Stanton. You and Old Bess seem to be getting along surprisingly well.”
Abby gave a wry chuckle. “Let’s just say we’ve agreed to a temporary truce. Just before you returned, we had a few tense moments.”
He smiled, leaned forward until all four legs of his chair were once more firmly planted on the floor, and set down his mug. “From the sudden smell of burnt grease upstairs, I gathered there’d been some sort of altercation. To your credit, though, it seems you came out the victor.”
“This time, perhaps.” Abby laughed outright. Why, miracle of miracles! The man actually had a sense of humor! “Though one battle may have been won, I’d wager the war is hardly over.”
“You just watch out, ” Beth muttered, suddenly coming out of the sullen pout she’d managed to maintain for the entire meal.
Two pair of eyes turned to her.
“And why is that, girl?” Conor asked, an edge of warning in his voice.
Beth focused her now wide-eyed, innocent gaze on her father. “You know Old Bess, Papa. One minute she’s sweet. The next, she turns on you, burning everything in sight. If I didn’t know better, I’d lay odds Old Bess is just biding her time with Mrs. ‘Know-it-all.’”
“Would you now?” An enigmatic smile crossed his lips. “Well, you’ll have plenty of chances to find out how much Mrs. Stanton knows, won’t you?”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Papa?”
“Why, what else, girl? It’s past time you began your lessons, and today’s as good a day as any to start.” He looked toward Abby. “Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. Stanton?”
Abby inhaled a steadying breath, then forced what she hoped was a bright, obliging smile. “As good a day as any, Mr. MacKay.”
4
And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
1 Corinthians 13:13
Abby? It’s me, Ella.”
The voice from the kitchen’s back door caught Abby by surprise. She dropped the bar of lye soap she had been using on Beth’s dirty dungarees. It hit the wash water with a resounding plunk, splattering her with dirty droplets.
She swung around, swiped a damp hank of hair from her sweaty forehead, and grinned. There, in the open doorway, stood Ella MacKay, a rosy-cheeked baby in her arms, a young, red-haired boy clinging to her skirts.
“Come in, Ella.” Gratefully, Abby stepped back from the steaming washtub. “Come on in and have a seat.”
She wiped her wet hands on her cotton apron, walked to a cupboard, and pulled down two mugs. “Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea, perhaps? I can fetch some milk for the children from the springhouse. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”
“A cup of tea would be nice, but nothing for the children, ” Ella murmured as she made her way to the table and took a seat. “They just woke up from their morning nap. Mary’s been nursed, and Devlin Jr.’s already had some raisin bread and milk.” She looked at her son. “Why don’t you go find Beth? She’s upstairs in her room, isn’t she?”—she glanced at Abby for confirmation.
At Abby’s affirmative nod, Ella gave her son a gentle shove. “Skedaddle now.”
“Beth really dotes on him, ” she informed Abby after he had left, “and Devlin Jr. adores her. They can spend hours together, telling stories, playing dress up, and all sorts of other imaginary games.”
With a sharp pang, Abby had watched the toddler scurry from the kitchen. For a moment the memory of Joshua, laughing merrily and racing through their old house to join his little friend Caleb outside, was almost more than she could bear.
The two boys weren’t much different in age—Joshua, five, and Devlin Jr., four. Though Devlin Jr. had a wild carrot-red thatch of hair and a generous smattering of freckles across his face, and Joshua had been dark blond and fair, they were enough alike that Abby knew it would be hard to see the little boy and not be reminded of her own. But then, she glumly
Abby gave a wry chuckle. “Let’s just say we’ve agreed to a temporary truce. Just before you returned, we had a few tense moments.”
He smiled, leaned forward until all four legs of his chair were once more firmly planted on the floor, and set down his mug. “From the sudden smell of burnt grease upstairs, I gathered there’d been some sort of altercation. To your credit, though, it seems you came out the victor.”
“This time, perhaps.” Abby laughed outright. Why, miracle of miracles! The man actually had a sense of humor! “Though one battle may have been won, I’d wager the war is hardly over.”
“You just watch out, ” Beth muttered, suddenly coming out of the sullen pout she’d managed to maintain for the entire meal.
Two pair of eyes turned to her.
“And why is that, girl?” Conor asked, an edge of warning in his voice.
Beth focused her now wide-eyed, innocent gaze on her father. “You know Old Bess, Papa. One minute she’s sweet. The next, she turns on you, burning everything in sight. If I didn’t know better, I’d lay odds Old Bess is just biding her time with Mrs. ‘Know-it-all.’”
“Would you now?” An enigmatic smile crossed his lips. “Well, you’ll have plenty of chances to find out how much Mrs. Stanton knows, won’t you?”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Papa?”
“Why, what else, girl? It’s past time you began your lessons, and today’s as good a day as any to start.” He looked toward Abby. “Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. Stanton?”
Abby inhaled a steadying breath, then forced what she hoped was a bright, obliging smile. “As good a day as any, Mr. MacKay.”
4
And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.
1 Corinthians 13:13
Abby? It’s me, Ella.”
The voice from the kitchen’s back door caught Abby by surprise. She dropped the bar of lye soap she had been using on Beth’s dirty dungarees. It hit the wash water with a resounding plunk, splattering her with dirty droplets.
She swung around, swiped a damp hank of hair from her sweaty forehead, and grinned. There, in the open doorway, stood Ella MacKay, a rosy-cheeked baby in her arms, a young, red-haired boy clinging to her skirts.
“Come in, Ella.” Gratefully, Abby stepped back from the steaming washtub. “Come on in and have a seat.”
She wiped her wet hands on her cotton apron, walked to a cupboard, and pulled down two mugs. “Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea, perhaps? I can fetch some milk for the children from the springhouse. It’ll only take me a few minutes.”
“A cup of tea would be nice, but nothing for the children, ” Ella murmured as she made her way to the table and took a seat. “They just woke up from their morning nap. Mary’s been nursed, and Devlin Jr.’s already had some raisin bread and milk.” She looked at her son. “Why don’t you go find Beth? She’s upstairs in her room, isn’t she?”—she glanced at Abby for confirmation.
At Abby’s affirmative nod, Ella gave her son a gentle shove. “Skedaddle now.”
“Beth really dotes on him, ” she informed Abby after he had left, “and Devlin Jr. adores her. They can spend hours together, telling stories, playing dress up, and all sorts of other imaginary games.”
With a sharp pang, Abby had watched the toddler scurry from the kitchen. For a moment the memory of Joshua, laughing merrily and racing through their old house to join his little friend Caleb outside, was almost more than she could bear.
The two boys weren’t much different in age—Joshua, five, and Devlin Jr., four. Though Devlin Jr. had a wild carrot-red thatch of hair and a generous smattering of freckles across his face, and Joshua had been dark blond and fair, they were enough alike that Abby knew it would be hard to see the little boy and not be reminded of her own. But then, she glumly
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