Closer inspection revealed lines of pain etched in his face. A prickle of sympathy ran through her. A man who’d run a bank and a host of businesses must be frustrated at finding himself an invalid. Frustration he took out on others. Her stomach lurched. And no doubt would on her.
Wade glanced at his father. “I’ll check on you at lunch.”
“Don’t bother. You’ve done quite enough.”
Nothing in Wade’s father’s derisive tone held affection. Abigail had been raised on the importance of family. How could he speak that way to his son, especially in front of a Wilson?
Her hand found the chain at her neck as images flitted through her mind—her father bouncing her on his knee, giving her piggyback rides, playfully tugging on her braids. The father she’d adored. He’d called her his baby girl. Before he’d faded away, becoming a shadow of his former self, a man who’d barely functioned.
This man had caused that change in her father.
Wade motioned for her to follow then led her into the hall. “Except for the housekeeper coming in on Fridays, you’re alone in the house.”
Even good wages weren’t enough incentive for his staff to remain on the job. Was his bad-tempered demeanor a façade meant to hold others away? Including his son? If so, why?
“I’ll stop in at noon.” Wade’s forehead creased as if he worried about her survival. “Make sure you’re okay.”
“It might help if you didn’t.”
His frown vanished, replaced by a stiff smile. “As you wish.”
Without a backward glance he strode off, leaving her to deal with his father alone.
If not for Lois and Joe’s desperate need for a new beginning, no amount of money would make her deal with George Cummings.
Yet as much as the man had ruined her father’s life and his presence reminded her of all the suffering he’d brought her family, she’d earn her wage. Make him as comfortable as she could, help him pass the time, prepare his meals. Work as if working for the Lord.
She breathed a quick prayer for strength and stepped into the room.
Mr. Cummings observed her with shrewd eyes, evaluating her as he would a business rival. “My son picked a puny gal to handle his old man.”
“God chose a shepherd boy to handle Goliath.”
He snorted. “You think highly of yourself, young lady, but just so you know, I’m not about to lose.”
“This is a sickroom, not a battlefield.” She leaned toward him. “But just so you know, I’m not in the habit of losing.”
“Well, that’s about to change.” He gave a cold smile. “You’re fired, Miss Wilson.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “The only person who can fire me is the person who hired me.”
“This is my house. I’m ordering you to leave.”
“In good time, but for now, you’ll have to put up with me.”
He shot up, sending the chair careening against the wall and him into a fit of coughing. As he gasped for air, his face turned blotchy, then purple.
Abigail rushed to his side on limbs hot with panic. His hound dog beat her there, stationing himself at his owner’s feet, whining as if his heart would break.
Unsure what to do, Abigail pounded on his back with her fist then steered him to the open window, praying the breeze enabled him to catch his breath. Finally the coughing eased then stopped, leaving an eerie quiet almost as unnerving.
With shaking hands she filled a glass with water and held it to his lips. He drank deeply, then dropped into the wheelchair she’d shoved near, leaning back, eyes closed, appearing exhausted. Yet the tone of his skin looked good.
“Are you okay?”
“For a schoolmarm you ask stupid questions,” he ground out. “You’re trying to kill me with that sassy tongue.”
“Your temper is to blame for that coughing spell, not me.”
“I suppose you’d point the finger at a man for dying, too.”
“You might faint from coughing, but you won’t die.” At least she’d never heard of such a thing, but she’d ask Doc Simmons to be certain.
“In that case, I may keep you on merely to relieve the monotony. But don’t get the idea you’re a giant-slayer.”
“Whatever you say,” she said with enough sweetness to make sour cherries appetizing.
He frowned. Obviously disappointed she hadn’t gone on the attack. Not an auspicious beginning. She might need to get a slingshot and start practicing. If she hoped to keep this job, she had to gain George Cummings’s respect. That meant giving him a dose of his own medicine. She wouldn’t allow an aging, ailing Goliath to ride roughshod over her.
Chapter Five
Silence greeted Wade as he opened the front door and entered the entrance hall. Smiling, he removed his suit jacket and hat and tossed them on a chair. Apparently God had answered his prayers for a truce between Abby and his father. Or did the eerie quiet mean they’d knocked each other out cold? He grimaced. A joke, but somehow not that funny.
The entire day he’d struggled to concentrate, wondering how Abigail was getting along with his father, not an easy man anytime, but especially now. He’d left the bank early. Early enough that he hoped to find time to work in his shop before Abby left for the day.
But first he’d see how she’d managed. He took the steps two at a time and strode down the hall toward his father’s room.
Abby appeared in the doorway. Only then did he admit he hadn’t expected her to last the day. Feared his father would kick her out or she’d make a run for it.
This woman had grit as he’d predicted. But what toll had a day with his father taken on her?
She held a forefinger to her lips then moved toward him. He took in the spring of her step, the tilt of her chin. She didn’t look worse for wear. Her regal beauty surpassed the splendor of her surroundings. That Abby graced his home socked him in the gut. Five years earlier he’d pictured her here, but held no such delusions now.
“Your father’s napping,” she said when she reached him.
Upon closer inspection he noted the weariness in her soft blue eyes, as if spending time with his father had sapped her energy and strained every nerve. As he’d assumed, her day hadn’t been an easy one.
“Pain has kept him from sleeping well.”
“Perhaps that explains some of his crankiness.”
What did a man say to that? No, cranky is the norm?
