brother.
Deuteronomy 15:7
Well, she certainly didn’t waste any time moving in and taking charge, did she?” Abby observed a week later, after returning to the main house from a short visit to Devlin’s.
Hannah glanced up from the freshly plucked roasting chicken she was stuffing with corn bread and herbs. “Widow Ashley, you mean?” The memory of Abby’s report of the woman’s brisk efficiency in rearranging Ella’s kitchen filled her with misgiving. She sighed, then returned her attention to the chicken. “I suppose she means well. I just hope she has a care for the children. What they need most now is a lot of hugging and loving, not a spotless kitchen and strict routine.”
“How true,” her friend murmured. She removed her coat and hung it on a peg by the back door, then walked to the big cast-iron cookstove and took down a white cotton apron from the peg beside it. “Problem is,” she said as she donned the apron, “I’m worried Devlin’s new housekeeper won’t see it that way. And Devlin certainly isn’t in any frame of mind to offer much comfort to his children right now.”
Sadly, Abby shook her head. “Conor says he can barely drag himself out to do his work, and most of what he does needs redoing.”
Hannah skewered shut the chicken’s now stuffed cavity, placed it in a roasting pan, then quickly sprinkled it with salt and pepper. “He needs to stop thinking just of himself and his own pain,” she muttered, her irritation beginning to rise. “Most of Devlin MacKay’s problems arise from his own, self-centered outlook.”
An angry frustration filled her as she carried the chicken to the stove and thrust it into the oven. It was bad enough he treated her so badly. It was unconscionable if he began to neglect his own children because he allowed himself to become mired in his sorrow.
“I know he loved Ella,” Hannah hastened to add when she turned and noted the pain in Abby’s eyes, “but he also needs to remember he’s the father of her children. Ella doesn’t need his grief. She needs him to take care of and love her children!”
“It’s not that easy, Hannah.” Abby walked to the nearest of the two kitchen cupboards and took down two thick pottery mugs. She placed them on the table, filled a silver tea strainer full of tea leaves, then walked to the stove and took up the teakettle. “Come on,” she urged as she placed the tea strainer over one mug and poured hot water through it, then did the same with the other, “let’s take a short break and talk.”
Her words about Devlin were uncharitable. Hannah knew it, yet she still couldn’t keep silent. As much as it might disappoint Abby, she thought as she took her seat at the table, she was tired of always having to be the one to turn the other cheek.
“Devlin’s still in the very early stages of his grief.” Abby slid a mug of tea over to her. “Right now, all he feels is pain. It consumes him so completely he can’t see outside himself. He’ll pass through this in time, but until he does, it’s up to us to help him. It’s up to us to accept his limitations and carry the responsibilities he’s not able to bear right now.”
Shame filled Hannah. In so many ways, she was no different from Devlin. So many times, in her own pain and need, she, too, forgot about everything but herself. “Like the responsibilities of his children? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” Abby nodded, a gentle smile on her lips. “Like his children. We need to help Devlin see the blessing he has in them. But we must accept Devlin, as well, allowing him the time he needs to come to terms with his loss. And that time must be his, never ours.”
Hannah gripped her mug of tea, savoring the reassuring warmth that radiated through the thick pottery. “I know I should be more patient and understanding of Devlin, especially just now.” She expelled a long, frustrated breath. “But it’s hard when I don’t trust or even like him. If
Deuteronomy 15:7
Well, she certainly didn’t waste any time moving in and taking charge, did she?” Abby observed a week later, after returning to the main house from a short visit to Devlin’s.
Hannah glanced up from the freshly plucked roasting chicken she was stuffing with corn bread and herbs. “Widow Ashley, you mean?” The memory of Abby’s report of the woman’s brisk efficiency in rearranging Ella’s kitchen filled her with misgiving. She sighed, then returned her attention to the chicken. “I suppose she means well. I just hope she has a care for the children. What they need most now is a lot of hugging and loving, not a spotless kitchen and strict routine.”
“How true,” her friend murmured. She removed her coat and hung it on a peg by the back door, then walked to the big cast-iron cookstove and took down a white cotton apron from the peg beside it. “Problem is,” she said as she donned the apron, “I’m worried Devlin’s new housekeeper won’t see it that way. And Devlin certainly isn’t in any frame of mind to offer much comfort to his children right now.”
Sadly, Abby shook her head. “Conor says he can barely drag himself out to do his work, and most of what he does needs redoing.”
Hannah skewered shut the chicken’s now stuffed cavity, placed it in a roasting pan, then quickly sprinkled it with salt and pepper. “He needs to stop thinking just of himself and his own pain,” she muttered, her irritation beginning to rise. “Most of Devlin MacKay’s problems arise from his own, self-centered outlook.”
An angry frustration filled her as she carried the chicken to the stove and thrust it into the oven. It was bad enough he treated her so badly. It was unconscionable if he began to neglect his own children because he allowed himself to become mired in his sorrow.
“I know he loved Ella,” Hannah hastened to add when she turned and noted the pain in Abby’s eyes, “but he also needs to remember he’s the father of her children. Ella doesn’t need his grief. She needs him to take care of and love her children!”
“It’s not that easy, Hannah.” Abby walked to the nearest of the two kitchen cupboards and took down two thick pottery mugs. She placed them on the table, filled a silver tea strainer full of tea leaves, then walked to the stove and took up the teakettle. “Come on,” she urged as she placed the tea strainer over one mug and poured hot water through it, then did the same with the other, “let’s take a short break and talk.”
Her words about Devlin were uncharitable. Hannah knew it, yet she still couldn’t keep silent. As much as it might disappoint Abby, she thought as she took her seat at the table, she was tired of always having to be the one to turn the other cheek.
“Devlin’s still in the very early stages of his grief.” Abby slid a mug of tea over to her. “Right now, all he feels is pain. It consumes him so completely he can’t see outside himself. He’ll pass through this in time, but until he does, it’s up to us to help him. It’s up to us to accept his limitations and carry the responsibilities he’s not able to bear right now.”
Shame filled Hannah. In so many ways, she was no different from Devlin. So many times, in her own pain and need, she, too, forgot about everything but herself. “Like the responsibilities of his children? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” Abby nodded, a gentle smile on her lips. “Like his children. We need to help Devlin see the blessing he has in them. But we must accept Devlin, as well, allowing him the time he needs to come to terms with his loss. And that time must be his, never ours.”
Hannah gripped her mug of tea, savoring the reassuring warmth that radiated through the thick pottery. “I know I should be more patient and understanding of Devlin, especially just now.” She expelled a long, frustrated breath. “But it’s hard when I don’t trust or even like him. If
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