Chapter 34 – March 1917 – A second chance

"You'll be alright?"

Elizabeth was wringing her hands. Abigail tried to give her friend a reassuring smile to push her along.

"Yes, I'm just going to stay inside. I'm not… I'm not quite ready for anything else yet, I think. But resting here will be fine."

Elizabeth was already so late heading out for school that Cody hadn't been able to wait any longer and had run out five minutes ago. He had been so excited and eager to see his friends again that despite Abigail's misgivings of him being suddenly seen in town alone, she couldn't bring herself to call him back. Even if his excitement hadn't been so palpable, she hadn't the energy for an argument. Thankfully Elizabeth had sensed as much, asking Laura to take little Jack to her house for the day.

Elizabeth grabbed her in a quick, tight hug.

"It's so good to have you back, Abigail. We'll talk more tonight?"

Abigail nodded, grateful but already overwhelmed. When the door finally clicked shut, she let a long breath out into the silence.

She had shown up on Elizabeth's doorstep late last night after a long journey that she'd nearly chickened out on at multiple points. The tremble that racked her hands at the thought of facing everyone again was interrupted only by the clenching of her fists each time she felt tears threaten at her eyes. At every train or carriage stop, she would take note of the depot sign, her feet itching to escape to a new life in Edgecombe or Maple Ridge. But she had kept herself still and eventually she had set them down to the low platform where "Hope Valley" hung etched above her, darkness obscuring the letters that had glittered so brightly the day Silas stood to unveil them. She remembered the bittersweet notes of that morning, when Coal Valley became consigned to a memory in their hearts.

The shame and guilt of her involvement in the mine accident had not lessened; the intensity of it had merely blurred. She was almost used to the degradation of it now, a realization that itself would make her sick when she became aware of it.

She could not become complacent with her responsibility. It was only to face her rightful consequences that she was here now. She had been wrong when she told Henry that being away was her punishment. It had taken several letters from Elizabeth before the fog of her mind had dissipated just long enough for her to understand the chain of events she had once again set off.

It was now impossible to deny how, throughout all the years they had known one another, she had left Henry to be the one standing tall in the face of their wrongs. Having dropped her desires into the middle of his life she would soon think better of it and run, the brunt of people's whispers lashing at his back as she hid. She had taken her cover first behind her marriage, next behind her grief, and finally behind a week's distance and a letter that all but ensured the town's shrewd gaze would turn to a man already so battered by his own conscience he could hardly continue to stand at all. She might not be within her rights to seek his love, and never was, but she could certainly care about what her own actions had done to him, even if the realization had come too late.

The damage she had wrought did not end there, of course; there was Cody as well. Enamored of her own banishment she had stolen him away from his home and everything he knew, without discussion or input, for the second time in his life. She'd never thought she would be someone to do that to him. And yet he had been so brave for her, so understanding. On the day she had received Elizabeth's last letter, with news of Anna and Philip as well as Henry, she had begun to cry. Cody had come home from school just then, and though her eyes had been red for months, he still dropped his bag at the sound of her sobs and came to her.

"It's gonna be okay, Mom," he'd said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

It was firm. Comforting. In the hours she had spent in that chair, shut up inside her own thoughts, he had somehow grown so much.

"Cody," she had said, seizing the calming hand, "do you want to learn how to make chicken à la king?"

She told him everything she felt she could, answering his questions appropriately but honestly. It was time to go back, she said, and so he ought to know why they had left in the first place, and what he might hear when they returned.

"It was Mr. Gowen though, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she'd answered softly, "it was."

"Even though he used to be a bad guy. And Mr. Stanton was a good guy."

"Well, it's not quite that simple. Mr. Gowen did some bad things, but the person he is now is much closer to the one I knew then. And my husband was a very good man, whom I loved very much, but unfortunately relationships can be complicated even when people are good."

"Emily says her dad and Mr. Stanton were really good friends even though she doesn't remember him too much. Mr. Stanton, I mean. She said you used to go over for dinner sometimes before the accident, and before her mom got too sick."

A dull pain filled Abigail's heart for her friend, whose embrace she suddenly missed dearly. "Oh yes, I remember when Emily and her brothers were just babies. We saw the Montgomeries quite often."

"So why didn't Mr. Stanton tell Emily's dad about the ventilation then?"

"Well, Noah and Mr. Gowen were trying to figure things out and they didn't want to worry anyone."

"But couldn't Mr. Montgomery have helped?"

"Maybe. A lot of people involved made mistakes that they didn't know were mistakes until something bad happened. The reason I feel differently is that I didn't make a mistake, Cody. I kept doing something that I knew was wrong."

"Did you want Mr. Stanton to find your letter?"

She sighed. "No. No, I truly didn't. I planned to get rid of it that day and never think about it again."

"So you were trying to be better and you didn't know something bad was going to happen either."

She shook her head, caught between more tears and the familiar clutch of panic that flared in the depths of her stomach.

"But I was too late. I tried to be good too late and if I'd just done it earlier or not acted immorally at all, I could have changed things."

Cody's hands slowed, his smooth face dropping into a frown.

"When my parents –" he stopped and swallowed, "when they died, I asked the Sisters at the home who killed them. I asked them a bunch of times and they'd always say the same thing: no one killed them, it was nobody's fault. I really wanted something to be mad at though, so I used to blame all kinds of different things. I would say that cars should never have been invented, or that someone should have cut down the tree they hit, or that there should be no trees in Canada at all. I'd think about maybe the people whose house they were going to, maybe if those people had died first instead, then my parents wouldn't have had to go there, to their stupid house. That was a pretty mean thought."

He cast his eyes down, hesitating before speaking again.

"I blamed God a lot too. That was the worst thought."

"It's a normal thought though," she tried to reassure him. "When we can't understand something. Faith is often very difficult in those times."

"But the other thing people used to do," Cody continued, gripping the spoon again, "is they would go on and on about how it wasn't my fault either. They'd say things they thought were nice, like, 'Don't go thinking you should have behaved better or anything like that. It wasn't because of you.' But secretly? What I was really thinking? Is that I should have behaved a lot worse."

"What do you mean?"

Cody's glistening eyes stared into hers. "I used to think maybe if I had caused a lot of trouble… if they hadn't trusted me and Becky so much… then they might have had to stay home all the time instead."

Abigail laid down her knife and caressed his hair. "Oh my love. You know that isn't true, don't you?"

"Most of the time I do. But Mom?" he asked, darker now. "Can I tell you something else?"

"Of course. Always."

"Even though I hated leaving Hope Valley and I hated seeing you sad… there was a part of me that liked knowing you were home all the time instead."

She could not hold back this time, and pulled him into a fierce hug.

"I'm sorry. Is that okay?" he whispered.

"Yes, sweetheart, it's okay," she said, his hair sticking to her wet face.

"But that's why we have to go back, right? Because sometimes we have to face things even when we're afraid?"

She planted a firm kiss on his temple. "How did you get so smart?"

"I had some really good moms."

Abigail squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to turn the moment into pain. Not to think about how she only had about another year or two left before he would grow quieter. Not to think about how there were only another four until he outlived Peter. Not to think about how unnerving it was to articulate the hope that one son would outlive the other. She had this time with him and she would do everything in her power not to sit on the sidelines while it passed by. She had to be brave for him.

"I love you so much," she had said.

ooo

This memory got her through her first morning back in Hope Valley. Though she often spent her days in extremes, wavering between numbness and agitation these last few months, she was encouraged by the tiny spark of excitement that spread beneath her skin, eager for the time that Cody would come home and tell her all about his day.

The spark was quickly extinguished though, when a knock came at the door.

A cacophony of thoughts competed at once, a number of faces flashing through her mind. She didn't know if anyone else knew where she was, or which people she wanted to see. Maybe she'd woken Rosemary or Lee when she'd arrived last night. Or maybe the new Mountie had just been waiting to pounce, chomping at the bit to reopen the mine investigation.

It could be Cody though. It was right around lunchtime now. What if he had already heard something to upset him and had gotten into a fight? He didn't have a key to Elizabeth's house.

She fought down the wrench in her stomach as she forced herself over to the door, her hand shaking on the knob. This was why she was here, she reminded herself. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath in. The late morning sun rushed in at her, shadowing the person on the porch for the briefest of seconds.

"Abigail," the voice came.

She let out the breath. "Hello, Henry."

"Welcome home."

"Home or not, you always seem to know where to find me," she remarked. She hid the subtle tremors of her body behind the bulk of the door, the flush of her face (she could only hope) masked by the sharp daylight.

"Educated guesses," he shrugged. His feet scuffed against the blue-painted wood of the porch. "Anyhow, I won't trouble you. Just caught sight of Cody this morning and thought I'd see if you'd made it back safely as well. I imagine you're not up for company though, least of all mine."

He was backing away, down the steps, apparently receiving her flippant comment as a brush-off though she wasn't even sure herself how she'd meant it. She hadn't even meant to say it.

"No," she admitted, "but how are you, Henry?"

He squinted, the familiar old lines cutting deep into his tanned skin.

"How am I?" the question echoed back.

"Yes, how have you been?" she repeated, her mouth dropping further into its frown.

"Well, I've been… I've been good," he said with a halting nod. "And then not so good. Most of the time I'm something that looks like alright. I've been thinking a lot, about things I regret. Trying to drown the regrets until the rest of the thoughts are gone too." There was a pause, another shrug. "I've been playing poker. Going out more, maybe even making friends. Which is strange but… also kind of nice. Except somehow I'm still the loneliest I've been my whole life, save for maybe one particular moment about seven years ago."

His leg fidgeted in tiny beats in the dirt below her, and it all felt too familiar, too painful. Abigail wanted desperately to look away, but the green beneath Henry's shadowed brow held her steady.

"I've been worried about you," he said. "And worried about myself. I've been wondering how to save you and wondering whether any of us can really save anybody. I've been pacing back and forth and standing still, not sure where to go, or where there is to go. But mostly… well, mostly I've just been sorry."

The rasp of his voice filled up her chest, regret and something else she refused to name bubbling up into her throat. She was gasping it back, hoping he was too far to notice. His shifting movements stopped and the deep-set eyes locked firmly onto hers.

"I'm sorry, Abigail."

She nodded; it was all she could manage, her feet frozen in place. "I'm sorry too, Henry. Thank you for… coming to check on me. I'll see you around."

She choked the words out as quickly as she could, hiding her mounting sobs behind the click of the rowhouse door.

ooo

Henry dragged his leg up into the field, his thighs working hard. The mountain view up ahead had lost its majesty over the years, and today Henry paid it absolutely no mind as he kept his head down, chasing his thoughts over the yards of grass that had begun to recover its color.

She had looked well enough, hadn't she? But he shouldn't have gone. It was impulsive, part and parcel of all his other bad instincts. He should have given her space and time. She had told him not to come back, and maybe that applied back in Hope Valley as well.

He just had to see it for himself though. He'd spent all these months waiting, wondering if or when she would ever return, that for it to just… happen, on some unremarkable Wednesday, struck him as utterly unfathomable. The expectation that he could sit at a desk and check over an invoice, as though the world hadn't just shifted on its axis, was completely absurd. He needed to collect his thoughts and get some perspective; he had no idea what things looked like from here on out.

The buzzing in his head gave way to a similar chaos outside of it. Whether the clamor of this particular recess was louder than usual due to Cody's return, Henry couldn't say, but the sounds of laughter, surprise, and occasional indignation formed a vibrant harmony that travelled down to him well before the schoolhouse came into view.

"Mr. Gowen! Mr. Gowen!" the shout broke through.

Henry let a smile spread over his face in spite of himself as Cody's long limbs ran up to meet him.

"Hello there, young man! It's good to see you here." Unsure what to do with this grown Cody with whom he had never been especially close, he gripped the boy's upper arm in a firm and fatherly greeting.

"It's good to be back," Cody said, and Henry could hear the exhale in his voice. "I think you helped with that though. So I wanted to say thank you."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Henry squinted. "Your mom just needed some time."

"I was worried there for a while, you know? I still am, I guess."

"I understand. But I think with both of you back here and surrounded by friends, things will start to get better. It's a lesson I've reluctantly begun to learn myself, Cody – that people need communities around them. Especially people like your mom."

"Have things been okay for you, Mr. Gowen? With the community?"

Genuine concern clouded the boy's eyes. Henry fidgeted with his hat.

"Don't you worry about that, son," he said. He hoped his awkward grin would serve as some sort of mild response. "I see you've got some friends waiting for you, wondering why you're spending all your baseball time talking to an old man."

Cody looked over to where Henry had tilted his head, finding a number of his friends gathered with eager and expectant smiles. "I'll be right there!" Cody shouted. When he turned back, there was a smile on his face that Henry imagined Abigail had traded every hesitation to see again.

"Anyway, I hope us being back means you can stop worrying too, and that you won't be sick anymore."

Henry furrowed his brow.

"Sick?"

The word was a strange one. He had never used it to describe his collapses. In fact, it seemed preposterous that such a medical word should be used, and thus he was sure this couldn't be what Cody had meant. Some poor relay of information must have occurred.

"I'm sorry if it was a secret," Cody said. "But Mom was pretty scared when she heard about you falling. We both were."

Henry coughed – an attempt to buy time that he immediately regretted in light of the topic.

"I appreciate that, but I'm fine. Anyhow, I came to speak to Mrs. Thornton for a minute. You go. Enjoy your welcome back reception," he said, giving Cody's arm another hearty grip and putting more power behind the words than was strictly necessary.

"Alright. Thanks, Mr. Gowen!"

The spring breeze caught him as Cody ran off, its lightness tickling the beard around his gritted teeth. He had come to see what Elizabeth might tell him about Abigail's current state. Normally he would consider this kind of information-seeking too close to gossip, but seeing as it was his guidance that had allowed Elizabeth passage through the gates of Abigail's distress, he had felt somewhat entitled to it. Now he was very glad he had come.

The sound of his slow and bulky steps in the schoolhouse, distinctly unchildlike, made Elizabeth look up from her desk at the far end of the room.

"Henry!" she greeted with a pleasant smile. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer her, spinning his hat in his hands while he gathered his thoughts. A flash of worry crossed her face.

"Have you… is it Abigail? Have you seen her?"

"I have," he responded, his jaw tight.

"It's so wonderful that she's come back, isn't it?"

"Oh yes," he said, a sneer curling across his lips like an old friend.

"I think she's begun to heal and I hope we can help her –"

"What did you do?"

Elizabeth's hands paused in their gestures, dropping slightly to her waist. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You told her I collapsed," he bit out at her. "A piece of information that wasn't any of your business to begin with."

Elizabeth's chin was trembling. Whether with anger or fear or insult, he didn't know, and couldn't quite care just then.

"Now that is not fair, Henry. I am your friend –"

"Oh, like you're Abigail's friend? Filling her head with boogeymen?"

"Aren't you heartened that she came back at all? That she was worried about you?"

"Heartened?" he barked, marveling at the audacity, the utter selfishness, the naïveté! He couldn't tell if the woman was playing dumb or was actually this oblivious! "No, Elizabeth, I am not heartened! You forced her back here with guilt, which is the very last thing that woman needs more of! You put that worry on her, and it doesn't even mean anything. A whole lot of fuss and everyone flapping about over nothing. I'm fine! I had too much to drink!"

"Henry Gowen, we both know very well that you don't go falling down the steps after two glasses of whiskey," she said, scolding him now like one of her students. "And Lucas said it wasn't even the first time it happened –"

"Oh, well, bully for you and Lucas! Maybe you two can join up with Bill and start the world's most tedious detective agency!"

"Henry!"

But he shook his head. "Next time you want to get involved? Don't!" he shouted, letting her offended gasps catch the back of him.

ooo

Abigail likely would have heard nothing of Henry's outburst if Cody hadn't mentioned his appearance at recess during their dinner. As kindly as she could, Elizabeth told Cody that what she and Henry had discussed was private, but for her part Abigail wasn't sure if she wanted to pry further or not. Sometimes she thought the less she heard about Henry Gowen the better. Elizabeth similarly seemed reluctant to tell her the details even when they were alone, other than to share that Henry was concerned that Abigail had returned too soon.

"I had a choice to make," Abigail said carefully. "Just as I did then. But this time I knew I had to do it before it was far too late. I'm grateful for that second chance, to choose my family. In some ways, it's also a second chance to be honest."

"Abigail, I know there are people to whom you feel you have to make amends, because they are the ones to whom you still can," Elizabeth said, a gentle understanding in her voice. "But I hope you understand that no one blames you as much as you blame yourself. There were so many other factors – "

Abigail waved a hand to stop her. "It's alright, Elizabeth. I know you mean well, but you can't tell me anything that another part of my brain hasn't tried a thousand times. It's just very difficult for me to believe any of it."

Elizabeth nodded. "Is there anything that I can do for you? To help?"

Bring them back, Abigail thought. Change it all. Tell me how to make these awful feelings finally go away.

"You're here, being my friend. That's all I need right now."