3. Abby

3

ABBY

S ophie and Jack were at the kitchen table playing checkers when Abby and Rufus came into the kitchen. “Sorry, that took so long. Rufus was a complete menace.”

Jack looked up from the game, grinning. “What did he do?”

“There’s a break in the fence between our two properties. He ran into the Hayes’ farm and knocked Lily over. I was mortified.”

“Was she okay?” Sophie’s fingers clasped a checker piece, clearly anxious.

It was no wonder. She’d lost both her parents. Of course, she would worry about people’s safety. Plus, Rufus had misbehaved. She’d never seen him so oblivious to her commands. Almost as if he wanted to cause trouble, which made no sense.

“Yes, she was fine. However, her father was none too happy,” Abby said.

“Luke? He’s funny,” Jack said.

“In what way?” Abby sat at the table, realizing she hadn’t shed her scarf when she arrived back to the mudroom. She unraveled it now, happy to sit for a moment.

“I don’t know. He just is.” Jack shrugged. “Like my friend Cooper at school. He’s always making everyone laugh.”

Luke Hayes had not struck her as particularly funny. At first, she’d thought he was judgmental and ill-tempered, but as they conversed, she’d changed her mind. He was clearly protective of Lily. Perhaps it was a single-father thing?

One thing for certain. He was as handsome as she remembered. Actually, more so. His even features had sharpened with age, carving his chin into rugged perfection and thinning his face so that his high cheekbones were more evident. When he’d looked into her eyes, she’d sensed a deepening of character that only came from age—and hard times met with courage. His divorce had clearly been a blow, not to mention having to care for a tiny baby. She’d definitely had the impression that the ex-wife was not in Lily’s life in any capacity.

He clearly spent a lot of time doing physical labor, considering the width of his shoulders and bulk of his chest. She hadn’t been sure if it was his attractiveness that made her knees wobbly or her embarrassment about Rufus. Regardless, he’d awakened some long-dormant butterflies, now dancing around in her stomach as if set free from prison.

Her musings drifted back to Lily’s mother. How could a mother leave her child? Ramona would have done anything to stay with hers.

Upon further reflection on her conversation with Luke, she’d been surprisingly honest with him. She wasn’t sure why. Typically, Abby kept her feelings to herself. A woman in science didn’t get ahead by acting sensitive or sentimental. She had a mantra all through school and residency. Never let anyone see her uncertain or nervous. No visible weakness. Even when she wanted to burst into tears in the middle of a test or rotation, she’d kept it all inside. Sometimes, she wondered where all those unshed tears had gone. Did they evaporate? Or did they collect in an invisible well inside a person, just waiting to leak from heartsick eyes the moment one let go of tenuous control over their emotions?

“Abby, did you hear me?” Sophie asked.

Abby startled. “No, I’m sorry. What did you ask?”

Sophie shifted her gaze toward her pile of checkers and began to stack them one by one on top of each other. “My mom always made Jell-O salad to take to the Hayes’s’. Are you going to do that?”

Jell-O salad? She hadn’t thought about that dish for years.

“My mother used to make that too.” Abby smiled at the memory. “She said her mother used to make it every year.”

“My mom told us that, too,” Sophie said.

“I’ve never made it, though. Should we learn together? Is it hard, do you think?”

Both the children looked at her with wide, incredulous eyes, as if she’d said something horribly inappropriate.

“It’s Jell-O and whipped cream,” Sophie said. “And some pineapple, marshmallows, and nuts. Nothing hard about it.”

“And whipped cream.” Jack looked up from petting Rufus and practically shouted. “Don’t forget the best part.”

“I just said that,” Sophie said, sounding slightly exasperated.

Worried about the weather, Abby glanced out the window. The sun was still shining. Could she make it into town without mishap? She wasn’t sure she could get out of the driveway without slipping. Her car had been fine for California, but here, she needed a more rugged vehicle. She’d planned on buying one once she got to Emerson Pass. Breck had said she would need a truck or SUV for making rounds out to the farms and ranches during winter months, but she hadn’t had the time to take care of it before she’d left LA. But then, somewhere in Nevada, she’d gotten the news about Ramona, and all thoughts of a new vehicle had gone completely out of her mind.

“My mom already had everything we needed for it,” Sophie said woodenly. “It’s all in the pantry.”

“The whipped cream’s in the freezer,” Jack added.

Ramona had already bought the ingredients for a Thanksgiving side dish? She’d been gone for two weeks, but she’d clearly planned ahead. How could it be that she was gone? Just like that?

If she felt this way, she could only imagine how devastating it was to the children.

“Shall we make it together?” Abby asked, keeping her voice even.

“Mom made it by herself. We just get in the way,” Jack said.

Sophie smiled, transforming her pale, drawn face. “ You got in the way. Not me.”

“Your mother was a great cook. I am not. Which means I may need some help. Would you like to help?”

“If you need me to, I will.” Sophie shrugged. A gesture that had become all too familiar to Abby even in the short time she’d been with them. The Sophie shrug. Heartbreaking and frustrating at the same time.

“How do you know my mom was a good cook?” Sophie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“We were good friends back when we were teenagers. I used to come here to visit, and she and her mother would make all kinds of yummy meals.”

“My grandmother?” Sophie asked.

“That’s right. She was my aunt. My mother’s sister.”

“She died before we were born,” Jack said.

“I’m sorry you never got to know her,” Abby said. “She and my mom were sisters and a lot alike.”

“Where’s your mom?” Jack asked.

“She’s in heaven too,” Abby said. “She passed away right as I graduated from high school.” In hindsight, Abby felt certain her mother had held on until Abby turned eighteen so her daughter wouldn’t have to go into the foster care system.

Neither child said anything, returning to their game. Still, Abby could see their little minds working, trying to make sense of all the loss they’d endured in their small family. How was it that she and these two precious children were all that was left?

Abby was not equipped for any of this. And God helped her; these children needed her.

Abby managed to put together the Jell-O salad dish with some help from Sophie and Jack. Although, they’d had a few mishaps. The first bowl of Jell-O had been dropped onto the kitchen floor by a slippery-fingered Jack. Then, while she was distracted cleaning up said Jell-O, Rufus slurped up several pieces of pineapple from the counter, contaminating the entire can with his tongue. Fortunately, they had another box of Jell-O and a second can of pineapple.

Despite her inabilities in the kitchen, Abby discovered that even she could make a salad made from gelatin and canned fruit. To her surprise, she felt genuinely proud of herself and the kids. They’d made their first dish together.

Abby yawned. The night on the couch had been rough. She hadn’t slept well for several reasons. She hadn’t had enough blankets, and this old farmhouse grew frigid in the early-morning hours. Secondly, the couch was narrow and lumpy. At least she had her own pillow, which she’d brought with her from California. Still, it wasn’t enough to provide a comforting night’s sleep.

She had to move into Ramona’s bedroom. Which meant she had to broach the subject with Sophie.

Jack had taken Rufus out for a potty break. Now was as good a time as ever.

“Sophie, I need to talk to you about something,” Abby said. “Before we go to the Hayeses’.”

Sophie had just put the last bowl into the dishwasher and straightened, watching Abby with a wary expression. “What?”

“I need to sleep on a real bed, not the couch. I’m going to move into the bedroom.”

“Fine.” Sophie’s chin quivered, but she didn’t say anything further before heading out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Abby flinched at the sound of Sophie’s bedroom door slamming.

That went well.

Jack came running in with Rufus on his heels. “He did his business, Abby. Now there’s a yellow spot in the snow.”

Apparently, given Jack’s grin, yellow snow was a delightful outcome.

“Upstairs you go. You need a bath before we go to the Hayeses’.”

“I don’t really need one.”

“Trust me. You do.”

“Why’s everyone obsessed with baths?” Jack asked.

“Do you want to smell bad?”

“No.”

“Then you have to bathe on the regular.”

“Yeah, okay. I don’t want to smell like Ryan. He sits next to me at school.” Jack pinched his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. “I don’t think he takes many baths. His clothes are dirty too.”

The idea of a child who didn’t have access to baths or clean clothes made Abby’s heartache. “You must be kind to him, regardless. His family must be going through a hard time.”

“Yeah, okay. See you upstairs.” Jack ran out of the kitchen, with Rufus not far behind.

She hesitated before heading upstairs herself, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Hearing about the boy in Jack’s class hurt her in ways she didn’t completely understand. Except maybe because the responsibility of making sure Sophie and Jack had a childhood with a nice place to live, good food to eat, and an adult who always looked after them was hers and hers alone. If she messed this up, she would never forgive herself. She needed a job, to learn how to cook, to get Sophie to trust her. The list went on and on.

She bowed her head and prayed, asking God for the wisdom and strength she needed.

Then she drew in a deep breath and went upstairs to get Jack in the bath. One minute at a time. That’s the best she could do.

After she had Jack bathed and dressed, Abby asked him to play quietly in his room so that she could get ready. She left him sitting on his floor, playing with Legos.

Abby had put her suitcases in Ramona’s bedroom but had left them unpacked. But now that she’d spoken with Sophie, she felt the urgency to get settled. She’d assumed Ramona’s things would be in the drawers and closet, but once again, it appeared that Grace Hayes had taken care of yet another hard task. Drawers were empty and lined with fresh paper. The closet held only empty hangers.

She hung up a few dresses and slacks and unpacked one of the suitcases while taking in the bedroom that would now be hers. She’d only been in it a few times when she’d visited as a kid. She did, however, remember the braided rug that covered the wood floor. Originally, it had likely been a rich blend of reds, blues, and greens, but time had softened them to dusky pinks, pale blues, and washed-out olive. The threads, once tightly woven, had grown loose in places, and the edges frayed into delicate wisps. The braids themselves were uneven in spots, their texture threadbare and almost smooth in places where the fabric had thinned to reveal the pattern beneath, now mottled and dulled.

Proof that time continued on, even when those we loved passed.

Abby sat on the side of the bed, running her fingers over the patchwork quilt her grandmother had sewn from a medley of old dresses, curtains, and worn-out shirts, all stitched together in a seemingly random pattern. Some patches were made from floral prints in soft pinks and yellows; others were plaids or stripes, now muted to pale hues by years of use and washing. The edges of the quilt were frayed, with delicate hand-stitched seams holding the patchwork together, though a few stitches had come loose, giving the fabric a slight puffiness in places.

Abby’s aunt had told her the story behind the quilt. Her grandmother had sewn it when she was first married to stave off the chill of Vermont winters. Back then, Abby had had no interest in the past. Now, however, she ran a finger along the stitching, marveling at the craftsmanship. She wouldn’t be able to sew a button on a shirt, let alone a quilt.

Had the lack of pattern been intentional? Where had the fabric come from? Had her grandmother collected it for years? Did each piece hold a story from the past, long forgotten now? No one was left to tell the stories of those who had worn them.

Abby’s grandmother was no longer available to ask any questions about a quilt or otherwise. She alone would have any memories whatsoever of her grandmother. Or her aunt or mother.

How long had the walls been painted a pale yellow? She liked the color. There was a friendliness about it. The shabby armchair next to a small table piled with library books next to it made her smile, thinking of Ramona’s love of reading. They’d shared that interest as girls.

How was she going to support the children and keep up with the house, which clearly needed repairs? God only knew what awaited in the barn. Back in the day, long before Abby or Ramona had been born, this had been a small farm that supported a family. Her grandfather had worked as a mechanic to pay the bills while her grandmother had raised chickens and planted a vegetable garden from which they harvested tomatoes, squash, and peppers. But Ramona had not kept animals as her parents and grandparents had. Nor had she planted a garden. Ramona had said to Abby that she simply didn’t have the time or energy, what with the kids and her job, to plant anything or care for any living creature other than Sophie and Jack. She’d vowed to keep things simple rather than drown under the weight of the responsibilities of a small farm.

Abby breathed deeply, taking in the faint scent of lavender. Ramona had always loved lavender. She’d had on her bucket list to take a trip out to the Pacific Northwest to visit the lavender farms. As far as Abby knew, she’d never made it.

She crossed the room to the vanity and picked up a family photo of Ramona and the kids. Peering at it closely, she could see that it had been taken in a pumpkin patch. Jack must have been about two in the photo. The year after his father was killed in Afghanistan.

A stack of cards caught her eye. She could scarcely breathe through the pain when she saw what they were—this year’s Christmas card. Ramona was always organized. She would have gotten them made weeks before she was to send them. Abby picked one up to examine it more closely. The photo had been taken of the three of them in the bed of a vintage red truck.

Happy holidays from our family to yours. Love, Ramona, Sophie, and Jack.

Abby turned the card over and found a few paragraphs that summed up the Ellisons’ year.

Jack, 6, is in first grade this year and loves it. Although his teacher says he’s a wriggler and lives to make his classmates laugh, he’s doing well. He’s already reading chapter books! He loves football, trucks, fishing, and torturing his sister. For Christmas, he’s asked for a dog. Santa’s still contemplating that wish!

Sophie, 9, is in fourth grade. She loves ballet, reading, and school. Her teacher says she’s the star of the class, even though she’s quiet and reserved. She takes after her father in that way. Still waters run deep.

Ramona (never mind her age) has managed to make ends meet and keep her old farmhouse from falling down for yet another year. She’s working at the local country store for an old friend kind enough to give her a job. Despite things being tight, she’s grateful for the simple pleasures of small-town life, good friends, and raising her kids.

Merry Christmas to all. If you’re ever in Sugarville Grove, don’t hesitate to come by. The teakettle is always on, and the cookie jar is full.

Part of the stack had been addressed already, including one to Abby. With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and pulled out the card.

In Ramona’s neat handwriting, a short note had been written at the bottom of the card.

Dearest Abby, I’m so proud of you! Congratulations on finishing your residency. The job in Emerson Pass with your friend Breck sounds absolutely perfect. Will I have to call you Dr. Parker now? Seriously, though, I always knew you’d do something tremendous with your life. Now that you’re done with school and your residency, maybe you could come see us this spring? I’d love to catch up and hear all about your exciting adventures. I have such fond memories of our times together. I love you! Ramona

Abby set it aside, unable to see anything for the tears that flooded her vision. She stumbled over to the bed. For the first time since she’d gotten the awful news, the enormity of the loss hit her. Ramona was gone. The children and their welfare had been her primary focus, giving her no chance to grieve. The idea that she would never have the chance to catch up with the woman who had once been her dearest friend was a dark canvas of regret and grief. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the sobs from rising from the depths of her belly. She pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from making noise. The last thing the children needed was to see her falling apart.

“Oh, Ramona, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should have done better.”

Time had gotten away from her. Now, she’d never have the chance to become truly close again. She’d wanted to. In fact, she’d thought of Ramona and the children daily. But her studies had taken so much time and energy that there wasn’t much left for anything else.

Breck and her friend Arabella, who was now back in Montana opening her own practice, had been much smarter than Abby. Things had come easily for them, whereas Abby had to study twice as hard as anyone else, which had left no space for anything personal. While others seemed to be able to date and have friendships, Abby spent most of her time in the library. There were many times she wondered if she’d make it through.

She had. Only to find out that she might never use all of the education she was in so much debt for.

What were the odds that a small town like this one needed another vet? They already had one, and she felt certain no one would want to give their business to a newbie in town. She hadn’t been here in a long time, but she doubted the suspicion of strangers had changed much.

She dried her eyes. Shake it off. Get showered and dressed.

For Ramona.