She could formulate no reply to that.
"I came here to find the land abused, disasters everywhere, and, well, you've met Sylvia and know my worries for Charles. Before I met you, I was at my wits end."
"You're managing well. What did I do?"
"You found me Archer, for one, and a market for the excess of blasted sheep. You rescued Charles."
"I?"
He grinned ruefully. "Perhaps your brothers rescued Charles." He sobered quickly. "You have no idea how I feared for him. His father left him so nervous and afraid, that everything I said made him cringe. Freddy and Randy have been a blessing."
She nodded. "Animals that have been beaten or abused are like that. Love and attention usually works, but not always. You give him that."
"Friendship helps. It helped him. I need it, too. I think my sister does, also."
"She won't welcome me."
"She did well, at first, last night."
"Until my father's story upset her."
"I don't think he meant to do that."
"No, and I don't believe his story was the main problem," Catherine mused. "I've been thinking about her."
"What do you mean?"
"There was an elderly man in the village, the shopkeeper's uncle. He had been in His Majesty's Navy for many years. He came to live here, because he could no longer support himself. The family told me he was one of three survivors of a ship that took a direct hit to the powder room. It blew up around him. Once he was back on land, fire sent him running. Loud noises of any kind made him shake and weep. He would hide in shame."
"He relived the memory over and over. I saw men like that in the army," Will mused.
Catherine decided to take a chance. "It isn't my business, Will, but did your sister experience violence at the hands of Papa's father?"
His face looked bleak. "Perhaps. At her husband's hands, without any doubt, although she won't talk about it."
"I think Papa's story triggered her own memories. I suspect she uses the tonic to deaden them. Give her time."
"I have given her time. She needs to be pushed out of her stupor. Last night helped."
"Helped? She almost collapsed."
He shook his head. "She can't hide, any more than your father can."
"What do you suggest?"
"Come again, this time for longer. Stay one night. Christmas Eve. The boys will love it, and it may give your father time to get his stories out. He needs to. Sylvia needs to, also."
She thought about it. "It might work, at least for Papa. Not the twenty-fourth, though. Papa takes us to Christmas Vespers, and then we eat cakes and tell stories. The boys will expect it."
The longing in Will's face struck her to the heart. How long has it been since he had family intimacy?
"I won't interfere," he said sadly. "Come the day and night before, and share some of your stories with us. Please."
She couldn't deny him. "I'll try to convince Papa. He may be ready to come again. He has had many good years here to strengthen him."
"And Sylvia has not?"
She shook her head. "Too soon, I think."
