An Inconvenient Match (29 page)

Was Wade’s father’s gruffness a façade meant to keep people away as surely as Rafe’s gun?

Abby’s father hadn’t accepted change, hadn’t been able to find another path when he’d lost the farm. Slowly Frank Wilson had withered and died, impacting his daughter forever.

George hadn’t been able to move beyond his wife leaving, what he saw as rejection of himself. Perhaps, in time, with prayer, and with Wade refusing to give up on his dad—as Seth hadn’t given up on Rafe—Wade’s father would appreciate what he had—a family.

But whatever happened, Wade would never stop hoping and praying. Love meant never giving up. Love meant never losing faith in others. Faith that with God’s help people could change, could be what God wanted them to be, had created them to be.

Wade’s gaze drifted to Abby. For the first time in a long time he imagined a future. With her.

But not yet.

He had one more mountain to climb. Though Abby didn’t know it yet, that mountain loomed between them, a barrier of massive proportions.

If he didn’t save her sister’s home, Abby would despise him as surely as her father had despised his.

Her hand in the crook of Wade’s arm, Abigail strolled down the lane toward the carriage, no longer carrying the weight of her concern for Seth.

Wade squeezed her hand. “Want to know something? I resented the time I spent in college, but the courses I took will help me run the business end of my cabinetmaking shop.”

She cocked her head. “At last you see things my way.”

Chuckling, they neared the carriage. He leaned over and brushed his lips across her cheek, his gentle touch tender, healing, then helped her inside.

As they rode toward town, their sleeves brushing, Abigail was aware of those broad shoulders, the capable artistic hands holding the reins. She leaned into his strength, inhaling his masculine scent, trapping the oxygen in her lungs until she could barely breathe.

When had Wade become her life?

Wade slowed the carriage as they neared the bank. “It’s a lovely night. Would you mind walking to your house?”

“I’d enjoy that.”

Wade drove past the bank and her apartment overhead, then on down the street until they reached the edge of town.

“We’re home,” he said.

Home.

The last word Abigail had expected to associate with the Cummingses’ residence. Yet she did.

With the conflict over Seth ended, another layer of the barrier between her and Wade had been stripped away. Wade had no part in his father’s corrupt business dealings. She’d seen his kind heart with Seth, the effort he made to connect with his father, the love he had for God.

All of this proved Wade had matured into a good man, someone she could trust.

Wade drove through the roofed portico at the south end of the house and around back. He stopped Beauty then rounded the carriage and helped Abby out, his eyes searching her face. “Do you remember me telling you that a tight bit chafes?”

“Yes.”

“Rafe held the reins loose, giving Seth his head, giving his son the freedom to choose his own way.”

“And Seth made the right choice.” She lifted her face to Wade. “You were right about that, you’ve been right about a lot of things.”

“It’s not about who’s right or wrong. You and I need to trust each other in that same way.” He laid a palm on her cheek. “I care for you. I believe you still care for me.”

She did care. But caring was a risk.

“When we were kids, I called you my princess. Let me be your prince, Abby.” Cupping her jaw with his palm, he leaned close, pulling her to him, eyes asking permission.

Abigail gazed up at him and lost herself in those dark blue depths. This man would not harm her. Here in his arms was where she belonged. No matter how hard she’d pretended otherwise, she’d never purged Wade from her heart.

With a soft whimper, she slipped her arms around his neck and her hands into the hair at his nape. His lips met hers, in a soft, lingering, leisurely kiss that sent shivers clear to her toes, leaving her unsteady on her feet.

When had she ever felt like this?

As the kiss ended Wade pulled her into his chest. She sagged against him, clinging to the solid strength of him and felt the galloping beat of his heart.

And knew she could love this man.

Uninvited, the pain of the breakup rose inside her. Could she trust his words, his kiss? Hadn’t he claimed the very same thing before?

Chest heaving, she lurched from his arms. “I…I’d prefer to walk home alone.”

The grim expression on Wade’s face tore at her, but until she understood why he’d discarded her in high school, she couldn’t let herself fall in love with him. If she did, and he rejected her again, she couldn’t bear it.

Her stomach knotted. Could she end up like her father?

She stiffened her spine. She wouldn’t give Wade the opportunity. As Cecil said, a Wilson and a Cummings were oil and water. They did not mix.

She’d do her job and keep things impersonal. She’d devote herself to teaching, to helping children reach their potential, whatever that might be.

And guard her heart from this man.

Chapter Seventeen

W
ade put one foot in front of the other toward the parlor and the nightly game of checkers with his father, reliving the fear he’d seen plain on Abby’s face. She didn’t trust him. The past clung to her like a frightened child clung to its mother.

But she was no longer a child. And neither was he. He was a man ready for the woman he loved. Yet she wanted no part of him.

In the parlor Wade’s father stood staring out the window. Steeling himself for George’s usual snarly attitude, Wade crossed the room. His father turned toward him, face haggard, eyes weary.

Wade frowned. “You okay? You look tired.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Are you having trouble breathing? I’ll speak with Doc Simmons, see—”

George raised a palm. “Doc has no remedy for what ails me.”

“What’s bothering you?”

His father turned away, putting his back to him. “An uneasy conscience.”

That his father had given his behavior a thought, much less lost sleep over it, settled inside of Wade.
Lord, what do I say to that?
“We’ve all made mistakes,” he said finally. “My list’s a mile long.” Abby would no doubt double his estimate. “Would talking about it help?”

“Yapping can’t fix this.” He dropped into a chair. “All I’ve worked for leaves me…” His father’s voice shriveled like an overripe peach in the noonday sun. “Empty.”

Wade took the chair opposite him. “Why’s success so important to you?”

George dug a handkerchief out of his back pocket and blew his nose. Had he been crying?

“I know your family was poor,” Wade said.

“Dirt poor. Eight of us crammed into two windowless rooms in a rundown tenement in Chicago. Pa worked in the stockyards. The conditions and pay were dismal. I vowed then that no family of mine would experience such hardship.”

“I’m sorry you had a miserable childhood.”

George’s gaze grew distant, as if traveling to another place. “I, ah…forgot something about that time.”

“What did you forget?”

“When Pa came home at night, he’d clean up then gather us kids to him. Tell us to work hard, to look out for one another. He’d ask how we were doing in school. You see, Pa couldn’t read and wanted better for us.” His voice turned raspy. “I may have gone to bed hungry, but I went to sleep loved.”

Wade heard the uncertainty in his dad’s voice. The uncertainty anyone cared. He wanted to tell his dad he cared, but couldn’t seem to shove the words out of his mouth. “I wish I could’ve known your parents. I only remember Mom’s dad.”

“Ernestine was an only child. I could hardly imagine that.” A smile curved his dad’s lips. “When I met your mother and we fell in love, I felt ten feet tall, the luckiest man alive. Ernestine hadn’t grown up poor. Not that her folks were rich. Her dad loved working with wood.” He glanced at Wade. “That’s where you get your talent.”

His father’s acknowledgment that woodworking took talent eased the trouble between them.

“I wanted to give Ernestine everything. So she’d never regret marrying the likes of me.” His voice trembled. “That’s what happened. She didn’t stay.”

Even all these years later, Wade couldn’t think about that day without bringing a lump the size of Gibraltar to his throat. He swallowed hard. “Dad, I understand how Mom’s leaving hurt you. She hurt Regina and me too.” He took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to say might trigger his father’s temper. “But after she left, you never comforted us, never showed us you cared.” That lump shoved up his throat. “We lost both our parents that day.”

His father fiddled with his handkerchief, rolling the edges round and round between his fingers. “I guess in a way you did. I see that now.”

“Why now?”

“Credit Abigail. That gal made me take a hard look at myself. I don’t like what I see.” He glanced at his Bible on his bedside table. “While I was building bigger barns like that farmer in Scripture, I was hurting others, hurting my family.” He cleared his throat. “I resented you for rejecting what I’d spent my life achieving. Now I realize my legacy is you and Regina. You’re all I’ve created that matters.”

Tears welled in Wade’s eyes. His father might not be able to speak the words, but he cared.

“Live your life the way you must to be happy. That’s what I want for you and your sister. If that means cabinetmaking, well, then that’s what you should do.”

Wade groped for words. None seemed adequate to express the emotion swirling inside of him. “Dad,” he said, his voice rough, uneven and laden with the tears running down his face.

A moan escaped his father’s lips. “I’m sorry for trying to run your life, for treating you badly. I’d like a second chance.”

George reached a hand.

Wade met his father halfway. Weeping, they embraced, a broken man, a mended son.

Ice cream and Cora’s cookies, a combination Abigail hoped would tempt George into getting out of the office he’d been hibernating in and into the fresh air. The daily prescription Doc Simmons recommended for healing his lungs.

That morning Cora had returned to the Cummingses’ kitchen, explaining Wade had stopped at her daughter’s house on the way to the bank and announced he and George had made peace. Abigail and Cora had hugged, first crediting God, then each other for the healing between father and son. With Cora back to stay, Abigail had more time to devote to George’s physical well-being.

The sooner Wade’s father could return to his duties at the bank, the sooner Wade would be freed from that chafing bit he despised and open his cabinetmaking shop.

Not that Abigail had supported Wade’s dream in the past, but since the visit to the Collier cabin, she wanted Wade to have the freedom of choice and the happiness he deserved.

She couldn’t give Wade her heart but in many ways she understood him. Understood the importance of that peace he valued. Just as soon as Lois and Joe settled in their new home and the burden of Joe’s gambling debts was lifted from their shoulders, she’d find that peace too.

Abigail rapped on the door then entered the library. At the interruption, George’s brow furrowed, but she paid him no mind.

“Time for recess,” she said breezily. Tail wagging hello, Blue ambled over for a scratch to his ears. “I’m serving ice cream and Cora’s cookies on the back veranda.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy writing a letter?”

“Teachers have rapped knuckles for far less defiance.”

“Is that a threat?” he said, eyes twinkling.

“Indeed. But since I’m merciful, your punishment shall be fresh air and small talk.”

He grinned. “At my age being treated like a kid is fun.”

Blue followed them to the kitchen where Cora was loading a tray with goodies.

“Join us, Cora,” George said.

“Not this time. I’m off to the grocer’s. How’s pork shank and sauerkraut sound for tomorrow’s supper?”

“Delicious.” George took Cora’s hand. “I’m glad you’re back. We missed you.”

“I’ll stay as long as you treat that son of yours right.”

“I’m not sure I know how.”

“Figure it out. Or I’ll return to my daughter’s.” With that, Cora grabbed her pocketbook and sashayed out of the kitchen.

With a grin, George met Abigail’s gaze. “Bet you didn’t know anyone could be grumpier than I am.”

Abigail chuckled and reached for the tray, but George insisted on carrying it. Though the effort made him breathe harder, he no longer gasped for air. Her time here was almost over. She’d have to find another job but she wouldn’t think about that now.

On the veranda they sat side by side in wicker chairs as they ate ice cream and cookies, enjoying the gentle breeze, the call of the birds. George tossed Blue a cookie. He gobbled it down, then plodded down the steps and sniffed his way around the lawn.