I Am Not Yours

Bad Karma

January 1913

Henry stood in his lounge, staring down at the half-burnt papers in his hands, wondering why nothing could ever go his way. Perhaps this was everything that he deserved. Bad Karma after all the bad things he had done to get where he was and it was now all coming back to haunt him. He had expected to be furious with Abigail for what she did, but truthfully, he wasn't. He was GLAD that it was Abigail Stanton who had done this. After all....he had been partially responsible for her family's deaths. It only made sense for her to get revenge on him now. He sighed and sunk back down into his green chair, just staring at the burns on the papers he held.

He jumped a bit when he felt someone else's hands touch his gently, taking the papers from him and setting them back down on the coffee table. Henry looked at Abigail standing in front of him after she had decided to return back inside.

The widow held both of Henry's large hands in hers, standing in front of his chair, looking down at him with apologetic sorrow. "Can you get new papers made?" She softly asked.

"Doesn't matter." He answered flatly. "It was just a dumb dream anyway."

"No dream is dumb, Henry." Abigail stated. "Look at me and my cafe." She sent him a reassuring smile.

Henry just then realized that she was still holding his hands and he felt a panic rise in his chest at their touch, suddenly feeling dirty again and he gently pulled his hands away from hers. "Why did you come back?" He asked her softly.

"I felt awful. I couldn't just leave like that." She noticed him move to stand up again so she took a step back giving him room to do so. "Is that why Dottie was here? Giving you those papers?"

"No. She was here on a more personal matter."

"Oh, I see." She nodded a bit, but still felt nosy. "Personal as in....?"

"None of your business? Yes." He said, downing the rest of his Scotch before turning to head toward his kitchen.

"Ah." Abigail rolled her eyes a bit. "Does Silas know about this?"

"About what?"

"Dottie's trips to your home."

"It's not like that." Henry said as he heard Abigail's footsteps following behind him.

"You two do spend an awful lot of time together." Henry abruptly stopped and turned to face her with a glare. Abigail put her hands up defensively. "I am not judging." She tried to sound genuine...after all...she had no place to talk after what they had done.

"No!" Henry insisted again. "She was being my FRIEND." He told her. "She has been a very good one lately. I tell her things and she tries to give me advice."

"You....tell her things?" Abigail asked, feeling a bit nervous by what he meant by that.

"Not about that. Trust me, no one will EVER know what you did with me." He slightly rolled his eyes and turned to continue toward the kitchen. "We talk about Nora and about how hard it is being the mayor."

"Well...that was a job YOU chose." The widow pointed out.

"Not lightly." Henry told her. "I wasn't qualified for any other job in town and with my leg the way it is, I can't exactly work at the saw mill."

"Your leg? What's the matter with your leg?" She asked him, looking down at the way he walked, just now realizing that he has had a slight limp ever since they met and she never knew why.

"Back when I worked in the mines in my hometown as a kid-"

"Wait...you were...a miner?" She asked him, never having expected that.