An Inconvenient Match (21 page)

“Joe came to God eleven months ago.”

“Are you putting God on the clock, like you believe you’re the boss of God and this old world?”

Abigail dropped her head. “No, ma’am.”

“Trust the Good Lord. We’ll get through this. We always have.”

She hugged her mother, a woman who’d held her family together with hard work and a strong will, and kissed Billy on the forehead, then retraced her steps, heading to the Cummingses’ house and the man who’d ruined her family.

Perhaps George’s claim that her father’s greed brought about his downfall contained an element of truth, but as her mother said, the Cummingses profited from the Wilsons’ misfortune. Power and money bred more of the same.

If George knew for certain her father’s investment was such a risk, why did he make the loan? Clearly he’d seen a way to gain a foothold on their land.

If she wanted to keep the job, she had to let the accusations go. Like Ma, she’d do what needed doing.

As she passed Cummings State Bank, Wade strode out the entrance. Handsome in suit, vest and tie, the consummate professional, a role he despised but took for his father’s sake.

Wade frowned. “Why aren’t you with my dad?” His eyes roamed her face. “Has he done something to upset you?”

How did she explain how George had hurt her without smearing her own father’s good name? “We got into an argument about the farm loan. I’d quit if I could.”

“I’m sorry I roped you into the job,” he said, his deep blue eyes kind, gentle. “He’s not an easy man.”

“He accused my father of greed,” she said, voice shaky, barely audible. “Yet greed motivated everything he did—making the loan, calling the loan, selling off our land, all of it benefited him.”

Wade reached a hand toward her then dropped it at his side, as if suspecting she couldn’t abide his touch. “I’m sorry my father dredged up such painful memories.”

“This isn’t about memories! If George hadn’t called the loan, our family would’ve gotten the railroad money. Enough money to pay off the loan and keep our farm. My father would be alive today.”

“Abby, my dad said the railroad deal came after he’d called the loan. I’ve never caught him in a lie.”

Her stomach clenched. She’d been ranting against Wade’s father. To him. As if he could change the past. She’d vowed to try to heal Wade and George’s relationship, yet everything she did seemed to widen, not lessen, the chasm between them.

“I’m sorry. You caught me at a bad time. I shouldn’t have spewed all that on you.”

“Should we postpone tonight’s home visit?”

“I don’t want to delay disbursing funds.” She heaved a sigh. “Starting with Lois and Joe might be easier.”

“Will seven o’clock work for you?”

“That’s fine.”

He cupped her jaw with his palm. “Only a few weeks until the job will end.” His eyes dimmed. “I’m glad for your sake, but…I’ll miss you.”

At his gentle touch, a surge of longing swept through her and banged against her heart.

Giving her a tender smile, he strode off, leaving a disturbing emptiness inside her.

Wade’s concern for her meant more than she wanted to admit. Still, she wouldn’t get pulled into the family that had harmed hers. She’d guard her heart tonight.

Chapter Thirteen

T
onight Wade would ascertain the Lessman family needs, but more importantly, he hoped to ease the pain his father had given Abby that afternoon.

As he entered the cheerless entrance to the Wilson apartment overhead, the outside door squeaked on rusty hinges. In the dim enclosure he climbed the steep flight of stairs, appalled his father could rent such dowdy housing.

He’d once called Abby his princess. She didn’t belong in this dismal place. Since graduating from college, he’d socked every cent he’d earned into savings, start-up money for his shop. Yet renovating this dingy rental couldn’t wait. He’d talk to his father, set things in motion. Something practical he could do to ease the tension between the Cummingses and Wilsons.

So far he’d made no headway in healing the rift. If anything, since talking to Pastor Ted, the situation had deteriorated.

At the top landing, he knocked.

Abigail opened the door, head high, posture regal, her expression void of the anger he’d seen earlier. She wore a high-necked blouse adorned with a man’s tie clinging to her feminine curves. At the sight of her, his chest squeezed, trapping the oxygen in his lungs.

She stepped aside to let him in, tendrils of her hair dancing above her collar. He couldn’t take his eyes off that perky profile. “You’re…you’re beautiful,” he stammered.

“Thank you.” Her brisk tone dismissed his compliment. If he hoped to mend the feud, he had his work cut out for him.

Skirts rustling, she led him inside. He followed her slender form, aware of the faint fragrance of roses, that tiny waist, the gentle sway of her hips.

He swallowed hard and forced his gaze away from Abby to the cheerful but rudimentary kitchen they entered. Preparing meals here wouldn’t be easy. Yet the lingering scent of meat loaf mingled with the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. His stomach growled—a reminder he’d missed dinner.

In the small parlor the adults sat on a threadbare sofa with Peter reading a book beside his dad and Donnie curled up on his grandmother’s lap. The twins sprawled on the floor, leaving chairs on opposite sides of the room for him and Abby.

Engrossed in scribbling with crayons on paper, the twins didn’t look up. Drawings of stick figures wearing huge smiles cluttered a table—small boys’ images of family. “Nice pictures.”

Gary rolled onto his side to look at Wade then scrambled to his feet. “Donnie drew these.”

Donnie popped his thumb out of his mouth. “Me.”

“I like your family, Donnie.” Especially his aunt but he wouldn’t say that, not with Ethel watching every word and move.

“Aunt Abby bringed me a red lollipop,” Donnie said.

“Me too,” came from three other small mouths.

Abigail grinned. “All the lollipops were red. Prevents bickering.”

“My sister thought girls should choose first,” Wade said.

“We don’t have any girls,” Sam said, stretching like a contented cat on the bare floor.

Lois cocked her head. “What are Grandma, Aunt Abby and I then?”

Sam wrinkled his nose. “You’re not girls, you’re ladies,” he said, eliciting chuckles from the adults.

Gary slipped a paper out from under him and held it out to Wade. This family had torsos, noses, clothes, as well as wide smiles. Wade identified each one, earning a nod of approval from the artist.

Sam waved a picture of a farm. “I’m gonna be a farmer.”

Wade caught Abby’s frown. Did she find a small boy’s goal disturbing?

“You can have this.” Gary handed Wade his drawing.

“Why, thank you. I’ll hang it in my workshop where I can see it every day.”

Grinning sheepishly, Gary toed the floor. “Welcome.”

Even with their tragedies—the fire, Joe’s gambling, losing their farm—this family appeared happy, content, filling Wade with longing for what they had, a loving home. Yet with Abby standing apart from him, he’d never felt more an outsider.

Ethel motioned to the youngsters. “Let’s give the grown-ups time to talk. Come into my bedroom and I’ll read another chapter of
Black Beauty
. Keep your voices down so you don’t wake Billy.”

“Do I have to?” Sam whined, pointing at Wade. “I wanna make a picture for him.”

“Yes, you do.” Ethel shooed the boys out of the room.

On his way, Gary gave Wade a quick glance, his smile shy, clearly curious about his visit, yet not upset by it either.

Wade’s throat tightened. Thank God the feud hadn’t touched these innocent children. He prayed it never would. Yet how likely was that? The feud had harmed him and Abby in a myriad of ways.

Abby excused herself, returning with a tray of steaming mugs. Wade handed a pencil and list to the Lessmans then took a seat as they skimmed the paper. As she offered coffee, Abby explained the purpose of his visit.

“Who provided the money to purchase this stuff?” Joe asked.

“Wade’s father donated the lion’s share.”

Lois cleared her throat. “I’ll be honest. I never thought I’d see the day I was grateful to George Cummings for anything, but I am for his donation.” Her voice broke. “More than I can say. I intend to write a note and thank him personally.”

The feud was never far from the Wilsons’ thoughts. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” Though Wade didn’t know any such thing.

“What I miss most, we can’t get back.” Lois sighed. “Pictures of the boys wearing the Christening gown Ma made from her mother’s wedding dress, a letter Pa wrote me on our wedding day. The pencil marks recording the boys’ heights on the door frame of their room.” Lois’s face crumpled.

Joe draped an arm around his wife and pulled her close. “We have each other. That’s what matters.”

Lois gazed into her husband’s face, love for him clear in her eyes. “I shouldn’t mourn the loss of things.” Swiping at her cheeks with both hands, she glanced at Wade. “I’m sorry. I’m emotional since the baby…and with all that’s happened.”

Wade spoke past the lump lodged in his throat, “No need to apologize, Mrs. Lessman. You’ve been through a lot.”

Abigail sat on the other side of her sister. “Soon you’ll move into a new home and can put the worst of this behind you.”

What the Lessmans had, the closeness, the love—the boys in the next room—tugged at Wade. What did he have, really? A house furnished with the finest things money could buy, yet not one shred of harmony. How could he hope to heal things with Abby when he couldn’t heal his relationship with his own father?

“Not a day goes by I don’t thank God that Joe made it out alive.” Lois leaned against her husband, closing her eyes as if banishing something too horrible to contemplate.

“I walked through the shell of those houses, Joe.” Wade grimaced. “With broken limbs, how did you manage to escape?”

“I’m not sure. The smoke was so thick I couldn’t see and could barely breathe. The last thing I remember was plunging down the stairs.” He shook his head. “Cecil and Oscar found me sprawled in the yard.” His voice quavered. “By the grace of God I survived.”

Joe appreciated the gift of life. Why didn’t George exhibit gratitude for his survival?

The Lessmans returned to the list, marking items they needed. Lois glanced at Abby. “I feel greedy.”

“Needs aren’t greed,” Abby said. “I’ll purchase supplies for your kitchen, but the big items are beyond my paycheck.”

Joe tapped the pencil on his knee. “Ab, I’d feel better if you put the money you planned to spend on us into the fire relief fund. Help others, not just us.”

“Most of the families are bringing in an income. They can afford the smaller purchases I plan to buy.”

Wade nodded. “Peter Anderson’s burns keep him from working. The committee will see that his family’s needs are met.”

“Wade’s making double beds for all six families, even supplying the mattresses.”

“Nothing fancy,” Wade protested, but he soaked up the approval he heard in her voice like sand soaked up rain.

Wade’s and Abby’s gazes locked. Something significant passed between them. Dare he hope something that spoke of forgiveness?

“You’re a good guy, Wade.” Joe struggled to his feet with the help of his crutch and shook Wade’s hand, sling and all. “Trouble has a way of bringing folks together. Appreciate all you’re doing for my family.”

Wade said his goodbyes to the Wilsons. Good, hard-working people of faith. They, along with others like them, were the foundation of the country.

Abby walked Wade to the door. “Squeezing nine people into this apartment has to be difficult. Yet I feel the love between you. See it.” He smiled. “Even smell it in the aroma of home cooking.”

“Did you take time to eat?”

“No, but I will.”

“I left a plate of food in the icebox.” She smiled. “Don’t stay up all hours building beds.”

He took her hand, raising it to his mouth, sweeping his lips over her knuckles. She sucked in a breath, then she dropped her eyes, avoiding the heat in his gaze and took a step back. The hurt he’d caused erected barriers between them. Barriers he had no right to tear down, even if he could. He wasn’t cut out for a family, for a wife and children.

Yet he craved every minute with her he could. “Shall we visit another family tomorrow night?”

“You’re busy. I can manage by myself.” She opened the door. “Goodnight, Wade.”

As he plodded down the stairs and left by the back stoop, he wasn’t fooled. Abby might not trust him, but he’d seen the flare of her nostrils, the hitch in her breathing. She fought the attraction between them with everything in her.

He remembered a time when she’d welcomed it. He’d never forget how a smile would light her face when he appeared. How special that smile had made him feel. She’d seen him, not his money, not his family—only him. Those few weeks spent with Abby had been the happiest of his life.