A Cowboy's Touch (28 page)
“All right, Mom. I’ll write it.”
“You won’t regret it, honey. I’m sorry you’re going through this, but try to relax and believe in yourself. This is going to work out. We can accomplish a lot of good for everyone with this one column.”
Her feelings somewhat settled, Abigail hung up and changed into her church clothes. Her mom was right. She needed to have confidence in the process, in her skill as a writer. Everything would work out for her and Wade, and it would work out for Moose Creek. It had to.
A
bigail shifted on the hard pew and resettled her Bible in her lap. The choir loft behind the pastor blurred until she saw nothing but basic shapes and colors. Her mind wasn’t on Pastor Blevins or his message. It was on Wade.
She’d seen him briefly that morning after Aunt Lucy tooted her horn outside the house. As Abigail had hurried down the stairs, he’d appeared in the kitchen doorway looking all sleepy-eyed in his T-shirt, jeans, and bare feet. His hair stood up on end as if she’d already run her fingers through it.
He met her at the bottom of the stairs. The step put her eye-to-eye with him, and the look he gave her made her heart catch in her throat. He caught her chin and gave her a kiss she knew she’d carry all day long, pulling away all too quickly.
“Save the afternoon for me?” he asked.
She found her voice. “Uh-huh.”
He rewarded her with a sexy smile she would’ve emptied her wallet for, then she made her way out the door on shaky legs. The way he made her feel . . . she wondered if he had any idea . . . and if she made him feel the same way.
“ . . . Truth seekers.”
The pastor’s words pulled Abigail from her thoughts. Was he talking about her? She glanced around, relieved to find no eyes on her.
“That’s exactly what the disciples were,” the pastor said. “They left their families, their occupations, their homes in order to follow after this man called Jesus. They were truth seekers because Jesus is Truth and that’s who they sought. Jesus said, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life . . .’ What does that mean?”
The pastor continued, but Abigail was lost in his previous words. If Jesus was Truth—and she believed He was—and if Abigail was the Truthseeker, why hadn’t she been seeking Him? Instead of pursuing Him, she’d been pursuing her career. Chasing story after story as if finding the next truth would somehow scratch an itch that never went away.
The Truthseeker had forgotten what the Truth was. Who the Truth was. How blind she’d been! She knew Christ was the one Truth that mattered the most, but somehow she’d lost her way, had put that Truth on the back burner while she went in search of a lesser truth.
She remembered her words of wisdom to Wade the night before. How easy it was to identify someone else’s issues and overlook the obvious in her own life. All these years of being the Truthseeker, and she’d never put the two together. Well, she was putting it together now. From now on, she’d seek the real Truth first, just like her dad. That was being the ultimate Truthseeker.
A
bigail exited the house and shut the screen door softly behind her. There was an empty spot on the swing next to Wade, and she planned to claim it. The porch light made his skin glow, his dark hair glisten. She loved looking at him. Did it every chance she got. The past week she’d spent every waking moment thinking of him. Her days had never lasted so long.
Abigail smiled as she settled next to him. The swing creaked with the rhythmic motion. The night smelled like sagebrush and freshly mown grass. And Wade.
“Maddy asked about us,” Abigail said as she snuggled under his arm.
They’d been careful to save the displays of affection for when they were alone, even though she knew Wade had told his daughter they had affectionate feelings for each other.
“What’d you say?”
“That I like you very much.” She nudged him in the side.
“That so?”
She curled her arm around his waist and dropped her head on his shoulder. “And here I thought I’d been so obvious.”
Wade dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Abigail turned her face into his shirt and inhaled a lungful of his scent just to tease her senses. He smelled so good. He ran his hand down her bare arm, and gooseflesh pebbled her skin.
“What else she say?” Wade rubbed her arm, warming her.
“She asked if I had to leave . . .” The thought caught her in the gut.
His arm tightened. “When’s your flight?”
“The twentieth.”
Two weeks. It wasn’t enough, not even close. She didn’t want to go. But he hadn’t asked her to stay. Hadn’t even told her about Lizzie or his brush with fame. She tried not to let that cast a damper on this otherwise perfect evening.
“Can’t believe summer’s almost gone,” he said. “Sure went fast.”
“It’s been amazing. I came for Aunt Lucy and found you and Maddy instead.”
“You’ve been good for her. Just what she needed. Just what I needed. You were right before . . . Should’ve trusted God to work out my future instead of trying to fix it.”
“You’re trusting Him now. That’s what matters.” Abigail gave a contented sigh and snuggled into his side. She was proud of him for admitting he’d been wrong. They were both growing spiritually. They were good for each other.
She wished she could just enjoy his company tonight and forget the story. But she had to write it next week, and she was still missing crucial material. She swallowed hard and forced herself to ask, hating herself for doing it.
“You mentioned something before about Maddy’s mom—that she was never all that wrapped up in Maddy. What did you mean? I hope you don’t mind my asking.”
Wade was still for a moment. Then he kissed the top of her head. “Another time, okay? It’s been a long day, and I just want to enjoy the feel of you in my arms.”
Abigail tipped her head back, looked him in the eye. He’d been through so much with Lizzie. Could she blame him for wanting to forget? For wanting to enjoy a few moments of intimacy on this mild summer night? One of their last.
Abigail drew her fingers down the angular plane of his jaw. When Wade lowered his face, she met his lips, responded to his tender ministrations, wanting to help him forget all about Lizzie and his painful past. She was with him now. Whatever had happened, no matter how horrible, had somehow led to this point. Led them all to this point.
This was going to end happily, she could feel it. He deserved a happy ending. Maybe if she did as her mom suggested and told him in advance, he’d understand. She could tell him right now. Right here on the swing.
But he hadn’t even wanted to talk about Lizzie tonight, hadn’t wanted to spoil their evening. News like hers would definitely spoil the evening. She’d tell him later. Later would be soon enough.
Abigail deepened the kiss and felt a tremble pass through Wade.
He drew away, reluctance filling his eyes. “Woman, you’re killing me.”
His admission made her heady, made her want to press her luck. But he pulled her against him and tucked her head under his chin.
Abigail buried her face in his chest and nestled into the softness of his cotton shirt. Yes, there was going to be a happy ending for sure.
T
he article deadline was approaching, and as it did, Abigail’s anxiety rose. Despite her mom’s assurances that everything would work out, her blood pressure was out of control, and her daily headaches had returned. Sunday afternoon she knew she should be writing the story, but it was Wade’s only day off, and she couldn’t resist spending time with him and Maddy.
Because of her procrastination, she was forced to write all week at night after Maddy and Wade were in bed. She worked late into the night crafting the story, one she thought would both do justice to Wade and satisfy
Viewpoint
readers. Once the first draft was finished, she spent hours checking the facts and honing her words. She’d read the story so many times she nearly had the thing memorized.
She finally finished on Friday around three in the morning. It was her best writing. Abigail had poured her heart into it, and she thought it showed. She decided to let the story rest a day, give it a final read-through Sunday morning, and then send it to her mom.
The week had been long on work and short on sleep, and by Saturday night she was ready to drop into bed, exhausted.
“I’ve been keeping you up too late,” Wade said after she yawned. He set the swing in motion and pulled her into his arms.
“You’re worth it.” He
was
worth it. Worth sleep deprivation and so much more. She hoped he’d understand, once she explained, once he read the story. She’d decided to tell him Friday, the night before she left. But now, with his thigh pressed against hers and his heart thumping against her cheek, she didn’t want to think of it.
“How’s your headache?”
She loved the deep drawl of his voice. “Better.” She’d been living on Tylenol all week. But truth be told, it wasn’t working like it used to. Maybe she needed something stronger.
“You need to take care of yourself.” He ran his hand down the length of her hair, then toyed with the ends.
His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she nestled closer.
“Maybe Greta can watch Maddy next week so you can rest up before . . .”
Before you go home
. He didn’t want to say it. Neither of them did. Abigail didn’t even want to think about it.
“I’m fine. I want to spend the week with Maddy.” One week from tonight she’d be back in Chicago—would have told him everything. What would their relationship look like in a week? Would he ask her to stay?
Because she would, in a heartbeat.
Wade tightened his arms around Abigail and wondered if she could feel his heart hammering in her ear. All he could think about was her leaving in a week.
He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she’d stolen his heart. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving, the thought of going back to life the way it had been before she came. He’d been praying, just as she’d suggested, and somehow the more he prayed, the more his heart had opened. An answer to a prayer? He had to believe it was.
He’d made the decision the moment she’d settled in his arms tonight. It felt like she was coming home, and he knew he wanted that every night for the rest of his life. He thought she wanted it too, but there was much to be said, much to be decided. He had yet to profess his love or tell her about his time in the spotlight. He was ready to do so.
Abigail rubbed her temple, and he realized her head hurt more than she let on. He moved her hand and rubbed it for her. Poor darlin’. He wished there were more he could do. He’d tell Maddy to stay close to home next week. No running off on horseback or dragging Abigail all over the ranch. If she stayed, she’d have all the time in the world to rest. He’d see to it personally. Maybe he could just keep Maddy with him, a little father-daughter time. They’d both enjoy that, and Abigail would get her rest.
Ten minutes later Abigail’s body had relaxed against his, and her breaths had deepened. She barely stirred as he carried her to her room, removed her sandals, and tucked the covers around her.
T
he next day Abigail read and sent off the article, went to church and then over to Aunt Lucy’s for coffee. With the article out of her hands, a weight had lifted from her weary shoulders.
Now she only had the matter of Aunt Lucy’s health to resolve. She handed a mug of freshly brewed coffee to her aunt, moved the dolls that occupied the recliner, and took a seat catty-corner to the other woman.
“Aunt Lucy, there’s something I need to ask you about. You might think I’m prying, but Mom and I are concerned—”
“You can relax, dear. I already went to see Dr. Garvin.”
Abigail met her gaze. “You did? Why?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, I’m old, but I’m not oblivious. Your mother sent you to check on me, didn’t she?”
Abigail looked down at her ring. “Sort of. But she really did want me to take a break too. What did Dr. Garvin say?”
“He said I’m crazy as a loon. But that has nothing to do with age. I’m fit as a fiddle, so you and your mom can relax.”
