Abigail walked back to the buggy at Seth’s side, her mind a jumble of disjointed emotions. It was as if she’d been walking through a lovely garden and suddenly had a thick swarm of gnats fly into her face. They’d been getting along so well, or at least she’d thought he was enjoying himself, too. What had happened to stir up that particular swarm of gnats, to turn him all stiff and closed off again? Was it because she’d asked about his leg? Or because she’d asked him to call her Abigail? Had he decided she was being too forward after all?
Or was it something else altogether?
When they reached the wagon, he helped her up, but his touch was impersonal, lacking the warmth of their earlier contact.
She made a couple of attempts to engage him in conversation on the ride home, but while his demeanor remained pleasant, it was also impersonal, and he limited himself to brief responses. It was almost a relief when he pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the restaurant.
Abigail quickly dismounted from the buggy. She couldn’t bear the thought of his polite but oh-so-impersonal touch.
“Thank you for an enjoyable outing,” he said politely.
“You’re quite welcome.” She managed to keep her tone equally polite. Then she stepped away from the buggy. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you at the hotel in the morning.”
With a nod, he set the horses in motion once more.
Abigail wasn’t ready to go inside and face Daisy’s curiosity, so she turned in the opposite direction of the livery and headed out at a fast walk. Perhaps some exercise and time alone to think and to pray would help clear her head.
* * *
Seth walked back to the hotel from the livery, making sure to go up Main Street rather than Second so he wouldn’t risk encountering Abigail. He was definitely out of sorts.
His leg ached from the jolt it had gotten and the walk they’d taken through the meadow. But he’d dealt with those aches and pains before and likely would again.
No, what had him so rattled was the image of the hurt look on Abigail’s face, and the knowledge that he was responsible for placing it there.
There was no doubt in his mind that putting some distance between them had been necessary. They were business associates and that was all they would ever be. He should never have done anything to make her think different.
Still, perhaps he could have been gentler with her.
Not that she could have intended anything more than a warmer friendship. He realized that now that he’d had some distance from the situation. Her overtures may have even been driven by sympathy. After all, she’d made her request to use given names after she’d heard the story of his leg injury.
It had just been wishful thinking on his part that had seen things leading to something more. For one thing, a vibrant young woman like Abigail would never be happy shackled to half a man, such as himself.
And that was the crux of the problem—wishful thinking. It did him no good to wish for something he couldn’t have. He thought he’d come to terms with that a long time ago.
But then Abigail had happened.
And now nothing was the same.