Spring transformed Willow Creek.
Apple blossoms covered the orchard.
The creek swelled with mountain runoff.
Calves appeared in the pasture.
And every corner of the Brooks house seemed louder.
Happier.
Abigail had been at Willow Creek nearly a year.
She no longer thought of the upstairs room as temporary.
Her books filled the shelf.
Her dresses hung beside the window.
Emily's drawings covered one wall.
Clara had placed a crooked sign on Abigail's door that read:
MISS ABIGAIL'S ROOM. KNOCK FIRST.
Daniel added beneath it:
UNLESS THERE IS A SNAKE.
There had never been a snake.
Daniel believed preparation mattered.
Nathaniel and Abigail didn't hide their courtship from the children.
Hiding anything from five children would have been impossible anyway.
He took Abigail to Asheville for supper.
They attended church socials together.
Sometimes they walked beside the creek after dinner.
Nathaniel never rushed her.
That mattered.
Abigail had spent too much of her life being pushed.
Into obedience.
Into shame.
Out of her parents' house.
Nathaniel let her choose the pace.
Then one evening in May, he took her to the orchard.
The trees were nearly finished blooming.
Abigail noticed Nathaniel was unusually quiet.
"Are you sick?"
"No."
"Something wrong with the farm?"
"No."
"One of the children?"
"No."
She stopped walking.
"Then why are you acting like you're about to face a firing squad?"
Nathaniel sighed.
"You're making this difficult."
"Making what difficult?"
He reached into his pocket.
Abigail stopped breathing.
Nathaniel held a small ring.
It wasn't elaborate.
A simple gold band with a tiny diamond.
"Abigail Carter."
Her eyes filled immediately.
Nathaniel looked nervous.
"I love you."
She pressed one hand to her mouth.
"I don't expect you to replace Grace. I don't expect you to become somebody different. I don't expect anything except that you keep being the woman I—"
His voice broke.
Abigail had never heard Nathaniel Brooks lose control of his voice.
That nearly broke her too.
He continued.
"The woman I want beside me."
He held out the ring.
"Will you marry me?"
Every part of Abigail wanted to say yes.
Every part except the wounded part.
Her father's voice returned instantly.
Who will marry a woman who can't give him children?
Abigail looked toward the farmhouse.
Five children.
A family.
But fear distorted everything.
"Nathaniel..."
His face changed.
She hated what she saw there.
"I can't."
He lowered the ring.
"All right."
Abigail's heart shattered.
"I mean—"
"You don't need to explain."
"I do."
Nathaniel turned away.
She caught his arm.
"You deserve children."
He looked at her in disbelief.
"I have five."
"Your own."
"They are my own."
"You know what I mean."
"No, Abigail, I don't."
Her eyes filled.
"What if someday you want another baby?"
"Then I suppose I'll want one."
She flinched.
Nathaniel continued.
"And if I can't have one, I'll survive."
"But you'll blame me."
His expression became hurt.
"Have I ever blamed you?"
"No."
"Have I ever suggested your diagnosis matters to me?"
"No."
"Then whose voice are you listening to?"
Abigail froze.
Nathaniel knew.
"Your father's?"
She looked away.
Nathaniel closed his hand around the ring.
"I'm not angry."
"You're disappointed."
"Yes."
The honesty hurt.
He stepped closer.
"But not because you can't have children."
A tear slid down her cheek.
"I'm disappointed because after everything, some part of you still thinks I'm Walter Carter."
"I don't."
"Then believe me when I tell you what I want."
She shook her head.
"I'm scared."
"I know."
Nathaniel's voice softened.
"But I can't fight a man who isn't here anymore."
He walked away.
Abigail remained beneath the apple trees.
The following weeks were painful.
Nathaniel was never cruel.
That almost made it worse.
He remained kind.
Respectful.
Patient.
But a distance returned.
Not the cold distance from when Abigail first arrived.
A wounded distance.
Ruth confronted her first.
"Why did you say no?"
Abigail almost dropped the laundry basket.
"Your father told you?"
"No."
"Then how—"
"Emily found the ring box."
Of course she had.
Abigail sighed.
"It's complicated."
Ruth folded a towel badly.
"Adults say that when they don't want to explain."
Abigail sat.
"I'm afraid your father will regret marrying me."
"Why?"
"Because I can't give him more children."
Ruth stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, she became angry.
"We're children."
"I know."
"Five of us."
"I know."
"How many does he need?"
Despite everything, Abigail laughed.
Ruth didn't.
"Do we not count?"
Abigail's smile disappeared.
"Oh, Ruth."
"Because sometimes people act like a woman isn't a mother unless she gives birth."
Abigail stared.
Ruth's eyes filled.
"You didn't give birth to me."
"No."
"But you stayed when I was mean to you."
"You weren't mean."
"I was."
"You were grieving."
"You taught me to sew the hem Mama never got to teach me."
Abigail began crying.
Ruth continued.
"You sit outside my door when I have nightmares because I'm too old to ask you to sit inside."
Abigail covered her face.
"You know when Samuel lies because his left ear turns red. You know Daniel hates peas but eats them if they're mashed. You know Clara pretends she's not afraid of thunder. You know Emily still sleeps with Mama's handkerchief under her pillow."
Ruth's voice broke.
"How much more like a mother do you have to be?"
Abigail pulled her into her arms.
They cried together.
Later that evening, Dr. Wallace visited to check Daniel's lingering ankle weakness.
Before leaving, he found Abigail on the porch.
"Nathaniel looks miserable."
Abigail sighed.
"Does everybody know?"
"Small county."
She smiled faintly.
Dr. Wallace sat.
"Do you remember what I told you the day of your diagnosis?"
Abigail stared at her hands.
"You told me it didn't change what kind of woman I was."
"And did you believe me?"
"No."
"I didn't think so."
She looked at him.
"The diagnosis was devastating."
"I know."
"But the worst damage wasn't physical."
Dr. Wallace's voice softened.
"It was what your family did with it."
Abigail wiped her eyes.
"What if Nathaniel changes his mind?"
"He might."
She looked startled.
The doctor shrugged.
"People change their minds about jobs, houses, marriages, children, supper. There's no medical test guaranteeing another human being will never disappoint you."
Abigail almost laughed.
"That's not comforting."
"It's reality."
He stood.
"But fear isn't prophecy."
Those words followed her for days.
Then came the accident.
Nathaniel was repairing fencing when a horse spooked during a thunderstorm.
Samuel came running toward the house.
"Abigail!"
She knew something was wrong from his face.
Nathaniel had been thrown.
He was conscious but badly injured.
Abigail rode in the truck with him to the hospital in Asheville.
For six hours she waited.
Every fear she had ever carried suddenly seemed ridiculous compared with one possibility:
Nathaniel might die.
When Dr. Wallace finally emerged, Abigail stood.
"He's going to recover."
Her knees weakened.
Broken ribs.
A fractured wrist.
Severe bruising.
But alive.
Abigail entered his hospital room.
Nathaniel opened his eyes.
"You look terrible," he whispered.
She laughed and cried at once.
"So do you."
"Children?"
"With Mrs. Fletcher."
He nodded.
Abigail sat beside him.
"Nathaniel."
"Hmm?"
"I was wrong."
He looked at her.
She took his uninjured hand.
"I've spent my whole life trying to avoid being abandoned."
Her voice shook.
"And I almost abandoned us first."
Nathaniel said nothing.
"I'm still afraid."
"That's allowed."
"I may always be afraid sometimes."
"Also allowed."
She reached into her purse.
Nathaniel's eyes widened.
She held the ring box.
"Ruth told me where you put it."
"Of course she did."
Abigail opened it.
"Ask me again."
Nathaniel stared.
"Here?"
"Here."
"I've got three broken ribs."
"Then don't make a long speech."
He smiled.
It was weak, but beautiful.
"Abigail Carter, will you marry me?"
She didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
A tear escaped.
Abigail slipped the ring onto her own finger because his wrist was wrapped.
Then she bent and kissed him carefully.
"Yes," she whispered again.
When Nathaniel returned to Willow Creek two weeks later, the children had made a banner.
Daniel had misspelled congratulations.
Samuel claimed artistic reasons.
Emily threw flowers she'd pulled from Abigail's garden without permission.
Nathaniel looked at Abigail.
"Should we tell her?"
"Not today."
They planned a September wedding.
Nothing fancy.
Church.
Family.
Neighbors.
Apple pie instead of an expensive cake.
Abigail chose Ruth and Clara to stand with her.
Samuel, Daniel, and Emily demanded official jobs too.
Then, one month before the ceremony, a letter arrived.
It was from Margaret Carter.
Walter had lost the farm.
Debts.
Bad investments.
Too much drinking.
Margaret asked Abigail to come home.
Not because she missed her.
Because they needed money.
Abigail stared at the letter for a long time.
Nathaniel sat beside her.
"What do you want to do?"
She looked at him.
The old Abigail would have asked what she was supposed to do.
The new Abigail asked herself what she wanted.
Finally she folded the letter.
"I want to help them."
Nathaniel nodded.
"But I don't want to go back."
"Then don't."
"I'll send enough for food."
"All right."
"Nothing more."
"All right."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"You're not going to tell me what you think?"
Nathaniel smiled.
"You already decided."
Abigail smiled back.
For once, she had.
The wedding morning arrived beneath a clear blue sky.
Abigail stood before the mirror in a simple ivory dress Ruth had helped alter.
The silver comb Nathaniel gave her rested in her dark hair.
Ruth adjusted the veil.
Emily stared up at Abigail.
"Are you our mother after today?"
The room became still.
Abigail crouched.
"Your mother will always be your mother."
Emily nodded.
"And you?"
Abigail's eyes filled.
"If you want me to be, I'll be something too."
Emily smiled.
"My Abigail-mama."
Ruth began crying.
Clara joined her.
Abigail laughed.
"Everybody stop or I'll ruin my face."
From outside came the church bells.
And for the first time in her life, Abigail walked toward a future nobody had chosen for her.
She had chosen it herself.
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