A Very Broad Question with a Very Long Answer
Chapter 8 of The Ballad of Abigail Lambert
Abigail awoke in bed with a sharp gasp, air like knives swirling in a storm within her lungs. She held her hand to her chest, every breath she heaved sent waves of pain throughout her body. The only thing that was seemingly keeping her crackling rib cage together was the set of sweaty bandages that ran across her chest. That’s new, it occurred to her. She looked around to see the tiny bedroom she’d been recovering in. Aside from the cramped bed she was currently laying on, there was a small bedside table next to her. Rain beat down on the only window in the bedroom, but whose bed was this?
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” she heard a woman say to her. Soothed little by the presence of a stranger, Abigail quickly pushed herself up against the wall to face her. In the doorway she met the gaze of a pregnant woman with a welcoming expression.
“Who are you?” Abigail asked.
“My name is Suzanne,” she answered. “I’m your brother’s wife.”
So that was real, Abigail thought. She attempted to sit up straight on the bed, but winced from her body’s cries that she not move at all.
“You beat yourself up pretty good,” Suzanne said. “Going over a waterfall, I heard?”
“What can I say?” Abigail said as she shifted into a more tolerable position. “I live for excitement.”
“You’re lucky Ben found you when he did.”
“Where is he?”
“Upstairs. I can go get him if you like.”
“I can get him,” Abigail declared as she staggered out of bed.
“Easy now,” she warned as she crossed the room to assist. “You’ve been in that bed for nearly three days.” Abigail swatted her away.
“Leave me be!” Abigail’s arm quaked as she held herself up against the wall.
“Don’t be afraid to ask for help, now.” Suzanne kept her distance.
Abigail slowly shambled out of the bedroom by hugging the walls, and entered the living room at the base of the stairs. This house was easily twice the size of the one she’d been forced to abandon—almost regal by comparison. Benjamin had done well for himself in the years since they’d seen each other last.
“Where’s the girl?” Abigail asked.
“Esperanza?” The girl had a name after all. Abigail nodded.
“She’s fine, don’t you worry.”
“She hasn’t been torturing y’all while I’ve been indisposed, has she?”
“Heavens, no!” Suzanne smiled. “She’s a good kid, that one. Hasn’t stopped trying to help out around the ranch.”
“I suppose it’s just me she pesters for sport,” Abigail grumbled. Suzanne gave her an awkward laugh.
“Abby.” Even if its texture was gruff, roughened by the intervening years, there was no mistaking his voice. She turned to greet him and there at the bottom of the stairs, stood her brother. She dragged herself over to him, and nearly fell in the process. He caught her, his worn hands holding her by the arms. He towered over her, as Benji always did. She laid her head against his chest, and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her all the same, and Abigail winced from the pain, to which her brother apologized.
“I don’t care,” she assured him, and she tightened her embrace. This was the first time in over a decade Abigail wasn’t plagued with thought—the world was quiet, her mind was clear and Benjamin was here and if time allowed, she would stay right here for another ten years.
“Let’s get you off your feet,” he told her as he helped her walk over to the living room to take a seat in a cushy chair. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” He sat down across from her, Suzanne beside him.
“I’d say the same.”
“I thought you were dead,” Benjamin said. “I searched the forest around the house for weeks afterward.”
“How did you get away from those Injuns?”
“Barely. I had to light the place up to get away, but not before one of them stuck me good.” He unbuttoned his shirt to show her the massive scar across his chest. “When I came back with the cavalry,” he said as he buttoned his shirt, “they’d taken what they wanted and left. What about you? What happened?”
“That’s a very broad question with a very long answer.”
“I’ve got nothing but time for you, Abby.”
Of all the days Abigail might needlessly replay, the day the house was attacked was one she hadn’t thought about in a long while. She looked to the window as rain beat down upon it.
“I met a boy in the woods.”
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