Unorthodox Measures
John Andre sat in his parlor staring at a book for thirty minutes and he had not flipped the page once. He sighed in frustration and threw down the book. Why couldn't he concentrate? He had better things to do with his time than to let his mind wander. He should be doing something productive.
Yet, he realized he hadn't been himself since Abigail caught him in a very compromising position with Philomena. He silently cursed himself for being so careless as to not put his signature on the document therefore forcing Abigail to return home.
He recalled the utter embarrassment he felt at being caught and the subsequent feel of shock and awkwardness that soon followed as he tried to explain himself out of his predicament.
"Unorthodox measures," he muttered aloud. He knew the explanation was utter folly. He just wanted to rid himself of the memories of Peggy and using Philomena was the avenue he chose. Yet, he suddenly felt ashamed.
Ashamed of disappointing Abigail. What must she truly think of him?
He went to look for her and found her in the kitchen. She was finishing her duties for the day and she seemed peaceful. As he stood in the doorway he contemplated even saying anything. What if he was about to dig himself into a deeper mess?
"Abigail," he called out from the doorway. He saw her spine stiffened and her hands stilled over the dishes she was putting away.
She turned her body in his direction with a careful expression and he felt like he was intruding on her territory as if it this was not his house too.
"How can I help you Major?" she asked politely.
"John, Abigail. You can call me John," he said. She simply nodded waiting for him to continue. "Um, I-I wanted…
He sighed in frustration again. He couldn't get the words out properly.
"I wanted to apologize for earlier. What you saw-"
"Is already forgotten Major," she informed him and quickly returned to the task at hand.
He stayed rooted to his spot not ready to let it go although she'd just given him an out. He approached her much to her surprise and she nearly stumbled into the table behind her. He reached out to steady her balance.
"Please, Abigail, you must hear me out. My actions, I perceive, were much troublesome and I apologize. You shouldn't have seen any of what transpired. I did not think and you must think of me an imbecile."
His eyes searched hers as he silently pleaded for forgiveness and redemption.
She gave him a tight smile. "I do not think you are an imbecile. You explained yourself and I understand you are tasked with a great responsibility. As you stated, you needed to use unorthodox measures to accomplish your goal. I do not see why you feel you need to apologize."
He grasped both of her hands in his. "I care what you think. I feel I have offended you. I beg your forgiveness," he replied. "And maybe I need you to forgive me so I can forgive myself," he added softly.
"Then you have my forgiveness," she said. "Although the next time you want to use unorthodox measures, could you please move it somewhere else?"
He let a snort escape him. "As you wish my dear Abigail." He bid her good night feeling relieved and left the kitchen.