A Refuge at Highland Hall (31 page)

“Wait.” He reached in his shirt pocket and took out a stubby pencil, but doubt still shadowed his eyes. “You're sure they'll help Jenny?”

“Yes! We can trust them. They'll do whatever's needed.”

She pulled his note from her pocket and held it out to him. “Here, write down your mother's name and address on the back. I'll send Dr. Jon a telegram today.”

The muscles in his jaw rippled as he debated the decision.

She held her breath.
Please, God, let him agree.

Finally, he gave a slight nod. “All right.” He squatted, pressed the note against his knee, and wrote down the address.

Lydia gripped the sides of her apron. “So you'll stay in camp?”

He stood and handed her the note. “Send the telegram and ask for a reply. If I don't hear something soon, I'll have to go.”

She wished she could make him promise to forget his escape plans, but how could she? If her sister were ill, she would do everything she could to try and save her—even escape from an internment camp.

She slipped the note in her pocket. “How will I get word to you when I hear back from Dr. Jon?”

He frowned and looked toward the garden. “I hope they'll send me here again, but if not, would you come to the camp?”

She stilled, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

“There's a big elm tree just inside the fence, at the southwest corner of the camp. I could wait there each night at eight.”

Lydia raised her hand to her heart. Would she dare steal away at night and go to the camp?

Marius pulled back and shook his head. “No, it's too far and too dangerous. I should not have suggested that.”

She reached for his hand. “It's all right. I'll come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He tightened his grip, leaned closer, and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, Lydia. Your kindness has saved my life again, and hopefully the life of my sister.”

The sweetness of his words and tender kiss eased her fears. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek, then hurried back toward the house.

“Gather round, boys!” Alex waved his good arm to the four lads chasing each other across Highland's south lawn, then lifted his eyes to the brilliant blue sky overhead. In the distance, the treetops shimmered in shades of red and gold.

He'd forgotten how beautiful autumn in the country could be, and experiencing it here in Berkshire was a gift.

This was his fourth day at Highland, and after a rather rough start in his role as mentor to the boys, he had come up with a new idea he hoped would build a sense of teamwork rather than spur competition.

Donald set off at a slow jog toward Alex, but he was soon chasing Jack and Tom again. Andrew bent and placed his hands on his knees as though he needed to catch his breath. He looked up at Alex, and even at this distance Alex could tell he was debating if he would respond to the call or not.

Why wouldn't the boy accept Alex's leadership and fall in line like the others? Was it simply because he would one day be master of Highland and felt entitled to do whatever he pleased? Or did he put on that superior attitude because underneath he was afraid he didn't really measure up?

Whatever the reason, Alex was determined to win the boy over and help him move forward in life…or at least see that he learned to cooperate and stop causing so much trouble for Penny.

He glanced toward the veranda where the women and girls had gathered to work on their knitting projects. Penny stood by the bottom of the steps speaking to Julia. She wore a light-green dress that highlighted her feminine curves. Sunlight reflected off the copper strands in her hair.

The memory of the kiss they'd shared came flooding back. He clenched his jaw and tried to pull in a deep breath, but the ache in his chest made it almost impossible.

He forced his gaze away and checked on the boys. They'd stopped chasing each other and were gathering up their badminton racquets and birdies. He ran his hand across his ribs and took a slow, shallow breath. They were still healing. That was what caused the ache. It had nothing to do with Penny or the fact he'd hurt her by stealing that kiss.

He closed his eyes and tried to push away the memories. He had to stop thinking about her. He tried to avoid her as much as possible, but that had only made him more miserable and disgusted with himself.

“Lieutenant Goodwin?”

Alex snapped back to the moment.

Donald cocked his head and looked up at him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I'm fine.”

“You called us?”

“Yes. I've set up a race course.” Alex pointed across the lawn to the small white flags he'd stuck in the ground, creating the boundaries of an oval track. “I want to teach you how to run a relay race.”

Donald squinted up at him, then glanced at the other three boys who'd gathered around. “We race all the time. I can beat any of them.”

Andrew placed his hands on his hips. “Not likely.”

Donald smirked. “Want to bet?”

Alex took a step toward the boys. “In a relay race, you work as a team. Each boy runs one quarter of the way around the track, and he carries a baton that he passes to the next runner at the quarter mark.” He picked up the short wooden dowel from the ground and held it out. “This is our baton.”

Jack frowned. “How do you know who is the winner?”

“You're racing against the clock as a team, trying to beat your best time.” He passed the baton to Jack and pulled a stopwatch from his pocket.

Andrew gave a confident nod. “I've done relay races at my school.”

“You mean where you used to go to school,” Donald said in a mocking tone.

Andrew scowled. “I'm going back after Christmas, which is much more than you can say.”

Alex held up his hand. “Let's not argue, boys.” He pointed at the baton again. “First, I'll show you how to make the hand-off. Once you've mastered that, we'll have our first race.”

Donald, Jack, and Tom exchanged eager glances, and even Andrew looked ready to join in.

The boys circled around, and Alex took the baton again. “Both runners must do their parts for a smooth hand-off. The first runner must hold out the baton as he approaches the second runner, like this.” He demonstrated the proper angle for the hand-off. “The second runner must start running and get up to speed before he looks over his shoulder and puts out his hand to accept the baton, then he must keep running and not slow down while he grabs it.”

Alex looked at each boy, his gaze finally resting on Andrew. “Most of all, the runners must work together and trust each other.”

Donald nodded and looked around at the others. “We can do that, can't we, boys?”

Their voices rose in hearty agreement, and they looked eager to give it a try. Alex coached them as they practiced the hand-off a few times, then Jack, Donald, and Andrew jogged off and took their positions around the track, while Tom waited at the starting line.

Alex handed Tom the baton and stood to the side. “Ready?” The boy nodded. Alex looked at the other boys. “On your mark, get set, go!”

Tom shot out, running at top speed around the first quarter of the track.

Alex lifted his hand to his mouth. “Go, Jack!”

Jack took off, looked over his shoulder, and reached back for the baton. Tom held it out, and Jack grabbed hold.

Alex whooped. They'd done it! A perfect hand-off!

The women and girls came down from the veranda and joined Alex, cheering the boys on. Penny looked Alex's way and smiled.

His heart soared, and he returned a playful grin. Maybe they could get past this awkwardness and find their way back to a comfortable friendship. He doubted that would ever be enough for him, but anything would be better than the painful, strained experience of the last few days.

“Go, Donald!” Lucy clapped her hands.

Jack made the hand-off to Donald, and the third boy raced around his section of the track. Andrew crouched low, ready to launch off as soon as Donald came closer.

Alex fixed his gaze on Andrew. This was his chance. If he finished the race well, it could draw all the boys closer.

Andrew sprinted off and quickly picked up speed. Donald grimaced as he struggled to catch up. He held out the baton. Andrew looked over his shoulder, reached back, and grabbed for it, but the baton slipped through his fingers and fell to the ground. Andrew slowed, his face red, his gaze darting around.

“Pick it up! Don't just stand there!” Donald yelled. “Finish the race!”

Andrew's eyes flashed. He lunged and grabbed the baton from the grass, then spun around and threw it at Donald.

“Hey!” Donald ducked just as the baton flew past.

Before Alex could even call out to stop him, Andrew dashed off toward the stables, leaving the other boys panting on the track.

Donald shook his head and jogged across the grass toward Alex.

Julia lifted her hand to shade her eyes and looked toward the stables. “I suppose I should go after him.”

“No, I'll go.” Alex set off. He wanted to throttle the boy, but he doubted that would do any good. He needed an idea, some way to break through and help Andrew see that he must take charge of himself and make better choices…but how to do it?

That was the challenge.

L
ydia shook her head as she watched Lieutenant Goodwin hustle across the lawn and follow Andrew toward the stables.

Oh, that boy! When would he learn to control his temper? Lady Julia and Mrs. Kate had enough on their minds without having to worry about Andrew's outbursts. They all had high hopes that Lieutenant Goodwin would help the boys settle down and behave. Donald, Tom, and Jack seemed to listen, but there was no sign of change in Andrew. At least not yet.

“I wish Jon and William were here.” Kate lowered herself into the chair next to Lydia, then rested her hand on her bulging middle and put her feet up on the stool. “It doesn't seem right to push our trouble with Andrew off on Lieutenant Goodwin.”

“I wouldn't worry. He seems up to the task, but it may take some time.” Lydia shifted in her seat, moving closer to Kate, and lowered her voice. “Have you heard any news from Dr. Jon?” She glanced around, hoping no one else had heard. She didn't want to explain her connection to Marius to anyone else, not yet.

“You mean about Mrs. Ritter and her daughter?” Kate spoke in an equally low tone.

Lydia bit her lip and nodded.

“No. There was nothing in the mail today.”

“But we sent that telegram three days ago.”

Compassion filled Kate's eyes. “I'm sure he'll let us know as soon as he has anything to report.”

Lydia nodded, but fear tightened her throat. How long would Marius wait before he tried to break out of camp? What would happen to him if he did? Would he lose his life while he tried to save his sister's? She closed her eyes, trying to calm her fears.

“Lydia.” Kate laid her hand on Lydia's arm. “I know it's difficult to wait, but remember how determined Dr. Foster was to help your sister?”

Lydia nodded, and her eyes burned as she recalled the kindness he and Dr. Pittsford had shown Helen as she waited for Emily's birth.

“I'm sure he's putting the same effort into helping Jenny Ritter.”

Lydia wanted to believe it was true, but doubt swooped back in. “Things were different then. He worked at Daystar, and there wasn't a war on.”

“True, but he is the same man, with the same heart. If there's something he can do for Jenny, he'll do it. Or he'll see that Dr. Pittsford or someone from Daystar Clinic cares for her.” Kate squeezed her hand. “Remember, God is in control. Let's trust Him.”

Lydia slowly nodded. She wanted to trust God, but she was afraid her trembling hand betrayed her doubts. Kate didn't know Marius's life hung in the balance too…and Lydia couldn't tell her.

Alex walked into the stable and scanned the wide central corridor. Stalls lined the walls on both sides, and the floor in the center was swept clean. The scent of hay and horseflesh hung in the air. At the opposite end of the building, the large sliding door stood open, giving him a view to the pasture and parkland beyond. There was no sign of Andrew, though he was certain the boy had come this way.

He walked through the stable, glancing to the right and left, checking each stall. Most were empty, but a few held horses that munched on feed or lifted their heads and gazed out at him as he passed.

When he neared the second-to-the-last stall, someone sniffed, and the horse shuffled his feet. Alex stopped and listened. “Andrew?”

No reply, but the hay rustled, and the horse swished his tail. “I'd like you to come out and talk to me.”

“I'm not coming out.” Andrew's voice came from the back of the stall.

“All right. I'll come in.” Alex pushed open the half door. The horse nickered and stepped to the right.

Andrew sat in the back corner, his knees up to his chest, his shoulders hunched, and his head down. He sniffed again and wiped his nose with his shirt-sleeve. “I don't want to talk to you.”

“Well, then, I suppose you'll have to listen.”

Andrew lifted his head and scowled at Alex through red-rimmed eyes.

A pang shot through Alex's chest. What the boy had done was wrong, but he was upset and hurting. Somehow Alex had to get past his resistance and help him work through the issues.

Alex pulled in a deep breath and sent off a prayer for wisdom. The answer came as a clear impression, and he knew where to start. “You made a mistake out there, Andrew.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “I know. I dropped the baton.”

“Yes. You did, but the mistake I'm referring to was throwing the baton at Donald and running away.”

“Did you hear what he said to me?” Andrew's tone was harsh and mocking.

“ ‘Pick up the baton and finish the race'?”

The boy's scowl deepened. “He had no right to yell at me.”

“He is your teammate, and you—”

“Teammate!” Andrew practically spit out the word.

“Listen, I'm not here to talk about Donald. You can't force people to treat you the way you'd like, but you can learn to take charge of yourself and your actions and to make wise choices.”

Andrew's blotchy face turned a deeper shade of red. He shook his head and looked away.

Alex lowered himself to the hay-strewn floor and sat next to the boy. “I know you felt bad that you dropped the baton. But we all make mistakes. That's just part of life.” He picked up a piece of straw and twirled it between his fingers, waiting for Andrew's reply.

The boy silently tunneled his hand through the hay on the floor between them, but at least he didn't argue the point.

“When I make a mistake,” Alex continued, “I've found the best thing to do is own up to it, see what I can learn from the experience, and then try again.”

Andrew slowly lifted his head. “You've made mistakes?”

A grin stole across Alex's face and he nodded. “Yes, quite a few.”

“Just small mistakes, or were they big ones?”

Alex rubbed his chin. “When I was just a few weeks into my pilot training, I got cocky during landing practice and crashed my plane.”

Andrew's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes. I broke my collarbone and was grounded for about six weeks. When I came back, my commander said I should transfer to a ground unit.” Alex straightened, remembering the jolt he'd felt that day. “He said I wasn't cut out to be a pilot.”

“So what did you do?”

“I wanted to fly. So I asked for another chance, and he gave it to me. Then I climbed back in the cockpit and learned how to handle my plane so well that it felt like we were one when we were in the air.” He looked up at the small window at the back of the stall, memories of those exhilarating flights flooding his mind. “That taught me some important lessons.”

“Like what?”

“Don't be cocky, for one.” He grinned at Andrew, then grew more serious again. “A pilot needs confidence and bravery, but he has to balance those with caution and skill, especially during wartime. There's no place for a careless, overconfident pilot in the RNAS or anywhere else.”

Andrew gave a slow nod. “So what happened on that last flight? Did you make a mistake then?”

Alex pulled in a sharp breath. He hadn't expected that question, though the answer had haunted him every day since the accident. He'd replayed his choices hundreds of times, always feeling the same regret. “I made several mistakes on that mission, and I paid a very high price for them.”

Andrew's gaze grew intense. “What happened?”

He didn't like to talk about it, but if it would help Andrew, it would be worth the pain of repeating the story. “I was shaken up by that fight with the Zeppelin, and when it blew up, my plane flipped over.”

Andrew's eyes widened. “Really?”

Alex nodded. “I went into a nosedive, headed straight for the ground, but somehow I pulled out of it and glided down behind enemy lines. I inspected the plane, but I didn't have much time because a troop of German cavalrymen was headed my way. I lost all the fuel in my main tank when I flipped the plane, so I had to tap into my reserve fuel tank, then restart the engine by myself. It's a miracle I got off the ground before the Germans reached me.”

“Holy Moses,” Andrew muttered.

“I didn't realize how much the plane was damaged. But that's no excuse. I shouldn't have been so eager to get back to base that I ignored the warning signs and my low fuel gauge.”

Alex slowly shook his head. If only he would have done things differently. “I should've landed as soon as I was sure I was out of enemy territory. But I kept going, pushing my luck past the limit, thinking I could make it back to St. Pol.”

“So you ran out of fuel? That's how you crashed?”

“I'm not sure. My fuel was almost gone. The engine stalled, and I think part of the wing broke off and hit the propeller. I couldn't get control after that.” Alex pulled in a breath, trying to steel himself as the rest of the painful story flashed through his mind.

“I'm sure you did all you could.”

He wished that was true, but even more, he wished he could go back and make different choices, choices that would've saved his eyesight and made it possible for him to fly again.

“You knocked down the Zeppelin. That's what's most important.” Admiration lit the boy's eyes.

“I did my duty. I only wish I could do more.”

Andrew looked up at him, silent understanding strengthening the bond between them.

Alex reached out and rested his hand on the boy's shoulder. “You've got your own mission in life, a path God has laid out for you. And it will take courage and character to travel that path and live your life well.” He tightened his hold on Andrew's shoulder. “Learning from your mistakes and trying again is an important part of that journey.”

Andrew gave a slow nod.

“All right, then.” Alex rose to his feet and reached out his hand to Andrew.

The boy took hold and stood to face him. “Thank you for telling me what happened…and for the advice.”

Alex slung his arm around Andrew's shoulders, and they walked out of the stable together.

Alex stepped outside and closed the drawing room door behind him. They had just finished a rousing game of charades, and everyone else was busy saying good night to the children and sending them off to bed. He doubted anyone noticed he had slipped away.

Light from the windows spread a soft glow across the veranda and touched the flower beds just beyond. Insects chirped softly, serenading him from the garden.

His thoughts drifted back through the day…his time with the boys and his talk with Andrew in the stable. He supposed he'd call it a successful conversation. Andrew had rejoined the group and run two more races, grabbing the baton each time and finishing strong. He'd even congratulated the other boys when the races were done.

Alex wasn't naive enough to think their talk had solved all the boy's problems, but at least it opened the door for the two of them to keep talking. That was progress.

Why wasn't that small triumph enough to lift his spirits?

He leaned on the stone balustrade and gazed out at the deep-blue shadows cast by the moonlight on the trees. Thoughts of Penny filled his mind, as they did so many times each day. He tried to not let those thoughts linger, but it was hard. The more time they spent together, the more he wished he could find some way to bridge the gap between them and win her heart.

Was he a fool to even consider it?

The door opened behind him, and he turned.

“Oh, here you are.” Penny stepped out onto the veranda and crossed to stand beside him. The soft floral scent she wore drifted past on a breeze, stirring his senses. She smiled up at him, tenderness shining in her eyes.

That ache tightened his chest again, and he looked away. Seeing her every day was a struggle, but being so close to her in the moonlight and not being able to take her in his arms was torture.

“I have a confession to make.”