Top of the World (War romance story)

Chapter Eight

This chapter isn't too long, but the next one will be! Sorry about that. Thanks for all the reads! Nearly 1,000 in total. I love you all ♥

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"Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead."

-- Oscar Wilde 

Abby 

At breakfast, when my parents had dismissed themselves to tend to their daily routines, I was left alone, skimming over the paper while nonchalantly sipping tea. Dottie started clearing the table, and gave me a peculiar look.

"You've been smiling all morning. Something you'd like to share?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, skeptically. I shrugged, "It's nothing, really. I've just been happy lately..." I mused, keeping a grin on my face. She gave me a coy smile, and took my empty plate out from under me, stacking it on top of the others in her hand, "That doesn't sound like 'nothing', to me. Tell me, Miss Abigail. Is there a fellow in the picture?" 

I instantly blushed, staining my cheeks pink, "Is it that obvious?" 

She placed the plates down on the table, and instantly pulled out one of the newly polished mahogany chairs, and took a seat across from me. Her eager attitude made me laugh, and I tossed the paper off to the side carelessly, and leaned back in my chair, letting my eyes graze over the table. 

"Now...tell me. Is this the same boy from the dance?" Being her busy self, she picked up a moistened washcloth, and began wiping down the table as she listened. 

"Yes." I admitted, with my smile stretching with each second ticking. 

"How many times have you seen each other?" 

"Only a few times, but it's enough for me to see what kind of a man he is." 

Dottie beamed, "And is he a good man, Miss Abby?" She asked, pausing her cleaning to look me in the eye. My gaze met hers, and I nodded, "Absolutely." 

Before she could reply, the familiar grumble of a truck engine cut through the air, and my head snapped towards the main foyer, and the front door. "If you'll excuse me, I need to step outside for a minute." Dottie gave me a subtle wink and nod, and resumed her work as I eased my way towards the door. Before I exited, I stopped in my tracks, and whipped around to face her. "Hey, Dottie? Can we keep this news between you and I, for the time being?" She pretended to zip her lips, and threw the pretend key over her shoulder, and I gave her a thumbs up, and ran towards the door. 

As I stepped onto the front porch, with my feet pressed firmly against the cool wooden slats, I came to an abrupt halt. The person driving the truck was not the company I anticipated, but rather, the company of a person I wished to never see again. 

"Abigail!" Michael exclaimed, waving enthusiastically from across the yard. It was too late now for me to retreat back indoors, so with a careless look of disinterest, I gave him a languid wave in return. 

He jogged over to me, sporting a smug smile. He wore a tan colored shirt with sleeves cut short, exposing bulging forearms that were tanned from the afternoon sun. "I haven't seen much of you around. How are you?" He asked, standing in the yard, looking up at me as I took a seat on the porch swing.

"I've been fine, thank you," I replied, trying impeccably hard to keep a nice, polite façade while speaking to him, "you?"   

"Busy, but good, thank you." He replied, carelessly talking as if this were everyday, mindless small talk. As if he didn't know that he was a liar, like a serpent, with a wicked, sharp tongue and a heart full of envy for his brother, which was a trait I had learned he was quite familiar with. I had done some thinking to myself after my talk with Hudson. It was obvious, in all of Michael's mannerisms, that he was a man whom hoarded jealously and resentment. Maybe I wasn't being quite fair, but with the things he had told me about Hudson, blatantly untrue, it made it seem like he was a person I could no longer trust. Though, really, could I ever trust him in the first place?