Abby's Choice

Abby’s Choice

Copyright © 2016 Betty Anderson Smith

Cover images copyright 123rf.com

Published by Janda Books at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

About the Author

Dedication

To the memory of my beloved husband.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks are due to my mentor and friend, author Josh Langston. Your excellent teaching and continuing encouragement led me on this journey I never thought I would take. Thank you also to my first readers: Doris Ready, Pam Olinto, Amy Hunkler, and Mary Cantrell. Your insightful comments and suggestions were most helpful.

Chapter One

Dr. Abigail Lawrence got a later start than she intended on the day she moved to Wilkins, Colorado, to begin her medical practice at the clinic there. She had not completed her packing the night before because her friend, Shelly, insisted on taking her out to dinner. They stayed late, reminiscing and laughing, and so she had to spend the morning finishing packing. She felt nauseated and vomited into the commode. Must be something I ate. Or nerves, I guess.

She stuffed all her possessions into her car. Other than her clothing and laptop, she had few, except for her precious books. She forgot to gas up the day before, so she stopped at a gas station before leaving town. She made another stop, at a drug store, one she had never visited before.

Having made her purchase, she continued on her way to Wilkins, a small town ninety miles southeast of Colorado Springs. She wondered, not for the first time, if she was making a mistake in leaving the only town she had ever known. No, she needed to start over in a new setting.

Abby pulled into the driveway beside the cottage in the late afternoon, thinking about furniture, or the absence thereof. Living in a college dorm or a furnished apartment for the past ten years, she had no furniture of her own and envisioned the empty rooms within the cottage. Dr. Hardy told me several of the townspeople donated some furniture, so I'm probably overreacting.

After Abby finished her residency at Claremont Hospital in Colorado Springs, the chief administrator of the hospital offered her a position; however, she didn't relish the impersonal atmosphere of such a large institution, and the thought of working with Evan Jordan revolted her. So she attended a job fair and met Dr. Hardy, the only physician at the clinic in Wilkins. He recognized retirement neared and wanted to recruit a young doctor to groom as his successor. The two personalities meshed right away. Dr. Hardy offered her the position, and she accepted. Living quarters, a rent-free cottage – she would pay the utilities – came as part of her benefits package.

She got out of her car and stretched. Dr. Hardy had sent her a key which she now dug from her purse as she walked toward the front door. She noted the small yard and the smell of newly-mowed grass. The flower bed looked well-tended, the roses beautiful although they were in their last bloom of the season. What a pleasant surprise, she thought. Inserting the key into the lock, Abby opened the door and stood in amazement, looking at the fully-furnished living room. As she walked through the room, touching the sofa and a desk, she saw that the furniture all looked used; however, everything was clean and serviceable. There was even a bookcase. Yellow gingham curtains added a cheery note to the room. Several issues of the Wilkins Gazette, the town’s weekly, lay on the coffee table. How thoughtful that someone left them. I can begin to get acquainted with the town.

Abby turned to look at the combined kitchen and dining nook. The dining area contained a Formica and chrome table and four red vinyl-cushioned chairs, giving the area a 1950s charm. The appliances in the kitchen looked well maintained. A note on the counter caught her eye. It gave cooking instructions for a casserole in the freezer.

She saw, off the kitchen, a utility room with washer and dryer and a door leading to the back yard. She would explore there tomorrow.

Abby proceeded next to the master bedroom. There she found a double bed complete with bed linens and a colorful quilt. A lovely blue and cream afghan lay upon a rocking chair. A smaller, second bedroom contained a single bed, a desk and chair, and another bookcase. I’ll set my computer up in here and use the bookcase for my medical books. My collection of Agatha Christies will go on the shelves in the living room, if I stay.

Returning to the kitchen, she took the casserole out of the freezer, placed it in the oven, and set the timer. She unloaded her car while dinner cooked, using the small bedroom as a staging area. After several trips to and from her car, she had all her things in the room.

The timer dinged, and she returned to the kitchen. The casserole smelled delicious as she, mouthwatering, took it out of the oven. She spooned a nice portion onto a plate which she carried to the table. She also brought a glass of tea; she had found the filled pitcher in the refrigerator. This chicken and rice casserole tastes as good as it smells. When she finished her meal, she put the remainder of the casserole in the refrigerator and washed her dishes. She left them in the drainer to dry and went into the living room. Seating herself on the sofa, she picked up the first newspaper and began to read; however, before long, she stifled a yawn. It had been a long day, and now it was almost bedtime.

I can’t put it off any longer. She carried her toiletries, night gown, and the package she had purchased at the drug store into the bathroom. She read and followed the written instructions, and, while waiting for the results, she drew water for a warm bath in the claw-footed tub. It was the kind of tub into which one could sink back for a long, leisurely soak, but not tonight. She got out of the tub, dried off, and put on her night gown. The test, as she feared, showed a positive outcome – she was pregnant. She sank to the bathroom floor, sobbing. What am I going to do? What will Dr. Hardy and the townspeople think of me? Long minutes passed before she had cried out all her tears, for now. Rising, back straight, she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed, but the sleep she craved failed to come. As in too many other nights, his image came into her mind. Oh Evan, how could you? How could you?

***

Abby felt nauseated when she awoke the next morning, so she reached for the crackers she had placed on her bedside table the night before. The nausea gradually subsided as she ate them, and she got out of bed.

She dressed and walked to the clinic across the street from her cottage. Speaking to the receptionist, she said, Hi, I’m Dr. Abigail Lawrence. Is Dr. Hardy available?

Oh Dr. Lawrence, I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Hazel. I’ll tell Doc you’re here.

Moments later, Doc Hardy emerged from his office. I’m glad to see my new doctor’s so eager to be on the job that she’s three days early. Come on into my office.

Taking a seat in a chair opposite Doc, Abby said, Actually, I came a few days early to get a feel for the town, but I’m here today on a personal matter.

Oh, what would that be? he asked as he twirled a pen in his fingers.

I’m pregnant," she blurted out.

I see, said Hardy, after a pause. He set the pen aside. Are you planning on marrying and moving back to Colorado Springs?

No. I do want to work here, but I don’t want to be an embarrassment to you and the town. I’ll understand if you want to re-think hiring me.

What about the father? Will he be involved with you and the child?

No, the father doesn’t know, and I want to keep it that way. We were engaged, but I discovered he was unfaithful and ended the engagement. He called and texted me repeatedly after we broke up. It got so bad I had to change my cell phone number. I hope he never finds out where I am.

Hmm, you plan to raise the child by yourself? That’ll be tough, as I’m sure you’re aware.

"My mother raised me by herself; she’s my role model. I have more resources than she had, but I do know it’ll be difficult. I take full responsibility for my child, and I will be a good mother."

Well, as for my reconsidering you for the position here, that isn’t going to happen. You have excellent credentials, and I like you, so consider yourself still hired. Now, how far along are you?

Two months.

Are you sure you’re pregnant?

I’m a doctor; I should know, she said with a sad laugh. I’ve missed two periods and am experiencing morning sickness. Besides, the pregnancy test was positive.

Yep, sounds like you’re pregnant. Come back this afternoon and I’ll check you over.

Rising from her chair, Abby said, Thank you, Dr. Hardy, for being so understanding. I won’t disappoint you with my work here.

Call me Doc. Now go acquaint yourself with our little town.

***

Leaving the clinic, Abby walked toward the café she had noticed on her way into Wilkins. Walking gave her a chance to get better acquainted with the town, laid out around a park-like square. Along one side, she saw a low stone wall outlining the perennial spring that had drawn the first settlers to the area. Her cottage and the clinic were located on a side street just off the square.

She sat down on a bench and thought about the conversation she had just had with Doc. Abby wondered if she would, indeed, be able to raise a child by herself. It'll be hard to balance motherhood and a full-time job. She knew money would be tight and was thankful that a rent-free cottage was part of her benefits package.

Sighing, she rose and continued walking. Focused on looking at the flower and shrub-filled park with its gazebo and grandstand, she passed Mae’s Kitchen and continued walking. She bumped into a man coming out of the feed store, his arms laden with supplies.

They spoke in unison.

I’m, sorry.

Watch where you’re going! Oh, a tourist, the cowboy said, derision in his voice.

I, uh, I’m not a tourist. I’ve just moved into town.

Noting her jeans and checked blouse, her normal casual attire, the man said, So you’re a big city type trying to play cowgirl. Those fancy red boots are useless.

I don’t plan to lasso cattle or mend broken fences, so I’ll just enjoy my non-utilitarian red boots. And I have no intention of playing cowgirl, not if I have to wear worn-out clothing and dirty boots like yours. With that she turned and stalked off, muttering something about an arrogant, judgmental cowboy.

Abby stepped into Mae’s Kitchen. It was mid-morning, and so the restaurant was practically empty. A long counter ran along one side with the cash register at one end. Six stools lined the front of the counter, and tables and booths were situated around the room. A swinging door separated the kitchen from the dining area, and the restaurant decor consisted of framed photographs and paintings of cowboys engaged in a variety of activities. Windows allowed light to brighten the interior, and appetizing smells of home cooking filled the room.

Hi, said a middle-aged woman with a big smile. I’m Mae and you must be Dr. Lawrence. Welcome to Wilkins. The whole town’s been lookin’ forward to your arrival. Doc Hardy's done nothin’ but talk about you. He forgot to mention how pretty you are, though. Mae rolled silverware into paper napkins as she talked.

Thank you. I’m excited about living and working here. I just hope all the cowboys aren’t as rude as the one I just ran into.

Rude? Who was rude to you?

I didn’t get his name. I bumped into him in front of the feed store, and he accused me of being a ‘big city type trying to play cowgirl,’ Abby said.

What did he look like?

Tall with broad shoulders. His jeans looked like they’ve been washed a million times. And were tight enough to have been painted on.

That describes a lot of men around here. See anything unusual?

Abby considered. He wore a buckle with a funny tilted S on it. Does that help?

Honey, you just ran into Chad Sanders. He works the Lazy S ranch with his folks, Daniel and Tildy. And I can guess why he acted like he did. About ten years ago, Chad got himself engaged to a girl from Denver, but she ran off with another fella just before the weddin’. Chad’s been guardin’ his heart ever since, even from local girls. He’s dated about all of them, though never anyone very long. I expect he’ll apologize the next time he sees you.

I won’t hold my breath.

No more talk. Here’s the menu. Want some coffee while you’re lookin’ it over?

Thanks.

Abby absentmindedly wrapped a strand of her honey blonde hair around her fingers while she studied the menu. When Mae returned with her coffee, she ordered her breakfast. Adding cream and sweetener to her coffee, she inhaled the rich aroma. Mmm, she sighed as she took a drink.

Mae sat across from her when she brought the order. We’re pretty informal around here, so I need to know what we should call you, Dr. Lawrence or Abigail.

I’ve wondered about that myself. Wouldn’t it confuse people to call me Dr. Lawrence at work and Abby – that’s my nickname – outside the clinic?

We all call Dr. Hardy ‘Doc Hardy,’ so we’d probably just call you Dr. Abby. How does that sound?

Fine, just fine, Abby said, smiling.

Mae left her when more customers arrived, and Abby looked at her plate. Oh dear, I hope I can keep this food down. She picked up her fork and cautiously took a bite of the eggs, then of the toast. She took a napkin from the dispenser on the table and blotted the excess grease from her bacon. She drank her milk before eating the bacon. So far, so good. She managed to finish most of her meal, leaving only a small portion of the eggs and one piece of bacon.

As Abby stepped to the counter to pay for her meal, Mae called her attention to a photograph hanging behind the cash register. That’s a picture of Chad when he won the state championship for saddle bronc ridin’, about six years ago.

Abby examined the photo, noting his dark hair and blue eyes and his lop-sided grin as he held up the championship belt buckle. Not bad looking. Yes, that’s the man I ran into, all right. So he’s a rodeo performer?

Not anymore; he retired a couple of years back. I guess one of those broncs finally knocked some sense into him. I know Tildy was glad when he quit. Have a nice day and come back soon.

Thanks, I will.

Stopping next at the bank, Abby approached a dark-haired young woman at a desk and said, Hi, I’m Dr. Abigail Lawrence, and I’d like to open checking and savings accounts.

Welcome to Wilkins, Dr. Lawrence. My name’s Mary Beth Madison, and I’ll be happy to assist you. She handed Abby several sheets of paper. Just fill these out, and we’ll get you all set up.

Abby sat at the desk and filled out the required forms. When she had finished, she gave them to Mary Beth. How do you want to make deposits? Mary Beth asked when she finished creating the two accounts.

I have two cashier’s checks, one for my checking account and one for my savings account, Abby replied.

Fine. Let me walk them over to one of the tellers. I’ll be right back.

Abby looked around the bank while waiting for Mary Beth. It was like any other bank except it had a more friendly air about it. Abby decided it was the comfortable seating and the vases filled with flowers that