A/N: I changed the title of Chapter 6. Also, fyi, my updates are faster on AO3.
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Chapter 7 - Summer 1909 – We all know how hard it is to find a good man
"Do you suppose that I came to give peace on earth? I tell you, not at all, but rather division. For from now on five in one house will be divided: three against two, and two against three…"
The gospel reading that day was not one Abigail particularly liked. No matter how many sermons she'd heard explaining away its destructive imagery, she much preferred the parts of the book that preached forgiveness and love and helping one's neighbor. Fire and brimstone – where was the spirit and joy in that?
Her eyes and mind wandered away from Reverend Nadeau's gesticulations to a church habit that did often bring joy: people-watching. It was difficult to hide in a house of worship as small as this one, and more difficult still to have your absence go unnoticed in a town as small as this one. Especially when you were the wealthiest man in it.
Indeed, she'd yet to see Henry Gowen at a single service. And while it might seem that the more he made himself scarce, the more the gossip should abound, in fact the opposite was true. Henry's steadfast elusiveness had succeeded in stopping even Florence's inquiries, abandoned as a lost cause. The previously unthinkable accomplishment amused her, even as her own curiosity about the man grew by the day.
The congregation was called to join in prayer and Abigail turned her attention back, exhaling a deep breath. She mustn't worry herself about these things. It was the province of others to make sure the town's business and prosperity was well looked after. It was her job to support her family and be a good member of the community.
When the service ended, groups of friends formed naturally to walk back towards the cluster of miners' homes. Marta Crocker and Mary Dunbar came up beside her this time, their husbands shaking hands with Peter and Noah up in front. Nine-year-old Caleb held to Mary's hand, slowing her movements as he still tried every so often to hide behind her leg.
"I see Liam and Greta have already run off," Abigail remarked with a smirk.
Marta rolled her eyes. "If that girl comes back with another torn skirt, so help me..."
"Good thing we've just come from church," Mary teased.
Greta Crocker, it was known, had a particular fondness for scaling trees, and had more than once needed to be carried down by the elder Liam when she had misjudged her progress.
The women ambled along peacefully, all of them taking notice when Wendell Backus made yet another attempt to curry the favor of the widowed Mrs. Hayes.
"I feel just terrible for him," Mary whispered as they watched Wendell awkwardly try to keep in step with the woman hurrying forward. "I don't know why Alice is being so resistant. Wendell's a decent man."
Abigail shrugged. "Women don't need to rush into marriage these days. Not like when we were young." She stopped and looked over at the other two women in their twenties. "Or at least, when I was young," she corrected herself, giving Marta a friendly bump with her shoulder.
"At least you were able to marry for love," Marta pointed out.
Was it ever so clear cut though, Abigail wondered. She did love Noah, just as Marta loved Liam. But would she have gotten married at eighteen if it wasn't expected of her? If she'd been able to support her mother and father otherwise? She had indeed said no the first time Noah proposed, but he'd proposed the night they met! There was nothing crazy about wanting to get to know him better first. But sometimes she honestly wasn't sure how they had ended up in front of a pastor two weeks later, her hands trembling as she squeaked out "I think so" instead of "I do."
Up ahead, her husband laughed heartily with the other men, slapping them on the back. Noah had always been attractive and charismatic - an easy person to get caught up in. She let her face settle into an adoring smile.
"Yes, I'm very lucky to have my Noah. He's a wonderful father."
ooo
August's town council meeting proved eventful, or at least as eventful as Coal Valley business ever was. A repair of the road was approved, while the installation of an additional street lamp on the path from the mine into town was heavily debated, with Henry and others arguing that there were no safety concerns in Coal Valley to warrant the expense, and Paul Blakeley remaining adamant that there was no downside to having more light. Paul, to Florence's frustration, was outvoted 4 to 1. Lucky for Florence, the public forum was next, during which she took full advantage of her three minutes. Two others used the time to vent to no one in particular about an "objectionable" piece of serialized fiction that was appearing in Alberta's largest newspaper, leading to three more comments to no one in particular explaining why the first two people had no sense of humor. The last and only relevant comment was an announcement from Mrs. Appleton, sharing the school's fall term dates.
Once the meeting was adjourned, Noah headed over to the bar with Joe and a few other men, idly discussing the troubles Gabe and Miles had gotten up to over their summer break. Cat herself was home with the rambunctious boys and Emily that evening, so Abigail let her eyes wander the room to see if there was any conversation she might join. To her surprise, Henry had drifted over to where she was standing instead.
"That was something," he started, when he was close enough to speak quietly. "Between you and me, I'm not sure what Paul was on about with that light."
"Oh, I know exactly what it was about. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Blakeley will ever tell you, but Paul tripped on his way to the mine last week and broke his thermos."
Henry's eyes narrowed. "His thermos," he repeated slowly.
"His favorite thermos," she emphasized.
"I will never get used to this town," he laughed. "You are good at it though."
She shrugged. "I've been here longer and women share things with each other. But you've been doing a fine job. Even if you do have a tell."
"Beg your pardon?"
"You pretend to write in your notes every time you think someone is being absurd."
Henry caught his tongue between his teeth, acknowledging the accusation with only a cocked eyebrow and a guilty smile. "Remind me not to play poker with you."
Abigail offered an automatic smirk in return, though she understood, with a tinge of disappointment, that there was no danger of such a thing ever happening.
"I probably would have approved it though. The light."
Henry looked at her curiously. "Why's that?"
"It's a minor expense for something that will make a few people happy and no one else upset. Seems harmless."
His head tilted in a gesture of partial appeasement. "Well, sure, but if you say yes to everyone's 'minor expenses', it adds up pretty quick. And you have to show people they can't take advantage of you."
Abigail had taken in a breath and leaned forward, ready to politely debate the limitations of his argument, when Noah's voice cut through from the bar.
"Gowen. Have a drink," he called, raising his glass to his boss. The words seemed to her to be clipped, though Abigail could not see her husband's face to ascertain his mood. Her gaze had automatically dropped down at the interruption, and she held tight and prim to her purse.
With a nod, Henry accepted the invitation, then turned back to Abigail.
"Do you have someone to walk home with?" Henry asked her.
She nodded, appreciative. "Yes, I'll catch up with the Millers. Enjoy your evening."
They separated, Henry headed toward the miners and Abigail catching Laurel's eye with a wave. The walk home was pleasant, mostly taken up with a story about Morgan Rose attempting to help with a cake for Adam's birthday and ending up covered in flour. The conversation was light and the paths familiar but Abigail clutched her friend's arm as they walked, struck with the need to be close to someone.
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