Chapter 20
ABIGAIL
Amy knew something was up because she hadn”t blasted her morning squawk. Even the birds held their tongues. To complete the mood, it was overcast, and rain threatened from the east. To quote my favorite childhood book, It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
My bed was empty and cold. Where was my human furnace? The room felt flat and uninteresting without his smell. The worst part was not waking up to his brilliant, devilish smile. I missed that smile. I flung the sheets back, slid into yesterday”s clothing, and departed for the kitchen. I smelled coffee, and my heart fluttered, knowing he hadn”t abandoned me.
I entered the kitchen sheepishly, afraid of what I might encounter. Elias stood there eating toast and staring at the microwave. He turned slightly when I entered the room and turned back to sip his coffee. My brain was swirling, but my body needed his closeness, and I walked directly to his chest, pressing my face into his shirt. I inhaled deeply, wishing he would wrap me in the safety of his arms. Behind his deep blue henley, I heard his heart thudding and prayed our budding relationship was still happening. His arms never reached for me as I”d hoped, but he did speak to me.
He sipped again, placed his cup on the counter, and stepped back.
”I”ll be done with your car today, and then I”ll go.”
He left so quickly that he didn”t give me a chance to respond. I had so many things to tell him. I rushed to the door and then stopped. Did I carefully think through everything he said, or was I being impulsive again? If I wanted a thoughtful, kind, sinfully skilled, sexy man like Elias, I would need a bulletproof plan.
Cosmopolitan magazine said that vulnerability is the most important thing in making a man love you. Shit! I”m the most vulnerable person in the freaking world. So much so that I was pathetic. Thing number two was to let him fix something. Duh! He”s done that ten-fold. Hell, he”s doing that as I make this stupid list.
I continued reading the article, carefully considering all the suggestions. Number eight needed some fortification, so that was where I”d begin.
I found my notebook in my backpack and started writing down my thoughts using my high school teacher”s suggestion of including the WWWWW and How Method. Who? Me. What? My fears? Where? Both his home and mine. When? Now, before I fuck it up anymore, and he leaves forever. Why? Because I liked him a lot. It was the ”how” that sent me pacing. I circled a path from the dining room through the parlor and foyer, then back through the dining room, smacking my pen against my head all the while. Walking helped me think, and the tapping was my ADHD. On the third turn, I saw the figurine he was holding last week, the one that looked exactly like me in a formal period dress.
Her face was contrite and demure, like a girl of her age back then. That was what I needed to show Elias. I was sorry for making him feel less than the man he definitely was, but, mostly, I felt so poorly of myself that I would give up on us before we even got going. My high school counselor called it fatalism—everything was predestined to fail. I knew better. I needed to woman up and make my destiny a reality.
I didn”t need a therapist to tell me I needed to remove the rose-colored glasses from my past and cast a new, more vivid tone on my future. The real question was not whether I should but if I could shed the past for a brighter future. It was time to search the web for some free therapy. It didn”t take long to find; I only needed to convert it to myself and my situation.
Two hours later, I had a letter for Elias. I folded and taped it shut, applied my only lip gloss, and kissed the paper several times before setting it, along with the figurine, on the center island. It was time to put my plan in motion, and I prayed Elias would accept my tokens of apology. I made his favorite PBJ sandwich, BBQ chips, and a heaping helping of pickles on a double-lined paper plate. I tucked a fresh water bottle under my armpit, grabbed my gift, and walked out the side door. Please forgive me was my mantra said on every step to the barn. I was so focused I almost tripped over Amy, who nodded her bright red crown several times as I passed. Even she realized how sincere I was in my apology.
When I arrived, Elias revved the engine with the gas pedal. It sounded smooth and powerful, just like my Elias. I walked past the hood and placed his lunch and my gift on the workbench he erected sometime this weekend. I didn”t stay to talk, only to feed him and be humble in his presence. I peered at his face through my periphery and grimaced as I walked out quickly. This situation was icky and awkward, and I hated it.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at the public library researching the remaining volumes of my family”s history. Stewing about if or when Elias would come into the house made me nauseous, so I packed a snack and hit the road—luckily I still had my rental car. Much of the information was similar to the last pieces I collected. Micah had the articles I requested ready for pick-up, and I added a few more before I sat and waited for them to be copied.
Today”s most exciting information was about my great-great-grandfather winning government contracts to supply the army with lumber to build wagons, forts, and guns during the Mexican American War in 1846. As I said, I”m not sure how that affected me, though the article was entitled, ”Farnsworth sinks fortune into Mystic Creek Valley.” That tidbit would be an excellent question for the Mystic Tax Assessor when I visit next week. It”s nice to know that my ancestors gave back to their community. Maybe that”s why people looked at me in a funny way.
”Here you go, Abigail. I think your research is paying off. Keep it going.” Micah smiled and handed me a thick stack of papers. Why did that sound like I was one step closer in a scavenger hunt I hadn”t sign up for? Hmm.
I pushed on the exit bar and stepped outside, only to realize I wanted to invite her over.
”Hey, Micah. Do you still want to come over and see all the stuff I”m giving away? I could make some tea and cookies to sweeten the offer, literally?” I felt so needy, but she seemed excited to come.
Her eyes brightened, and she made tiny fingertip claps, keeping her voice down. ”I”d love to!”
”Terrific. After you”re done with work Thursday?” I offered, and she nodded. Learning from my past behaviors, I shoved my papers under my arm and immediately put our appointment on my calendar. This thing was becoming part of my brain.
When I returned to the house, I ran to the barn to check on Elias, but the door was shut. That”s weird. I slid open the giant door and walked to my newly restored car, but Elias was nowhere to be found. There was, however, a note tucked under the windshield wiper.
I was able to restore the engine and fix the exhaust system. Your car is safe to drive. Please register it before you drive it. You should also transfer your insurance from the Corolla to the Buick. I”m going back home tonight. We”ll talk later. Elias
I reread the note, hoping I missed the part about him forgiving me, but nothing was said. I”d lost him—maybe even forever. I glanced at the workbench to see if he”d eaten lunch. Neither the figure nor the note was anywhere around. I hoped he had read how sorry I was. I worked hard to express myself clearly, hoping he would understand and forgive me. How long will I have to wait for a reply? Not long, I hoped. I was anxious already.
Without waiting another minute, I bolted for the house to stop him, but his truck was gone. I didn”t notice it was missing in my rush to reach him. I couldn”t breathe, and it scared me. I tried to remember to do that breathing exercise, but I couldn”t remember the sequence. I sat on the stoop, fanning my hands before my face, trying to settle myself down when Amy the Great emerged from the tall grass.
She bawked a steady rhythm, and I understood what she was trying to do. Minutes later, my head cleared, and my chest heaved less. Amy kept her steady pace, and, once my shoulders drooped, she walked over and sat between my knees. Of all the things the universe could bring me, it was a fucking therapy chicken. This one act of kindness exempted her from being roasted forever. She let me pet her back and rub her head with my thumb, purring like a sleeping cat. Finally, I felt better.
”Thank you, Amy. Are you sure you”re a chicken and not some sorcerer in chicken”s clothing?” Her purrs continued in a tick-tock sound until I stopped wallowing in pity. All I could do was keep moving forward since I”d done what I could to repair what I created.
There were no texts, emails, or emojis from Elias as I fell back into bed later that night, and my heart sank even further. I needed to unburden myself to someone. Unfortunately, the only person who might have listened was Seneca. Would she still be pissed at me? She was my only hope, and, as Elias said, I needed to get over myself. This was another relationship I had fucked up and was mine to repair. I rolled over and resolved to make things right.
The phone kept ringing and going to voicemail. I tried two more times, and the same thing happened. I wouldn”t sleep until I got this off my chest, come hell or high water. Seneca would forgive me, so I sent her texts. Several, actually.
Hey, Seneca. It”s me ringing your damn phone off the hook.
Please don”t be pissed off at me anymore. I am sorry for not keeping you in the roller-coaster loop of my life.
YOU MATTER TO ME! Please call me back.
I”m finger-painting my apologies on the wall in my blood. PLEASE call me back.
That did it.
”What the fuck, Abby? I”m trying to sleep; what”s your problem that you can”t wait for a goddamn answer?” I could feel the gust of anger through the phone. I”m pissing her off on top of what already pissed her off. What is my problem?
”I”m sorry,” I whispered.
She screamed at me, ”For what this time?”
”For . . . everything. I have been a bad friend and a sucky communicator. For not calling more often or asking what was happening in your life—everything.” I sighed, feeling lighter for having purged my heart.
Moments passed without a single word. ”You do suck—and thank you.”
”I miss you so much, Sen. Are you okay since we last talked? Did your dad close his business? Please come and visit me.” I hoped she would.
Her exasperated tone settled into one of pain. ”Things have been tough. I”m not going to sugarcoat it. Dad closed the store today, so I didn”t want to answer the phone; I was wallowing in despair. We had a sale, so most of the merchandise is gone, and Dad said he’s using the money to move to Cleveland. Don”t ask why. Our lease is up Tuesday, so, yeah, I”ll come and visit you. I have nowhere else to go anyhow.”
I jumped up and danced on my bed. ”I”m sure you have so much to process. I”ll send you the address and take care of you this time: food, housing—everything. I owe you so much. Thank you so much for forgiving me, Sen. I badly needed your forgiveness today. I”ll see you Thursday?”
She hummed. ”Yeah, Thursday. And, Abs . . . I miss you, too.”