Page 55 of More than Words Can Say

It took a minute for her words to penetrate his dread-filled brain. Once they did, his relief was so great, he almost forgot that his wife was on the cusp of telling him something important. Scraping his focus off himself and placing it back on her where it belonged, he gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze and rubbed gently at the tightness he felt beneath his thumbs.

“See that tree?” She raised her right arm and pointed with a shaky finger at the oversized live oak forty yards in front of them. “That’s where I killed my best friend’s beau.”

Abigail stopped fighting the memories of that day and let them pound into her with all their fury. Zach held her fast as the waves buffeted against her, his stalwart strength an anchor in her storm.

He hadn’t left her. His hands might have stuttered for a brief second at her revelation, but they never left her shoulders. Even now they massaged and supported, silently encouraging her to continue her tale.

It had been a day much like this one. Sunny. Warm. Ripe for adventure. For love.

Sophia’s mother never allowed her daughter to gallivant around with Benedict Crowley unescorted. She had set her sights higher than the son of the local blacksmith for her daughter, and she made sure to protect against any scandal that might hasten Sophia to the altar before she was old enough to be dangled in front of a more suitable man. A mature man already established in business or politics. One with clout. Power. Not a grubby urchin who spent his afternoons shoveling horse droppings.

At fifteen, Sophie was well aware of her mother’s plans, but she and Abby had made a pact to protect each other from cold, heartless unions. They’d marry for love or not at all—Sophie to escape the social climbing of a mother who cared more for appearances than affection, and Abby to avoid becoming a broodmare to a man like her father who only saw value in sons.

So when Ben Crowley started courting Sophie, Abby gladly played chaperone. It was an easy task, since they’d all grown up together and were fast friends. And if Abby harbored a secret crush of her own on Benedict, well, she was careful not to let it show. Friends didn’t steal beaus from one another. Not that she could have even if she’d wanted to. A dumpy girl like her could never compete with Sophie’s beauty. Even at fifteen, she had an elegance about her that drew attention.

When Sophie suggested they all climb the old oak that day, Abigail had readily agreed. Tree-climbing was one of the few things she actually did better than her friend, and she couldn’t pass up the chance to impress Ben with her skill. It didn’t take long, however, to figure out that Sophie had made the suggestion in order to finagle time alone with her beau. While Abby darted up the tree like a squirrel, Sophie lingered behind, not making a move without Ben’s hand to steady her. After securing a spot on the lowest layer of limbs, Sophie declared she couldn’t go a bit higher and begged Ben to keep her company.

“But you go ahead, Abby,” she had called with a smile. “Show Ben how far you can go.” Then she’d clasped Ben’s hand to make sure he remained at her side. “She really is the best climber,” Sophie told him.

And that had settled things. Abby couldn’t leave the challenge unmet, even knowing that it had only been issued to give Sophie a chance to lean against Ben and have him hold her while they pretended to watch the climb.

When Abby had ascended halfway to the top, she’d stopped to wave at her friends. Only they were no longer watching. They had eyes only for each other. Lips too, apparently, for their faces were plastered together.

Feeling embarrassed, envious, and a tiny bit betrayed, Abby ripped her gaze away from her friends and took refuge in climbing. Higher and higher she scaled, face tipped upward to catch the breeze.

Until that breeze caught her. A gust, really. A strong one that shook the tree, nearly tearing the limb she held from her hands.

A scream tore from her throat as she scrambled for a better grip. For secure footing.

“Abigail!” Benedict called from below. Far below.

She looked down for the first time. Her mind spun in dizzy circles. Her vision blurred. Her equilibrium teetered. Whimpering, she traded her handhold for wrapping her arm around the branch. Why had she climbed so high?

“Abby!” Sophie’s voice this time. “I can’t see you!”

Sophie sounded truly frightened. Abby tried to answer, to reassure her friend that she was all right—at least for the moment—but she couldn’t seem to find sufficient breath. The branches that had seemed so close and easy to grasp before now seemed miles away as she tentatively reached a foot down to a lower limb.

Another gust blew. The tree swayed. Abby gasped and instantly retracted her leg. She couldn’t do it. She’d fall.

Sophie peered up between the branches, a hand shading her eyes. “You’re too high, Abby! You need to come down.”

Leave it to Sophie to try to boss her out of the tree. Abby would have smiled at the ridiculousness of that tactic, but she was too terrified to move a muscle—even the little ones in her cheeks.

“She’s on this side, Ben,” Sophie instructed. “Hurry! The wind is picking up.”

“I’m coming,” Ben shouted up to Abby. “Hold on.”

Holding on was about all she could do at the moment. Everything else seemed impossible.

Closing her eyes, she alternated between praying for God to still the wind and lecturing herself for not paying closer attention to her surroundings.

Her arms grew weary as she waited for Benedict to make his way up to her, and she began to shake as if she were just another leaf on the tree. Thankfully, the blacksmith’s son was tall and strong and climbed nearly as well as she did.

“I’m here, Abby.” The touch of his hand on her ankle infused her with hope and security. Ben wouldn’t let her fall.

Yet when she opened her eyes, she didn’t see her rescuer. She saw the ground, blurry and far, far away.

“I can’t,” she moaned, hating her weakness but not knowing how to circumvent it.