Chapter 9 - THE LIFE SHE BUILT WITHOUT ASKING PERMISSION
Summer changed everything.
Abigail turned eighteen.
Ruth trained her in midwifery.
Not formally.
There were no neat certificates on the frontier.
But Abigail learned.
Boiling instruments.
Recognizing dangerous bleeding.
Positioning babies.
Knowing when birth exceeded what a cabin could safely handle.
Knowing when pride had to give way to a doctor.
She became useful.
Then good.
Daniel worked timber and mining claims.
Legitimate ones.
He had a reputation for asking too many questions before signing contracts.
Abigail liked that.
Their relationship remained strangely gentle.
Daniel never called the twins his.
Never behaved as though saving Abigail gave him rights over her.
That mattered.
One evening, Abigail found him repairing the porch.
“You avoid me.”
Daniel almost hit his thumb.
“I live downstairs.”
“You know what I mean.”
He sat back.
“You're eighteen.”
“So?”
“You survived being abandoned.”
“Yes.”
“You had babies.”
“Yes.”
“You watched your father go to prison.”
“Yes.”
Daniel sighed.
“I don't want gratitude confused with love.”
Abigail stared.
“That's very arrogant.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“You assume if I loved you, it would only be because you saved me.”
“I—”
“I knew Elias.”
Her voice softened.
“I know what love feels like.”
Daniel went quiet.
“And?”
Abigail smiled.
“This is different.”
He looked almost frightened.
“Different bad?”
“No.”
“Good?”
“Sometimes.”
He laughed.
She sat beside him.
“I am not ready to marry anybody.”
“I didn't ask.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
He smiled.
“Fine.”
“But I would like you to kiss me.”
Daniel nearly dropped the hammer.
Abigail laughed.
Then he asked:
“Are you sure?”
No man had asked her that before.
Not about anything important.
“Yes.”
So he kissed her.
Once.
Slowly.
And stopped first.
May you like
Choice.
Always choice.
