“Wait.” Esther stepped back, freeing herself from Father. “At least let me say good-bye.” Her thoughts tumbled, imagining a plan.
“What is it?” Mrs. Lightfoot hurried from the porch. “You must make haste if you are going to travel through the night.”
“I want to say good-bye.”
“He’s asleep, Esther.” Mrs. Lightfoot trailed after her, almost pleading. “He’s lost a great deal of blood.”
“Speaking to him will not cost him any more.” Esther burst into the house and up the stairs.
In Hamilton’s room, she dropped to the chair by the bed and lowered her head to his chest. “They are making me go. They say I am not wanted. Your aunt believes you will be ashamed of your condition. You’d not want me to see you, but I am not ashamed of you. I love you. This changes nothing.”
Her words conformed to tears, which turned into prayers.
Save him, O Lord. Heal him. Bring him home to me. I love him, I love him.
Her tears abated when a large, warm hand pressed upon her head, flooding her with peace. Hamilton! But when she raised up, he slept, his arms by his sides, his expression peaceful.
A man dressed in brown broadcloth, his hair hanging around his shoulders, stood next to her. Esther jumped up, tripping over the chair, startled but not... not afraid.
“He will live.” The man’s eyes radiated light as he spoke, as if each one contained a thousand stars. “But you must follow me.”
“Follow you? Sir, I do not know you.”
“Go home with your father.” He motioned to the door. His instruction, his movements contained no doubt. “I will stay with Hamilton.”
“You mock me? If I go with Father, how can I follow you? Are you one of the militiamen? Gone and lost your mind?”
“I do not mock you. Go, do your father’s bidding. There you will learn how to follow me.”
“I do not understand.”
He smiled. “You will, Esther, you will.”
His words pressed into her, and for a moment she could not move. Backing into the wall, she slid to the floor, tears twisting down her cheeks.
“Help me understand.”
She woke as from a deep sleep and sat up, still in her chair and not the floor, pressing her hand to her forehead. A dream. Surely it was all a dream. She must have drifted off while praying for Hamilton.
She glanced around to the writing desk, examining it for pen and paper. Father would be livid, waiting upon her. How long had she dozed? Far too long by her energy and refreshment.
Opening the inkwell, she dipped the quill and began her message.
My dearest Hamilton,
I’ve little time to pen this Letter. Father has come for me and demanded I return to Slathersby Hill, and I feel bound to Honor his Wish. Your Aunt, as well, bids me leave.
So I write this to declare my unfailing and undying Love for you. Father, and your aunt Mary, argue that you will not want to Marry me now that you are lame but I cannot, will not Believe it.
Your current predicament does not Dissuade me. I am yours more now than ever. Do not doubt my Love. Send Word of your condition as you can. You are forever in my Prayers. Forever in my Heart
Es
22
JESSE
God.
