“What did you just promise the child?” asked Rose as she sat down in the chair opposite Abbie.
“I did not promise anything. They want a new book to hear at story time and I said I would look for one.”
Rose laughed. “To a child that can sometimes sound like a promise. Why not just tell them a story?”
“Thought about that but suddenly could not think of a single one. Odd, because my da was always telling me stories.”
“Ah, yes, that is often the way. You will recall them but not when you need to. I am not sure where or how one could get hold of a child’s storybook in this town. Most of the ones who had children and would have one fled the minute the Union marched in. I doubt they left any behind.” Rose looked away and rubbed her chin. “Maybe I can find out if any of the women know a good story and we can write it down.”
“Make our own book?”
“Something like that. I have some ledger books we could use or the general store had a few journals for sale. Most women do not keep them because they are expensive or they just don’t see the point in writing about what is an ordinary day. You know, ‘Well, I washed Henry’s long johns today,’” Rose said in a slightly higher tone of voice. “Not really of interest.”
“Fair enough,” Abbie said and chuckled. “We will see how many have something to contribute.”
“Between all of us, we must have a few. I suspect we could make up a good book.”
Abbie nodded. She and Rose complained about the lack of goods due to the war for a while and then Rose wandered back to where the other women sat. Abbie tried to recall if she had put aside a favorite child’s book in her chests but could not remember. It would be worth a look, she decided, and then came a rap on the door.
Mrs. Beaton got up from her knitting and went to answer the door. A moment later Abbie heard the sound of a very familiar male voice. Her heart skipped and she cursed herself for an idiot. It obviously could not tell the difference between romance and friendship.
“The lieutenant is here to see you, Miss Jenson,” Mrs. Beaton said in a cool voice. “I put him in the parlor.”
Like he is a vase, Abbie thought, and bit back a smile as she rose and walked to the parlor. Matthew stood by the window, staring out, with his hands clasped behind his back. He stood straight as if at attention like the soldier he was. She shut the door and he turned to face her and her mindless heart skipped a beat again.
“I dinnae believe Mrs. Beaton is verra fond of soldiers coming round to visit the ladies here,” he said.
“No, she isn’t, but she is smart enough to know she can do little about it, I guess. And I begin to think Mrs. Beaton is fond of very little. I also think some soldiers come round not just to see a woman but to get a touch of all they left behind, if that makes sense.”
“It does. They hanker for a wee bit of the gentility they used to know. And how have ye been doing?”
“Well, I have been doing as fine as can be expected. There is one thing. Noah thinks they need a new storybook, or five. None of us knows where to get one. Rose suggested we all write out stories we recall being told and that is a very good idea but it will be a while before that is put together.”
“I can ask around. Come and sit with me and then, maybe, we could go for a stroll.”
She laughed as she sat down on the settee and he sat down rather close to her. “I doubt this town has seen so many people going for a stroll in however long it has been here.”
“Probably not but that might be a good thing. Such sights can give some the feeling of normal life and ease their fears.”
“One does not want them to ease them too much, I think. Not in the middle of such a bloody war.”
She realized he had draped his arm along the back of the settee and was now playing with her hair. It was oddly soothing to have him dragging his fingers through her hair so she decided to say nothing. She relaxed her head against the back of the settee and stared up at the ceiling to find it was another elaborately plastered ceiling.
“True enough. Being always alert for trouble is what will get them through this.”
“I begin to fear this war will never end.”
She tensed when he kissed her face, right near the corner of her eye. Even as she started to turn to ask him what he was doing, she knew it was not a good idea. He was so close when she turned, she could see what thick eyelashes he had. Then he kissed her on the mouth.
It was a deep, hungry kiss and Abbie quickly wrapped her arms around his neck to keep steady. When he put his tongue in her mouth she nearly jumped but the feel of it stroking the inside of her mouth swept away her shock and replaced it with the urge to hold on tighter. She even tentatively returned the strokes of his tongue with hers and a low growl sounded in her ears. He slowly pulled back and she stared at him, a little afraid she probably looked like a startled frog.
“We best be careful or Mrs. Beaton will banish me from the house,” he said.
Let her just try, Abigail thought as she leaned back and found she was still clutching his neck. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she hastily removed her arms.
“Quite all right,” he said, and grinned as he stood up and held out his hand. “How about we take a little walk?”
“Is it cold?” she asked as she took his hand and walked with him as they left the room.
“Just a small nip in the air.”
She put on her coat and let him take her by the hand to lead her outside. They meandered down the street for a while in a comfortable silence. Abbie decided she liked the fact that they did not need to fill the silence with empty talk. Then she thought of something she really wanted to know.
“I did not see Boyd in the infirmary yesterday. He is all right, isn’t he?”
“Aye. I only saw him the other day and he has not worsened.”
“Good. I was a little worried about that but did not dare question the doctor. Mostly afraid of what he might say. The arm still does not work.”
“Nay, but the doctor had a few suggestions.”
“Work it, right?”
“Aye, if only to keep it from withering from disuse. I will see him tomorrow most like and can work with him. It is his spirits I dinnae ken what to do about.”
Abbie nodded. “He must be so disappointed that it has not returned to normal. It is nearly as bad as losing it completely as so many have.”
“It will take time for him to see it is better to have it useless than to lose it,” she said and squeaked when he suddenly stopped and pulled her into his arms. “I thought we were strolling.”
“This is a very important part of strolling with a bonnie lass.”
“Or so men tell themselves,” she said, and threw her arms around his neck.