1865
A solemn Loren Bray led his grief stricken wife, Maude, out of the cemetery. He paid no attention to his fellow townsfolk who murmured condolences, as they passed by. Their kind words were well intended, but instead of comforting him, they grated against his nerves. Nothing they could ever say to him would change the fact that his beloved daughter was gone.
*Abigail*
Loren choked back the sob that threatened to escape, and felt it lodge in his throat. He blinked back tears and snuffled. His hold on Maude tightened as they continued on their way to the mercantile. Once there, they entered, and after he shut and locked the door behind them, he led Maude upstairs to their bedroom.
He settled her on their bed, removing her shoes, and pulling the quilt over her. He sat down on the bed next to her and smoothed back strands of silvered hair away from her ashen face. He hated to see her in such a distraught state. He wished he could do something to ease her pain, but knew he couldn't.
There was nothing he could do to ease either of their broken hearts. Not only was their beautiful daughter gone, but so was the grandchild they had been so looking forward to spoiling.
"I want Abby," Maude wailed, "I want our daughter back."
"So do I, Sweetheart," Loren felt the tears he had been holding at bay, finally break free, "So do I."
He drew Maude's shaking body into his arms. He and Maude clung to each other as they wept over their devastating loss. Abigail was lost to them forever and Loren didn't know how they were ever going to get over losing her.