The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(23)

William bolted out of his chair, “Abigail Lannigan!” he shouted. “Have you lost your mind?” He glared across the table like she’d committed the worst crime ever. “The girl’s just had a bad day,” he told Henry, “pay her no mind.”

“Papa, that’s not it,” Abigail said. “I’ve got studying to do.”

“Young lady, you can just march yourself right into the bedroom and don’t come out ‘till you get some manners!”

“But, Papa…”

“March!”

Abigail went to her room but left a crack in the door so that she could listen to the voices that came from the kitchen.

“I’d best be going, Mister Lannigan.”

“Nonsense, boy. You wait a few minutes; she’ll be out here full of apologies. Abigail’s a good girl, high strung at times, but well worth a body’s trouble.”

“I don’t know, Mister Lannigan, Abigail sure don’t seem to care about me the way I care about her.”

“Of course she does. I know that for a fact. This playing hard to get, it’s a woman thing—they do it so you’ll cozy up to them a bit more, you know, bring flowers, tell them their hair smells nice, stuff like that.”

“You don’t mean…” Henry started rubbing his chin just the way his papa always did. “…it might be that Abigail loves me?”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised. A man can’t judge what’s on a woman’s mind by what she says. Why her mama, turned me down three times and I practically had to get down on my knees and beg before she agreed to marry me.”

“Honest?”

“Yes indeed. And Abigail Anne, she’s got ways just like her mama. Fire and brimstone on the outside, but inside,” William shook his head as if some special instance had suddenly come to mind. “…well inside, she’s cuddly as a newborn kitten.”

“I’d sure marry up with Abigail Anne, if she’d have me.”

“Have you? Why, there’s not a doubt in my mind that she’d have you!”

Henry had a tendency to slump like a person trying to hide their tallness, but when he heard what William said, the boy straightened his shoulders to their full height and put on a grin so wide it appeared that his mouth had somehow gotten hooked onto his ears. “You mean…” he cleared his throat, “Abigail Anne, would say yes, if I asked?”

“Well, she’s a mite young right now and hell-bent on finishing up eighth grade; but, just you wait ‘till she turns sixteen in August and she’ll be ready for marrying.”

“But, Abigail Anne said next year she’s going to the high school over in Buena Vista. She told me she’s gonna study to be a teacher.”

“That’s just young girl talk—foolishness. You wait ‘till she’s sixteen.”

The voices continued for a while longer, then Henry asked William if he thought Abigail Anne was gonna come back out anytime soon.

“Might be she’s too embarrassed,” William said. You come for supper Tuesday evening; by then she’ll be all prettied up and smiling like nothing ever happened.”

“You suppose she’d make that apple cobbler of hers?”

“I’d bet on it, boy!”

Abigail Anne eased her door shut, then crawled into bed and pulled the quilt up around her ears. She turned on her side and let the tears fall into her pillow. “Oh, Mama,” she sobbed, “I miss you so much.” That night a flock of black crows gathered in the maple tree, screeching and cawing like they were angry enough to tear the skin from a grown man. As Abigail lay listening in the darkness, she came to believe the sound she heard was the protest of her mother.



The following morning Abigail dutifully set breakfast on the table, but before her father had his first sip of coffee, she said, “You’re wrong, Papa.”

“Wrong?” he replied, like he hadn’t the faintest notion what she might be talking about. Wrong about what?”

“You as much as told Henry I’d marry him.”

“Well?”

“I’m not gonna. I already said, I’m going to school in Buena Vista.”

“Abigail Anne, I’ve had enough of that nonsense about you being a teacher. Henry Keller is a fine young man and he’s gonna come into his family’s farm one of these days. You ought to be thankful he’s so taken with you!”

“But, I don’t love him, Papa. I can’t marry a boy I don’t love!”

“Love!” William shouted. “What in God’s name does a fifteen-year-old girl know about love? Is love gonna put food on the table? Build you a fine house? Take care of your babies?” William reached across the table and took hold of his daughter’s hand. “Abigail Anne, love happens after a woman goes to a man’s bed, after they have babies together and come to know each other. The important thing is for you to marry a good man, someone who’s got his own land and a means to provide for you, a man like Henry can take care of you, make it a bit easier in hard times.”

“But Papa, if I learn to be a teacher I can take care of myself.”

“Take care of yourself? Now wouldn’t that be a fine life!”

“For me it would.”