Abigail woke early the next morning, her eyes swollen, her heart heavy. She showered, returned her belongings to her suitcase, then crept into her aunt’s kitchen where she forced down a slice of toast. Her new flight to Chicago left in three hours from Bozeman, and the cab would be arriving soon.
She couldn’t believe her time in Montana had come to this. She wanted to collapse onto the sofa, pull the quilt over her head, and stay there. She glanced out the kitchen window toward Wade’s ranch. She wanted to go see him, wanted to set things right between them. But the memory of that cold look in his eyes was enough to shatter that fantasy.
She’d been a wreck when she’d shown up on her aunt’s doorstep the previous day. Aunt Lucy had listened patiently as she’d poured out the whole story, from the article to her feelings for Wade, her words tumbling out in a jumbled mess.
Now the overhead light flipped on as Aunt Lucy entered the kitchen, knotting the belt of her robe around her thick waist. “’Morning, dear.”
Abigail looked away from the pity in her aunt’s eyes. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“I wanted to see you off. Are you sure I can’t drive you?” Aunt Lucy sank into the nearest chair.
“I’m sure. The cab’ll be here any minute.”
“I’d ask how you’re feeling, but it’s all over your face.”
Abigail swallowed the last bite of toast and pushed back her plate. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve made a mess, and it’s too big to . . .” A lump swelled in her throat, forcing off her words.
“There’s only one thing you can do at a time like this, honey: pray hard. God knows all you’ve done, and He knows your heart. Trust Him to lead you.”
Abigail wanted this fixed. She wanted to go back in time and do things differently, but that wasn’t possible. “You’re right. I know you are, it’s just hard—” She swallowed against the lump.
“Love is never easy.”
A car horn tooted outside.
“My ride.” They stood and hugged. Abigail kissed her aunt on the cheek. “Thanks for everything, Aunt Lucy. I love you.”
“Love you too, child. I’ll be praying for you.”
Abigail gathered her things and started for the door.
“Oh, one more thing.” Aunt Lucy waddled across the room and plucked a doll from the sofa. “Take Lydia.” She handed the doll to Abigail. “She’s my best comforter.”