Beneath the Heavens Page 10

  “Can I carry the rolls, please?” Michael asked, jumping from the wagon like a squirrel. Esther nodded, lowering herself down and passing the pan to Michael.

  “Keep the dish towel in place so you don’t burn your hands,” Esther instructed, placing a hand behind his back and leading him towards the door. Michael nodded and walked slowly forward like he was in a wedding procession. Esther stopped at the door and gave it a firm knock. Within seconds the door swung open. Abby stood in her nightgown, red faced and tear streaked, clutching a letter. She startled upon seeing Esther, and a small sob escaped her lips.

  “Oh, you came to see me?” she cried.

  “Abby, what in heaven’s name is wrong?” Esther took a step forward, but Abby stopped her by walking out and shutting the door.

  “I am sorry Esther, but you can’t see it… it’s awful,” she cried.

  Esther frowned and Michael held up the rolls, their thick aroma rising up through the checkered cloth that covered them. Abby’s sobs ceased and her knees buckled. Esther grabbed her elbow bracing the slight body. “Abby, are you unwell? You need to let me in,” she demanded.

  Abby nodded in defeat and pushed the door open. Michael whistled as the three walked in, and Abby began to cry again as Esther lowered the schoolteacher onto a rocking chair and looked around. The house was well built, with fairly new wood floors and glass windows, but the place looked as if a tornado had gone through it. There were pink splotchy clothes hanging on the windows, the floor had sticky stains and the place smelled like burnt potatoes.

  A sudden realization dawned on Esther. Abby no doubt had lived a privileged life, possibly with servants and cooks. She may not know how to properly clean or cook, which would explain her weight loss and the abundance of potato peels in the kitchen. Esther continued to look around. There were no vases of flowers, no pictures in frames or books piled neatly on top of a lace doily. All in all, there was nothing that spoke of a woman living here. She turned to the ashamed Abby and walked over to her; kneeling by the chair she held back an amused smile and squeezed Abigail’s hand.

  “Abby, why didn’t you say you were struggling?” she asked.

  Abby wiped her eyes.

  “Because you were busy. Everyone is always so busy here. No one has time to talk unless it is over quilting, or canning, or harvesting honey, and I don’t know how to do any of those things.”

  Esther ached for Abby as she remembered herself being alone and friendless. How nice it had been when Eliza pulled her into social circles, or when other women invited her to soap making. Yet no one had done this for the little schoolteacher, probably because she did seem so well off in all her laces.

  “I don’t have a horse or cart, and I’m not used to the walking all these women can do,” she sighed, steadying her breath. “I get paid much later than I expected, so there is nothing I can get in town anyway,” she withheld a whimper that turned into a light cough. Michael sighed impatiently, clearly not understanding the crisis.

  “Michael,” Esther began, “could you go put one of those rolls on a plate for Miss Abigail and pour her a glass of milk. You may have one, too,” she winked.

  Michael nodded, carrying the rolls into the kitchen and placing them on the table.

  “The milk is in the ice box underneath—”

  She heard the icebox open and close with a thud.

  “He is pretty good at finding his way around,” Esther shrugged. Michael probably knew his way around this house better than Abby did, Esther thought to herself.

  “Yes, of course he is,” Abby said, bowing her head. “He probably knows how to cook and clean better than I do, too.”

  Esther gave a helpless shrug, not bothering to deny it. “Abby, have you been hungry this whole time?”

  Abby cleared her throat and leaned back against the chair. “Well… yes. All I know is how to peel and boil potatoes and even that I can’t do too well. I’ve never been one to clean much besides folding clothes, and we had the money to buy things like curtains. I didn’t have to make them.” She looked down at the crumpled letter in her hands.

  “A while ago I wrote to my brother, telling him about coming to Tall Pine,” Abby looked up to see Michael bringing a small plate with a large sweet sticky roll and a glass of milk. Esther took it from him and handed it to Abby.

  “Abby, could Michael have some of your milk? I will replace it, of course,” Esther asked. Abby had half the roll in her mouth; she was in absolute delight.

  “Oh please, help yourself. This is delicious, by the way. I mean, I have never tasted anything like it!” Abby exclaimed, taking another bite and sighing with pleasure. Esther was silent for a moment, letting Abby enjoy her roll. “Anyway,” Abby continued before taking a long drink of milk, “I wrote to him and then today I received this letter and he is coming to stay with me for a while. He said he was leaving right away and so I reckon he will be here sometime next week and….” she bit her lip. “Esther I can’t have him come here—not when my place looks like a chicken coop, and all I can feed him is soggy potatoes.” She took another gulp of milk and looked down at her empty plate. Esther held out her hand for the dish. Abby hadn’t even left any crumbs on it.

  “Do you want another?” she asked. Abby nodded and handed her the plate. Esther stood up, taking the glass as well. Michael was in the kitchen cutting himself another giant roll and licking his fingers.

  “Did you need more milk, love?” Esther asked. Michael nodded and handed her his cup.

  “This place is pretty messy, Momma,” he whispered, taking the glass of milk. “Are you going to help her clean it?”

  Esther glanced through the doorway to where Abigail was sitting quietly. “Did you bring your books like I told you to?” she asked, lowering her voice. Michael nodded.

  “They are in the bag I brought, and some toys, too.”

  “Good boy, I am going to help, but it shouldn’t take long,” she said optimistically. The house was small and Esther hoped that as such it made the mess look bigger than it was.

  Abby was reading the letter again when Esther came out and handed her another roll with milk.

  “You are close to your brother,” Esther remarked. It wasn’t a question. Abby nodded and took the plate. She began eating, slower this time, although the growling in her stomach ached for her to eat more quickly.

  “We have the same mother, but my father is his stepfather. Joseph’s own father was killed when he was around ten years old.”

  “Sickness?” Esther asked. It was the most likely to assume.

  Abby shook her head. “No, he was shot; he was a Texas Ranger, as is my brother.”

  “A dangerous occupation.” Esther was surprised at hearing Abby’s brother was a Texas Ranger. She imagined this Joseph to be like Abigail, thin with translucent skin and silky brown hair, hardly meeting the physical standard of a Texas Ranger.

  “Very dangerous,” Abby nodded, her eyes briefly clouding. “My parents are always asking him to stop. Joseph is so capable and as such gets chosen for some of the most rough and dangerous missions. He has seen many gruesome things, and I fear it is hardening him.”

  “Hardening?” Esther asked. She was suddenly intrigued. Her own experience had at first hardened her, making her bitter and pessimistic.

  “Well, Joseph is still Joseph, easy to talk to with a good sense of humor, but his relationships with people are so distant. Even with me he has become more formal, and he hardly ever speaks flattery to any lady. Honestly, I think besides me, and of course my parents, he doesn’t think much of anyone. He has seen too much bad to believe that there is good.” Abby sighed, surprised that she had just shared the inner workings of her brother. “Sorry,” she apologized sheepishly. “I don’t mean to gossip about my own brother. It is just that it’s been a while since I have really talked to another woman, and even then my conversations were…” she paused, glancing away with a look of shame, “stupid is what they were—frivolous and shallow.”

&nbs
p; Esther couldn’t help but laugh. Abby was not exactly a serene woman, but Esther found her blunt humility and lack of guile very endearing.

  “Abby, not every conversation needs to be full of depth and insight. Personally, I think conversation is like food. For the most part it should be healthy with good vegetables, breads, and meats,” she stood up, rolling her neck as she always did when about to do a difficult task, “yet there are times when one must indulge on sweet rolls, hot chocolate, and cake.” She looked around her wondering where to start.

  “I feel so ashamed, Esther. I don’t want Joseph to see all this.” She waved haphazardly at the room.

  “He won’t,” Esther replied with confidence. “Abby, this needs to become your home, and a woman’s home is her canvas, her outlet for creativity. So we are going to clean and organize. Then I will look at your groceries and write down some simple recipes for you, and if you want I can come over every Sunday and cook something with you until you get the knack of it.” Esther looked at the windows peeking out to the darkening meadow as the sun said farewell. “This week, make a home. Go to town. I will take you and pick out some fabric that is to your liking, then I’ll make you some curtains. Pick flowers and set them on your table; arrange your books prettily. Do you need some books? They offer great company.”

  Abby chuckled, “If there is one thing I will always have it is books. I have every Jane Austen, the complete works of the Bronte sisters, North and South… I love Elizabeth Gaskell.”

  “Shakespeare?”

  Abby lifted her chin. “Of course.”

  “Well then, you have all the components to make a home.”

  “Make a home?” Abby asked with a small gleam in her eye. The way Esther spoke about housework and cooking made her suddenly excited about the two things that she dreaded most.

  “Yes, a home.”

  Five

  Abby looked down at her plate one more time. It was simple: boiled carrots with honey and raisins, chicken roasted to a golden brown and sliced squash that had been lightly fried. Plain as the meal was, she had made it. There had been some trial and error. When frying the slices of squash, she had stood too close to the stove and burnt the sleeves of her blouse. Half the carrots she had to throw out and then scrub the burnt pan. Still, she felt an enormous amount of pride for the little plate, and even more pride at the delicious smell and the clean kitchen behind her. Esther had instructed her to wash each dish when she was done before moving on to the next task.

  “Dishes are like an avalanche,” she had told Abby. “If you don’t put a stop to them at one dish, they keep growing and growing.”

  Abby nestled herself into her chair and inhaled the steam. Then she bowed her head and gave a prayer of thanks. Thanks for Esther, thanks for the beautiful soft blue fabric that would become her curtains. Then she gave thanks that Joseph was coming. Now that her little house was clean, organized, and pretty, she felt confident that she could keep it up and impress her brother. She was excited to have his company. Joseph was gone so much that any visit seemed like Christmas, and the fact that he was traveling all the way to Tall Pine was touching.

  After finishing her dinner, Abby washed her plate and cup, dried them, and put them up in their proper places. Sleep was sounding very good. Abby went to lock the front door when she thought of Will. It was Saturday night; he should be in the schoolhouse. And, he had hinted several times about her visiting him there in return for his visits to her class the past few days. But she couldn’t imagine simply waltzing in. What would she say?

  Hi, I think you are mighty handsome and a fine figure of a man.

  No, she definitely needed an excuse or a reason before walking in.

  An idea popped into her head. Esther had left some cookies for her. Will would most definitely want one, and it would be a good reason to see what he was really up to. So, wrapping up some of the cookies, Abby donned her shawl and walked the few yards to the schoolhouse.

  Will was pacing back and forth, his hair disheveled and the top few buttons of his shirt were opened. Abby felt herself blush even though he had not yet noticed her. Was this a good idea? Will was obviously not interested in her. He was saving his heart for Esther, and who wouldn’t? She was perfect!

  Still, he had flirted with her, although Abby imagined he could just as easily have been trying to be friendly. She was obviously not Will’s type. Certainly not a pastor’s type. Abby took a step back. She may like Will, but she had her pride. By bringing him cookies she certainly did not want to appear as if she were trying to inveigle him into emotions he did not have. She had just about decided to leave when Will’s sermon caught her attention.

  “And so, if you do not repent, you shall be cast off, and that means God will withhold all His blessings from you. Remember that God is just, and does not look upon your sins as lightly as you do. Only through repentance can you escape His wrath.” Will altered his voice with every other word, loud then soft, firm then gentle, testing what tone sounded better. Abby frowned as he continued on about wrath and justice. Soon she found herself walking up the steps and into the classroom. She had heard only a few of Will’s sermons and they were all like this… harsh. She seldom saw people who looked like they actually enjoyed the sermons, save the young women who batted their eyelashes at Will, especially Rachel the big-bosomed blond who fanned herself suggestively.

  Abby frowned. She had not been properly introduced to Rachel, but she was not sure if she exactly wanted to be.

  The wood floor creaked, and Will’s head shot up.

  “Oh, it’s you,” he laughed nervously. “You scared me.”

  Abby shrugged guiltily. “Sorry. I heard you from the house and wanted to see if you were hungry for some cookies.” She handed a cookie to him, which he took gladly.

  “Well, this must be the night for exchanging gifts,” he grinned, setting down the cookie for a brief moment while he disappeared behind the desk, bending down to uncover a basket.

  “What do you mean?” Abby asked intrigued. She gasped with delight when Will held up a beautiful orange kitten.

  “I was hoping you would still be up. I didn’t want to wake you before I left.” He handed her the green-eyed kitten, which Abby held up to her face as she stroked the soft fur.

  “My cat back at home had three kittens. I’ve given two away and I thought this girl would help with the rat problem.” He grinned at Abby’s obvious delight.

  “Will, I don’t know what to say other than this is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me,” she said. She did mean it. The little miracle in her arms was not just a rat hunter but a companion to remedy her loneliness and proof, like Esther’s rolls, that someone had thought of her.

  Will blushed and looked away. “Ahh, it’s nothing really.” He cleared his throat and walked back over to the cookie and bit into it. “So you heard me talking?” he asked with his mouth full.

  Abby nodded, letting the cat play with the tips of her shawl and seating herself. “Do you like preaching sermons?” she asked.

  Will nodded, barely swallowing before taking another bite. “I do, but sometimes the people of Tall Pine are hard to preach to.” He sighed, sitting down on Abby’s desk.

  “How so?” Abby asked, genuinely curious. She had noticed it was hard to get close to these people. They were nice, and polite, but reserved.

  “Life in Colorado is hard, and the people are always working. They never stop to, well, contemplate God or their purpose in life. Work is good and hard work is better, but too much leaves little room for God. Then I have to deal with the drinkers, the gamblers, all who find a way to justify what they are doing.”

  “And you think talking about wrath and being cast off is the way to get to them?” Abby asked with the slightest lift of her eyebrow.

  Will cocked his head with a frown. “That’s the only way to get to them, Miss Abigail. What else is going to motivate them to stay on the right path?”

  Abby shifted uneasily. She wasn’t one
to tell another how to do their job. On the other hand, she also was not one to keep her opinions silent.

  “Well, since you asked… Why would a person want to obey a God who they don’t love? I like to think that people are motivated more out of love and not fear or obligation.” She smiled and started playing with her kitten. “To me, God is someone who I can turn to, someone who loves me so much that He sacrificed His only Son for me. I go to Him with all my thoughts and problems. I love Him, and because I love Him, I try to keep His commandments.” Abby glanced up at Will who was looking at her with an oddly stern expression full of pensive confusion. Abby laughed lightly. “Didn’t think a girl like me could be deep and religious, did you?”

  The stern face cracked with a hint of a smile. “No, I didn’t to be honest.” He was quiet for several seconds. “You think one could really love God, like with a tender love as you would a father?” he asked in a deep murmer.

  Abby opened her mouth not knowing what to reply. It was a surprising question for a pastor to ask. “I truly believe so. He loves us. Don’t you think it’s ungrateful not to love Him?”

  “But, how can you?” Will stopped, reddening slightly. He began again slowly, “Some people might have a hard time with loving a God who they may not really know and don’t know how to get to know.” He ran a hand through his hair with a long sigh, “Or maybe they picture him all stern-like.”

  Abby stood up, nuzzling the kitten under her chin. “Well, that is one facet of God, I believe. He has to be full of justice and wrath sometimes, but He knows the perfect time and the perfect amount to be so. There is also the kind, healing, loving side to Him, and with that, there is no end.” She walked over, taking the cloth in which she had wrapped the cookies. “Good night Will, I will see you tomorrow for church.” Then she whisked away, leaving Will with a furrowed brow.

  Will sat on the desk for several minutes, periodically glancing at his scribbled sermon. Abby’s words had unsettled him with her talking about loving God and all. Will believed in God, trusted Him, wanted to serve Him, but he couldn’t say if he had a tender love towards Him. Of course, what was tenderness? According to his own father, tenderness and sweetness were traits of weakness. Will couldn’t ever remember when his father had placed a loving hand on his head, embraced him, or even complimented him. Not that he judged his father for that. His father was a good man. With Will, two little girls, and no wife, his father had built a home, and cared for his family with the sweat of his brow. Will would be proud to say he was a man like his father, good, even if not tender, nor loving. So was it truly necessary to love God? Wasn’t it enough to just follow Him and obey?