“Not after what my stories have done. There is no hope of restoration for my writing.”
He cupped her cheek and prayed she heard his next words down to her very soul. “With Christ, there is always hope. After all, He’s the Author of life.”
“And I have been the author of death.” She pulled away and walked into the alley.
“You give yourself too much power, Lydia. Remember, it’s sin, not literature, that corrupts a man’s heart.”
Her eyes shimmered with sadness as she stopped at the hack’s step. “You can’t use my words against me when you don’t even believe them yourself.”
“Maybe I didn’t at first, but I do now.” He grasped her hand under the guise of aiding her, but he didn’t let go as he joined her inside. The need to be physically connected to her as he spoke was too strong. “You and this case have challenged my thinking. I still disagree with the existence of your Billy Poe novels, but the deaths of these men are not your responsibility. Stop writing for now, but be open to the possibility that, after a time, God may call you back to it.” He reluctantly released her hand to sit across from her.
The tender way she regarded him made him reconsider his declaration that they forget about her kiss.
Monroe burst out of the building’s rear exit. “Lydia, don’t leave!”
Curse that man.Abraham closed the carriage door before Monroe could reach them, but Lydia leaned out the window.
“I’m sorry, Marcus, but it’s over. I can’t do this anymore.”
“You don’t have to. Just give me the manuscript, and I’ll write something you’ll be proud of.”
“There is no ending to a Billy Poe novel that I could be proud of. He’s ruined it for me. Goodbye.” She pulled back from the opening.
“I’ll pay you whatever you want. Double, even triple, what he offered inside.”
She heaved a sigh and leaned back out. “It’s not about the money.”
“Maybe not for you. Heneedsthat story, Lydia. He’s already spent the money from advance orders on those special edition reprints.”
“That was his poor decision, not mine.”
“Then do it for me. O’Dell will fire me if I don’t get this story from you.”
Abraham frowned. Desperation made a man dangerous. It was time for them to leave. He tapped on the roof and silently indicated for Lydia to take her seat.
“I’m sorry, Marcus. My answer’s still no.”
The carriage jerked into motion, and Abraham steadied her with a hand until she sat across from him.
Monroe ran alongside them, his shouts filling the carriage’s small space. “After all I have done for you, you would treat me like this?”
Abraham tugged the curtain closed. There was no reason for her to witness such a demonstration.
“You’re making a mistake! People will forget you, but they’ll never forget Billy Poe.” Monroe’s words became breathless, but they held no less sting as they echoed down the alley. “You’re abandoning your legacy, your purpose!What are you if you’re not a writer?”
Lydia flinched as if Monroe had physically landed a punch.
Abraham slipped to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You did the right thing.”
Tears slid down her cheeks as she clenched wads of her skirt together. “Just keep telling me that until I believe it. In my head, I know it’s true, but my heart is breaking. He’s right. What am I, if not a writer? How will I accomplish anything good in this world now?”
She turned into him, and her silent tears turned into soft cries. Abraham brought his other arm around her and held her like he might Clara … only this was different. Far different. Lydia nestled in and fit like she belonged there. There was no brotherly desire to pat her on the back, make a joke, and let her go when they were done.
“We’ll get through this, Lydia. Whether you’re a writer or not, God has a purpose for you. After this is over, we’ll figure out together what that purpose is. In the meantime, let’s focus on keeping you safe and tracking down Poe.”
After today’s fiascoes, Poe had more than enough reason to seek Lydia out. And Abraham doubted very much it would be to deliver flowers and a love note.
CHAPTER25
