Long Road Home, The (19 page)

“I kept my promise, Ian.”

“It’s all your fault he’s dead. I wish you were dead, too.”

“No, that’s not true. I have to stay here and keep my promise.”

“It’s so hot in here.”

“No one will ever find me.”

“Oh, Ian, I’ve fallen in love with Paul.”

“How dare he call me Red. Oh, but I love his voice.”

“Corrine was so slim. He won’t want to touch me.”

For two days Abby tossed on her bed and cried out in feverish delirium. Mrs. Finlayson never left her side, bathing her fever as best she could. Paul was on hand and helped any way he could.

As Paul listened to her ranting, his mind returned again and again to the way she had cared for him: her tenderness, her professionalism, even her demands. When she had first come to him, she hadn’t even known him, but still gave of herself to see him up on his feet again. Shame engulfed him as he thought of the way he had treated her. He apologized to her even as she slept, hoping that somewhere in her mind she could hear and understand him.

Paul petitioned God constantly that she would open her eyes in recognition of her surroundings. He had something to tell her, and all he could do was pray that she would not reject him.

Abby’s sleep was deep at the moment, but her skin was finally cool and had been for several hours. Mrs. Finlayson was taking a nap. Paul sat at the kitchen table trying to stay awake long enough to eat his eggs.

So much had happened in such a short time. But even as emotional and physical exhaustion were crowding in on him, his mind went back to when he arrived in town.

Paul had taken a room at the hotel, sure that Abby was somewhere in Bruce Mines. He had gotten directions to the farm and talked with Mrs. Finlayson after settling in, explaining who he was and about the last time he’d seen Abby. He closed his eyes in a prayer of thanksgiving that he had decided to visit Mrs. Finlayson the very morning Ian came home. Paul had never actually seen the man—by the time they had arrived back at the house with Abby, he was gone—but she was safe, and for now that was all that mattered.

Paul moved to the door a minute later when someone knocked. He stepped quickly aside for the woman on the stoop to enter. It was Abby’s mother—he would have known her anywhere.

He saw instantly where Abby got her small frame and full figure and, even though her hair was brown, the eyes regarding him with open curiosity were just as gray as another pair he loved so well.

“I’m Paul Cameron. You must be Abby’s mother.”

“Yes, I am. She is here, isn’t she?”

“Upstairs.”

He watched her eyes move anxiously to the doorway leading to the stairs.

“She’s sleeping right now, but she’s going to be fine.”

“I think,” she said slowly, taking deep breaths to steady her voice, “I want you to tell me all you can before I see her. You are the Paul Cameron who was in her care?”

Paul assured her of that fact and, after they were seated, he began his story. She was so like Abby in her expressions, and every one of them showed on her face. He could see he had exhausted her by the end of the story, and her eyes were filled with tears upon hearing her daughter had been locked in a shed and then so ill.

“And you’re here because you care for Abigail?”

Paul regarded her in silence and then admitted quietly, “I’m in love with her.”

The news didn’t seem to surprise Abby’s mother at all, and she asked simply, “Does Abby know?”

“Yes, she knows. But I’m not sure she believes me.” At the confused look that came over Mrs. Pearson’s face, Paul went on. “You see, when we first met, I wasn’t at all kind to her and, well, she’s having a hard time accepting that I could be in love with her and find her attractive.”

Abby’s mother nodded with understanding. “Does she return your love?”

Paul smiled, “Yes, but she doesn’t know it.”

Mrs. Pearson had no chance to question this cryptic statement because Mrs. Finlayson came into the room then. The women hugged and more tears were shed. Paul stayed quiet and let them have their time.

“Has Pastor Cameron filled you in?”

“Pastor Cameron? None of Abby’s letters said you were a pastor.”

“I’m afraid Abby wasn’t aware of that fact until some time after we’d met.” There was pain evident in both Paul’s voice and expression, and both women understood without question.

“I think,” Elizabeth Pearson spoke as she stood, “that’s it’s time I see Abby.”

This time the hands touching her face were cool, and they felt wonderful.

“Are you going to wake up and talk to me?”

“Mother!” Abby’s eyes flew open in disbelief at the sound of that voice. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“And I’m glad you still are. They tell me you’ve been seriously ill.”

“I don’t remember very much.”

The older woman laughed. “Well, at least we’re making progress—you didn’t deny being sick.”

Abby’s smile was small. “I want to wash my hair. It feels terrible.”

“Oh, please don’t do that to me, Abigail! If your father were here, he’d have a fit that you even suggested such a thing. And then he’d turn to me and blame me for your stubborn personality.”

“Yes, Elizabeth.” Abby was able to perfectly imitate her father’s tone when he was being patronizing, and Abby’s mother couldn’t hold her laughter.

“Oh Ab, we’ve missed you so much. And I’m so sorry about Ian.” Elizabeth Pearson leaned over to hold her daughter.

Almost two hours later Abby was once again sleeping, but she felt clean inside and out. She had cried herself dry and then taken a bath and washed her hair. When she finally crawled back into bed, her sheets were fresh and she was slumbering within seconds of her head hitting the pillow.

Downstairs, Paul was telling Abby’s mother what he thought of her being out of bed.

“Don’t you think her hair could have waited?”

“‘Waited for what?’ she would have said to me.”

“Well, you could have told her it’s too soon to be out of bed—you’re her mother.”

Liz Pearson’s answer to that was a very unladylike snort. “Really, Pastor Cameron! All those weeks with Abby and you
think my being her mother would have the slightest influence on her when she’s made up her mind?”

Mrs. Pearson chuckled as though thinking of a private joke, but when she spoke her voice was very tender.

“I don’t know if you and Abby are supposed to have a life together. But I can tell you what her father has said about her from the time she was small: ‘Living with Abby may be a lot of things, but boring isn’t one of them.’ ”

The day was drawing to a close, and Paul sat with the Misses Finlayson and Pearson at the kitchen table. He was headed to see Abby, but for some reason he hesitated.

“So you talked to Ian?” Paul heard Liz ask.

“Yes, at the jail.”

“It must be awful for you.”

“I knew he was upset, but I never had a hint in all his crazy behavior and then disappearing as to what he was up to. I somehow thought with Abby out of the area he would just try to get over Ian’s death like I was. I would never have dreamed he was capable of such a thing.”

The table was silent for a moment, and then Mrs. Finlayson spoke to Paul. “I expect you’ll want to press charges, Paul, and I don’t blame you one bit. Abby’s testimony could probably keep him locked up for a long time.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but you know Abby well and I think you’ll agree with me that she probably wants no such thing. I’m sure she just wants to be left alone.”

“I think she will be, even if he’s let out of jail. I told him I was ashamed of the way he acted, and he cried like a baby.” A tear rolled down the grieving woman’s face as she went on. “I think he scared himself—he must have. He told me to tell Abby he was sorry.”

Elizabeth Pearson reached out and hugged the crying woman. She had been a kind mother-in-law to Abby, and Liz hated to see her suffer so, but she wasn’t sorry that Ian had turned himself in to the sheriff. He needed to be locked up—maybe not forever, but he had committed a serious crime that could have cost Abigail her life, and for that he must stand responsible.

“Mrs. Finlayson, I’m confident the sheriff can handle everything without any input from Abby or me,” Paul spoke quietly as her tears began to abate. “And right now it doesn’t seem like it, but it will be for everyone’s good. I trust God—and I know you do also—to take care of all our needs. Even though your husband will have to pay for his deeds, it can still be a time of resting in God’s care, a time of renewal and beginnings.”

Both women looked at this young man with new understanding as he spoke the words so gently and with such wisdom. The future seemed a little brighter with a glimpse of what a fine pastor this man must be.

Paul smiled at both of them and said they could talk more later, but right now he was headed upstairs. He exited the room hoping to start some beginnings of his own.

The lamp on the table near the bed was turned high, and Abby was reading. She called “Come in” when she heard the knock and waited for the door to open. Paul stood a moment, filling the frame and letting the door swing wide. Both Abby and Paul could hear the women’s voices in the kitchen.

Abby hadn’t seen him since the day he found her in the shed, or at least she hadn’t remembered seeing him. Even though he was in the shadows, she thought he looked wonderful.

Paul was speechless as he gazed at Abby sitting back against the pillows with her hair spread down around her shoulders. All of the words he had rehearsed flew out of his head, and
he could only stare. He cleared his throat a few times before anything would come out.

“Abby, can I talk with you a moment?”

“Certainly,” she answered without hesitation. “Just give me a moment.”

Paul stood in the hallway outside the once-again closed door and rubbed his sweating palms on his pants. He spun quickly when the door opened to find Abby standing there, swathed in quilts.

“Are you sure you should be out of bed?”

“I’m sure. I thought we could talk in the living room.”

“Will you be warm enough?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s probably warmer downstairs than up here.”

The descent on the stairway was made in silence. Once in the living room Abby sat quietly on the sofa, while Paul lit the lamps. The room was simply furnished, and Paul thought all the chairs were too far away from Abby, so he sat on the sofa right next to her.

When a few moments of silence passed and Paul had done nothing but stare at her, Abby began to feel self-conscious.

“I think I’m still adjusting to the fact that you’re alive. You were so sick and well, when Corrine—”

Abby reached for his hand, and Paul held hers like a man grasping a lifeline. Again there was silence between them and then Paul began to examine the small hand within his own. He lightly traced her fingers before covering the hand with both of his own and holding it tight.

“I don’t know if I had the right, Abby, but I asked God to spare you. It was different this time somehow. I mean, I just really knew—that is, after I prayed—that it wasn’t God’s time for you to go home. But I have to be honest with you, Abby. I asked for a selfish reason: I wanted you for myself. I asked
God to spare you so you could be my wife, to go back to Bayfield with me and be at my side in the church there.”

They looked at one another in silence, not even hearing the voices in the next room.

“Do you remember what I said to you, Abby, when we were still at Templetons? Well, nothing has changed. I still think God wants us to be together and that we could love each other very much.”

“I think so, too.”

The words were spoken so quietly that Paul was not sure he’d really heard right. He leaned closer to the woman he loved, his heart thundering in his ears. He had to be sure. “Abby, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

She whispered the word without hesitation, and in the next moment Paul’s lips covered her own. The kiss deepened and they held each other close.

“Oh Red, please tell me we can be married right away.” Paul spoke finally, his eyes drilling into those of the woman in his arms.

“We can be married right away, but—”

“But what?” Paul felt a sinking sense of dread.

“I want us to be married in Baxter.”

Paul’s surprise and relief was so great that for an instant he didn’t move or speak, and then a huge smile broke across his face and he pulled Abby even closer.

“Why do you want to be married in Baxter?”

“I’ve already been married in my home church, and your family wants to see you so badly and they missed your wedding with Corrine. We’ve both been far away from everyone for what feels like a long time, and I think Baxter is the perfect place for our beginning.”

“Have I mentioned, Abigail
almost
Cameron, that I’m very much in love with you?”

“Yes, I believe you did say something to that effect. Did I tell you that I love you?”

“No, I don’t believe you did.” Paul tried to sound casual, not wanting to rush her, but needing desperately to hear the words.

“I love you, Paul.”

“When did that happen?”

“In the shed.”

“Ahh, Red.”

“Shh,” she touched his face when his eyes filled with pain. “I won’t say it was fun, but I felt God’s presence and I also realized how much I need you. It wasn’t until I looked up through the bars on that silly door and felt your hands on my face that my heart melted and I knew I was in love.

“I don’t remember much after that. Just waking up in the bedroom upstairs and wanting instantly to see you and tell you I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

It was in Abby’s heart to say it over and over, but Paul’s lips were covering her own again and Abby believed with all of her heart she would have a lifetime in which to tell him.