Brookie's Blurb: 2013

Hello everyone! Hope everyone is having a great Christmas like I am! Had a great time with good friends of ours yesterday and now am relaxing today with coffee and old christmas movies. Anywho, this post is going to be mainly about an old story I dug up. I had originally created this for homework when I first started homeschooling but it slowly took a life of its own and I had ended up writing more than I originally intended. However, after a three year hiatus from writing this beloved story, I have revived it and made some revisions. Below are the first two chapters to "Abigail my Darling". Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Abigail My Darling

Chapter 1

The sun slowly rose over the green hills of Viola, Tennessee. Willow trees dripped rich dew onto the grass below and robins began to sing their songs inside their carefully made beds. The joys of spring began to awaken as young Abigail sat on her favorite tree stump watching the horizon. Her rich brown hair was hanging loose on her shoulders, protecting her neck from the chilling breeze. She wrapped herself tightly in her blue robe and dug her toes into the moist earth. After studying the horizon for a few brief moments, she took out her supplies needed to fulfill her mission. She set up a blank canvas and positioned it slightly to the right. She fixed her palette of paints in her left hand and pulled out a hand carved paintbrush made by her. She gracefully handled her paintbrush with ease as she began her portrait of her most treasured sight. Reds, oranges, and hints of purples were flowing under the artist’s care.

She dragged the brush lightly on the paper to give an outline of her beloved star and wiped the artistic tool on a rag to clean off the old paint. She began to shade in where the great willows were to lean over. Big magnificent trees they were, she marveled to herself, and her painting gave them justice of their splendor.

Depth was shown within each stroke of their true nature. Not a cloud was in sight, she thought to herself in glee as she painted the sky as it truly was without those annoying, white, puff balls. The artist inside of her took control of her thoughts and movements as she painted the scene as if nothing else compared to its importance. A bit of orange here, a trace of yellow there, and a couple of dabs for the leaves were the girl’s only thoughts. A tranquil lake owned a part of the picture, willow trees the other, but what was the main object of the whole tableau was the golden sun that shone its head slowly over the horizon. She gave her all on this subject, adding different shades of yellows and gold to show its true radiance.

Its rays of light shined on the greens hills, the dew covered willows, the singing birds; everything that was displayed in her portrait was drenched in the warm rays of the precious star. The long drapes of leaves that curtained the willows looked so detailed and dainty that an observer would have thought it was a photograph of some kind.

A voice awakened her out of her trance and she realized someone was calling her name in the wind. She quickly stuffed her tools back in her knapsack in earnest and held her canvas protectively under her arms.

“Coming!” she called back as she ran past the lake, the willow trees, and away from her cherished horizon. A rather large brick house came into view. Ivy vines a plenty ran up its walls and wrapped around the colossal white columns. Abigail’s beloved balcony could be seen above the columns, the best place for an impressive view of her esteemed abode. A white picket fence surrounded the house and a few acres of plentiful land which the domestic equidaes cantered to and fro. As she approached the house, she saw who had called her name. A petite woman in a brown floral apron stood on the porch, holding a bowl of oatmeal to the barefoot girl.

“Goodness child!” she yelled in surprise as she stared at Abigail’s feet, “no young lady should be prancing around in the mud in bare feet!”

“I’m sorry,” Abigail replied back cordially,” but you know how much I love to feel the grass under my feet.”

“That is true, my dear” she said warmly and gave her a quick embrace,” but when you were off you forgot to eat your breakfast! No one should start their day without a good ol’ bowl of oats.” Abigail nodded in agreement and accepted the bowl of warm cinnamon oatmeal.

“Thank you, mama,” she said between mouthfuls. Her mother gave her a, “You’re welcome” and went back to taking care of her quaint flower bed. With a picturesque smile, Abigail skipped merrily underneath an old pear tree and sat down. She set all her art supplies at the stump and put her portrait under the tree carefully so it could dry. After she was done with her precious art pieces, she said her grace and began to eat her oatmeal when all of a sudden a pear landed right on her outstretched legs. She looked up to see a young lad with a mischievous grin sitting above her. His thick golden blonde hair was ruffled, almost covering his hazel green eyes.

“Hi Abbey!” he said with a smile as he jumped down next to her. He leaned his head back on the tree and plopped a handful of blueberries into his mouth.

“How are you, Will?” Abigail asked as he finished munching on his berries.

“Mighty fine so far, Abbey, just wish Momma Jones would give me a big bowl of her oatmeal," he replied back as he stared hungrily at her food.

“Sorry, pal, but these were meant for me and only me. Besides, you probably already had three breakfasts so far,” Abbey said with a snicker,” but any who, did you bring the paints?” He gave her a puppy dog, look but as it never worked on her; he gave a sigh and pulled out a small blue sack with a ribbon tied around it.

"You know, these are mighty hard to come by. I would only get them for someone who was mighty close to my heart.” Abigail did not hear the ending of his sentence, but was excitedly opening up the bag to find all kinds of vibrant colors.

"Oh Will!” she gasped in surprise, “these are just what I have been needing!” There were about twenty paints in all of blues, whites, purples, reds, and every other color under the sun.

“Anything for you Abbey,” he said as he scooted closer to her. They then began talking of what to do that day when a young vagabond came walking towards them. His clothes were well worn, covered in red dirt. His toes were sticking out of his shoes and his pants didn't even touch his ankles.

When the man came closer, Will immediately jumped up in front of Abbey; ready to defend her for life or death. The young man looked at him in surprise and gave a bow. He had dark brown hair and his grey eyes appeared friendly to the young Abigail.

"Will, wait,” she begged as she put her hand on his arm.

"No, Abbey! Haven’t you heard of the stories lately of kidnappings and robberies?! I’m not taking any chances with this hobo!” He then lunged at the man but the vagabond moved swiftly and held Will’s arm behind his back which caused him to cry out in pain.

"Will!” Abigail gasped as she ran up to them. She looked at the man’s eyes and he looked into hers.

“I just want to talk, ma’am, that’s all,” he said respectfully.

She stared at him for a while, not exactly sure what to do. Something about him was different, and she trusted her instincts.

“Alright, I will talk just please let my friend go,” she replied calmly.

He then let a frustrated Will go, who was about to lunge again, until Abbey convinced him not to until they knew what he wanted. He then calmed down, but gave the man a look of a mad dog.

“What do you want?” she asked him.

He cleared his throat and began,” Well, I have been traveling for an awfully long time and I just want to settle down a bit. The only problem is, I need a job and lately no one has been kind as you have to just listen to my two cents. Is there anything around here that I can help you folks with until I get back on my feet? You don’t have to pay me money or anything, just a roof over my head and some food to eat.” Abigail stood there, pondering.

“Not a chance! Just look at this guy! He’s bad news, Abigail. I don’t trust him for a second!” Will grumbled.

“But you do not know anything about the man, and besides, he just wants a job and a place to stay until he can get up on his own, please just watch him so I can go get momma out here,” she said to him in a tender soft voice.

Her pleading looks and gentle voice calmed Will down as he whispered back, “Fine, but be quick.” With that Abbey ran away from the two men and went to her momma inside of the house. She was actually napping in a rocking chair and Abigail woke her up and dragged her outside. On the way, she explained everything to her momma.

Exclamations of “Goodness Gracious”, “Mercies Alive”, and the occasional gasp are what Abigail’s momma uttered throughout the whole story. When she finished, her momma looked her in the eye and she said,” You did the right thing for getting me, sugar. You just stand by Will and I will talk to this young man.” When she said this, Abigail just walked up to Will and watched as her momma walked to the young man. She stared him down for a moment, and then all of a sudden she started cheering which made Abigail and Will turn their heads to her.

“Abigail, this is none other than Peter Bloom!” she said as she gave the man a hug.

“Do I know him momma?” Abigail asked with confusion.

“Do you know him, by golly you couldn’t have! You were only two years old when he and his family moved! Speaking of which, how is your ma and pa?”

The young man was watching her in surprise too, not sure what to do or think. He looked at his feet for a moment with a sad look on his countenance and then glanced up at each one of them.

He then replied,” They died, five years ago from a fire. How do you know me and my family, ma’am?” Abigail watched her momma as she became very solemn with what he had said,” Oh, you poor child! I will tell you all about it once I get you to sit down and eat a bowl of oatmeal,” she said lovingly as she led him to the house. Abigail walked behind him, not sure what to think or do but watched in silence.

“I still don’t like him, Abbey. Not at all,” Will said to her in a sharp tone. They continued to walk to the house, with Abbey’s forgotten oatmeal still under the pear tree.

Chapter 2

As the group entered the house, the sweet smells of banana nut bread reached everyone’s nostrils. The walls were a soft olive green which complimented the beige floral curtains that draped every window. The brick fireplace was centered in the middle of the room, the ashes still warm from being used the night before. The interior decorations were cozy yet had a country flair to every object that resided in the room. A cedar table, a whicker basket full of lavender, and even an antique oak rocking chair by one of the bigger windows gave the room a warm and relaxing impression.

Momma Jones directed the young man to a whicker chair and the rest of the group sat in identical chairs, except for Will who stood next to Abbey.

"Now, young man,” Momma began as she leaned back with her arms crossed over her lap,” I remember your family like it was yesterday. Your folks moved in across the lake about, how old are you?”

“Eighteen, ma’am,” he said as he began to relax a bit.

“Okay, so that would make it about twenty four years ago! Well, I was good friends with your parents, especially your momma. We were real close, and we would pass recipes between each other and give tips on gardening. Some people even assumed we were sisters!” A light shined in her eyes but she noticed the despair in Peter’s face.

“Oh, I’m awfully sorry if this is giving you any pain,” she said as she laid her calloused hand on his arm.

“It’s alright. Hearing you talk about her is bringing good memories back to mind,” he said as he looked the sweet woman in the eyes. As all this was going on, Abigail watched the young man with curiosity. Something about him seemed very intriguing to her, and she felt a desire to learn more about him.

“Well, your father lost his job here and needed to move to Chicago to find a job, particularly as a reporter. So, you were about four years old when you moved. Do you remember anything about your hometown?” Momma Jones asked him.

He stared at the floor for a minute, looked around, and then looked back at momma and said, “Now that you mention it, I seem to remember this place. The picket fence, rolling hills, even your fireplace. It all just feels....familiar."

Momma smiled, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Abbey noticed and patted her mother on the arm while Will continued to glower at Peter, not believing his story for one minute.

Momma, after a few moments of silence, cleared her throat.“Now, Abigail here said you needed a job, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied back as he combed his hair with his fingers.

Momma Jones then replied, “Just recently, our stable boy quit his job but he wasn’t real good with the horses anyway. Are you?”

“Yes ma’am. I love horses and know just what they need,” he said a smile slowly growing on his face.

“Well then, welcome to our farm. How would you like your first payment to be a slice of my fresh banana nut bread?” she said as she walked to the kitchen.

“That would be really nice of you ma’am,” he said.

“Peter, you can call me Momma Jones,” she said in a loud cheerful voice from the kitchen.

“Ok, thank you Momma Jones!” he replied back in the same volume. Everyone that still remained in the living room stood up and began to walk to the kitchen.

Abigail walked in front, while Will pulled Peter to the side. “Don’t you dare try anything stupid, mister. These kind ladies are too good for you and if you knew what’s best you wouldn’t even try anything funny. Got it?” Will said as he got real close to the man’s face. Peter looked down on him, and said, “I’m not the kind that does funny business.”

Will was about to punch him in the face until Momma Jones gave them both a plate of warm banana nut bread. “Enjoy!” she sang with a smile.

Peter went to sit down, but Will went up to Momma to ask where Abigail went. “I don’t know Will, but I have a feeling she went to go paint somewhere. I wish I could send the poor girl to that fancy art school but we just can’t afford it right now with the farm and all.”

“I understand, momma,” he said as he gave her a hug.

“Oh, bless you child,” she whispered to him. Will wasn’t sure if he should stay with Momma or go find Abigail, but after he saw how Momma would keep the man in line he left the house to find Abigail.

“Abbey!” he called out through his cupped hands, “where are you?!”

The sun was beginning to rise over his head, making it almost noon. The Tennessee heat caused Will to begin to sweat as he ran around the farm looking for his friend.

Abigail, unlike her mother’s predictions of painting somewhere, was actually riding her mare, Jasmine, through the woods. She was thinking of her mother's story as she rode past the pear trees to the lake. She wondered why her mother had never told her about the family who used to live by the lake. Especially since momma was so close to them. Maybe she didn't want to bring up painful memories, Abigail thought.

The wind felt cool on her face and riding on her beloved Appaloosa made her feel like she was flying. She wished she could be a sparrow, and just fly into the skies. Not having to do any chores. But not that she didn't mind working but over time she wished she could do more than just work. Maybe having Peter as a stable boy could help. Leaving the woods, Abigail approached the lake and slowed down her horse with a quick tug. Jasmine plunged her head into the lake and began drinking in the fresh water.

The water looked smooth and as Jasmine took in big swallows, ripples went across. How Abigail wished she could learn to paint the water to be able to do that, and the dreams of art school came back to her. She had a friend, Elizabeth Barnes, who sent her a letter every week about her life at Pembroke Academy of Arts. She told her of the teachers and students and how the school was all about the arts such as literature, drama, dancing, painting, and etc. Elizabeth went to excel in music, since she was a daughter of a rich banker and her mother an heiress she didn’t have the problem of a farm to take care of. How Elizabeth came to know her, Abigail couldn’t recall, but she knew she would never forget a friend like her.

A snap behind her made Abigail swirl around to see Peter lean against a willow tree. He looked calm, and relaxed with his back leaning against the tree and his eyes gazing at the lake. In fact, Abigail couldn’t tell if he saw her or not. So, she walked up to him and as she approached he looked at her but didn’t do nothing more.

“Hello, Mr. Bloom,’ she said and did a curtsy. He looked at her, his eyes like a deep grey ocean.

“Please, Miss Abigail, but just call me Peter. Mr. Bloom was my father,” he said as he skipped a rock over the lake water. It skipped three times until it sunk under the water.

“I will, if you can just call me Abigail. Miss Abigail makes me sound like a teacher, which I am not,” she said quickly with an awkward grin on her face. She felt her cheeks warm up and decided to change the topic.

“What are you looking for, Peter,” she said as she noticed his gaze was focused back on the lake. He walked up next to her, his eyes still looking at the lake.

“Why are you staring at the lake?” she finally asked, getting slightly impatient that he hadn’t answered her previous question.

He then turned to her and for the first time Abigail became slightly frightened but his face was composed as he said, “I’m looking to see if my house from long ago is over the waters.” Abigail didn’t have to look past to lake to know if the house was there.

“If you want, we have canoes in our barn and one day you can venture out into the lake and see for yourself,” Abigail said as she walked to her horse,” until then, we should probably get back. I have a feeling my momma would want you to begin working very soon.” Peter nodded in agreement and began to walk back.

Abigail untied the reins from a tree branch and jumped onto her horse. With a click of the tongue and her heels digging into Jasmine’s sides, they were off into the woods. Thoughts came to her, disturbing ones, ones she wished to forget. She didn’t know why, but tears began to run down her face. She felt selfish at that moment but she couldn’t help it. She wished she didn’t have to do hard labor and only have a farm life to look forward to. She wished to paint, and paint until her heart’s content.

Why he had to leave us, she thought. She felt like screaming but tried to think soothing thoughts, and reminded herself God had a special plan for her. All of a sudden, she felt Jasmine stop.

“Jasmine girl, what is it,” she whispered into her horse’s ear. The horse whinnied in reply and all a sudden Abigail heard a low growl. Abbey looked out in front of them to see a rather large mountain lion standing in the middle of their path. Jasmine suddenly reared up on her high legs and fear shook Abigail from head to toe. The wild cat roared, Abigail screamed, and she knew it was the end. Her eyes were shut tightly as she gave up a silent prayer.

She heard the puma roar again but Abbey wondered why she was not dead yet. She opened her eyes to see Peter on top of the struggling creature.

“Peter!” Abigail shrieked as tears ran down her face. Peter held the puma down with his weight and had both his hands on its fore arms. The cat yowled in protest as Peter held it down. He then swiftly grabbed the cat’s neck and squeezed with all his might.

Adrenaline pumped, the young man seemed the image of a young Davy Crockett. The cat continued to yowl and thrash to get free as sweat dripped from Peter’s face. A rustle in the bushes and Will appeared on the scene. It didn’t take him long to know what to do and he grabbed out his hunting knife. As Abigail closed her eyes she heard the last cries of the cat. Her heart was beating faster than a humming bird’s wings and she felt as she would faint.Something touched her hand and she screamed as loud as she could.

“Shh, Abbey, it’s me Will,” a voice said to her and rubbed her arms. She opened her eyes to see an exhausted William look into her eyes.

“Now, let me help you and Jasmine back to the house, okay?” he said as he grabbed her reins. She could only watch as she slowly rode away from where she was. She looked back to see Peter look up at her from where he was above the cat.

“Thank you,” Abigail mouthed to him. He gave a nod and went back to the dead mountain lion. “You know what, Abbs?” Will said as he directed them through the woods, “I think Peter is good for y’all after all.”