Chapter 7 - THE HOUSE WITH THE BLUE DOOR
Spring finally reached the San Juans.
Snow retreated.
Roads opened.
Elias recovered enough to work again, though his shoulder would always ache in cold weather.
He did not return to the survey crew.
Instead, he found steady work with a mill outside Durango.
Abigail remained with Ruth.
At first she felt guilty.
Then Ruth said:
“If you apologize one more time for eating food in this house, I will charge you rent in chopped firewood.”
So Abigail chopped firewood badly.
Daniel laughed.
She threw a glove at him.
He became something she had never expected.
Not rescuer.
Not suitor.
Brother.
He taught Jacob to repair harnesses.
He built the twins a larger cradle.
He once spent forty minutes walking Benjamin around the yard because the baby refused to stop crying.
When Abigail thanked him, he said:
“Never mention this again.”
“You sang to him.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“I heard you.”
“You heard wind.”
By May, Elias rented a small two-room cottage with a blue door.
He showed it to Abigail.
No ring.
No speech.
“Thought you should see it.”
“For what?”
“For the children when they visit.”
“And me?”
“If you want.”
She walked through.
Small kitchen.
Iron stove.
One bedroom.
A second room barely large enough for two cradles.
She touched the blue-painted door.
“Why blue?”
“Paint was cheaper.”
She laughed.
Then he became serious.
“I can’t give you much.”
Abigail turned.
“Do you think that’s what I’m deciding?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He waited.
She continued.
“I need to know who I am when I’m not terrified.”
Elias nodded.
“And?”
“I’m starting to like her.”
“So am I.”
She smiled.
He did not kiss her.
That restraint made her step closer.
She kissed him.
Briefly.
By choice.
When they eventually married the following autumn, the wedding was small.
Ruth stood beside Abigail.
Daniel stood with Elias.
Jacob carried Benjamin until Benjamin spit up on his shirt.
Clara tried to eat a flower.
Martha attended but sat in the back.
Samuel did not come.
He had been invited.
Abigail surprised everyone by sending one.
Not because she forgave him.
Because she wanted the choice to be his this time.
He declined.
That hurt.
But not enough to ruin the day.
After the ceremony, Martha approached.
“You look happy.”
“I am.”
“May I kiss the babies?”
Abigail thought.
Then nodded.
Martha had spent the previous year rebuilding slowly.
No demands.
No excuses.
She had left Samuel permanently.
She worked sewing for a dressmaker.
For the first time in her life, she earned money in her own name.
Abigail was learning something difficult:
A person could fail you terribly and still become better.
May you like
You were not required to trust them at the speed they changed.
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