The Long Road Home Page 8

Paul shifted himself down to where he lay flat. As always, the change in position sent pains shooting through his body, but the pain was lessening some every day. His wrist was as good as new.

  He was healing. He had honestly believed he was never going to walk again and planned to use that excuse to remain bitter toward God forever. But he was healing.

  Paul lay back and let his mind get used to the idea. He fell asleep with thoughts of Corrine, wondering when, if ever, his heart would follow his legs in the healing process.

  Abby walked in the garden at the back of the Beckett home. The flowers were lovely and in full bloom, but she hardly noticed them. Was it wrong to speak to Paul in such a way? Maybe he had reasons to turn from his family. No, Abby couldn’t believe that. Surely whatever had happened, God could take care of it.

  A new thought occurred to Abby. Paul’s whole family knew Christ, but maybe Paul had never made that step. Grandma Em had admitted to praying for him his whole life. At the time Abby had taken that to mean she loved him and wanted him to walk with God. But maybe he had never faced eternity and looked to the Savior.

  Abby recalled her parting shot to him and felt deep shame. She was here to take care of him, and she had told him in no uncertain terms that for this morning, at least, she couldn’t be bothered.

  She decided right then to go back to the house and ask his forgiveness, but when she turned Ross was coming her way.

  “You’re a hard lady to track down,” he called to her as he approached. He motioned to her when he was a few yards away. “Come over and sit down. It’s too warm for work today.”

  Abby came forward to sit on the iron bench off the path-way. Ross joined her the minute she had adjusted her skirts.

  “How’s the patient?”

  “Coming along, I think.”

  “You two sure have a hard time talking in normal tones to each other.”

  Abby felt a warmth creeping into her cheeks, turning them a most becoming shade. Ross was enthralled and, without thinking, bent his head. Abby whispered, “No, Ross” just before his lips touched hers.

  Abby pulled away quickly as she felt Ross’ arms begin to encircle her. She would have leapt from the bench, but Ross caught her hand and held it fast.

  “Tell me it isn’t true, Abby. Tell me you’re not married. I don’t think I could stand it. Tell me your name is not Mrs. Finlayson.” Ross had planned to be so calm when he asked her, but when she blushed, turning her already creamy complexion rosy with embarrassment, he lost his head.

  “Let go of me, Ross.” Abby tried to sound reproving, but she was shaken.

  “Not until you answer me. Is your name Mrs. Finlayson?”

  “Yes, Ross, it is.”

  “But where is your husband?” Ross’ look showed complete confusion. He couldn’t believe any man would let this woman out of his sight.

  “He’s in a grave in Canada.”

  Ross stared at her. He was sure there was no way she was old enough to be married, let alone widowed. And then he felt young and foolish. What a protected little world he lived in! She could easily have been married and widowed. She wasn’t that young. And it was just a way of life. If her husband had been a logger, it was practically expected that he would die young.

  “Ross, I never thought you didn’t understand. I probably wouldn’t be here if Ian were still alive. You must be thinking I’m younger than I am.”

  Ross was almost afraid to ask. But even as she told him, it began to make sense. How could she be a trained nurse if she were hardly out of the schoolroom?

  “I’m sorry if I caused you pain with my questions. But honestly, you don’t look like a widow.”

  Abby did not take exception. “Ross, I loved my husband and still do. It hasn’t been very long. But Ross, Ian’s death was not a waste. He was a man of God, and when it was God’s time he go home, not even I in my love for him would have wanted to stop him.

  “I’m not worried about where he is, because we both believed in Jesus Christ, and I’m sure when I see Christ I’ll see Ian again.”

  Ross was completely silent, his eyes telling her he was catching every word. Abby felt as if he might ask her some questions, but she was not to know on that day because Lenore was walking their way and calling to them. Abby could only pray she and Ross would get another chance to talk about Christ. After all, she had a promise to keep.

  22

  The morning dawned beautifully, finding Abby with wonderful peace of mind. The day before she had prayed long and hard before going in to talk with Paul, and he had been very polite. Abby had been stunned speechless when he had even apologized for his remark. The constant sparring was weighing on her, and it was a relief to have some peace.

  Now she stood before the mirror and looked at her reflection. She was dressed in her best gown—the gray percale from Grandma Em. It was the first time she had worn it, for she was to attend church with the Becketts.

  She worried she might be keeping everyone, and so she rushed to tell Paul he would be in the hands of Anna for the next several hours.

  “Mr. Cameron,” she spoke as she crossed to the bed, “I’m going to church with the Becketts. Anna, the Becketts’ cook, will be right in the kitchen if you need anything.” Abby hesitated and continued on almost to herself. “Well, actually I just remembered that she doesn’t speak a bit of English. Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Paul said gravely, almost smiling at how seriously she took her job.

  Abby studied him awhile, deciding. Seconds ticked by. Paul lay quietly under her scrutiny until Abby realized what was wrong. Paul was flushed. He started when her hand came out and touched his cheek.

  “You feel feverish.”

  “I’m fine,” Paul said, thinking the scratchiness in his throat was not worth mentioning.

  Abby was not to be dissuaded. Her hands came out to frame either side of his jaw, and then traveled down his throat. Paul captured her wrists in his hands.

  “I am fine, Red.” He enunciated each word slowly, as though speaking to a child, and called her Red in hopes of making her angry enough to leave. For some reason it made him feel terribly guilty to think of her missing church on account of him.

  Abby shook her head and went for the door. “Go to church, I’m okay.” This time Paul’s voice was a bit croaky, and Abby whirled and came back to the bed.

  “Is your throat sore?” Abby demanded.

  Paul looked at her in stubborn silence. He watched her leave the room, muttering to herself all the way. “Lenore,” her voice sounded out in the kitchen, and Paul knew she was telling Mrs. Beckett she would not be going to church.

  “No doubt telling her I’m at death’s door. You’d think I was an infant the way she behaves.” But the ceiling didn’t answer Paul, and he was scowling when Abby came back.

  “What’s that stuff?” Paul suspiciously eyed the large bottle in her hands.

  “It’s for colds.” She began to open the bottle.

  “I’m not taking that stuff.” His voice was unyielding.

  “Do you think your brother Mark is a good doctor?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Do you?” Abby persisted.

  “Yes, he’s an excellent doctor. Were you planning to bring him up because I’m obviously at death’s door?”

  Abby ignored his sarcasm. “He gave me this for colds, which is what I suspect you’re coming down with. Do you know how many people develop pneumonia when bedridden? Now you’re going to take this, Paul Cameron, if I have to pour it down your throat.”

  It was a hollow threat, and they both knew it. She could never overpower him physically. But the stubbornness went out of him as he watched her. His voice was soft when he spoke.

  “You look like a spitting red kitten when you’re mad.”

  Abby said nothing. He was not angry or being mean, and she thought if he wanted he could use that voice to melt snow in midwinter. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her h
and shaking as she poured the liquid.

  His look was beginning to unnerve her, and when he asked his next question she nearly spilled medicine all over the bed. “Where’s your husband, Red?” His thoughts were running along those of Ross’: No man would let this woman out of his sight if he could help it.

  The hand holding the spoon stopped short on its path to his mouth. “He’s dead.” Paul’s eyes narrowed, and they shared a long, mutual look. Paul knew at that moment that she was aware of his widower status. It didn’t bother him—actually, it felt rather good to know someone else felt as he did.

  Her words from before came back to him in full force: “Ian Finlayson was more man than you could ever hope to be.” He had missed her usage of the past tense because of the other words. And then as she had stood by the door she had said, “Did you think you were the only person to feel pain and loss? Wake up and look around....”

  Paul took the medicine without complaint. Abby, thinking it might make him sleep, went upstairs to change and give him some quiet.

  23

  Abby’s very real fear of Paul developing pneumonia kept her near him about twice as much as before. They got along relatively well and even began to talk some.

  Somehow sensing that Paul did in fact know Christ but was living in a very bitter, walled-off world, Abby prayed to be used in some way to bring him back into full fellowship with God. She knew if he was God’s child, God would not give up on him. Every day she prayed for strength to treat him with Christ’s love, knowing she was again striving to keep her promise.

  Abby did finally make it to church with the Becketts and found herself very disappointed. Ian had had such love for his congregation. Loving your flock meant working beside them, being willing to come out of your clean church and pulpit and soil your hands alongside a neighbor who needed Christ. Abby knew that looks could be deceiving, but she wondered if the man in the pulpit that morning, droning on about the terrible state of the world, had ever worked a day in his life.

  Abby smiled to herself as she realized how much living with Ian had made her think like he had.

  “Want to share that smile?” The question came from Lenore as they walked behind the men.

  “I was thinking of my husband.”

  “Can you talk about him yet?”

  “It’s getting easier. Ian was a pastor, so I can’t attend church without seeing him in the pulpit and missing him so much it hurts.”

  Abby noticed absently that Lenore was slowing her step down, and when she spoke the men were quite a bit ahead of them. “Ross is a good boy, Abby. I know we spoil him, but Sam has had to do nothing but work all his life. He never really had a childhood and time for boyish pranks. Ross will be 18 soon, and that’s the time Sam always felt he would start pushing him toward some type of work. Sometimes I think Sam is more married to the mill than he is to me, he spends so much time there. It was a miracle he was even at the house when you came that first day. But for all his time there, I don’t think he’s set on having Ross take his place.

  “I know you must think my tongue is running on both ends, but when Ross drove me to the bank yesterday we passed one of the girls Ross has been interested in for years. He didn’t even look at her. Abby, I think Ross is in love with you.”

  Abby stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Lenore. She had wondered where this conversation had been heading, but never had she suspected this. Oh, she hadn’t missed the looks Ross gave her. How could she not see the way his eyes followed her every time they were in the same room? But did Lenore think Abby was encouraging him?

  “Lenore, I think Ross is a fine young man but I never...”

  “Oh Abby, I know you haven’t encouraged him. I never thought that, but Ross is vulnerable where you are concerned. For all his cocky ways, Ross is very close to us. And well, you’re like a mother/ lover figure all tied into one. He loves your tender ways one minute, and then the way you boss him around the next. He’s also more than a little attracted to your looks. I think he’s feeling things he’s never felt before. I see it in his eyes and the way he can’t keep them off you.

  “And Abby, there is one more thing. He told me he’s never heard anyone talk about God the way you do. There’s no doubt in my mind my son is fascinated and, at the very least, infatuated with you.”

  The women had resumed their pace and the men, noticing their having dropped back, were waiting up ahead. “Thank you, Lenore, for telling me what you feel. I would never do anything to hurt Ross. I care for Ross, but my feelings for him are not serious. If his are, then he’s going to be hurt no matter what. Maybe I should move Mr. Cameron. We could possibly...”

  “Oh Abby, I never intended you to think such a thing. I just wanted you to be aware. I know you’ll be sensitive to his feelings.” They were close to the men now, and Lenore finished with a kind smile.

  Abby watched husband and wife exchange a look as Lenore slipped her arm through Sam’s. Lenore had obviously discussed it with her spouse in their concern for a son they loved very much. Ross saw none of the glances passed between his parents. As usual, he had eyes only for Abby.

  24

  The day was warm and sunny and Abby had a hard time keeping her secret while serving Paul his breakfast.

  “You look rather pleased with yourself. What sinister deed are you planning against me now?”

  Abby attempted an indignant look. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about. And I have never been sinister!”

  Paul was not the least bit fooled, but he said no more. He watched her closely. It wasn’t hard to do with her cheeks glowing in good health, her complexion, peaches-and-cream. Her dress was a pale green, and Paul’s eyes kept straying to her hair.

  “How long is your hair?” She had checked on him in the nights with it unbound, but the lamp was always low.

  She looked up in surprise, and Paul remembered she thought he didn’t find her the least bit attractive. Well, she was wrong. At times he was angry with her because she was strong and healthy and Corrine was dead, but he was attracted to her. He had even found himself trying to talk to God about his feelings the night before.

  Abby never did answer his question. She was well-experienced in ignoring questions of a personal nature from her patients.

  Not until after she left did Paul realize he had not wormed out of her what mischief she had been planning. He hadn’t long to wait. Half an hour later the woman he had come know as Anna the cook came in with a smile and removed his tray. She left the door standing open as she exited and Abby came through promptly, pushing a wheeled chair.

  Her smile was so triumphant that Paul laughed. His laugh had a rusty sound to it but was so beautiful that Abby felt tears sting her eyes.

  “You, Mr. Cameron,” she said quickly to cover her emotions, “are going to get out of that bed today.” She pushed the chair close to the bed and took some clothing out of the seat. “Can you manage this or would you like some help?”

  Paul took her offer of help, and within a short time was ready to be moved into the chair. It took some maneuvering, but with a lot of grunting and some pain, Paul found himself seated in the chair. The farthest he had been thus far was to the side of the bed to dangle his legs for only a few seconds. The new position caused him some dizziness, but Abby had expected this and was very close, her arms supporting him.

  Paul opened his eyes to find her so close that the desire to kiss her was nearly irresistible. But he was an expert at hiding his feelings, and Abby felt in no way threatened.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded and then caught his breath when she smiled at him. Sparkling white teeth shone out at him, framed by the lovely curve of her mouth, and Paul wanted to crush her in his arms.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Abby asked again, having misinterpreted the gasp.

  He was thinking he wouldn’t be if she didn’t put some space between them, but he refrained from commenting. Another nod was her answer, and Abby moved to steer
the chair toward the door, hoping she wasn’t rushing him.

  “Where are we headed?” It was easier to talk with her behind him.

  “You’ll see,” was the mysterious reply.

  Paul had been wondering what the rest of the house looked like and was sure he was about to find out. Abby had other ideas, and Paul soon saw that he was being steered outside. “She has been busy,” he thought when they reached the back steps that led to the garden, for Ross had rigged a type of ramp over the stairs and was waiting to help Abby with the chair and ease the ride over the bumps.

  Thinking he had been set free, Paul breathed deeply of the fresh air in the garden. Ross pushed the chair out to the iron bench and parked it so it was facing where he and Abby would sit.

  They talked quietly for a while, but mostly just basked in the warmth of the morning sun and enjoyed the beautiful colors of the garden. The Becketts had a gardener so everything was in perfect order. Abby wondered what that might be like—having a cook that came in every day, a gardener during the week, and once a week two women to clean things from top to bottom.

  Abby hadn’t had to do a bit of laundry since she arrived. When she pinned down Mr. Beckett one night about payment, he wouldn’t even talk to her about it. “Grant would do the same for my family” was all he would say.

  As usual, Ross hung on Abby’s every word and was kind to a fault. Abby knew he wished he was older. That was unfortunate because it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. Abby believed with all her heart she would never love again.

  Ross had told his father he would run some errands for him, and so he said he would have to help Paul back into the house now. The disappointment on Paul’s face was so keen that Abby said she was sure she could do it on her own. Ross looked skeptical, but he had to be on his way and soon Paul and Abby were alone.

  Ross couldn’t have been more than two feet out of earshot when Paul said, “He’s in love with you.”