“I always saw his goodness in the beauty of the world and in the people around me, so when those were warped by ugliness and cruelty—well, I could no longer see God’s goodness.”
Gerrit rested his forehead against her temple. “I’m sorry for the role I played in that.”
“Don’t be.” She melted into his embrace. “Before she died, Thelma reminded me that the cross is the only proof I need of the Lord’s goodness.”
Gerrit let that thought sift through his head. “Yet what could be uglier or crueler than the cross?”
“Oh, Gerrit.” Ivy sat up straight and looked him full in the eye. “Ugly, cruel, and yet so very good. Why didn’t I see that before?”
She would have eventually, but his chest felt a bit broader.
A gentle sadness softened her expression. “I miss her.”
“I do too.”
“She’d be happy to see us together. She was fond of you.” Fondness shone in Ivy’s eyes too.
Was it too soon? Or the right time? Gerrit swallowed hard, wet his lips.
Ivy added pencil strokes to a cow’s ear. “Thelma never saw your uniform. She saw your character. In a way, I did too. The first time I saw you...” Her cheeks colored, and she drew with more intensity. “At first my view of your uniform was blocked by people in the pews between us, and I saw something in you—kindness, strength,integrity. Then your uniform came into sight, and I couldn’t reconcile what I saw with what Isaw.”
A curl curved around her chin, and he brushed it aside. It was time. “I remember the first time I saw you too. I couldn’t stop looking. I still can’t.”
A wisp of a smile flitted over her lips.
“I’ve never...” His voice came out raspy, and he cleared his throat. “I’ve never given much heed to the idea of love at first sight. True love takes time. But ... but I know I started falling in love with you that day. I haven’t stopped.”
“Oh, Gerrit.” She ducked her chin even lower.
“I know. You had the uniform to look past. I didn’t. I’ve had a year and a half to fall in love. You’ve had only a few months. I don’t mind if you don’t love—”
“I do.” Her chin snapped up, and her eyes rounded with wonder. “I love you so much.”
His mind and heart overflowed, pushing all words from his mouth. He had nothing but kisses.
And he gave them to her.
chapter
32
St. Helier
Saturday, April 8, 1944
The bright red rash covering little Joey Sanderson’s cheeks, his brilliant red tongue and tonsils, and his high temperature confirmed Ivy’s fears.
She smoothed the six-year-old’s sweat-dampened brown hair as he lay in his bed, and she glanced up to his mother. “It’s scarlet fever. No need for alarm, but I’d like him in Overdale Isolation Hospital. Please ring the ambulance.”
“Scarlet fever?” Alice Sanderson covered her mouth, and her brow creased. “Joe—my husband had scarlet fever—rheumatic fever. His heart—” Her voice broke.
“Joey’s heart sounds fine.” Ivy kept her voice low and reassuring, for the child’s sake as well as the mother’s. “No need to fear. At Overdale, he’ll receive excellent care and extra rations.” No one had died during the current scarlet fever epidemic, but Ivy didn’t want to take chances, not with the risk of complications and with other children in the home.
“Please don’t send him away. I’m being careful.” Alice gestured to the bottle on the bedside table. “I’ve quarantined him since youdiagnosed him with strep throat last week, and I’ve given him the medicine you prescribed.”
Sulfapyridine from France, past its date of use, the only anti-infective the chemists’ shops had in stock. Ivy understood Alice’s reluctance to part with her child, so she firmed her tone. “You’ve cared for him to the utmost, but Overdale is the best place for him—and for the safety of your other children.”
A deep sigh. “Very well.”
