A Love All Her Own (7 page)

Mrs. Wellington patted her on the shoulder. “I just want you to feel at home in our town, dear. And I hope you will feel you can drop in on us anytime.”

“But—”

“And don’t you worry about formality. You are always welcome in our home. Always. If we are not here, you feel free to come in and stay as long as you’d like. In fact, I think you should just stay with us instead of at the Arlington, although it is a very nice hotel.”

“How sweet of you. But I can’t impose that way.”

“Abigail Connors.” Mrs. Wellington sounded so much like her mother that Abigail found herself fighting tears. “You are my dear friends’ daughter. That means you are family. You would not be imposing in any way, but I will try to understand your need to be on your own. Or at least accept it.”

She smiled, and Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle.

“But,” Mrs. Wellington continued, “I will be very hurt if you don’t visit often and keep in touch.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” Abigail answered honestly.

“Good. Now, how would you like to come with me to a meeting at church next week? We are trying to find ways to help those who come here to make use of the springs but can’t afford to stay in the hotels.”

Marcus had told her about the free bathhouses, but Abigail hadn’t really thought about those who might not be able to afford to stay indefinitely. And even if she had, at one time she would have put it to the back of her mind. She was a bit surprised to hear herself answer, “Yes, I’d be glad to go with you.”

“Good. It is at eleven o’clock on Wednesday. After the meeting, we’ll have a nice lunch.”

Abigail had never been very demonstrative, but she found herself hugging the older woman. “Thank you. Being around you makes me feel as if I have family here.”

Mrs. Wellington hugged her back. “That’s exactly the way we want you to feel. I wish your parents could come for a visit.”

Abigail grinned. “If I stay long enough, perhaps they will.”

“Then we shall strive to keep you here,” Mr. Wellington said.

Abigail looked over the older man’s shoulder at Marcus, and something about the look in his eyes made her heart turn over. When he smiled at her and showed his dimple, that same heart seemed to do a sort of flip and dive that left her feeling more than a little breathless.

The feeling didn’t leave her until long after she and Marcus had said good night from opposite sides of her door.

The next day at church, Abigail tried to ignore the way her pulse raced as she sat beside Marcus. She had to admit that she didn’t mind having him escort her wherever they went. It was obvious that he was well-thought-of and respected by those people she’d met when with him. And if anyone had heard of her broken engagement, she certainly didn’t think they’d bring it up, knowing she was a friend of the Wellington family. All in all, she was very pleased her father had hired Marcus, and knowing her father as she did, he probably took the family friendship into consideration when he did so. That way, people wouldn’t just naturally assume he’d been hired to protect her.

She stood up when the rest of the family did to sing a hymn and chastised herself for thinking about Marcus when she should be paying attention to the church service. . .and for all the times she’d let her mind wander back home when she was in church. She’d been attending all her life and could remember when she’d been baptized. But it suddenly hit her that somewhere along the way, she’d only been putting lip service to her Christianity. It was time for that to change.

Seven

Abigail’s mother had written to let her know that Nate and Meagan had set their wedding date for the third of September, and while she’d shed tears over it, Abigail also felt relief that she hadn’t destroyed their chance for happiness. Over the next few weeks, Abigail began to feel at home in Hot Springs. She’d been invited to several more dinners and had gone shopping a few times with Sally. But the time she’d enjoyed most was the hours she spent with Marcus and his family. She loved going to church with them and then spending the rest of the day at their home. Usually, others were invited for Sunday dinner, and she was beginning to feel comfortable around them as well. It was hard to believe she’d been in Hot Springs for more than a month and that it was now September.

The days were still warm, but the leaves were beginning to change on the hardwoods on the mountain across from her hotel. She still had no desire to return home, and she’d begun to think she might want to stay in Hot Springs permanently.

On the weekdays when Abigail went with Mrs. Wellington to her meeting at church, Mr. Wellington picked her up at the hotel, and then she somehow ended up going back to their home for the afternoon and evening. Marcus would
join them for dinner and take her back to the hotel. It
had become something she really looked forward to. . .more and more each week.

Over the last few weeks, she’d been studying her Bible in ways she couldn’t remember doing back home, and this Sunday, she listened closely to the sermon John Martin preached. His subject was based on Philippians 3:13, on what Paul had said about
“forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before.”

“Brethren, we must not dwell on our past mistakes but on what we are doing now and in the future. We must forgive ourselves as we have asked God to do and as He has done. We are His children, and each day, we must give ourselves over to doing God’s will and not our own.”

As he finished his sermon and they stood to sing the invitational hymn, Abigail felt as if the minister had spoken just to her and decided she wanted to think about this sermon and read her Bible more.

The final prayer was said, and she followed Marcus out into the aisle.

“Wasn’t that a wonderful lesson?” his mother asked from just behind Abigail. “I think one of the hardest things for us to do is to learn to forgive ourselves. John gave me much to think about.”

Abigail couldn’t imagine that Mrs. Wellington had that problem, for she couldn’t envision that the woman had ever sinned. Yet she knew that as humans, everyone did. Still, compared to all she’d done. . .yet. . .

“You look very nice today,” Marcus said, as he led her out to his buggy for the trip to his mother’s.

“Thank you.” Abigail could feel her cheeks heat up and wondered what it was about this man that could do that to her. She wasn’t one to blush, but for some reason, she felt like a young schoolgirl when Marcus complimented her. She wanted to tell him how handsome he looked in his black suit, and she’d never found it hard to compliment a man until now. In fact, she’d found it quite easy. Had that been because she hadn’t really meant it?

At the Wellington home, it felt quite natural to help Mrs. Wellington get Sunday dinner on the table. Like Abigail’s mother, Mrs. Wellington tried to let her housekeeper take off on Sundays. Abigail was just now realizing that it was something she should have been doing with her own housekeeper all along.

She sighed. One more thing to feel guilty about. Then she remembered the sermon she’d just heard and had hope that she could put all of that behind her. For the first time, she truly believed that perhaps she could be forgiven her past mistakes—if she could become a different person than the one she’d been these last few years. It was something she needed to think more on—and she would as soon as she got back to the hotel.

❧

Marcus watched Abigail from across his parents’ dining table. She was laughing at something his father had said, and she’d never looked prettier to him. He couldn’t put his finger on when it began to happen, but each time he was with Abigail, she seemed to be changing in small ways that were hard to discern. She seemed. . .somewhat softer—less brittle? It was as if that hard edge she’d seemed to have the day he met her was fading away, and she didn’t seem so much on guard. Much as he would like to think that it was because she felt safe and secure knowing he and his men were watching over her, he had a feeling there was much more to it than that. Besides, she still seemed a bit wary around him at times. And sometimes she still looked so vulnerable he wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that he’d never let anything happen to her.

As if I can control those kinds of things. All I can do is see that she is protected to the best of my ability, but if her heart is still broken, there is nothing I can do about that.

The thought took him back a bit. Her broken engagement was none of his business; he knew that. Neither was her broken heart. Yet he wished he could do something—anything—to mend it so that she might look at him as someone besides the man her father had hired to watch over her.

“Marcus?” His mother broke into his thoughts, and he found that everyone was watching him. It appeared he’d missed some of the conversation while he was woolgathering.

“Yes, Mother?”

She paused with her fingers on her temple. “Well, I was going to ask you something, but as long as it took to get your attention, it appears I’ve forgotten what it was.”

“I’m sorry, Mother.” He couldn’t help but chuckle along with her, though, when she laughed and shook her head.

“You looked as if you were miles away from here.”

Marcus shook his head. “No. My thoughts were right here.” On Abigail—where they seemed to stay these days.

❧

Once Abigail was back in her room at the hotel, her thoughts on the minister’s sermon fought to be heard. She barely tasted her tea for all the realizations that filled her mind. Before she could forgive herself for the past and go on, she had to make sure she’d asked God for His forgiveness.

And how far back did she need to go to know she had? The Lord knew she wasn’t to blame for Rose’s death. But she’d had that moment of hope that because of her sister’s death, Nate might learn to love her. Abigail could no longer deny that she had coveted her sister’s husband. A moan from deep inside escaped, and Abigail slid to her knees. “Oh, please, dear Lord, forgive me for wanting Nate for myself,” she whispered. “And please forgive me for being so envious of Rose for all those years.”

Abigail began to cry as she prayed. “Please. . .dear Lord. . .please forgive me. . .for drawing away from You.” She wiped at the tears streaming down her face. “I didn’t want to admit what You’ve known all along. I have been an awful person, Father. I tried to make Nate feel guilty so that he would marry me—and I almost succeeded. And now. . .I don’t know if I ever really loved him or if I just wanted what was Rose’s.”

Tears flowed freely as she continued. “And if I hadn’t been so hateful to Natalie that day, she wouldn’t have fallen down the stairs. Thank You for letting her be all right now.” Her sobs came from deep within her. “I’m so ashamed, Father. Please forgive me and help me to become the child You would have me be. I don’t want to be the same Abigail who left Eureka Springs ever again. I don’t want to be that selfish or self-absorbed. Please help me. And please, please let Natalie and Nate and everyone I’ve hurt forgive me. All of this, I ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Abigail stayed there, her head on the settee, until her tears were spent. She felt a peace settle inside her that she hadn’t felt in years, and she knew the Lord had forgiven her.

❧

Marcus looked through his mail, and his attention fell immediately on the envelope from Eureka Springs. It was thick, telling him that his agent had found out more about Abigail. For a moment, he wondered if he should have gone this route. After all, just because he could find out almost anything about anyone didn’t mean he always should, he supposed.

Abigail had become more than just the daughter of Jacob Connors to him. She was more than a family friend and certainly much more than his other clients. Marcus opened the envelope and pulled out the thick missive. He quickly scanned the pages and then read again, more slowly this time.

The Abigail Connors of Eureka Springs bore little semblance to the Abigail he’d come to know. He shook his head as he read. Apparently Abigail had, for the most part, lived a very selfish life in the last few years. She’d been mostly concerned with having a good time with her friends and convincing Nate Brooks to marry her. She’d nearly succeeded; but then her niece had an accident, and shortly afterward, her engagement was broken. Nate had recently wed another woman, a Meagan Snow.
Hmm, that still doesn’t tell me who broke the engagement.

Marcus got up from his desk and went to look out the window. From the sadness in Abigail’s eyes when he first met her and the fact that her fiancé had married another woman, he had a feeling that Abigail hadn’t wanted the engagement to end. But he had no real way of knowing. She’d changed some from when he first saw her, so it stood to reason that she wasn’t the same person she’d been at one time. At least he hadn’t seen any evidence of her being the kind of person this letter described her as being.

He picked it up and read it again. It seemed that before her sister died she hadn’t been quite so concerned with her social life. It appeared there’d been a time when she hadn’t been quite so self-absorbed. Perhaps the death of her sister. . .

He shook his head and dropped the letter on the desk. None of it really mattered. . .not now. The Abigail he’d come to care about didn’t seem anything like the one his agent was describing now or in the last letter. And he had no way of knowing what was truth and what wasn’t. All he could really go by was now. And be thankful that the Abigail he’d come to know was nothing like the old one. At least—he prayed not.

❧

Abigail felt like a new person. After confessing her sins to the Lord and asking for His forgiveness, she felt almost the same as she had the day she’d been baptized: brand-new and ready to begin a new life. She just had more of her own sins to try to forget and put into the past than she had back then. She knew the Lord had forgiven her. But she was finding it harder to forgive herself.

She’d written letters to both Nate and Meagan, asking for their forgiveness for trying to come between them when she knew they cared for each other. Abigail shivered just thinking back on all the ways she’d hurt them in her quest to get Nate to marry her. She couldn’t blame them if they never forgave her. The letter she wrote to Natalie was even harder. She loved the child so much and had loved her since the day she was born.

Dear Sweet Natalie,

How do I tell you how much I love you and how sorry
I am that I caused your fall by raising my voice and hurting your feelings? I understand why you ran out of the room that day, and I will blame myself forever for your fall. I pray that you have healed completely by now.

I do know that you think I caused your mama’s fall that day of the fire, and I can see how you might. But nothing could be further from the truth. I can only tell you that my intention was only to get her to not go back upstairs when I grabbed her arm. I know
it may be hard for you to believe that after the fall you had, but oh, my sweet, it is true. I only
wanted her to come with us to safety. The Lord knows
that is true.

I love you and miss you with all my heart, dear Natalie. I pray that someday you will forgive me for causing your fall and love me once more. I will always love you.

Love,

Aunt Abby

Abigail felt better once she’d handed the letters to the desk clerk the next morning, but she didn’t hold out a lot of hope that she’d be forgiven. She’d been so awful to everyone. And she was having a hard enough time forgiving herself—how could they do it?

She read Philippians 3:13 repeatedly each night, and she was trying to put her past behind her—but Satan always reminded her of her sins in one way or another.

Still, she was faithful to take her worries to the Lord, and she was happier than she’d been in years. She wondered if it showed when Marcus arrived to take her to the Wednesday ladies’ meeting at church. His father had a meeting, so Marcus picked her up and then they went to pick up his mother.

He kept glancing over at her until she finally asked, “What’s wrong? Do I have a smudge on my face?”

His dimple flashed in a grin, and he shook his head. “No. You just look very pretty today. Not that you don’t look nice all the time. You do. You just look. . .happy.”

So, he did notice. And he thought she looked pretty. She could feel the color steal up her cheeks at his compliment. “I am happy. Papa is pleased with the reports that I’ve sent him on the bathhouses, and I feel I can relax and enjoy my stay now. I really like going to these meetings with your mother.”

“She enjoys them, too. She says you are all making progress on finding ways to house those who need the help.”

Abigail nodded. “Well, I’m not doing much, but these ladies are very determined to help those who’ve been sent here for treatment by their doctors but can’t afford the bathhouses or the hotels. Several of the churches have members who have an extra room and have volunteered to take in boarders for free. Others are talking to the town leaders about what the town can do.”

“There is a need. No doubt about that. Perhaps they should talk to the park superintendent.”

Abigail nodded. “I think that would be a good idea, too. We can mention it to your mother.”

His mother was waiting for them when they got to his parents’ home, and once Marcus stopped the buggy, Abigail moved to get down so that Mrs. Wellington could sit on the front seat beside her son.