-regret.”

“But—”

“But if Daddy wanted me to do it, I feel a responsibility toward him.”

“Daddy wouldn’t have forced you to do anything. I think it’s enough that you’ve even considered it.” Her mother smiled. “That Wyatt is a handsome boy . . . but I wonder that your father never mentioned him.”

“Well, if Daddy wanted me to do something so wild, he would have told me so himself, not sent a message through Wyatt. After all, Wyatt is the kind of guy Daddy warned me about.”

But if she were honest with herself, the idea of spending more time with Wyatt didn’t lack appeal. She just hoped for more days like the one at the coffee shop where they enjoyed the gift of gravity together.

“Doesn’t he help Molly out with her business? I’ll ask around at church and see what I can find out. Opposites attract,” Mom said.

“No, forget it. Don’t ask anyone. Wyatt was just saying he wanted to train me, starting this Saturday. You know, to be more adventurous, so that Daddy didn’t have to worry about me.”

“I see no harm in that. If you decide not to jump, you’ll at least know you’ve made the right choice. Without researching it, how would you know?”

Abby’s shoulders slumped. Her mother wasn’t going to give her the excuse she was looking for to stay cozied up in her safe little world. The truth was, she wanted to be forced out of the safety without the responsibility of the action. Which was hardly fair. After all, adventurers took responsibility for their choices.

As she gazed around the room, with the scraps of fabric strewn about, the antique furniture, and the piles of
medications, she realized that she did need a wake-up call. “Mom,” she said after clearing the dishes. “I’m going to make a phone call. Do you need anything before I go upstairs?”

“Will you come back for our show?”

“Of course.”

“You go right ahead, dear. We’ll watch the dancing when you’re finished.”

She climbed up the thin stairwell to her room, which contained wall-to-wall bookshelves that her father built her.

Abby needed her life to change. She’d avoided the truth of what she longed for so that she could be what everyone else needed her to be. But if she didn’t embrace at least a small part of Scarlett or Anne Elliot, she might cease to be Abby altogether. It was time to attach her own oxygen mask—to take care of herself first so she could better help those around her.