An Inconvenient Match (9 page)

As Rachel bustled around the kitchen, setting out two glasses and filling them with milk, she rattled off one question after another. “What’s the inside of the Cummingses’ house like? How did Mr. Cummings treat you? I want to hear everything about your first day.”

“Maybe my last.” Speaking the words aloud surprised Abigail as much as they appeared to shock Rachel.

Eyes wide, Rachel plunked the glasses on the table, splashing milk. “Really? What happened?”

As familiar with Rachel’s kitchen as her own, Abigail laid out silverware and napkins. “I got lulled into joining forces with my adversary. I should’ve known nothing good would come from that alliance.”

Still as much as she longed to quit the job, she couldn’t lose the chance to help Lois and risk running up bills at the grocer. Feeding a houseful of boys took money.

Rachel’s brow furrowed. “Was Mr. Cummings cruel?”

“Not cruel. Short-tempered, but I managed to hold my own with him.”

“Then why would you want to quit?”

How could she explain? Gathering her thoughts, Abigail dropped into a chair and sipped from her glass. “After what they did to my father, seeing the rich life the Cummings enjoy—” Her voice broke and she took a steadying breath, fingering the chain around her neck. “The grandeur of that house compared to our apartment—an apartment we rent from
them
—stung like vinegar on a gash.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“We both know life isn’t fair. But seeing that house brought back Pa’s despair.” She swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened.

Rachel set in front of her a plate of chicken and dumplings, mashed potatoes oozing butter and fresh-shelled peas. The enticing aroma elicited a rumble from her stomach.

Rachel laid a gentle hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said, then crossed to her seat and offered a prayer, thanking God for the food and asking for wisdom for Abigail.

After the emotional ups and downs of her day, Abigail was surprised by the intensity of her hunger. “Everything’s delicious.”

“Papa still tells me how grateful he is that I took over the cooking.” Rachel snickered. “Remember how he used to burn everything? I had to learn to cook or starve.”

Abigail grimaced. “I can still see his fried chicken, burnt skin on the outside. Pink inside.”

“Many a night we filled up on bread and butter.” The humor in Rachel’s eyes dimmed. “I miss Mama.” She reached out and caressed the teapot with gentle fingers, as if the delicate china somehow connected her to Lily. The wistful expression on her face tore at Abigail.

She laid her hand on Rachel’s wrist. “I wish I’d known your mom.”

“She would’ve loved you. Been proud of who you are.”

“Not the way I’m feeling today.” Abigail sighed. “God is probably unhappy with me too. No matter how much I pray to live as Scripture teaches, I don’t succeed. Today I let my temper get away from me.”

“I understand. Visiting the Cummings house is like rubbing your nose in the mess they’ve made.” Elbows on the table, she plopped her chin on her hands. “Is being around Wade hard?”

If she admitted how hard, Rachel would believe she still cared about Wade. “Wade and I had an argument over Seth Collier’s future.” She went on to explain what had transpired, including Wade’s plans to open a cabinetmaker shop.

“I know you care about Seth, but…” Rachel’s brow knotted. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with him working for Wade.”

“He’s got one more year of school before he graduates. He’s talking about quitting.”

“Can’t he work for Wade while he’s finishing high school?”

“Perhaps, if he wanted to, but the more hours Seth works, the more money he’ll make.”

“You can’t blame him, can you?” Rachel said softly.

“I understand the pressure to make money, but a college education will give him far more potential for a good-paying job.” She sighed. “And if that’s not enough reason to oppose this plan—an apprenticeship means Seth will stay in New Harmony instead of getting out from under his father’s influence.”

“Does Wade understand your concerns?”

She harrumphed. “Nothing I said fazed him. He’s dangling an apprenticeship under Seth’s nose, not because it’s good for Seth, but because he needs trained craftsmen.” She slapped the table. “Well, if he’s determined to use that boy, Wade Cummings can find another lackey to deal with his cantankerous father—if he can.”

Abigail’s shoulders slumped. She’d told Wade she kept her commitments. But surely he wouldn’t expect her to remain on the job after this standoff.

“If you quit, how will you help Joe and Lois?”

“Something will turn up,” Abigail said with a confidence she didn’t feel. All previous attempts to find work had failed.

Her conscience twisted the food in her stomach into one huge lump. She pushed her plate away. She couldn’t leave Joe and Lois in the lurch when they needed her most.

But how could she keep the job? George Cummings stirred up childhood memories that stung like a swarm of vicious yellow jackets in August.

Worse, Wade’s voice, his touch and his scent reawakened memories of tender moments they’d once shared before he’d discarded her like an outdated textbook.

Now he intended to ruin Seth’s life.

Well, she wouldn’t let him hurt that motherless boy.

As she and Rachel cleaned up the kitchen, an idea took hold that held promise. “Perhaps appealing to Seth’s interest in Betty Jo Weaver might make him see that quitting school wouldn’t impress her.”

“Yeah, but having money to spend on her might.”

Abigail sighed. She hadn’t thought of that. Poor Seth.

She’d talk to the boy before Wade ensnared him in a venture with as much chance for success as Seth’s father, Rafe, had of separating himself from a jug of moonshine.

Rachel handed Abigail a glass to dry. “I’m not sure quitting the Cummingses’ job is the right thing to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Keeping an eye on the enemy might be a better strategy.”

At the prospect of spending endless days at the Cummingses’ house, Abigail’s throat tightened.

“Especially if that enemy is good-looking, rich and available,” Rachel added with a satisfied smirk.

“When will you stop trying to play matchmaker? You of all people should understand I can’t trust Wade.”

“You were kids. As a teacher you deal with the ups and downs of young love. See firsthand how flighty adolescents can be.” She smiled. “I know you, Abby. I can see things in your eyes you don’t want to admit, even to yourself.”

More memories flitted through Abigail’s mind. Of dark blue eyes locking with hers. Of strong calloused hands cradling hers. Of that one stolen kiss that branded her mind as much as her lips.

She sighed. Even five years since he’d hurt her, she remembered everything they’d shared. Wade had been an oasis in a parched season, bringing joy into her life.

Yet look where that had led. To a tear-soaked pillow, a shattered heart and a resolve to never get close to Wade Cummings—or any man—again.

Yet only one day on the job proved he still made her react. Still drew her like metal filings to a magnet. As if she had no will of her own.

“I know I should keep the job but—”

“Abby, you knew the feud and the breakup would be issues. So what’s changed? George Cummings isn’t responsible for the trouble over Seth and by working there you might help soften the crusty old codger. Something the entire town would appreciate.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, Abigail had seen a flicker of something vulnerable in Wade’s father. The same wounded expression she’d seen in her father’s eyes. Perhaps guilt for past actions destroyed Mr. Cummings’s peace. Whether it did or not—and she doubted it—the man suffered from burns and inflamed lungs, the price he’d paid for trying to save another—a heroic act. For that, he deserved a helping hand.

“He must not be all bad,” she said with reluctance. “His dog loves him.”

Eyes sparkling, Rachel giggled. “Reason enough to keep the job.”

The front door banged shut. Mr. Fisher appeared in the kitchen, looking tired but content. He took in their smiling faces. “From that giggling, I’d say you two enjoyed your evening.”

“Hi, Mr. Fisher.”

“How did things go, Papa?”

“Ten men showed up and worked till dark. The ladies kept the coffee flowing. Wade Cummings helped me nail lath. That young man can work. Keeping up with him tuckered me out.” He gave Rachel a one-armed hug. “I’m calling it a night, sweetie. Lock up when Abigail leaves.”

“I will. Night, Papa.”

With her father out of earshot, Rachel turned to Abigail. “See, Abby? Wade’s doing his share to help folks get back on their feet. Not everything a Cummings does is bad.”

Abigail shivered. She’d sat in judgment of others. God would not approve. “I suppose not.”

She’d come looking for Rachel’s support. Instead her friend had questioned the wisdom of quitting the Cummings job. Even praised Wade and commiserated with his father.

Not what she’d wanted to hear.

But as much as Abigail wished she had another option, as much as it went against her principles to work for a Cummings, she didn’t have an alternative.

Maybe Rachel was right. Staying near Wade’s workshop might be her best chance to influence Seth.

Rachel walked Abigail to the door. “I’ll sleep on the decision, but if I keep the job, it’s not because I have one iota of interest in Wade Cummings.”

“Whatever you say,” Rachel said, her tone laced with amusement as if she doubted Abigail’s claim. “Sleep tight.”

With Rachel’s implication churning through her mind, Abigail doubted she’d sleep a wink.

Wade trekked past the carriage house. The sun had risen with shades of pink streaking the eastern sky. Abby’s favorite color and the reason he’d bought her that ribbon. His sister had kept dance cards, dried petals and trinkets, every memento her husband had given her. Could Abby still have that scrap of satin? With all that stood between them that was unlikely.

Inside the stable, he inhaled the pungent odor of hay and manure, oddly comforting, and went about the task of feeding and watering the horses. His father—intolerant of the slightest mistake—had fired the groom for some lapse. Wade could’ve hired someone, but he enjoyed coming out here. Or would, if not for the quarrel with Abigail heavy on his mind.

As he filled Beauty’s and Rowdy’s feedboxes and water buckets, he admitted the worst part of this squabble—he needed her. To need a woman who looked down her nose at his dream chafed against his pride. Yet, even if Abigail couldn’t respect him or his work, how could she believe he’d harm Seth? Had the breakup destroyed everything she’d once seen and valued in him?

With the animals fed and watered, Wade plopped down on a bale of straw to clean tack, a job he’d put off too long.

Across the way, Beauty snuffled oats. Rowdy shoved his water bucket along the straw-strewn planks. A dove cooed from a perch in the rafters above him. All was tranquil. Except him.

If only an ointment existed that would soften him, keep him pliable like this leather, instead of hard and brittle. He wasn’t the man he wanted to be. But had no idea how to fix his world. Not with his father, not with the feud, not with Abby.

Finished with the task, he hung the bridle then checked his pocket watch. He had an hour before he had to prepare his dad’s breakfast. Time enough to add the last coat to the cherry buffet he’d promised Jim Johnson, a wedding gift for his daughter.

Odd that others appreciated his work, but his father and Abby scoffed at his passion. They’d both eat those words once his furniture was in demand all over the country. Then Abby would see that working with one’s hands could bring both financial security and contentment.

In the shop he inspected the work Seth had done. Pleased with the boy’s sanding, Wade grabbed a cloth, dampened it with solvent and cleaned the finish.

“Good morning.”

Wade jerked up his head and looked into the kind face of Pastor Ted, a brawny, blond giant of a man who appeared better suited to stand behind a plow than a pulpit, but God had called him to preach. Ted had overcome gambling, led Joe to repentance of the same compulsion and never gave up on anyone, including George Cummings.

“I figured I’d find you out here.” Ted leaned against the workbench. “How are things going?”

“Dad’s hands are healing with no sign of infection.” Wade grimaced. “His lungs are about the same.”

“How’s his heart? Don’t mean the organ pumping his blood.”

“Can’t say his injuries have improved his attitude. I suspect Abby Wilson could use your prayers more than Dad. She’s seeing to his needs while I’m at work.”

A smile spread across Ted’s face. “That may be God’s answer to healing the feud.”

Wade snorted. Even from an optimistic preacher, those words rang hollow. “The bad blood between the Wilsons and Cummingses is years in the making and merely the beginning of the trouble between Abby and me.”

“Mind my asking what the problem is with you two?”