Chapter 11 #2
He nudged her with a gentle elbow, his mouth twitching with a smile he was clearly resisting. “I was not ready for our little bird to leave the nest so soon.”
“She is twenty years old.”
“A child still.”
Their steps slowed as they came nearer to the sitting room, and Abigail turned to face her husband of nearly two-and-twenty years.
“I was not ready either,” she admitted softly, fussing with John’s lapels.
“I am still not. I fear I have not taught her enough, prepared her for the duties of running a household, led the sort of life that would give her a good example of being a wife and mother—”
John took her by the upper arms, holding her tightly in place while he peered intently into her eyes.
“You have been the greatest possible example of a perfect wife and mother, Abigail. There could be no better on this great earth. No daughter could ever hope for a finer woman to mother her. No son could ever hope for such an example for a future wife. No husband has ever been so fortunate, so wholly out of his depth when compared to his companion, as I have been.”
Her heart thundered against her chest as she debated the merits of flinging herself into her husband’s arms. It was not often that John bestowed sincere compliments or praise upon her, preferring teasing and wit or the written word instead.
That being said, there was nothing quite like hearing his feelings for her spoken aloud.
She had never doubted her husband’s love, respect, and affection for her. He was as steadfast as any man could hope to be, even if his words and his moods did not always reflect it. He valued loyalty above all else in this world, and he would die before compromising his integrity.
But he was also a proud man. Vain, some might say, though there was nothing of vanity in his nature. Only a determination to prove that he was a force to be reckoned with, and the very best version of himself he was capable of being.
For this proud, steadfast, determined man to show such vulnerability and tenderness toward her .
. . She had treasured up these rare occasions when he expressed himself like this over the course of their relationship, each and every one more valuable than the one before. But this one took her breath away.
Abigail placed a hand on her dearest friend’s cheek, her thumb smoothing across the skin. “I love you, John Adams.”
He cupped her face and smiled softly. “I love you, Abigail Adams.” He kissed her forehead before touching his own to hers. “If our daughter’s marriage can be as happy as ours has been, I will wish for nothing else in my life.”
“Well, her husband is a far more agreeable man,” Abigail pointed out with a wry smile. “Easier to get along with, easier to manage, easier in every conceivable way. I am certain they will have an easier marriage too.”
John scoffed a laugh and pulled back, narrowing his eyes. “Would you prefer an agreeable husband to an honest one?”
Abigail twisted her lips as she playfully considered the idea. “I won’t pretend that an agreeable husband would have been preferable at times. Heaven knows, I could have used an easy marriage a time or two over the years.”
“Abigail . . .”
Laughing at his tone, Abigail patted John’s chest. “I would not change a thing about you. I agreed to your proposal when you gave it, and I have never had cause to wish my answer any different.”
“That is very good,” John told her, rubbing her arms as he stepped to her side, “because should you ever have tried to change your answer, I would have become positively insufferable to the entire world. Your sacrifice has benefitted all of humanity. You should be venerated.”
“Oh, I have no doubt a grand reward awaits me on the other side of the heavenly gates,” she assured him with a sage nod.
They shared a warm smile, the banter between them so natural, so easy, and so very particular to them that Abigail could never imagine anyone else bringing this side of her out and nurturing it so beautifully.
Only John.
Abigail hoped with all her might that her daughter could share this sort of connection with the man she would be marrying shortly. Something between them that was just as special, just as unique, just as binding.
Just as perfectly fitting for who they were and who they would become.
Who they hoped to be.
Even if it was something that the rest of the world never truly knew. Something that was just for them and their relationship.
Why hadn’t she talked with Nabby about these things before now?
Why hadn’t she waxed sentimental on these things instead of managing details with her usual logic and efficiency?
Love was more than that, and relationships were complicated, especially in a marriage.
She ought to have focused on that with her daughter, encouraged the building of a friendship with her husband while also engaging in his courtship.
She heard a telltale creaking of the stairs above them.
An insane desire to hold her breath lit Abigail’s lungs with a fury she had never known before. Nabby was going to appear at any moment in her wedding gown, no more her little girl, and she needed time to slow just for a few moments.
But then her daughter came into view at the top of the stairs, and all of that held air rushed out of Abigail. Nabby looked exquisite, smiling so perfectly and with a delighted color dancing about her cheeks. Her eyes were bright, her head high, her steps firm and sure.
Suddenly, it did not matter that Abigail was not ready for this moment. That she was afraid she had not prepared adequately. That she wanted more time.
Nabby was ready. More than that, she was excited, eager, and so light in bearing she might have been floating.
That was what a bride should feel on her wedding day. That certain of her decision, that thrilled about the future ahead of her.
Another threat of tears tickled at Abigail’s throat and eyes, but she swallowed and stepped forward, taking her daughter’s hands and kissing her cheek. “My beautiful girl.”
“Thank you, Mama,” Nabby whispered.
John made a choking sound, then cleared his throat. “Well, I believe there is a very eager, possibly nervous young man in the sitting room with the bishop of Asaph. Shall we bring him his bride?”
Abigail held her daughter’s hand, patting it softly. “Nabby?”
She beamed at her with all the brightness of the sun. “Yes. I am ready.”