Chapter 5

The trip to Indiana was uneventful ... well as uneventful as any three day, fifteen hundred mile trip with a four year old and a large dog, while dodging bad weather could be. When Amelia was asleep, secure in her car seat covered with her favorite yellow blanket, and Jack snoozing beside her, I had lots of time to think as the big white truck took us across Montana, North Dakota and three additional states to Indiana.

I thought about something that had happened on the morning we were getting ready to leave on our trip. I got Amelia up and we had my griddle cakes for breakfast. She loved them as much as her mother had.

She was excited about the trip, especially to see her friend Sarah, Dan and Ellen's four and a half year old daughter. A daughter who came into their lives unexpectedly and was their pride and joy.

Amelia seemed even more excited about Christmas in Douglas with my parents. I didn't know why, but Amelia was always full of surprises. She had no problem meeting strangers and had an uncanny ability to size up someone pretty accurately in just moments. On the other hand, she seemed to ignore the fact that I was uncertain about the trip.

So, as I carried her out and buckled her into her car seat in the back seat of the truck she seemed to be taking inventory of all her things that were packed into the back of the crew cab.

"Wait!" she said as I tried to get her buckled in.

"I forgot something."

"Honey ... just tell me what it is and I'll get it..." I knew we'd go nowhere until whatever she had in mind was with her. She had her mother's determination and rather than argue, I figured I'd just get whatever she thought she needed for the trip. Although God knows I think we had packed about everything she owned.

"No, I have to get it myself ... otherwise I won't know..."

"Know what?"

"It's a secret."

"Oh ... Okay ... go get whatever secret thing it is, but hurry up we need to get on the road."

I pulled her from the car seat and placed her on the snow-covered ground, and watched her as she ran up the porch steps in her pink rubber boots.

"Not the dog door! You'll get..."

It was too late. Amelia hated to struggle with the kitchen door so she often just crawled through Jack's dog door despite the fact she would get mud on her hands and knees.

I went around to the front door of the truck and got one of the wash cloths I had there in a large zip lock and the container of Wet-ones. I sighed as I thought about the fact that we hadn't even left yet and I was gong to have to clean her up.

Jack jumped out the back door of the truck and raced around, again trying to mark every corner and post, his breath steaming in the cold air. Guess he knew we wouldn't be back for awhile.

Just about the time I was going to go back into the house, Amelia reappeared; this time through the kitchen door. She had a folded piece of drawing paper in her hands. Before breakfast I had seen her working on some kind of crayon drawing on the miniature easel in her bedroom. She had inherited her mother's gift for drawing and painting and even at four showed a mature hand.

"Daddy, I washed my hands."

I smiled at her as I worked to get the dog-tracked mud off the knees of her jeans.

"Can we go now?" I asked with mock seriousness?

She nodded.

With Amelia buckled in and her mystery drawing stowed in her Barbie backpack, and with Jack, head out the window sniffing the cold morning air, I steered us down the long driveway and turned south onto Grizzle Road.

Unlike my harried counterparts in suburbia, I had no DVD player in the truck to keep Amelia entertained.

Instead we sang songs, sang along with Country radio, and with some of the CD's I'd brought along, and of course her own CD's. We also had some discussions which surprised me. She was only four but had amazing powers of deduction and observation.

Sometimes she would be silent for a long time and then ask me things like,

"Do you think mommy can see us here from Heaven?"

"Yes, she can see us everywhere we go."

"Don't you think she might be too busy in heaven to watch us all the time?"

"No Honey ... Mommy loves us too much to ever be too busy to watch over us."

I tried to keep the catch out of my voice and keep her from seeing the tears when we talked about Abigail.

During the times Amelia napped I watched the scenery, thinking about traveling this highway on that bus trip that brought me out this way as a teenager, five years ago. I shook my head with wonder that I survived at all. I had been very fortunate that I had met kind-hearted people, and of course been rescued on that snowy road by my love Abigail.

It was hard driving alone without Abigail in the seat across from me. Sometimes I would see a raptor or something else worthy of comment and I would unconsciously turn to her ... but she wasn't there. No matter how much I wished it, she wasn't there. I wondered how long it would be before I quit talking to her around the house, and stopped expecting to see her in all the places where we shared so much happiness.

We had visited Dan and Ellen many times, but we had always flown from Great Falls to Indianapolis. For the first time I was retracing my steps by truck, but now I was a father and husband, and a widower. I still considered myself a husband even though I was officially a widower. I still wore the gold ring she placed on my hand on our wedding day.

It seemed like the whole town turned out and crammed the church as we said our vows in front of Pastor Smith on that wonderful May afternoon, when spring had finally declared itself. Abigail was four months pregnant and I had just turned nineteen. We had worked hard through the winter and had things well in hand getting ready for spring, the start of our busy time. Although it was hard to say there weren't busy times on a ranch all year long.

I remembered that morning in March when I found out Abigail was pregnant. She had delayed telling me for a couple of weeks, uncertain how I would take the news.

"Feeling okay?" I asked as we sat at the island in the kitchen. It was a Saturday in March and snow swirled outside. We had decided to postpone our trip into town.

I watched her push her breakfast around on her plate. It was rare that Abigail didn't have a hearty breakfast appetite. I was concerned she was sick.

I moved around behind her and massaged her neck and shoulders, feeling the tension there.

"You don't feel feverish."

She was quiet for a few moments.

"Bret ... I'm pregnant."

I simply moved my arms around her and pulled her to me ... holding her, feeling her warmth for a few seconds before I spoke.

"Abigail ... that's wonderful." I kissed the top of her head. "I love you so much.".

She sighed and slumped back against me, tension flowing from her body.

"How long have you known?"

"I suspected for the last couple of weeks ... Doc Evers confirmed it yesterday."

I turned her to face me.

"And why didn't you tell me?"

I saw uncertainty in her eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek

She hugged me, her face against my chest.

"Oh Bret ... I just didn't know how you'd take it..."

"Abigail ... I love you. And ... our child."

She hugged me tighter.

"I'm sorry Bret ... I'm just being silly ... It's just that you're only eighteen and ... and ... I didn't want you to feel trapped. And I love you so much. I couldn't bear losing you ... I just couldn't."

I looked at her tear-stained face, and smiled at her. She was so beautiful.

"Abigail ... I love you with every part of me ... I'll always love you ... You'll never lose me. You rescued me out on that road now you're stuck with me forever and ever ... and that could mean lots of children." I said with a smile.

She hugged me, and then suddenly let go and raced for the bathroom.

She returned a few minutes later, face washed but looking pale. I handed her tea with honey, but no milk, and a piece of dry toast.

She touched my face.

Bret ... I love you so much..." then she smiled and said,

"Let me get through this pregnancy first before we talk about more children."

"Well okay." I pulled her close

"Can we call Pastor Smith and Sarah now?"

She looked at me, puzzled.

"Whatever for?"

"To reserve the church for our wedding ... of course!"

"Did you just propose Mister Dawson?"

I got down on my knees next to the island in the kitchen, having to shove Jack out of the way, and took both her hands and said,

"Abigail Scott will you marry me?"

"Yes ... yes ... yes!"

So on that snowy Montana morning Abigail agreed to be my wife. I had no second thoughts. Actually I had wanted to ask her to marry me since Christmas. I knew she loved me, but at eighteen I was unsure how she would react. She had been in a loving marriage before and had experienced loss. Was she ready to start again with some kid from Georgia?

As far as the wedding was concerned I had a lot to learn. I figured we would drive over to Great Falls, pick up a license, call Evan and Sarah Smith and a few friends and get married. I discovered that you just couldn't get it done over night. Well actually you can, but a wedding is about more than a bride and groom, and in a small town it can be quite an event. We had a few meetings with Pastor Smith and Sarah, set the date, and then I tried to back off, which was just as well. Like most men I discovered my only responsibility was to show up with the ring at the appointed hour wearing the appropriate outfit, which of course was selected by the bride.

So there we were a couple of months later, on that sunny spring afternoon saying our vows in that packed church in Choteau Montana Abigail's father was in the front row with his new French wife seated beside him. They had met in Indonesia while both were teaching at the American School. Abigail's cousin was my best man.

Abigail, stunning in a blue dress that came to her knees, carried a bouquet of tiny red roses. Her hair was loose around her shoulders. As she walked the isle on her father's arm my only regret was that my family wasn't sitting in the front row. But this was the life I had chosen and I was creating a new family.