Enduring Love (33 page)

She gazed at the river. It flowed quietly toward the ocean without struggle, accepting its course. It didn’t rail against the choice made for it but instead accepted and even relished its path.

Hannah knew that’s what God had wanted for her—to trust him and the direction he’d taken her. Instead, she’d fought to hang on to what she’d had, fought despair, and fought the hatred she felt for Margaret. Now . . . she was simply worn out. She knew what waited for Margaret, but surprisingly felt no satisfaction.

Anyone locked away in a New South Wales gaol was to be pitied. She glanced back at the wagon driven by a constable. He’d be the one taking Margaret back to Sydney Town. Hannah remembered the beastly conditions—filth and fear and no end to hopelessness. Like a heavy weight, sorrow pressed down on her. She took in a slow deep breath. She may have walked away from prison, but it had not left her.

As she thought about all that had transpired and about Margaret, she realized the woman must be terribly unhappy
.
She can’t possibly possess a shred of peace. Has she ever known
tranquility?

John turned to Hannah. “You look troubled. Perhaps you should have stayed at Lydia’s.” He rested a hand on Hannah’s. “I can take you to the Athertons’.”

The baby kicked, as if knowing its father was near. “I’m fine,” she said, laying a hand on her abdomen. Was it truly possible that she and John would once again be a family?
It feels like a
dream
, she thought, a shiver of joy touching her heart.

The wagon following groaned and rasped as it dropped into a hole and then found its way out. What would become of Margaret once she was locked behind the gates of prison?

Perhaps I should talk to her, remind her of God’s love
. Even as the thought came to her, Hannah knew Margaret would never listen to her. Still, the idea lingered. Without hope in Christ, Margaret had no hope at all.

“John, I’ve been thinking . . . would you mind if I spoke to Margaret before you do?”

“Why would you want to do that?” Before Hannah could answer, he continued, “I completely understand your need to tell her how you feel. What she did was beyond reproach. And I’m sorry for what happened. But I don’t think it would be a good idea. It will only make everything uglier.” He grasped her hand. “I don’t want you to go through any more.”

She liked the feel of his callused palm. It was strong and sturdy.

“However, if you must do this, I understand and support you.”

“I hated her, especially when I found out she wanted to kill you.” She glanced at their clasped hands. “And I’m within my rights to speak my mind. But that’s not what I want.”

John gave her a puzzled look.

“I’m not angry anymore. I know it’s hard to believe—I’m not sure even I believe it—but I feel pity for her more than anything. Not just about what’s ahead for Margaret but for how wretched her life must have been, how she must feel inside. I can’t imagine living without love. I doubt she knows what it is.”

John looked stunned. “She doesn’t deserve your pity, Hannah. I expect she keeps company with the devil himself,” he sputtered.

Hannah knew he was right, but God was doing something inside her, and she dare not ignore his leading. “Can you imagine how lonely she must be? And afraid.”

“Margaret afraid?”

“Even the most brutal are frightened by life. Possibly more than the rest of us.” Hannah gazed at the hills rolling away from the road. “God loves Margaret. I’d forgotten that.” She squeezed his hand. “If he does, shouldn’t we?”

John gazed at a small bird flitting among dry grasses. With a shake of his head, he said, “You take all the fun out of retaliation.” He grinned. “I had a tongue lashing all prepared.” His tone turned serious. “She deserves hell, you know.”

Hannah rested a hand on his arm. “We all deserve death and hades.”

John nodded solemnly. “All right. You can talk to her, but I’m going with you.”

“No. I have to speak with her alone. If we go together, she’ll know her plot has been discovered, and she’ll instantly get her back up. If that happens, I won’t have an opportunity. She won’t hear a thing I have to say.”

“I don’t know, Hannah. I understand your heart, but she could do most anything. I don’t want you in danger.”

“Please, John. There may be no other opportunity. We can trust God. He’s never let us down before.”

John raised an eyebrow. “No, but he’s allowed a lot of . . . growing pains in our lives.”

“And has always seen us through every trial.”

John lightly slapped the reins. “All right, but I’ll be nearby. I’ll ride up the side field, out of sight but close to the house. That way I can hear if there’s trouble.” He cupped Hannah’s cheek in his hand. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“I’ll be fine. Everything will be just how it was meant to be.”

When they neared the farm, the constable pulled the wagon to the side of the road, stopping beneath a eucalypt. He took out a flask of water and gulped down a long drink. “I’ll wait until ye call me, but don’t be too long, eh. It’s hot.”

“It won’t take long,” John said. He turned to Hannah. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Yes.” Hannah felt inexplicable peace. She knew it was Godgiven. She felt no anger, nor fear. “Margaret is no less deserving of God’s truth than you or I.”

“I know. I’m just not as generous as you.” Handing the reins to Hannah, he said, “All right, then.” He climbed out of the buggy and untied his horse from the back. “Quincy and I will ride up along the draw. We’ll wait there.”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Hannah lifted the reins and clicked her tongue. The horses moved forward, carrying her up the drive to the house.

She stopped in front of the veranda. There was no sign of anyone about, and Hannah had a flash of fear. What if Margaret had left? What if she knew?

She tied off the reins and stepped to the ground. Walking toward the veranda, she saw Margaret’s face in the window for a brief moment. Afraid Margaret would spot John, Hannah forced herself not to look to see if he was in sight and walked up the steps.
Lord, tell me what to say.

She stood quietly for a moment and took a deep breath.
Help
me love her. Let there be no malice in my heart.
She knocked lightly.

Margaret didn’t answer right away. Hannah waited. Finally, the latch lifted and the door opened.

Margaret stood just inside looking confused. At the sight of her, Hannah felt a prickle of the old hatred.
Trust in the Lord.
Serve him only.

“Hannah, what a surprise.” Margaret’s voice sounded strained.

“I should have sent word. But I needed to speak with you right away.”

Margaret glanced outside as if expecting someone. “Well then, do come in.”

Hannah stepped into the house. After the bright light of outdoors, it seemed dark. And it smelled of fetid pork. Two bags sat just inside.

Margaret closed the door and crossed the room. “I’m sorry everything is a bit of a mess. I wasn’t expecting a caller.” She sat in the chair Hannah had once called hers. “Please. Sit.” She nodded at a cushioned armchair.

Hannah sat. She pressed her hands together in her lap and couldn’t keep from looking at the bags by the door.

“I’m preparing for a short trip to Sydney Town, just a few days. John is meeting me there.” She tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

Feeling a flicker of contempt, Hannah accepted the lie and sought a higher place. She took in a breath. “Margaret, I know your life has not always been what you’d hoped it would be.”

“My life is fine, good, in fact.” Her eyes flickered with irritation. “You needn’t worry about me.”

Hannah wet her lips. This wasn’t going to be easy. “All of us have hardships, and we may act as if life is satisfactory, even when it’s not.”

“What are you implying? That I’m unhappy? I can assure you, I’m quite delighted with my life.”

“I just want to say that . . . God loves you. Just as you are.”

“Well, of course he does. He loves everyone.” She studied Hannah. “Why would you feel a need to give me religious counsel? Isn’t that the reverend’s responsibility?”

“Yes. It is. But there are times when the Lord asks others to speak up. And he expects us to come alongside one another to help in times of trouble.”

Margaret fiddled with her collar. “I know all I need to know. I’ve been going to church since I was a child. There’s nothing you need tell me, and I have no need of your help.”

“Yes, of course. But do you know the Savior?”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“Do you know Jesus Christ? The Word says he wants to know us intimately . . . as our Lord. He calls us to spend time with him, in prayer and in worship. He loves us.”

“I know that.” Margaret stood. “What is this? What do you want?”

Hannah expected irritation; instead she felt God’s presence. “I don’t want anything except that you know that even in the gravest of circumstances, God’s love never fails. He knows who we are, even on the inside, and still loves us. And he’d like to be our friend.”

“God a friend?” Margaret pursed her lips. “Whoever heard such nonsense? God is God, and he’s no one’s chum.”

“Christ called his followers friends. We’re his friends too. And he longs for us to know his love and to soothe our hurts.”

“I’m just fine as I am.” Margaret moved to the door. “You should go.” She opened the door. “I must be on my way. I’ve no time for this foolishness.”

Hannah knew she wasn’t going to change Margaret’s mind. She wasn’t ready to hear. For now, there was nothing more to be done. She met Margaret’s dark eyes. “Margaret, I know.”

“You know what?”

“About the inheritance, Weston Douglas . . . and your plan . . . to kill John.”

Margaret let out a small gasp and pressed a hand to her chest. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“I know you wanted the inheritance and that you had a lover—Weston Douglas. And that you and he wanted the inheritance for yourselves . . . no matter what it took to get it.”

“You’re not making sense. I can’t believe you’d have such vile thoughts about me. It’s time you left. Please go.”

Her voice was hard, but Hannah heard panic. She was tempted to walk away, but wasn’t willing to give up without one more try. “Please, Margaret, hear me. You need the Lord, now more than ever.”

Margaret glared at Hannah. “You think you’re all high and mighty? One of God’s servants carrying his Word to the lost? Well, you’re no better than the rest of us. And you know nothing about me. Nothing. Get out!”

Hannah moved toward the door, then stopped. “I want you to know that I hold no ill will toward you. I forgive you, and so does the Lord—all you need do is to seek forgiveness, and he will hear your heart.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong! Get out!” She swung the door wide. “Get out! Get out!”

Hannah stepped onto the veranda, and Margaret slammed the door behind her. Looking at the hillside, she saw John. With a heavy heart, she lifted a hand in a defeated wave.

Hannah watched as the constable steered Margaret toward the wagon with a heavy hand. She felt no joy or satisfaction over the arrest. Rather, she felt sorrow at a life lost.
Lord, may
she remember your words and find you, even in prison.

Margaret didn’t go easily. The constable was forced to bind her hands.

When she reached the wagon, she looked at him. “This isn’t right. I’ve done nothing wrong.” She turned to John. “Please, tell this man that I’ve done nothing. If Weston tried to kill you, it was his idea. He was jealous and wanted me for himself. I had nothing to do with it.”

“All that will be decided in court,” John said, his voice regretful.

“You’ll let me go to prison for something I didn’t do?”

John didn’t answer.

“Fine, then. I wish he had killed you. You deserve to die. I’ve never loved you. Never!”

Quincy helped the constable heft Margaret into the back of the wagon, then tied her cuffs to an inside loop. He stepped back and watched the constable climb onto the front seat. With a nod, the man lifted the reins, turned the wagon toward the road, and rumbled away. Margaret no longer looked belligerent. Sitting hunched over, she stared at the floor of the wagon bed.