Gift from the Sea (14 page)

Maggie’s father turned his full attention to Maggie, as did her mother. She read a mixture of hope that perhaps she had weathered the storm of her grief and at the same time concern that she might be seeing someone behind their backs. Apparently Jeanne read the same message in their surprised but curious glances, for she shook her forefinger at them and admonished them. “Now, the two of you, stop being so old-fashioned. This is the twentieth century, and she is certainly of an age that she could see anyone she pleases with or without your approval.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Gabe protested, but his eyes remained on Maggie.

Jeanne took Maggie by the arm, leading her into the lobby. “Go now, child, before they start asking questions,”
she advised as she covered Maggie’s head and shoulders with her cashmere shawl.

“I won’t be long,” Maggie promised.

Once outside she closed her eyes and gulped in the clear night air, then opened them, head thrown back to the star-filled sky. In the midst of such serenity how could the world be in such disarray, she wondered. She walked the length of the porch, following its path as it wrapped around the side of the house. Through the lighted windows she could see her parents and Jeanne and Frederick. They had returned to their occupations but were clearly engaged in a far more animated conversation than they had enjoyed earlier. No doubt they were speculating about Maggie.

She stepped off the side porch and struck out on the path that led to the cottage. In the days since she’d last seen Stefan, he had haunted her every waking moment and inhabited her dreams. She had read his letter again and again.
No-man’s-land…truce.
The words spun in her brain like a constant whirlpool, and the sealed envelope called to her. The truth was she could no longer deny that she had feelings for him that went beyond her duty as his nurse. Sorting out those feelings was exactly what had driven her out into the cool night air.

Maggie knew there was little use in trying a third time to carry off a proper visit, so instead of going to the front door of the cottage, she walked around to the side. The piles of evergreen branches Sean had stacked around the foundation of the cottage as insulation muffled her steps. Her intention was only to assure herself that he was all right.

She saw a lamp in the window of Stefan’s sickroom, and then she saw him, hunched forward in her grandmother’s wheelchair, reading a book. She watched him for
a moment and then moved closer, scanning the room for any sign of Sarah or Sean. Seeing no one but Stefan, she pulled off her glove and tapped lightly on the glass.

His head shot up and he moved the chair closer to the window. His eyes widened with surprise and then wariness. He glanced toward the door and back again.

“How are you?” she mouthed.

He shrugged. “I am better,” he mouthed back. He raised his fingers to show her that the bandages were off and the blisters had healed nicely. He pressed his palm to the glass, and she matched it with her own. Her heart quickened when he smiled, and she realized she was no longer looking with the eyes of an enemy. She was looking at a man for whom she cared deeply. Then suddenly he turned toward the door and rapidly wheeled the chair away from the window.

Maggie saw Sean enter the room, and she ducked beneath the sill. She waited a moment, listening to the muffled voices of the two men. After the lamp went out and she heard the door snap shut, she stepped back to the window. But now the wheelchair sat empty in a corner. Stefan was in bed. She turned to go, but a movement inside the room, which was lit only by moonlight now, caught her eye. She turned back and watched in amazement as Stefan eased himself to the edge of the bed, found his footing and walked steadily to the window. He grinned at her triumphantly; then as if realizing what he had revealed, his features crumpled with distress.

He leaned on the sill and she moved closer, raising herself on tiptoe as she clung to the outer sill, their faces close enough for sharing a kiss, one separated only by glass. Her heart pounded furiously as he placed his mouth
close to the edge of the window frame and she heard the low rumble of his accented voice. “Will you tell them?”

She hesitated, wrestling with the “shoulds” and “musts” of her upbringing. Then she shook her head. “Not yet. But you must tell me what to do, how I can help you.”

“I don’t know,” he said, his anguish clear in his tortured expression. “The contact was to arrange everything, and now…”

“We will find a way,” she assured him.

His relief was clear. “I am glad you came,” he enunciated each word on a whisper. “I have missed you.”

And I you, Maggie thought. “I must go,” she mouthed.

He nodded and leaned all his weight on his forearms. She stared in fascination at the rippled muscles exposed there, the long fingers almost whole again.

“Did you read it?”

Maggie nodded. Once, twice, a dozen times she had read the pages until now she knew them almost by heart. “Truce.”

Stefan bowed his head for a moment, and when he looked up, his eyes had filled with tears. And yet he was smiling. “I’ll be fine, then. You should go.”

He was giving her the exit that just days earlier she’d been determined to take, and yet instead of accepting his reprieve gratefully, she bristled. He was giving up? Surrendering? Did he think she was not up to the challenge? Did he assume that because she was a woman she would not be able to do anything?

“You can’t do anything from prison,” she argued. “We must find another way.” Without giving him the option of a response, she turned and walked away.

“No.” His protest carried on the night wind as she retraced her steps to the front of the cottage. As she rounded
the corner, she heard the sound of an upstairs window being raised. The Chadwicks rose before dawn and were in bed hours before Maggie or her parents retired for the night. Maggie froze for an instant while Sean leaned out. A moment later he turned out the lamp in the bedroom he shared with Sarah just above Stefan. The action seemed especially poignant given Stefan’s nailed-shut window on the floor below.

We take so much for granted, she thought as she stared up at the dark house. We can open a window, go to town if we want, go ice-skating on a perfect winter’s day. What if it were taken away regardless of our innocence? Such as in Stefan’s case.

She realized that she needed to prove his innocence, even as the others assumed his guilt. This realization came with such clarity and certainty that she might have spoken the words aloud—shouted them. And on the heels of that came a single question: Why? Followed by a realization as clear as the cold night air. Because I believe him.

In spite of his concern for what Maggie might do, Stefan slept that night as he had not slept in all the time he had been at the cottage. His joy in the fact that she had come to him—defied her parents to come to him—and believed him brought with it such peace and comfort. Feelings he had not known in years.

His thoughts were filled with her, her smile, her laughter, the vision of her spinning on the ice. The fervor of those words—
We must find another way—
had echoed in his dreams. He awoke and immediately gave thanks for God’s gift in bringing him to this place, to this woman, this incredible woman.

But as soon as Dr. Williams came to call, his spirits plummeted.

“Well, now, young man, we have a bit of a conundrum, don’t we?”

“Sir?”

“You see, your frostbite has healed nicely, far better than I might have anticipated in such a short time. On the other hand, Mr. Chadwick reports that you have made some progress with your exercises and walking, but less than we might expect. Very odd, don’t you think?”

“How so?” Stefan was well schooled in the way of using questions to answer questions in order to learn just how much information the enemy had gathered.

Dr. Williams chuckled but his eyes remained steely. “Come now. You are a man of some physical strength and ability given your build and age. The question is why you seem unable to build on that strength, compromised though it may be.”

“My breath—breathing,” Stefan said apologetically.

“Hm-m-m. And yet your lungs are clear.” He pulled a chair closer and lowered his heavy frame into it. “Now see here, my friend, you and I both know the end to this tale. We have no alternative but to have you transferred to the mainland. The longer you stay here, the more you endanger the reputations of these fine people. They have done enough—more than enough. I would think you would be pleased to show your gratitude.”

“I need only a few more days,” Stefan said softly, knowing the doctor was right yet clinging to every moment he might have with Maggie.

“And then you’ll be strong enough for the transfer to the mainland?”

Stefan nodded and lowered his eyes so the doctor would not see that his thoughts were already racing through possible alternatives to being handed over to the authorities.

The doctor pushed himself to his feet. “Well, it’s your good fortune that the Hunters’ houseguests will not leave until Monday. That gives you three days. But mind you, be prepared to go on Tuesday at first light.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me,” the doctor said as he packed up his equipment and snapped his valise shut. “Thank these people who have risked everything for you.”

In the hall outside his door, Stefan heard the doctor giving Sean his instructions. “Regular walks every hour, and Sean, take special care—the man is stronger than he lets on. Don’t leave Sarah alone with him.”

Stefan heard Sean’s mumbled agreement to these instructions as he accompanied the doctor out to his carriage. A minute after Stefan heard the retreating clops of the doctor’s horse, Sean entered the room. He went straight to the window and tried it. Stefan held his breath.

He had spent most of every night using a small manicure file he’d found in the back of one of the bureau drawers to loosen the putty that held the glass in place. Would Sean see the scrapings? Would he be suspicious?

“The doctor wants you walking,” Sean said, turning from the window. “Now,” he added firmly.

“I heard the instructions. I should probably practice dressing myself, as well,” he added, and when Sean seemed confused, he explained, “I doubt the prison wardens will be dressing me and undressing me and tucking me in at night.”

The ghost of a smile passed over Sean’s lips. “Aye. You’ve a point there.”

To Stefan’s surprise, the fisherman left the room and returned a few minutes later with a shirt and sweater that Stefan did not recognize.

“Sarah said I should give you these.”

“I’ll be sure to thank her at supper,” Stefan promised as he reached for his underwear.

Sean folded his arms across his chest and grunted. “Maybe you could start taking your meals with us instead of my missus carrying trays in and out. Makes more work for her.”

“Of course,” Stefan agreed, hastily pulling on the new clothing. The shirt and bulky handknit sweater were loose on Stefan but too small for the heavier fisherman.

“These clothes belonged to your son?” he asked.

Sean nodded. “Might as well do someone some good,” he muttered.

That evening he surprised Sarah by walking with a cane to the supper table. She made her usual fuss over him, ignoring her husband’s warning looks.

“How are the Hunters?” Stefan asked as he shared their supper of cod, potatoes and lentils. He pretended not to see the look that passed between them.

“They are well,” Sarah replied.

“And Miss Hunter? Has she returned to her work at the hospital?”

“Why do you ask?” Sarah eyed him with both curiosity and suspicion.

Stefan shrugged. “Mr. Chadwick and I have made many walks today, and I thought she would be pleased to know of my progress. She was the first to have me stand.”

“Aye,” Sean murmured. “Well, we’ll let her know
you’ve progressed.” His tone declared that this topic of conversation was at an end, and they passed the rest of the meal in silence.

But later that evening Sarah came into his room to deliver the last of his medicines for the day and handed him paper and pen.

“You may not have a chance to thank the Hunters in person—they can’t be part of your being transferred.”

Stefan could not disguise his surprise.

“Sean says there will be no contact. It’s for the best.” She ran her hand over the wool of the sweater Stefan had folded over the back of the rocking chair. “You’re such a nice young man,” she said softly. “Why, in other times you might have been friends with my George.”

“I believe we would have had much in common,” Stefan assured her and gave her a moment to compose herself before adding, “Will you take my note?”

Sarah nodded. As soon as she left, Sean appeared.

“I’m thinking you can get yourself into bed going forward?”

“Yes, sir,” Stefan replied.

Sean grunted and went to check the window again. “Finish your letter writing then and Sarah will take it to the Hunters in the morning,” he said as he left and locked the door behind him.

“But, Papa,” Maggie protested in a low, hushed voice as she sat on her parents’ bed with Mama watching Papa tie his shoes, “if you hand him over to these men, they might—he has information that must reach a higher authority.”