Chapter 10: The Road Back Home

The trip off of Long Island was cold and a bit tedious, but thankfully uneventful. As Skip had predicted, there was an attendant on duty at the Williamsburg crossing, and though he looked surprised to see someone coming through in the middle of the night, he quickly waved them on.

"We're makin' good time so far," Skip observed as they trundled onto the bridge. "You might be back home before anyone's woken up."

"That would be a first!" Abby smiled at the thought. "My sister Sadie is a notoriously early riser, and sometimes my mother is up as well, though that's less by choice and more by necessity."

"Does she like gettin' a head start before anyone else wakes up?"

Abby shook her head. "Lilly, one of my other sisters, has seizures in the middle of the night sometimes, and Mama usually can't go back to sleep once that happens. We try to pitch in to help, but she prefers to care for Lilly herself."

"Sounds tough," Skip replied. "I don't have much experience with that sort of thing, but one of the boys at the orphanage had seizures, too. He cut his head real bad one time when he fell while we were playin'. I still remember runnin' for the doctor like it was yesterday."

"It's terrifying whenever a fall happens," Abby agreed. "Lilly's had some close calls like that as well. Was your friend all right?"

Skip nodded. "The doctor stitched him up and a few days later he was playin' again like usual. I never got to say goodbye to him since me and June left so suddenly, but I hope he's all right wherever he ended up."

He left off speaking for a moment to carefully guide the horse off of the bridge. The crossing had been well-lit, but navigating the darkened streets ahead would be no easy feat, and Abby - despite her gumption - was thankful not to be facing the prospect alone.

"So, once you get through your family's tenement party, what's next?" Skip asked as the wagon rolled along.

"I'll probably just spend the rest of my vacation at home," Abby mused. "My oldest sister and her family are visiting from Boston, and we don't get to see them much. And I'll probably try to catch up on some reading, too."

"That readin' list is always waitin' for you, isn't it?" Skip grinned. "Are there lots of bookshops in Manhattan?"

"Several," Abby replied. "My favorite is McNally's - it's not as colorful as The Book Nook, but it has a gorgeous window in the back and lots of comfortable chairs and the selection is always changing, so it's easy to find something new."

She chattered on for a few more minutes, describing some of the most interesting finds from over the years, and Skip listened with an indulgent smile on his face. She could tell that he was amused by her enthusiasm, but it didn't deter her from elaborating in the slightest.

Eventually, though, she knew she ought to even out the conversation.

"What about you?" she asked her companion. "What are your plans to start off the new year?"

"I've got a big fishing trip comin' up next week, so there'll be some preparin' for that, makin' sure the boats are ship-shape and all the nets are mended. Hopefully the weather won't decide to interfere, but you never can tell." He glanced at the sky, something she was only just beginning to notice he did rather often, then added, "Speakin' of which, we might be in for some snow soon."

Abby eyed the clouds and grimaced.

"I hope it won't be too nasty of a trip back for you," she fretted. "It's bad enough with the cold, but the snow will make traveling alone even more unpleasant."

"Don't worry 'bout that. You're talkin' to a fella who spends hours and sometimes days out on the open ocean. Bad weather and bein' alone with my thoughts ain't somethin' I'm unfamiliar with."

It was another one of those cheerful-yet-sad phrases, and Abby found herself beset by the sudden urge to comfort him, though she knew such a response was certainly unwarranted. He hadn't meant it as an invitation for pity, and she was rather awkward at the business of consolation, anyway…

But the thought of him driving for hours through the snow to his one-room shack without anyone waiting to welcome him refused to leave her mind.

"Did you ever think about having a family?" she asked before realizing how unforgivably intrusive the question sounded.

Skip's grin grew, and she feared for a moment that he was going to tease her for her pertness, but the gentlemanly side of him must have won out, for he only said,

"The thought's crossed my mind a few times. After growin' up at the orphanage and then at the lodgin' house, I got used to the noise, and havin' kids around to play with and watch grow up would be real nice." He paused, then added, "That said, I ain't sure I'd be much good at the fatherin' business. I never really saw what it was supposed to look like - at least, not done the right way."

He abruptly changed the subject, asking her for directions as they came to a crossroad, but even as Abby guided him, she felt her heart sink a little further on his behalf. It was a reasonable concern, given what he'd been through, but it made her sad to think that he'd doubt himself for a deficiency that was hardly his fault.

It made her all the more grateful for her own father's warm, caring presence in her life, even if the loss of it hurt acutely now that he was gone. There were so many - Skip included - who would never feel that pain because they'd never had the chance to know their fathers the way she'd known hers.

"You said your sisters have their own families," Skip's voice brought her back to the present. "Does it make you more or less inclined to follow suit after seein' what it looks like?"

"A mix of both," Abby admitted. "Children require so much attention, especially when they're very young. I don't know if I'd have the patience for babies, or if I'd like being a mother the way that my sisters do…but I think if I did have children, I'd enjoy helping them with their schoolwork and discussing books with them and taking them to museums and plays and the like once they'd gotten older. Judith's children are all grown up now, and it's fun to spend time with them. I wouldn't be opposed to experiencing something like that one day."

"That's fair," Skip allowed. "You just haf'ta find yourself a fella who doesn't mind takin' on more during the the baby stage, or else stay close to family so they can help you out."

"I'd plan to, if it ever came to that," Abby replied. "My mother's getting on in years and has her hands full, but Sadie adores babies, and David's good with them, too, even if he doesn't dote on them the way that she does. I know they'd help me as much as they could."

They came to another intersection, and she squinted in the dim light to read the street signs before telling Skip which way to go. She'd only been through this part of town on the trolley before, but her sense of direction had always been sharp, and she trusted that they were headed the right way.

The path that she'd chosen led them inland, away from the docks and piers and towards a more densely populated part of the neighborhood. Here, rows of dilapidated tenement buildings stood close together, their windows completely dark or else boarded over like poorly-bandaged wounds. Sagging laundry lines hung in rows above the street, and debris littered the ground, causing the horse to slow down as it picked its way through the rubbish.

"There was probably a better way to go than this one," Abby admitted as the animal whinnied nervously. "I know we're generally headed in the right direction, but I've never been through this part of town on foot before, so I don't remember the specific streets very wel – "

A snarl cut through her statement as a large dog appeared around the corner of a building, ears back and fangs bared. The frightened horse tried to bolt, but the narrow street made maneuvering difficult, and before it could turn completely, the dog gave chase, barreling towards them with rabid ferocity.

Fear leant the horse a burst of speed, and it tore off down the street, dragging the wagon behind it. The wheels clattered over debris and ruts in the road, making the wooden frame jolt violently, and Abby grabbed hold of the seat to steady herself as Skip tried to control the frightened horse, his voice all but lost in the cacophony.

They covered several blocks in the blink of an eye, the crowded, cluttered streets gradually giving way to more well-kept byways, and eventually the dog left off chasing them, abandoning its quarry with a final snap and a snarl before turning around and trotting back the way it had come. The horse, now free of its pursuer, relaxed as well, slowing its pace to the point where, after another few blocks, Skip was able to bring it to a steady trot.

"Sorry for the bumpy ride," he muttered. "Handlin' a spooked horse ain't somethin' I do very often, and I don't like dogs much myself."

There was a tremor in his voice that Abby had never heard before.

"Why don't we stop and take a short break?" she suggested, noticing a pump and trough up ahead in front of a hay and feed store. "We should be safe enough now that we're out of the dog's territory."

Skip nodded, steering the wagon over and bringing it to a stop, and Abby slid down from the wagon seat and pumped some water for the horse, who immediately began to drink.

When the animal had had its fill, she climbed back up to her place beside Skip, stealing a glance at him and noticing that his hands were still tightly clenching the reins.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently.

He gave her another nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's keep goin'."

He cued the horse, who obligingly plodded forward, and they continued on in silence for a while. Thankfully, the way was better lit in this part of town, but despite that comfort, Abby could see that Skip still hadn't managed to shake off his apprehension.

"I'm sorry we ended up running into that dog," she ventured. "It's not uncommon for strays to be scrounging around for food, but most of them are smaller and more skittish. I've never come across one who was aggressive like that."

"You got nothin' to apologize for," he said quietly. "I usually ain't the kind to scare easily, but I got attacked by a pair of dogs when I was a kid, and I still get shook up whenever one surprises me, even though it's been years."

"That's awful," Abby sympathized. "I hope the owner apologized to you and kept his dogs more tightly leashed after that."

"That would've been nice!" Skip's laugh was mirthless. "I don't think the fella who owned 'em was too worried about my safety, though. If anything, he was probably disappointed they didn't finish the job."

Abby glanced at him sharply, but he didn't elaborate, and she found himself studying the grimness on his face in the dim light of the street lamps. She'd seen him despondent before, but this time it was more than sadness. There was a fear in his eyes, and something more haunting, too, and it reminded her that life hadn't been easy for him no matter how resilient he'd managed to make himself in spite of its twists and turns. What other dreadful paths had he walked alone, what other frightful encounters had left their mark like the long, narrow scar above his left eye?

That dog attack must have been truly terrible for him, she thought as an image rose up in her mind, an image of a young, bright-eyed Skip being run down by a pair of fierce beasts egged on by their malicious owner. Snarls and screams intermingled in her head, and she couldn't help but shudder as she pushed the vision out of her head.

"You warm enough?" Skip asked, mistaking the sound for shivering.

The question was tersely put, as though he was still struggling to find his own equilibrium, but the fact that he was trying to look out for her in spite of that was touching, and Abby found herself saying,

"I'm…a little chilly, actually. May I take your arm?"

The surprise at her question must have been equal on both sides (for she'd certainly never planned on making such an audacious request), but Skip recovered before she had time to retract it.

"It's all yours. My coat too, if you want it."

Abby scooted closer, wrapping her arm around his. "This will be just fine."

Her fingers could feel the knit of his Shetland sweater beneath his coat, and as much as she was still in shock that she'd finagled her way into sitting so close to him, it felt very nice, a small but simple pleasure like a butter cookie and a warm cup of tea. More importantly, he didn't seem to mind; his eyes were still fixed on the street ahead, but his posture had softened, and his hands were no longer gripping the reins as tightly as they had been before. Perhaps he was consciously relaxing just to make her more comfortable…but maybe the contact had helped to soothe his jitters a bit.

She certainly hoped it was the latter.

The wagon trundled on, the only sound that of the wagon wheels and of the horse's hoofbeats against the pavement. The shadows were finally beginning to give way to the first light of dawn, and though the clouds overhead remained somber and gray, the world around seemed softer and less gloomy than it had before. Abby noticed several familiar store fronts as they passed, and a sense of relief welled up in her as they drew closer and closer to home.

"Well, what do you know," Skip suddenly broke the silence. "First snow of the winter season finally decided to arrive."

Abby looked up. Sure enough, snow was beginning to fall, a gentle dusting of powder like confectioner's sugar sprinkled atop freshly-made donuts at the fair. She generally wasn't one to have an opinion about the snow, but this gentle flurry felt poetic somehow, and she couldn't help but smile at the snowflakes alighting on her coat and her hair.

When she looked over to see Skip's reaction, she saw that he was smiling too.

"You look like a picture out of a story book with the snow fallin' on you like that."

If she hadn't been used to his charm by now, she might have taken his remark to mean more than he'd intended, but this time she simply received his words and the warmth of his attention without thinking too hard about it.

There was something to be said for not spoiling the moment, after all.

The remainder of the trip back to the tenement passed by quickly, and soon the wagon was rolling to a stop in front of the Becker tenement. The snow was still falling gently, and Abby let herself enjoy it for a moment more before reluctantly letting go of Skip's arm so that he could jump down from the wagon seat to get her luggage.

"Would you like to come in and stay a while?" she asked as she climbed down herself. "You ought to at least have something warm to drink."

"I wouldn't want to trouble you or your family, 'specially so early in the mornin'," came his voice from the other side of the wagon.

"But it wouldn't be any trouble," Abby insisted, walking around to join him, "and I mean that. Sadie always starts the hot water boiling so she can make coffee - her husband's a groggy mess without it - and she usually brews some tea for Mama, too, so it would be as simple as pouring you a cup of whatever you prefer."

"That sounds real invitin'," Skip smiled as he picked up her suitcase, "but I'm sure I'd be tempted to stay longer than I should, and I promised Thad I'd get his wagon back to him as soon as possible. He was plannin' to take some folks over to the east side of the island for a picnic today, so he did me a favor by lettin' me borrow everything on short notice. I'd just as soon not put him out by tarryin' too long, even if it ends up bein' too snowy to picnic after all."

Abby nodded, hiding her disappointment. "I understand."

He looked up at the tenement building. "Where's your family's place?"

"On the third floor," Abby replied. "But I can manage."

"You sure? I don't mind carryin' your luggage up."

"I'm sure." Abby picked up the suitcase. "I'd rather you get home as soon as possible. The snow looks like it's picking up."

"That it does." Skip glanced at the sky again, and she saw a hint of concern cross his face before he looked back at her and grinned.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then." He held out his hand, and she shook it, forcing her fingers not to linger in his for longer than necessary. "I hope that your family's party's a lot more healin' for you than you think it'll be, Abby." His voice was kind as he added, "Even if it's a little tough at first, I think you made the right decision to come home."

"I wouldn't have had a chance to find out if it wasn't for you," she replied. "Thank you, Skip. I'm glad our paths crossed…even if it was only for a short time."

"I feel the same."

For a moment, he paused, looking like he was about to say more, but then he touched his cap and added quickly, "If you ever visit Cherin Cove again, stop by the docks and say hello, all right?"

She nodded, and he climbed into the wagon seat, pulling his coat closer around him and then and then chirruping to the horse, guiding it into a turn so that they could head back the way they'd come.

"Goodbye!" Abby called out as they trundled past.

Skip gave her one last smile and a wave, then he and the horse continued on through the snow.

Abby watched until they'd disappeared from sight around a corner.

There's another chapter closed, she thought.

Breathing in, she looked around, taking in the familiar sight of the tenement, feeling the cold wind gust past her face, and listening to the sounds of a world just beginning to wake up. None of it felt magical in the slightest: the colors were drab and dirty, the sounds slightly cacophonous, and the smells nothing to write home about. She no longer felt like a storybook heroine on the cusp of some thrilling adventure in an impossibly picturesque place. She was just Abby again.

But now she was home.

Picking up her suitcase, she headed towards the stairs, making her way up to the third floor one step at a time. As she drew near, she could see a light shining under the door and heard the sound of someone quietly moving about inside. It was still early, and most of the apartments she'd passed on her way up had been dark, but she was thankful that there would be at least one person awake to welcome her.

After quietly entering and setting her suitcase down so as not to disturb the sleeping members of the household, she made her way over to the kitchen, her stomach growling as she caught a whiff of cinnamon and the sharp smell of coffee brewing.

At the doorway, she peeked in.

"Abby!" Sadie dropped the sack of flour that she'd been holding, causing a little cloud of white powder to balloon into her face as it landed on the counter. "Happy New Year, dear! But are you all right? I thought you weren't coming back until Friday!"

"I had a change of heart," Abby replied as her sister hurried over to give her a hug. "Watch the flour, Sadie – you'll get it on my coat!"

"I'll clean it for you later," her sister promised cheerfully. "It looks like it's been through the snow already - a touch of flour won't hurt it one bit!"

Abby returned the ensuing embrace with more enthusiasm than she usually did, grateful for the warm reception. She hadn't expected Sadie to be anything but welcoming, but to feel her affection was different than only hearing it in words.

"I'm so glad you came back to us!" Sadie exclaimed, finally releasing Abby from her hold. "But how did you get here so early in the morning? The trolley doesn't run overnight."

"One of the men from Cherin Cove drove me over in a wagon," Abby explained, inwardly thankful that it was only Sadie and not Judith-the-interrogator asking questions at the moment. "It was a long ride, but we managed."

"Is he still outside?" Sadie asked quickly. "I've got the kettle going and some cinnamon buns nearly ready to come out of the oven. Perhaps he'd like to come in and get warm for a while before he has to head back."

"I invited him, but he needed to get going," Abby sat down at the kitchen table, thinking that she wouldn't mind something warm to drink just now. "I was hoping he would have stayed as well."

Sadie gave her a curious look, but the kettle whistled just then, and she turned away to attend to it, sparing her sister any further questions.

Glancing around the kitchen, Abby took in the familiar sight of the neatly-kept room. It wasn't nearly as colorful as a Cherin Cove chamber would have been, but there were hints of brightness here and there: a decorative platter hanging on the wall, doilies embroidered with a blue and red floral motif, apples nestled in a basket on the table...

"Are you more hungry or more tired?" Sadie asked, turning away from the stove to set a steaming cup of tea in front of Abby. "I can fix up some eggs and toast for you, or you can wait for the cinnamon buns to finish baking, but if you'd rather try to sleep before everyone else wakes up, don't let me stop you. It's going to be a busy day."

Abby hadn't even thought about being tired up until that moment, but once she remembered that she'd been up all night, she realized that she did feel rather sleepy.

"I think I'd rather sleep than eat right now," she confessed, fighting the urge to yawn. "But wake me up when you start preparations for the party. I don't want to miss out."

Sadie nodded. "I'll make sure that you aren't disturbed until then. I know everyone will be excited to see you and hear about your trip, and Ju's going to be dying to interrogate you once she finds out a man drove you home, but you need your rest. Speaking of which…" Sadie glanced at the clock, "...I'd better go make sure Davey isn't resting too soundly. He has to go to the clinic for a few hours this morning despite it being a holiday, and you know how he is before he's had his coffee."

Abby smiled. She was fond of her brother-in-law, but would just as soon not cross paths with him until he'd fully woken up.

After taking the cinnamon buns out of the oven, Sadie went downstairs, leaving Abby alone in the kitchen to finish her tea. The warm beverage and lack of conversation made her feel even more drowsy, and once she'd drained the last drop, she set her empty cup and saucer in the sink, then made her way to her room, taking care to walk quietly past the adjacent chamber where her mother and Lilly would be sleeping.

After shedding her coat and shoes and setting her glasses on the nightstand, she sank down into her comforter, not even bothering to change into a nightgown first. It seemed a little surreal to think that just a few hours ago she'd been getting dressed to go to the Confetti Countdown, and the cumulative exhaustion from a night of highs and lows descended quickly, bringing a heavy drowsiness to her eyes.

Before she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts lingered on the memory of saying goodbye to Skip. He would have a long drive ahead of him, but she hoped that the return trip would be uneventful and that he'd be able to lay his head down and rest soon enough.

Sleep came a moment later as the horse, wagon, and rider in her head disappeared, fading softly into a dream as into a shower of gently falling snow.

A/N: She's home! And just in time for the party. Thanks for reading this installment, gracious readers - I'd love to hear what you thought of it!