Chapter 11 Roan
Chapter eleven
Roan
Roan opened his eyes to find Conrad sitting on a bar stool in front of him. He had his apron on, a towel slung over his shoulder, and a handful of clean utensils. Apparently he’d been in the middle of doing dishes.
“I see the way you’re looking at her,” Conrad said.
His voice was serious, which was a little unlike Conrad, especially when the topic of girls came up.
“I don’t know what changed today, but I think the two of you ought to figure it out.
And if you hurt her, you’ll have me and the rest of the men here to deal with.
” He took a swig of his ale and set it back down.
“I am not going to hurt her,” Roan said, his eyes drawn to Abigail, who was across the room, serving a bowl of soup to Tom and Edgar.
“I know you don’t plan on it, but no one does,” Conrad said.
Abigail must have sensed that they were talking about her, because she turned and grinned at him.
Roan’s heart skipped a beat as he put the utensils down. “She’s incredible,” he told Conrad.
“We know. We’ve been trying to tell you that since you first hired her. And you know, I think most of us are here for her,” Conrad said. “Not that your congenial self isn’t worth spending time with.”
Roan glared at him, but Conrad continued, “She’s the reason this tavern feels like home to so many of us.”
“I know she is.” Roan wiped his damp hands on the towel slung over his shoulder. “I want to make sure I don’t lose her.”
“Good idea,” Conrad said. “How do you plan on doing that?”
Roan watched as Abigail made her way over to them before he could answer, sidling up next to him with a mischievous grin. “Talking about me, gentlemen?” she asked as she reached for Conrad’s empty ale and refilled it.
Roan looked down at her and shook his head. He hadn’t even noticed that Conrad had finished it. She was a distraction in every way possible. Fortunately, she seemed much less distracted than he was, and she was doing a fantastic job of managing the tavern despite his lack of attention.
“We were,” he admitted as she came back and passed the full drink to Conrad. “He said I’d better be careful with you.”
“I agree with him,” Abigail said, winking in his direction as she hurried away again to help someone else with something.
Roan couldn’t stop watching her.
“Oh, you’ve got it bad,” Conrad said with a grin. “I can only hope to be that head over heels for somebody, someday.”
“I hope the same for you.” Roan turned to reach for the damp tankards sitting on the counter next to him and began wiping them down with the towel.
If someone could make him so happy…he had no doubts that there was someone who would do the same for Conrad someday.
Abigail had changed his life completely, and he couldn’t imagine ever letting her go.
He watched as she made her way back behind the counter, setting down the empty tankards she’d taken from Tom and Edgar’s table.
“You think Conrad was right, hm?”
She smiled at him and his whole world grew brighter. “Of course I think he was right,” she said. “I know you’re careful with everything you do.”
She turned and bustled away again with fresh tankards, and Roan sighed.
He wasn’t careful with everything he did.
He’d stopped being careful to guard his heart.
When he woke the next morning, Roan rolled over, and Beastie immediately shot to her feet, bounding toward the kitchen. Had she just been waiting for him to wake up?
Silly dog.
Roan pulled his shirt on and smiled—it was clean.
Abigail had washed it yesterday and returned it to him shortly before they went to bed. She was doing far more for him than he’d ever expected.
And now he had to ask her for something else.
He made his way to the kitchen, where Abigail was still on the floor with her eyes closed while Beastie licked her hand.
“No, Beastie, not yet,” she whined.
“I can get the door.” Roan offered, trying to hide his smile.
Her eyes shot open, and she pulled the covers closer to her chest.
“Roan,” she squeaked. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“I’ll just take Beastie out,” Roan said with a chuckle as he followed the dog out the back door, leaving her in peace to finish getting ready for the day.
When he came back in a few moments later, Abigail was up and putting the kettle on, shaking her head at him as he entered.
“You didn’t warn me,” she said.
“I didn’t realize I woke so early,” Roan said. “Apparently Beastie really needed to go this morning.”
Abigail shook her head at the dog. “You’re trouble,” she said, but she gave Beastie an affectionate pat on the head as she added, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“Hopefully feed us,” Roan said with a grin.
“I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Abigail laughed, pointing to the bowl of millet on the counter. “Don’t worry, I’m making breakfast. It will be ready soon.”
“Could I get your help with the budget today?” Roan asked. “I know yesterday got away from us.”
The garden project had taken much longer than he’d expected, but he wouldn’t complain, since he’d gotten to hear more of Abigail’s history.
And dancing in the kitchen had been worth every second of distraction.
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll come to your office as soon as breakfast is ready.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Roan said as he closed the door and left the kitchen with Beastie in tow.
---
Roan was staring down at the numbers in consternation when Abigail arrived with two bowls, two mugs, and two teacups on a tray.
“I thought it might make this easier if we were enjoying breakfast while we did it,” she said. “But if you’d rather, we can wait.”
“No, let’s get this over with,” Roan said with a sigh. “I don’t know what to do with this.”
Abigail pulled up the chair next to him and handed him the bowl of millet. “You eat,” she said, taking the paper in front of him and studying it. “These are all the expenses, correct?”
Roan spooned some into his mouth. She had mixed it with applesauce and some spices, and it tasted delicious.
“Thank you for breakfast,” he said before shoving another big spoonful into his mouth.
“You’re welcome, you heathen,” Abigail said, wrinkling her nose at him as he chewed, his mouth barely able to close around the food. “You don’t need to put that much in your mouth at a time.”
“Too good to wait any longer,” Roan pointed out before diving into the next bite.
“Well, I already see a couple of things we can cut back on in the kitchen,” she said, crossing them out.
“And I think we can probably save some money if we paid up front for some of these, if there are enough funds to do that right now. We pay later with the grocer, and I do believe he charges extra for that. He also charges extra for delivery, and it wouldn’t be hard to pick things up on our way in when we are coming to work.
At least, it wouldn’t be far out of my way. I’m not sure which way you come from.”
Roan glanced over at her. “I forgot—you don’t know where I live.” He suddenly had an itch to bring her to his home. “My grandfather built that house, too.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Abigail said. She wasn’t really paying much attention to him, all her focus on the sheets of paper in front of her. Her nose scrunched as she concentrated. “We can definitely cut back on treats for Beastie.”
Hearing her name, Beastie perked up and looked at Abigail, who smiled at the dog.
“I’m just kidding. We don’t really buy treats for you. You just get food from all those people in the tavern who think they can feed you when we’re not looking.” Her tone was affectionate even as she added, “Lousy customers.”
Roan and Abigail shared a grin.
“Conrad is so bad about that,” Roan said.
“Every time,” Abigail agreed with a laugh. “It’s ridiculous.”
“She sure does love it, though,” Roan said with a laugh.
“What’s not to love?” said Abigail. “She gets to get fat.”
Roan reached over to rub Beastie’s back, nearly falling off his chair in the process.
“She may be getting fat, but she deserves it,” he said.
“Are you sure she does? I think you’re just biased.”
“Absolutely biased,” he said with a grin. “But Beastie deserves nothing less than the best.”
“Do you have any reports that show the income?” Abigail asked, not quite meeting his gaze. “If you don’t mind me seeing them, that is. I am curious to see how much we need to cut, and if there are certain months—certain seasons—that do better than others.”
Roan nodded. “We struggle in the summer when the men work later,” he said, opening a drawer and pulling out the notebook that lay on top.
“What are those?” Abigail asked, looking into the drawer.
Roan froze when he realized what had been hiding under the notebook, and Abigail noticed, because she quickly said, “Never mind. Let’s look at these numbers.”
But Roan sat and stared at the pile of letters sitting in his desk, all of them still neatly sealed, all of them unread. Guilt gnawed at his stomach.
She would probably think he was a terrible human.
He had been.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” Abigail said gently, nudging the drawer shut with her ankle. “Let’s move on.”
Roan shook his head.
“I did something that I shouldn’t have.” The words tasted like gravel in his mouth.
It was one thing to have done what he did—it was another to admit it.
The pit in his stomach at having to tell her was proof that he’d messed up.
Abigail looked up at him, waiting.
“Those are the letters that my brother and his sweetheart wrote to each other,” he said. The words were hard to choke out. “But I kept them from each other.”
Abigail’s eyes widened. “Why?” she asked.
It was a simple question, and her tone carried no blame—only curiosity.
“I thought I was helping him,” Roan said, looking down at the floor, his stomach churning. “I know now that I shouldn’t have.”
If she’d asked him a week ago, he probably still would have said it was for the best that he had kept Nathaniel from writing to his sweetheart, who lived in Riyel.
Since she was only causing Nathaniel pain, he’d thought it was easier for both of them to forget each other and move on.
Nathaniel wasn’t going to leave their mother.
But now, with Abigail here—showing him how the right woman could make things easier—he suddenly wasn’t sure at all.
“They lived too far apart,” he said. “And Nathaniel wasn’t going to leave our mother when she was sick. I thought it would be easier for both of them to forget each other and move on when we knew Nathaniel wasn’t going to leave.”
Abigail gave him a soft smile. “You tried to help.”
“And I think I just made it worse,” Roan admitted bitterly. “My father always told me that showing emotions was weakness, and I thought Nathaniel was weak for wanting her for so long. But now….”
Now he was beginning to wonder if he knew what Nathaniel had felt for Thea.
“Have you told him?” she asked quietly.
The thought of telling his brother felt like being stabbed in the gut, but he knew he had to.
“No.” Roan buried his face in his hands.
“Do you think you ought to?” she asked, reaching over to rest her small hand on his knee.
The small touch was almost his undoing.
“Yes,” he said, his voice cracking. “They deserve to know I was a fool. I hurt them, and I can’t undo that.”
“But you can say you’re sorry,” Abigail said softly. “And while it may not seem like enough, sometimes that’s all it takes.”
Roan looked over at her, and she offered him a smile that—while it didn’t fix everything—somehow made it better.
“When we get out of here, I’ll talk to him. I promise. And I’ll bring the letters.”
The thought made the knot in his chest loosen, even if the idea of admitting what he’d done was terrifying. Nat would be furious with him, and for good reason.
“Your brother is all the family you have left,” Abigail said.
“I think the two of you should do what it takes to become friends again. And if you need my help to do that, then I will be glad to help. If I had any siblings, I can only imagine how helpful it would have been when I was struggling with the way my father treated me. Perhaps healing your relationship with your brother might heal more than you think it will.”
She took her hand from his knee and reached for the notebook. “Now, enough with one depressing topic. Let’s move on to the next and see if we can’t figure out a way to make you spend less time in your office.”
“You don’t think I’m a terrible person?” he asked her, suddenly desperate to know her answer.
Abigail sighed and looked up at him with regret in her eyes. “I’ve done things I wish I hadn’t done, too. I helped my father do some very mean things and thought I was helping us survive. So no, Roan, I don’t think you’re a terrible person.”
Tears filled her eyes and, while he regretted making her cry, he couldn’t regret knowing that she didn’t think he was a terrible person.
“I think you are a person who has been through so much more than a boy should go through, and you’re doing your best. That’s all we can do.”
Roan found himself blinking back tears and let out a barking laugh. “Well, isn’t that insightful.”
She chuckled through her own weepy eyes and reached up to wipe a tear from his face. “Aren’t we a good pair.”
It wasn’t a question, but he wanted to answer it anyway.
“Yes, we are,” he said, leaning over to wrap his arm around her shoulder and press a kiss to her forehead.
They were a perfect pair.