AN: I don't remember if or what the show gave for Frank's past but I took writer's license on it for this story. Thanks Katie for the quick edit!
Placing the plates on the table in front of Henry and his son, Clara turned back to the kitchen. She took long strides, hoping to get back to the stove before anything burned. Though she had seen Abigail and Bill both run the café alone during the lunch hour, she wasn't sure how they made it look so easy. Then again, after pouring coffee into Jack's Stetson, she never would have thought she would still be working her all these years later, let alone running it. Not that she hadn't tried to get away. However, something always seemed to bring her back.
Reaching the stove, she found Abigail stirring the corn chowder and flipping the steaks frying in the pan. Clara also noticed that the fish filets that she had been waiting to put in the pan were already frying.
"Where did you come from?" The words just came tumbling out before Clara could stop them. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "It's just days like this that I don't know why I agreed to run this place after Minnie left."
Abigail smiled. "Because you love both of your co-owners," she supplied. "Shouldn't you have help?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, Mary wasn't feeling well this morning and went home sick."
"Well, let me help you through the lunch rush at least," Abigail said. She glanced over at the settee where Frank was relaxing, feet stretched out in front of him. "Are you all right with that?"
"The kids are in school for another couple of weeks and it is not my day to play principal, so yes. That is fine. Any chance I could get dessert to tide me over?" Frank inquired.
"With pleasure," Clara said, cutting a slice of the cream pie Molly had baked for her and taking it over to Frank.
With Abigail's help, Clara made it through the rush hour and when Hickam and Gretchen were the only two left, the couple enjoying a moment together after probably being busy at the Amaryllis, Clara instructed Abigail and Frank to have a seat so she could serve them.
"I'm sorry. You met me at the stagecoach so we can have lunch together and I end up working," Abigail apologized as Clara left to cook their meals.
Frank waved a hand dismissively. "I know you, Abigail. If you see a need, you are going to fill it and that is what the Lord calls upon us to do."
"Thank you for understanding," Abigail told him, picking up her teacup to take a sip.
"To be honest, I would have leant a hand myself if I thought I would have been any help," Frank told her. "I am too clumsy to serve food and according to the boys in my care, my food is barely edible. They beg Edward to be the one cooking."
Abigail chuckled. "I suppose your lifestyle never leant itself to learning to be a good cook."
"Not exactly. My Mom cooked for me until I was fifteen. When my Dad fled, he took me with him. Some days I was so hungry I wouldn't care if the food was undercooked or overcooked, it was food. Food in jail isn't much better."
"You never said specifically what happened to your mom," Abigail ventured, compassion in her voice.
Frank looked down into the mug of black coffee that he held in two hands.
"You don't have to share," Abigail added. "But know I am always here to listen."
When Frank looked up, there were tears sparkling in his eyes. "My dad shot her. He was drunk and when he was drunk nothing was good enough for him. He was going around the house, gun held in one hand, yelling about all the things that were wrong. I don't think he meant to shoot her, but the gun did go off and the bullet found its way to my mom's chest. I was in shock. I couldn't move. At least not until my dad grabbed my arm and said we had to get out of there. In the days that followed, he convinced me that if I tried to turn him in that I would go to jail for her murder too, as an accomplice. In my youth and shock, I believed him, so I followed him into a life of crime."
"That is awful," Abigail replied, reaching out and placing a hand on one of his that still clutched the mug.
"It wasn't until my last stint in prison that the preacher made me realize that her death was not my fault. That if I had gone to the proper authorities, even after going with my dad that I would not have been held accountable. I would have probably ended up in an orphanage as I had no close relatives that I knew of that might have taken me in. From the stories I've heard and seen of some orphanages, I may not have made out much better, but we'll never know for sure."
Abigail watched as Frank seemed to gather his emotions before he spoke again. "But that is all in the past," he told her. "What matters is what I am doing with my life now."
"You are doing a good thing for those boys."
"Except apparently the cooking," Frank joked.
Abigail smiled.
"Maybe you need a cook," Clara said as she approached the table with two plates of food.
"Looking for a change of venue?" Frank asked her.
Clara laughed. "No," she said as she placed the other plate in front of Abigail. "This place seems to be my lot, especially now that I am a part owner in it," she told Frank. She changed her gaze to Abigail. "But weren't you saying that you felt you weren't needed at New Hope Orphanage now that Grace is back and that you would like to be closer to Abby."
"I believe I said closer to Abby, Jesse and yourself," Abigail corrected. "But you are doing well with the Café and I'm not sure what else there would be here for me to do."
"Clara might be on to something," Frank said. "The boys would do well with having a feminine hand in their lives, and not just with the cooking. The pay wouldn't be much."
"I know what you get paid running an orphanage," Abigail told him, as she contemplated the situation.
Having planted a seed, Clara went to check on her other two customers.
"There is a guest cottage behind the house. It isn't much. A kitchen and living area together with a bedroom and water closet off of it but it would give you a place of your own rather than people talking about you living in a house with all men." Frank paused. "At least for a little while."
Abigail gave Frank a quizzical look. "Is there something else on your mind?"
Frank sighed. "I haven't figured out how to pop this question so maybe now is as good as any time." Getting to his feet, he took out a small box from his pocket.
Abigail gasped, her meal forgotten as Frank knelt down in front of her.
"Abigail, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" Frank asked, opening the box to reveal a simple diamond ring.
"Yes," Abigail said, without hesitation, throwing her arms around Franks neck.
Mike, Gretchen, and Clair all began clapping. No one noticed the person standing in the entrance who turned and left the café as Frank and Abigail kissed.
Abigail felt breathless when she pulled back. It was a feeling she hadn't felt since she had been with Noah.
"This does mean you will move back to Hope Valley eventually, right?" Frank asked.
Abigail laughed. "Yes. Perhaps helping you with the youth home is the next thing that I was meant to do," she told him as the other three occupants of the café came over to offer their congratulations.
"I'm a little embarrassed to ask, but Mike could you give me a hand up. I think I might be too old to propose on one knee," Frank asked.
Everyone laughed as Mike helped Frank to his feet.
Nathan sanded the vanity he was completing for an order as he listened to Bill talking about inconsequential things. The older man had shown up about twenty minutes ago, without giving a specific reason. Not that Bill needed a reason to visit. Nathan and his family were always happy to see the man who acted as a surrogate father to both him and Elizabeth. However, Nathan could tell that something was bothering Bill, and it wasn't the worry of a potential lack of rain for the area.
Nathan stopped sanding and ran his hand over the wooden surface. Satisfied with the results, he stood up straighter and tossed the sandpaper onto his worktable. He looked at his friend sitting on the second stool in the workshop.
"What is really bothering you, Bill?" Nathan asked.
"Who said anything was bothering me?" Bill countered.
Nathan just leveled his friend with a stare. Bill sighed.
"I went to stop by for a turnover from the café and walked in on Frank proposing to Abigail," Bill told him. "I know I should be happy for them, but what I really wanted to do was walk over and punch the guy."
"Well, I am glad you didn't do that. Punching a pastor for simply proposing would definitely be frowned upon.'
"I know," Bill said with a sigh. "And I don't know why I feel that way. I mean, I like Frank. He's served his time and honestly these days is probably a better person than I am."
"But you still have feelings for Abigail," Nathan supplied.
Nathan had to bite his lower lip as Bill opened and closed his mouth several times. It kind of reminded Nathan of a fish out of water.
"I do," Bill finally said with a sigh. "But I handled things badly with her numerous times. I have no one to blame for her not trusting me other than myself."
"Then I think the best thing for you to do at this point is to hold your tongue and let her be happy. Which I think you know, or you would have taken another try at winning her heart before this happened."
Bill nodded. "I guess up until now I could always convince myself that there might still be a chance. I don't even have that hope now. Not to mention they are probably going to be living in Hope Valley. Apparently, I am supposed to be alone."
"You are not alone, Bill," Nathan countered. "You have Elizabeth, me and the kids. Clara looks to you as a father. Besides, who knows, perhaps that special someone who is suited exactly for you will come along still."
Bill nodded. "At least it isn't Henry she ended up with. That I couldn't have sit back and watched," he muttered.
Nathan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go inside and tell Elizabeth that there is going to be one more for supper," he said, not giving Bill an opportunity to not agree to have the evening meal with them.
Bill nodded and followed Nathan out of the wood shop. The construction crew was packing up for the day, meaning there was quiet in the yard. A few of the men waved to Nathan and Bill as they headed toward the house. The two men returned the gesture.
They were met with quiet in the house as well. Instead of calling for Elizabeth, Nathan went in search of her. He didn't have to go far. He found his wife and son asleep on the settee.
"Elizabeth has been extremely tired the last week or so. She had a checkup with Faith, and she said everything seemed fine with her and the baby."
Bill nodded. "Pregnancy affects people in different ways," he said. "We'll let her rest and I'll go start supper. You go get cleaned up."
Nathan nodded, not at all bothered by the idea of Bill cooking supper. He was more family than guest anyway and Elizabeth clearly needed some rest.