In the hospital ward, Carlton Keith sat on a rickety chair near Stephen’s cot, drinking lukewarm tea and watching him with an expectant look. “Come on, Captain. I grow tired of this place. Why not finish your recovery within the comforts of Overtree Hall?”
Stephen huffed. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”
“It’s time you went home before Wesley gets into mischief—or convinces Sophie to do something she doesn’t want to do.”
But what if she did? Stephen asked himself. What if she still wanted Wesley? Did he even want Sophie to stay with him out of guilt or sense of obligation?
Yes, God help me.He wanted her no matter what.
But would he always wonder if she was thinking of Wesley, missing him, wishing it were him kissing her...?
“All you have to do is go to the C.O. with the colonel’s letter and I’m sure he will approve an early release.”
“Stop pushing me, Keith. You’re not my commanding officer.” He immediately regretted his sharp tone, and added evenly, “I’ll... think about it.”
Later that night, Stephen climbed from his cot, gritting his teeth against the pain. He slipped from the ward and into the makeshift chapel at one end of the hospital corridor. There, he knelt before the little altar the chaplain had erected.
He began to pray for Sophie, and for God to help him accept losing her if Wesley had his way. As distasteful as the scandal would be, he would not want her to be unhappy her entire life.
“Thy will be done, Lord....”
But he soon found his mind wandering to memories of Sophie’s increasing warmth toward him. Her sweet parting words and encouraging letters. She had been fond of him, at least, he thought. Had it been more than that? Or merely gratitude?
Knowing Sophie must be near her time, Stephen prayed for her safety in childbirth, for the lives of both mother and child.Let her live, Lord, whomever she chooses.
Stephen prayed for nearly an hour, asking God for wisdom. For direction. He was surprised at the peace that descended over him, not a martyr-like “woe is me, she’d be better off without me.” Not a “let her go and let God comfort” kind of peace, but a conviction to pursue his wife all over again. That it was right—his right—to fight for his wife.
Was he not a commander of men? Had he not faced enemy after enemy in hand-to-hand combat and lived to tell the tale? Surely he could muster the courage to admit the truth to himself and to her: He loved Sophie body and soul and knew he would love and respect her and her alone far better than Wes ever could.
Stephen rose. He was determined to gather Sophie close, declare his love, and ask her to marry him all over again.
And as for his old nurse’s prediction?
None of us knows the number of our days, Stephen thought,but I have wasted enough of them.
He returned to the ward, where Keith sat slumped in a chair, softly snoring. He tapped his shoulder. “You’re right, Lieutenant,” he said, picking up his grandfather’s letter. “Let’s go home.”
chapter 32
Three weeks after she left Overtree Hall, Sophie stood atop her beloved Castle Rock overlooking the valley on one side and the Bristol Channel on the other. The sun hung low in the sky, sending golden light over the water, over the rocks, over her canvas as she painted. It wouldn’t be much longer until Mavis would forbid her to walk this far. As it was, she insisted on accompanying her. Just in case.
Mavis sat on a blanket, protected from the wind by a large gorse bush on one side and a rocky outcropping on the other. She had a flask of tea, a tin of biscuits, and her needlework, and sat contentedly enjoying all three. Now and again the wind would abate and a few bars of the tune she hummed would reach Sophie’s ears. Mavis must have felt Sophie’s gaze, for she looked up and smiled at her before resuming her work.
For the first several days after her return, Sophie had been too tense to relax and enjoy her favorite place—worrying Wesley might show up at any time. But he had not. And Sophie found herself not disappointed, as she might once have guessed, but relieved.
As the sun sank lower, Sophie wiped her brushes and hands and stowed away her palette. She straightened, and a sharp twinge struck low in her back. She winced and pressed a hand there, massaging the spot. The backache that had begun the previous night was now revisiting her with a vengeance.
Then a belt of pain seized her underbelly. Sophie groaned and bent over, waiting, hoping for the pain to pass.
This was no mere backache.
“Sophie?” Mavis hefted herself to her feet and hurried to her side. Looking into her face, she asked, “Have your pains begun?”
Sophie nodded.
Mavis put her hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the path. “Come, let’s get you home.”
Sophie leaned on Mavis as they went, praying,Lord, please help me.
