Title: Abigail’s Journey
Author: Jean C. Joachim and Michael Magness
Genre: Sweet Historical Romance
Abigail Chesney has it all; a husband more loving than she could have dreamt, three healthy children, and a house on thriving farmland. She’s happy in her little world until it crashes down around her.
Losing almost everything tests Abby in ways she never expected. Can she learn to accept what she can’t change and trust those she loves? Relying on help from the people of Fitch’s Eddy, a tiny Catskill logging town, Abby discovers her own strength. Will Fate’s cruel blows crush her? Or will love give her a new reason to go on?
Abigail’s Journey – travel back to Colonial America, 1786, with this heartfelt, sweet, historical romance, where the flavor of the past leaps off the page.
When the door to their room closed and Abby was alone, she bit her lip. She made quick work of the last dish, dried it, and put it away. Picking up her shawl, she headed for the window, where she stared up at the moon.
Tears stung her eyes. Panic rose slowly in her chest.
“No! I will not lose faith.” She wrapped the garment around her shoulders.
Startled by the sound of footsteps, she glanced over her shoulder. George came up behind her. She spun around to face him. Her gaze searched his sad, dark eyes. She saw pain and strength. Tears burst forth as she flung herself into his arms. He held her close, patting her and uttering soft words.
When she could speak, she stepped away. “How could this happen to us?”
“I don’t know how, but what’s done is done. We need to figure out what to do now.”
“How much do we have saved?”
“Not enough to buy another farm.” He sighed, lowering himself to a chair, then patted his thigh. She lowered herself onto his lap.
“Do you have an idea?”
“First, we need to sell everything we can. The farm equipment. Anything you don’t need in the house. We can raise money and lighten our load. Moving will be easier if we don’t have anything more than we need.”
“True. I have a little money saved up from my sewing.”
He put his hand on hers. “You keep it. You’ve earned it. Save it for fabric for new dresses for you and Sarah.”
“We can’t afford new dresses now.”
“We’ll see how much we can raise. Tomorrow, I’ll go into town. Check with the newspaper. Maybe there’s a small farm for sale or someone looking for a new tenant. And I’ll ask them to put out a notice of our sale.”
Pain shot through her. “We have to sell everything?”
“Yep.” He yawned. “Come to bed.”
They rose and entered the bedroom.
“As long as we’re together, we’ll be all right. I believe it to be true.” She hugged him.
He cupped her cheek before slowly shedding his clothes and climbing into bed.
She stripped down to her shift and slipped in next to him. Exhaustion pulled at her but worry left her jittery. “You have always talked about farming. You love the soil.”
“Even if we could find another farm, we couldn’t afford it. Since the war, land in Connecticut has been going fast. Prices rising daily…”
“Do we have to leave Danbury?” She chewed her lip.
“I don’t know.”
“What about my sister? Can we ask her for help?”
“We can solve this on our own. I’ll not go begging to Wolcotts.” In the dim light from the moon, his jaw tightened.
“I know they’d help us. This wasn’t your fault.”
“No. The Wolcotts didn’t want you to marry me. Maybe they were right.”
“They were wrong.” She snuggled closer, resting her head on his bare shoulder. He closed his arm about her. Before long, he snored softly. Exhaustion seeped deeper into her bones. She yawned twice, but still couldn’t sleep. Fear kept her awake. She tossed and wrestled with the covers, waking her husband.
“What’s wrong?” He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
“I don’t want to leave Danbury.” She sucked on her lower lip.
He took her in his arms, holding her to his chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll find a way. Trust me.”
“I always have.” She rested her palm on his bare skin and sighed.
He stroked her. The warmth of his body relaxed her. Sweating, he rolled over. His soft snore met her ears. Still she lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She recalled a long-ago conversation with her mother.
“George Chesney? Why would you want to marry him? He’s a tenant farmer.”
“He’s a good man.”
“So’s the preacher, but you wouldn’t want to be a preacher’s wife, would you? The wife of a tenant farmer? Abigail, you’re a Wolcott, meant for a better life.”
“I love him.”
“Pish tush. Marriage isn’t about love. It’s about a life. What kind of life will you have living on a farm? Your sister married a doctor. She lives in town, has a lovely home and a husband without dirt under his nails.”
“I’m going to marry him, Mother.”
Had she been foolish? Seventeen happy years belied her mother’s words.
I have to have faith. He has never let me down. He won’t this time, either. Rolling onto her side, she watched her handsome husband. Slipping her arm around his waist, she snuggled up to his strong back, closed her eyes, and gave in to sleep.
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