Reconciled for Easter (9 page)

She took out a few washcloths and laid them on the counter next to the sink. Since she hadn’t been able to use deodorant that morning, she decided something stronger than water was needed. So she hobbled over to the shower and leaned in to grab one of her bottles of body wash from the ledge.

She lost her balance.

Although she managed to catch herself against the shower wall, the jar to her body hurt so badly that her vision whited out briefly and the line of shampoo, conditioner, intensive hair treatment, and body wash bottles fell with a loud crash into the tub.

Breaking out in a cold sweat and shaking helplessly, Abigail was able to lower herself to the edge of the tub, where she sat and tried not to cry.

A few seconds later, the bathroom door swung over and Thomas burst in.

Disoriented by his sudden appearance, Abigail said the first thing that came into her head. “You didn’t knock!”

“What happened?” His face was tense as he looked her over, and there was an expression in his eyes she didn’t recognize.

“Nothing.”

With his characteristic precision, he took in the strewn bottles in the shower and Abigail’s pale, damp face. He squatted down beside her and narrowed his eyes. “Damn it, Abigail. Why the hell won’t you ask for help?”

“I really wish you wouldn’t barge in here like that.”

“I thought you’d fallen.” He straightened up and reached down to help her to her feet. “Come on. You should be in bed.”

“I need to clean up first.” His mild tone, after the edge in his voice just moments earlier, was just about her undoing. “I stink.”

“You don’t stink,” he assured her absently, bending down to pick up the fallen bottles from the tub. “What did you need in here?” He peered at a bottle of cucumber-and-melon-scented body wash. “Will this do?”

Abigail nodded, once more bracing herself with a hand on the sink. “Thank you,” she mumbled, when he put the bottle on the counter next to the washcloths. He just stood behind her so she added, “You can go now.”

“You’ll either let me help you or you’ll go to bed without washing up. Those are your options.”

She gasped indignantly at his authoritative tone, but the gasp hurt her ribs. She tried to object to his high-handedness but couldn’t find the strength. Instead, she whispered stupidly, “I don’t want you to look.”

His eyes unexpectedly soft, Thomas moved forward and reached for the bottom edge of her t-shirt. “Baby, I’ve seen you naked before.”

For no good reason, she felt heat flood her face as he gently pulled the t-shirt off over her head and good arm before he carefully maneuvered it over the cast on her right forearm.

She wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the shirt, and she felt painfully exposed, even though Thomas’s eyes never lingered.

He got one of the washcloths wet and softly rubbed it over her cheek. She gasped at the first contact, but then submitted to his care. Not once could she look him in the eyes as he carefully, efficiently cleaned her face and upper body with the soap and washcloths.

Her cheeks burned with self-consciousness from the intimacy of the act, from a man she was no longer intimate with. It would have almost been easier with a stranger—since then it could have been impersonal.

It wasn’t impersonal with Thomas, even though none his touches or expressions were sexual in any way.

It was intimate. And it made Abigail feel completely helpless.

When he finished, Thomas helped her put her nightgown on, and then he put toothpaste on her brush and handed it to her.

She brushed her teeth as best she could with her left hand. Then Thomas found her comb and gave her a questioning glance. Since her hair looked like a rat’s nest and made her shudder at her reflection, she nodded and let Thomas comb out the tangles.

It felt strangely good to have her hair brushed by someone else. She was trembling now, but she closed her eyes as he stroked the comb through her hair.

Finally, he put the comb on the counter and asked, “Did you want to wash your lower body too?” The first words in almost ten minutes.

She still had her sweats on, although obviously she wasn’t planning to sleep in them. “No. That can wait.”

“What else do you need?” Thomas’s face was unnaturally calm.

“I need to go to the bathroom, but I think I can do that by myself.”

After only a brief hesitation, he nodded. “I’ll be right outside.”

When the door was shut, Abigail went to the bathroom and managed to change her underwear, although it took some effort.

Thomas came back in to help her into bed. And, although she hated to admit it, she was really glad of his support as she trudged into her bedroom.

It wasn’t just the pain. She felt so incredibly weak.

“Why am I like this?” she asked, after gasping as she tried to crawl into bed.

Thomas arranged the pillows for her. “You have a broken arm,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “And two cracked ribs. And you’re recovering from a concussion. What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect to be such a wreck. It’s like I’m always about to fall over and cry at the same time.”

“It's probably partly from the medication, but you need to take it. Cracked ribs hurt like hell.” He pulled the covers up over her, positioning her arm so the cast had adequate support.

She made a little whimper she couldn’t possibly help.

Thomas reached out his hand, as if he would touch her. But he stopped himself and just rested it on the bed. “I know, baby,” he murmured. “It won’t hurt this bad for long.”

The words, his textured voice, were so deliciously soothing that she stretched her hand out to cover his on the covers. She wanted to touch him, to be close to him, and it didn’t feel wrong or awkward right now.

He moved his hand to clasp hers, holding it for a minute in silence. And for some reason, that simple touch felt deeper and more real than anything that had happened between them in so long.

She felt another surge of hope, that their marriage could be put back together. Silently, she prayed for it—that she could be wise and loving and strong and giving, somehow all at the same time.

Finally, Thomas cleared his throat and reached over to where her prescriptions were set on her nightstand. Carefully reading the labels, he dumped out a pill from one of the bottles. He placed it next to her bedside clock. “If you wake up around two, you can take another one of these. The rest you won’t take again until the morning.” He straightened up and added, “I’ll go get you some water.”

He returned shortly and put the water on the nightstand. “Is there anything else you need?”

She shook her head. “Thanks,” she said, “Thank you. For helping. I mean it, Thomas. I know I’ve not been in the best mood today, but it means so much.”

“Of course.”

Abruptly, Abigail gasped as she realized something. Then winced at the pain the sudden breath had caused. She managed to choke out, “There aren’t clean sheets on the spare bed for you to sleep on.”

Thomas gave a huff of laughter. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine, Abigail. Go to sleep.”

She was so exhausted she wasn’t going to have a choice but to do as he instructed. But she asked with the last of her energy, “Why...why are you doing this?”

Thomas gazed down at her silently for a long time. Then finally he said, very softly, “I have a lot to make up for. This is just one very small step.”

The next morning, Abigail still felt like crap.

Her mind was a little less fuzzy and she was slightly more mobile, but she had to acknowledge that her recovery wasn’t going to be quite as speedy as she’d hoped.

Because she didn’t want Mia to think her entire world was disrupted, Abigail let Thomas help her out to the chair in the living room at seven so she could make a pretense of being involved as Mia got ready for school.

Abigail drank coffee and tried not to give into the urge to complain about her discomfort. Mia brought her clothes out to the living room, and she put on her khaki skirt, long-sleeve white undershirt and Queen Victoria t-shirt while talking to her parents. Then Thomas brushed and braided the girl’s long hair and fixed her cereal and juice.

While Mia was eating breakfast and still chatting to Abigail about their neighbor’s new poodle, Thomas went to shower and dress.

Abigail recognized that Mia was in a rather clingy mood, so she was relieved when the girl obediently took her dishes into the kitchen when she finished eating. But when Abigail told her to go put on her shoes and get her book bag, Mia stuck out her little chin obstinately.

Abigail knew the morning had gone too smoothly thus far.

“I don’t want to,” Mia said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Keeping her voice calm, Abigail replied, “You have to. You can’t go to school without your shoes and book bag.”

“I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay here with you.” Mia’s blue eyes were level and defiant, in a gaze that reminded Abigail so much of Thomas.

“I know. But you always like to go to school. I’m just going to be lying around here all day being boring.”

Mia came over and clung to the arm of Abigail’s chair. “But, Mommy, I can help you. I can get you stuff and make sure you feel okay and bring you your pills and everything. Please can I stay with you today?”

Abigail’s belly twisted in sympathy. She knew the last couple of days had been hard for the poor thing, and she wanted nothing more than to make her daughter happy. But going to school would be the best thing to ensure that Mia knew her life and routine hadn’t completely come unraveled. So she took a breath, summoned the little energy she possessed, and said, “No, Mia. It’s nice of you to want to help me, but you have to go to school. Now go get your shoes and book bag.”

“No!” Mia was shaking with obvious emotion and her chin was protruding dangerously. She was usually an agreeable child, but she’d inherited Abigail’s stubbornness and Thomas’s focused determination. Once she got something into her mind, she was nearly impossible to sway. “I’m gonna stay here with you today.”

Abigail swallowed over a lump in her throat. She was just too battered to handle a temper-fit this morning, and she knew that’s exactly what was about to happen. Terrified she was going to cave to her daughter when she knew she shouldn’t, Abigail tried one more time. “Mia, don’t be that way. You like school, and then we can hang out together this afternoon.”

Mia scowled and was about to make another defiant retort, but just then Thomas entered the living room.

He was dressed for work, having scheduled to go in an hour later than he normally did. She wasn’t sure how he’d arranged it, but she appreciated the effort. Without a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Into your room, Mia. Get your shoes and book bag. Right now.” He didn’t raise his voice, but it cracked like a whip, his authority impossible to resist.

Mia crumpled and ran out of the living room to do as her father said.

Abigail crumpled a little bit too. “Now she’s upset. This has been so hard for her.”

Thomas exhaled and shook his head. “She can’t stay with you today, Abigail. You’re not in the condition to take care of her.”

“I know.” Abigail tried to pull herself together. She refused to be a basket-case again today. “She needs to go to school. I just wish...”

She trailed off, stopping herself before she said what had been on the tip of her tongue. She couldn’t reproach Thomas for speaking to Mia the way he had. He had every right to make sure Mia obeyed. In fact, her first reaction to his exerting his authority had been relief. He was the girl’s father. It was his job. He’d simply done what Abigail didn’t have the energy to do this morning.

But the authority had also reminded Abigail of her own father, and that brought up all of her old baggage

“You just wish what?” Thomas prompted, his expression a little wary.

Before she could answer, she heard the sounds of Mia crying from her bedroom. With a choked sound, Abigail tried to get out of the chair to go comfort her.

“Stay put,” Thomas said, his mouth tightening as he turned away. “I’ll do it.”

Abigail didn’t object, mostly because it took too much energy to get up. Shortly, Mia’s crying stopped, and a few minutes later the two of them appeared in the living room again.

Mia’s eyes were red, but she was wearing her shoes, had her book bag over her shoulder, and was holding Thomas’s hand.

“Are you ready to go to school with Daddy now?” Abigail asked.

“Yes.” Taking a shuddering breath, Mia slanted her eyes up to Thomas and then continued, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“That’s okay. School will go real quick, and then you and I can be together this afternoon. Maybe we can read or watch a movie.”

Mia sniffed and nodded her head. “Okay.”

“Give me a kiss goodbye?”

“Okay.” Mia ran over and gave Abigail a kiss, and then she took Thomas’s hand again.

Abigail mouthed the word, “Thanks,” to Thomas with a grateful look.

He shrugged it off and asked, “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yeah. I’ll be all right. I’ll probably just sleep most of the day.”

“Don’t try to do anything else.” Thomas’s gaze was firm and insistent. “No grooming. No housework. Nothing.”

Abigail frowned, but at his narrowed eyes, she said, “I’m not going to do anything.” With a sigh, she leaned back in the chair. “I don’t have the energy anyway.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Thomas said, with a backward look. “Don’t do anything but rest.”

***

“Are you awake?”

Thomas’s voice was so soft that, had she been asleep, there was no way it would have woken her. She shifted on her bed and blinked over at the door. “Yes.”

“You have a phone call.”

“Oh, I must have left my phone in the living room.” Abigail had gone to bed to rest when Thomas got home that evening, since she was exhausted from being with Mia all afternoon. She hadn’t been sleeping, though, just been lying in a drowsy haze. She was sure she would have heard the phone ring.

Thomas walked in with her phone. “If you’re resting, I’ll just tell him to try back later.”

Abigail reached out for the phone, wondering who had called her. “No. I can take it.”

Thomas tightened his lips as he handed her the phone and then left the room without a word. He left the door open, but that detail barely registered with Abigail.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Abigail,” a familiar male voice said. “How are you feeling?”

“Jim. How nice of you to call.”

“Just checking on you.”

“I’m doing okay. I feel terrible, but I think that’s normal. How are things going there?”

He gave her some updates on work, and then he mentioned a luncheon at Milbourne House next Saturday, but he said she didn’t need to attend if she wasn’t up to it yet.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine by then.” Abigail smiled into the receiver, thinking how glad she was that any misunderstanding between them had been resolved. “I’ll definitely want to be there. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

She was still smiling when Thomas returned to the room and reached out for the phone. His eyebrows lifted as he studied her face. “Well, that seemed to have improved your mood,” he murmured, his tone almost snide. “Are you sure you’ll be up for a date?”

Abigail stiffened. “It’s work. You don’t really think I’d go on a date while we’re still married, do you?” She was hurt more than angry, that he seemed to trust her so little. She’d always been completely honest with him about the separation—and it had never been because she’d been remotely interested in another man.

Surely, he’d believed her when she’d explained it to him. Surely, he knew she’d never loved, wanted, cared about any man in the world the way she did him.

For a moment, Thomas looked almost vulnerable. But then he said in clipped tones, “Of course not.”

He turned around and left the room.

***

Thomas was a little distant for the rest of the evening.

Abigail was worried and disappointed, since things seemed to have been going so well. During their marriage, it had happened before. Whenever she thought she was actually getting close to him, thinking they were really hearing and seeing each other, he would sometimes pull away. But she’d thought they both had made much progress.

So she spent a lot of time praying and trying to figure out if there was something she should do. They were still on their break from working on the marriage, but she didn’t want things to start to decline again.

She watched an animated movie with Mia, and then Mia went to get ready for bed. Then Abigail actually drifted off, waking up and realizing it was nine-thirty, so she hauled herself out of bed to say goodnight to Mia.

She couldn’t walk fast, and she’d gotten out of bed too quickly. A wave of dizziness hit her halfway down the hall, and she had to stop for a minute, supporting herself on the wall with her good arm.

Mia would be in bed now, but the light was still on in the room. She’d heard the murmur of voices as soon as she’d left her bedroom and recognized them as Thomas and Mia reading out loud.

But as Abigail tried to recover from her dizziness, the voices took on a different resonance, and she began to make out distinct words.

Mia asked, “Daddy, are you sad?”

“No, sweetheart. Why would I be sad? I love reading with you.”

“I don’t mean about that.” The girl sounded slightly impatient. “But you seem sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Is Mommy not getting better?”

Abigail’s hand clenched as she listened, her heart twisting with emotion at the anxious question.

“Of course, she’s getting better. She’s better today than she was yesterday. And she’ll keep getting better every day.”

“But she sleeps all the time.”

“Sleeping is what makes her feel better. It’s good that she sleeps.”

“Oh. Okay. Then why are you sad?”

“Mia, I told you I’m not sad.”

“But you are. Are you sad ‘cause I was bad this morning?”

Abigail heard a muffled sound and then the rustling of the bed. She wished she could see into the bedroom to see what was happening. She knew it was inexcusable to eavesdrop but she needed to hear the rest of this conversation. She
needed
to.

“Of course, I’m not sad about that,” Thomas said, his voice a little thick now. “You said you were sorry. It’s all over now.”

“You’re not going to be sad all the time like you used to be, are you?”

“Mia.” Thomas’s voice was almost strangled for a moment, before he composed it. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“But I don’t want you to be sad, Daddy. If you’re sad, then maybe you’ll go away.”

Abigail covered her hand with her mouth, her vision blurring as emotion ripped through.

More rustling and more muffled sounds. Then Thomas said raspily, “I’m not going away, Mia. Ever. I’ll be here for you, no matter what. Nothing could make me sad enough to go away from you. Sweetheart, you make me happy.”

Abigail swiped away a few tears and started limping toward the voices, compelled by the new sound that was unmistakably Mia crying.

When she reached the room, she saw Thomas sitting on the edge of Mia’s bed, leaning against the headboard. They’d obviously been reading together since a book lay open and neglected beside them. But now Mia had her face pressed into Thomas’s shirt, and both of his arms were holding her against him tightly.

He didn’t see Abigail because his face was bent down against Mia’s hair.

And Abigail saw something then, in the way he was holding her. Something she hadn’t recognized before.

Thomas wasn’t just comforting his daughter. He was taking comfort from her. He wasn’t just giving support and affection. He was receiving it.

He needed Mia, as much as Mia needed him.

Another wave of dizziness slammed into Abigail as she processed this new realization. She’d always known Thomas loved his daughter. But the naked need in him she saw at the moment astonished and overwhelmed her.

She stepped back instinctively, knowing that she’d witnessed a moment that wasn’t hers to see. Then she retraced her steps, halfway down the hall, until she finally pulled herself together.

“I think it’s bedtime,” she called out, as if she hadn’t already made it down the hall. “Are you ready for bed, Mia?”

“Yes,” Mia replied, as Abigail approached the room. “Daddy was reading with me.”