The Old Fashioned Way (A Homespun Romance) by Geeta Kakade

about going out with Daniel," Agnes stated after dinner that night.
    "I didn't either," Sarah agreed.  "I'm glad she told him about the tickets."
    Hamish looked up from his crossword puzzle and said, "Leave them alone.  It never pays to interfere in someone else's life."
    Sarah and Agnes smiled at each other as Hamish went back to his paper.  What did men know?  If women didn't give matters a little nudge now and then, the world would come to a standstill. 
     
     
    Abby walked over to the guest house wishing she had never agreed to go out with Daniel Hawthorn.  Her legs felt like clay and the rest of her quivered like the bowl of ice cream she had devoured before getting dressed.
    She tapped lightly on his door.  Maybe he had forgotten all about the play and fallen asleep.  Maybe he had changed his mind about the evening.  Maybe....
    The door swung open and Abby's gaze riveted on the dark hair on Daniel's chest.  Why hadn't he buttoned his shirt?  Raising her gaze to his, Abby felt a quiver shoot through her.  There was a storm brewing in his eyes.
    "Abby, come in."
    She walked into the guesthouse, overpowered by the clean, soap smell of him.  His hair was still shower damp.  The dark patches on his shirt testified to an impatient toweling of his body.
    "You'll have to help me with my buttons." 
    The brusque request startled her.  Abby raised her gaze to his as Daniel Hawthorn approached and extended an immaculate cuff.  "I was in an accident a few years ago.  My fingers can't cope with objects this small yet.  Normally, I use studs in my shirt, but this seems to be the last clean shirt left in my closet, and it has buttons." 
    Abby stared at him, reminded of the gold cufflinks she had glimpsed at the seminar. 
    "What kind of an accident?"  she asked, reminded of the scars on his hand.
    Daniel Hawthorn's face became expressionless.  "A car accident.  Nerves in my hands were damaged, and I couldn't use them for a while."
    "I'm sorry."  Sorry she had asked.  Sorry his hands were damaged.
    The blanched look on her face, the softness in her voice made Daniel forget his usual reluctance to talk about the accident. 
    "I still get very impatient and frustrated when I can't do small tasks like buttoning my own shirt."  Daniel couldn't explain the strange need to reassure Abby that his impatience wasn't directed at her.  "In the beginning I couldn't use my computer, even sign my name to a document.  I told myself it was a case of mind over matter and tried to force myself back to my normal routine.  My hands got worse and my neurologist warned me I was doing myself more harm than good by refusing to accept my limitations.  That's when I started conducting these seminars."
    Abby stared at him.  She could imagine how hard it must be for someone like Daniel not to be in complete control of his life.  Those who rode with the punches life handed them escaped lightly.  Others like Daniel, resisted them, and fared worse.
    "It's hard to tell there's anything wrong with your hands." 
    "Abby?"  His extended arm reminded her he was still waiting for help with his buttons.
    Abby raised shaking fingers to perform the task for him.  The button on his cuffs were easy, but the ones on the shirt front were tiny and stiff.  As Abby worked her way upwards, Daniel's breath stirred her hair.  Abby's shaking fingers brushed against skin and the soft cushion of hair on his chest as she went on to the next button.  The contact almost made her stop breathing.  "I'm sorry."
    Her words seemed unnaturally loud in the room.  Would he think she was deliberately teasing him?  Abby felt Daniel stiffen.  She bit down hard on her bottom lip.  A fresh burst of nervousness made her fingers feel ten times as large and awkward as they normally were.  A quick glance from under her lashes revealed a poker profile.  It took twice as long to do the last two buttons.
    Daniel watched the stole slip from her shoulders and slide to