Chapter 16 February 1774
I knocked timidly on the door of the printing office. It was opened by Mr. Edes. "Is Peter in?" I inquired, looking somewhat like a meek mouse, expecting the cat to come around the corner and pounce at any moment.
"Abby, how lovely to see you again! How goes it?" I replied it went well, shifting my weight tentatively from one foot to another. "Ah, forgive me, you must be anxious to see Peter. Yes, he is upstairs setting up the chairs." Mr. Edes winked at me. How did he know the extent of my knowledge of the goings-on at the shop? Especially with regards to the Long Room…
"Thank you, Mr. Edes." I entered the shop, and climbed the ladder into the Long Room, a place which I regarded as a sort of shrine in which holy priests of Liberty met to bless all our futures. Sure enough, Peter was there, placing chairs around a long table. I watched him as he lifted them, the muscles in his arms revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of his rough cotton shirt. I guessed he had had to carry the chairs from the floor below, because the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, and a slight flush covered his face. I took a deep breath, and spoke. "Peter?" I timidly said his name, one that had been on my mind for almost a month now. I opened my eyes wide, and fumbled with my hands.
He looked up, but didn't turn around to look at me. An unreadable expression, somewhat wary, spread across his face as he stared at the wall across from him. "I've missed you, Abby," he said.
"And I you." I approached him, stopping a few steps away, unsure what to do.
"Why, then, did you not come see me?" He looked tired of a sudden, as if not ready to deal with me yet—more important things, such as meticulously arranging our shrine.
I stepped in front of him, and put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry," I said. He shook my hand off his arm. "I was angry."
He finally met my gaze, and regarded me, neutrally, the sadness having disappeared from his eyes. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a smile broke over his face, and laughter erupted from his open mouth. "I suppose I should have known better than to tell Abigail Atkins she would not be of use, eh?"
I smiled wanly, and shook my head. "Aye, you should have known much better." He studied me, puzzled.
"There was something else, wasn't there?" I looked away, at the ever-intriguing floor. "Perhaps there still is?" He cocked his head to the side, trying coax me into looking him in the eyes.
I bit my lip, and regarded his hazel eyes with level defiance. "Only that you should have known better than to regard me, a woman, as weaker or more willing to sacrifice my dignity."
"Oh Abby, how could I possibly see you as weak, when I know what a truly, vicious shrew you can be?"
"I don't know. But you assumed that I would become an eyelash-batting Southern belle over any old man that I happened to fancy."
Now it was his turn to look at the floor. He exhaled, a heavy sigh, and turned down the corners of his lips. "My behavior that day was uncalled for. Will you forgive me?"
I was taken aback. I had not expected a straight apology, with no explanation or excuse. I should have, Peter's character being very straightforward and unabashed. Maybe it was that I had wanted an explanation, and to not receive one was disappointing. But friends forgive each other, and so I did. However, I strongly wondered what had caused said uncalled for behavior.