News spread quicker than the plague and by next Monday every single soul in Hope Valley knows about Henry's sudden fortune—if you can call it fortune when your estranged brother dies in a disease and leaves you all his money. It doesn't matter that Henry didn't steal the money, the people still think he doesn't deserve it, so the malicious glances and whispers don't stop. But Henry doesn't care anymore; he stopped caring at the very moment when the door of the café closed behind him. He can't think of anything else but Abigail.
Why did he get so upset with her? Easy question. No matter what he tells himself, Abigail is more important to him than anyone else in Hope Valley. Also, she's probably the one whom he had caused the most suffering. He wronged her again and again, and now he fears they reached the point of no return. What if she will never forgive him? Serves me right, Henry thinks and strikes the wood with his axe so forcefully the log immediately splits into two.
He lifts the axe and strikes. Then strikes again. And again. Again.
Abigail is the best friend he has ever had. On the other hand, Henry is probably the worst friend Abigail has ever had. It's not enough that he'd hurt her in the past, no, now he continues hurting her further. First he offends Faith because he'd had a bad week, then he pours his frustration on Abigail because he has no self-discipline.
His muscles are cramping and despite the cold weather sweat is running down on his back but Henry doesn't stop working. He knows from experience that physical pain doesn't dull the aching of the soul but it's said to help with easing the mind.
Well, it isn't easing his mind at all. No matter what, he probably flung away his last chance of making things right with Abigail. What right did he have to call her to account for promises? No right, especially not for promises she didn't even make. Nevertheless, it still stings. Abigail only wanted to help, yes, he appreciates that—but wishes she'd have come to him. Why did she have to run to Bill? Why didn't she try to talk to Henry first? She's one stubborn woman, eventually she'd have made him see reason. If Abigail would have talked to Henry first, he would have faced Bill, and all of them would have been saved from harsh words and unnecessary heartache.
Of course, there's a slight chance that Abigail isn't suffering as much as him. Henry might have hurt her with his words but maybe she's relieved she doesn't have to deal with him anymore. He's wronged her many times; she shouldn't feel bad because he won't force his friendship on her anymore. Abigail clearly doesn't see him as her equal—and how could a convicted felon be her equal?
All the same, Henry wishes that, even if he's not worthy of her, she'd have come to him first.
Henry stacks up the logs in the woodshed and takes an armful into the house. Cat is sitting on the sofa, reading a letter but when he enters, she lowers it and smiles at him.
"I see" she says "that we won't be short on firewood for a while. Thank you."
"It's nothing."
"You should accept a well-deserved thank you." Cat shakes her head when Henry opens his mouth to protest. "No, don't say anything—you deserve a thank you for all the work you do for us."
"It's really—" he starts but under Cat's frown he quickly changes his mind, "You're welcome."
"Come, sit down and rest."
She motions to the armchair next to the sofa but Henry hesitates.
"I should go. I can see that I interrupted your reading."
"And I can see that you're troubled."
He shakes off the remark with a sad smile. "I'm troubling myself. Never mind."
Apparently, it's not the answer she wants to hear.
"Henry Gowen, I've never in my life begged a man to sit and chat with me!" Cat snaps. "I'm not starting now. I've read Gabe's letter a hundred times and I'm going out of my mind with being here all alone and not talking to anyone. Then you show up to chop a dozen tons of wood but you won't talk to me?!"
"I'm sorry, Cat." Henry lowers himself into the armchair. "I was too absorbed in my problem—again. It might be the story of my life." He sighs. Time to change the topic. "How is Gabe doing?"
"He's doing fine. Actually, he promised to visit soon. I can't wait to see him again—and finally meet his wife."
Henry can't believe his ears. "His wife?"
"Yes, they got married two months ago."
"But Gabe, he was just a little kid yesterday—"
"—and he's a grown-up man today. I know, I know; it feels strange, seeing my little baby growing up so quickly." She absent-mindedly strokes the letter with her thumb. "Gabe is eighteen, working in a big city, far away from home, and married! Sounds unbelievable, right? Whenever he visits, I'm shocked by how much he changed since the last time I'd seen him. But he'll be my firstborn son forever, that will never change. I remember when I held him in my arms for the first time. He was such a beautiful baby; a strong, healthy one."
Henry nods, gaze shifting to the floor. Marriage, parenthood—just two of the many things he missed out. He'll never know how does it feel to hold your child for the first time.
His thoughts return to Abigail. No matter what he does, he can't get her out of his mind. Peter Stanton got married at a young age—and died at a young age. Abigail lost her only son and it's Henry's fault. The list of his sins is infinite. Abigail lost her family. Cat lost her husband. Gabe lost his father and his chance to study. And why? Because Henry took it all away from them.
"Gabriel grew up into a fine young man," Henry croaks after a long pause.
"Yes, and I'm very proud of him."
"I hope you're proud of yourself, too." He fidgets in his seat. "When he comes home, I'd be grateful if I could meet Gabe. Of course, I understand if he doesn't want to see me—"
"Well, it doesn't hurt to ask." Cat puts the letter back to the envelope. "He didn't write a date, just that they'd come as soon as possible. I hope they'll arrive before winter does."
"Why?"
She sighs, folding her hands in her lap. "I fear we're about to face a harsh winter." Before Henry could ask her what she means, Cat sends him a smile and says, "But thanks to my neighbor, I'll always have enough wood to keep out the cold."
-:-:-:-
Henry and Faith spend a whole morning with taking every single bottle and box off the shelves, thoroughly dusting said shelves, then putting everything back to its place. Faith makes them wear surgical masks in order to avoid inhaling too much dust. However, this doesn't stop her from chatting.
"Did you know that Paul Berger was the first one to use a surgical mask during operation?"
"I didn't even know Paul Berger existed."
"Don't worry; I only know this information because I helped Philip with his school project. Doctor Berger also developed a method of interscapulothoracic amputation but I kept this information to myself. Interscapulothoracic is quite a mouthful."
"I bet that's not even a real English word. You's only made it up now."
"Ha-ha. Anyway, Philip wrote a brilliant paper about how surgical masks help to reduce the risk of infection. I was so proud of him! It's not easy to do schoolwork when you don't have a proper library, just those few books Elizabeth got for the school."
"But they have something else beside books; they have a helpful and smart nurse to assist them."
Even with the mask covering her face, Henry can picture Faith's shy smile.
"The credit goes to Carson, too. He helped a lot, he did. For example, Emily was writing about Ignaz Semmelweis and Carson told her everything he knew about him."
"I'm sorry who is this Sem- Sam- Who is he again?"
"He was a doctor who saved the lives of many mothers because he realised that the incidence of childbed fever could be drastically cut only if the doctors and midwives would wash their hands first!" Faith puts the last box of cotton wool back to the shelf. "His ideas were laughed at but his mockers couldn't erase his influence. Nor could this war. Semmelweis was born in the Austro-Hungarian Empire and we might fight his country now but we don't fight his ideas anymore." She takes off the mask and tucks a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear. "He saved lives and that's respectful, borders and wars be damned! Ohh, I mean… Sorry, I might have gotten carried away—"
"No, please, go on."
"I just love how Emily and Philip and all the kids of Hope Valley let themselves be influenced by great people."
Maybe I should look for someone great to influence me, Henry thinks. Of course, he wouldn't need to search for too long. And not just because Faith stands right in front of him.
Abigail.
When will he finally let her influence him?
"Tomorrow," Henry mumbles.
"Excuse me?"
The question wakes him from his dreamy state. "Nothing, I was just talking to myself." He hands her his mask. "I was wondering… All right, it might sound stupid but is Cat Montgomery allowed to go outside? In her current condition, I mean."
"Why, of course she is! If she feels strong enough, she should take short walks. Preferably not alone, tough."
"I could accompany Cat. If she's up to it." Henry scratches his neck; he's unsure how to put his thoughts into words. "Last time I visited her, she seemed… lonely. No, that's not the right word. How do I explain it?"
"Henry, you don't need to explain anything. It's natural that a patient who's been confined to her room for months, longs to spend more time in the open. If you're amenable to look out for her, that's great! It's a great idea, Henry."
"Not my idea, not really," he shrugs, "I just remembered when the good doctor had ordered me to take a walk every day after- after my accident."
"Well then, great thinking." Faith smiles. "Your time here is rubbing off on you."
Henry can't help but smile back. "Only because I have a great teacher."