Accepting His Love

Accepting His Love: Chapter Twenty-Three

"Gal..." said a voice in the distance.

Abigail frowned and turned her head away from the noise. Her head was absolutely pounding and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep.

"Gal... You's got to wake up..."

There it was again. A voice, warm and feminine. It seemed to be calling out for someone. A gal...was it her? If so, why were they calling for her?

Something cool and wet touched her face and she turned her head towards the cool relief. It ran over her brow and across her cheeks, and she reveled in its coolness. A small groan, barely audible to even her ears, escaped her lips.

Continuously, the voice kept calling out to her. After a while, Abigail supposed she should answer the person. To see what they wanted, at the very least. Then she could get back to sleeping. With the softest of sighs, she slowly opened her eyelids.

A wrinkled and dark elderly face with springy, grey hair and deep brown eyes was the first thing Abigail saw peering over her.

"Gal, you's awake yet?" she asked with a deep southern accent, the source of the earlier voice becoming apparent.

So she was the culprit who woke her, Abigail thought wryly. She parted her chapped lips and tried to respond, but all that came out was a dry rasp.

"I done forgot you gone to need some water," the elderly women said, clicking her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "I be right back, so don't you move now, ya hear?"

The woman left her side and disappeared from her peripheral. There was some shuffling behind her, and Abigail took that time to take a look around her.

Although her vision was blurry and somewhat doubled, she could tell she was in a tent. A quite large and spacious tent, it's dark green material covering all around her. There wasn't anything much for furnitures, however. Abigail laid on a cot on the ground, and there was a chair beside her and a table in the corner, but that was about it. There was nothing special about her surroundings.

After a while, the woman returned by her side and helped her into a sitting position. Gently holding the cup of water to Abigail's lips, the woman tipped it and fresh, cold water slid down her throat.

After she'd finished gulping the entire cup, the lady placed it to the side and helped Abigail back onto her back,

"Who are you?" Abigail asked after she was settled once again on the cot.

"My name's Martha, child, and now that you done know who I am, you can start off by telling me who yuh are," the woman said after settling in the chair beside the cot.

Abigail felt a little vulnerable and exposed with the height differences, but she chose to answer anyway. "Abigail Jenkins, ma'am," she said, her voice still a bit raspy despite the cup of water.

"Hmm... well, Abigail dear, can ya tell me why I done found yer, all beaten up? And who the young feller in the back o' yer wagon is?"

Immediately, Abigail's eyes shot open and she gasped.

Oh, of all the cold hearted, cruel things she could have done! Forgetting about Derek proved to be the most absolute worst.

She shot up from the cot on the ground, wincing at the pain, and stumbled quickly to her feet.

"Child!" the woman exclaimed pushing on Abigail's shoulders to try and get her back down. "What in hell's gotten into yuh!"

"Where is he?!" Abigail exclaimed, fighting like a woman possessed. She had to get to Derek, wherever he was. She'd passed out and hadn't seen Derek through. This was all her fault if he was dead.

Martha stopped trying to hold her down and leveled her with a serious gaze.

"Are ya telling me that the young feller didn't do this to ya?"

Through tear filled eyes, Abigail furrowed her brows and stated confidently, "Derek would never do something like this to me."

"Then who done shot the poor boy up to kingdom come and bruised yuh so bad?!"

At the mere thought of the low lives who'd caused she and Derek, Abigail's mood darkened profoundly. "Nicholas and Coraline," she all but growled. "They're both dead now, so there's no sense worryin' bout it. Now for the last time... Where. Is. Derek?"

The elderly woman's eyes softened a fraction before she answered. "He was barely breathin' by the time I found ya'll, but Doc Manson patched 'im up mighty fine, if I do say so myself."

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief and sunk to the ground with a thud. Good... he wasn't dead. Now she could wallow in her pain with peace of mind...

"Where is he?" she asked. "I want to see him."

"Now listen here child," the elderly woman scolded, placing her fists on her wide hips. "I ain't gonna have you walkin' around here as beat up as you is. I'll take yuh to him when you's a bit better."

"No. I want to see him now, if you don't mind."

The elderly woman clicked her tongue, muttered what sounded like, "Stubborn youngins" and helped Abigail to her feet.

She wobbled, but with the aid of the woman, she was ushered out of the tent. There were other tents scattered in the distance and other coloured people milling about. It was probably one of those communities Coraline talked about, but she could really care less at the moment.

There was a distinct chill in the air and she realized that she was barefoot, and wore nothing but a threadbare chemise. People stopped to stare at her, but she didn't pay anybody any mind. She had a one track mind at the moment. She needed to see Derek. Needed to see that he was alive and well with her own two eyes.

They stopped in front of a beige tent and entered. There was another colored man sitting on a chair inside, but that's not what her eyes focused on.

Automatically, her sights zeroed in on the pale man lying on a cot on the ground.

Derek....

Shaking off Martha's helping hands, she stumbled the rest of the few steps separating them and collapsed on her knees beside him.

For a few minutes, she simply stared, speechless and silent. Abigail had never thought she'd ever see that face again. She was scared to touch him in fear that if she did, the image before her would shatter like glass.

Then tentatively, she placed her hand on his scruffy cheek.... and began to cry. Tears streamed down her face as she felt that he was warm. He was breathing and he was alive. She threaded her fingers through his blonde hair and smiled softly. Nicholas and Coraline had failed in their intentions, and she'd succeeded.

Not caring about who else remained in the tent, she dropped her head and pressed her lips to his. They were just as dry as hers, but she relished in the warmth of the moment.

Even though she desperately wished for him to wake, she knew he had to heal. Pulling away, she whispered, "I love you.."

She lowered her body into the space beside him and tangled her fingers with his. She'd wait here, right beside him until he opened his beautiful blue eyes and called her his darling again. So help her, Derek was going to wake.
_______________________________
_______________________
A/N: Sooo Sorry for the long wait! I was very, very, VERY busy, lol. It's a really short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed all the same. Don't forget to VOTE and Comment! Love you guys. :)

-Rosalina Clarke