Gift from the Sea (22 page)

“I know,” Maggie said, “but—”

“When he was courting your grandmother, her parents, especially her father, did not approve. There were bitter feelings as you can imagine between her family, who were Southern plantation owners, and your father, who had been assigned the task of securing Charleston harbor.”

“Yes, but what has that to do with this?” Maggie waved the book.

“When your grandmother’s father forbade her to see your grandfather, she found this book in her father’s library. Your grandfather had promised to come every evening and signal his presence with a light. One night Grandma signaled back, and they communicated that way until her mother finally persuaded her father that love could not be denied.”

Maggie tried hard to picture the frail, elderly couple she had known as a child as young and so much in love that they would defy her grandmother’s parents and society to be together. “It’s like my love for Stefan,” she whispered and then realized she had spoken aloud.

“Exactly,” Mama said softly. “I think your father is giving you the tool you need to speak with Stefan.”

“And his blessing,” Jeanne added.

“Yes, our blessing,” Lucie murmured. The magnitude of what her mother was saying left Maggie speechless. Gratitude and joy grabbed her heart and squeezed it so tight that for a moment she could not catch her breath. “Truly?” she finally managed.

Mama laughed and hugged her. “Truly,” she assured her. But then she held Maggie by the shoulders and her expression turned serious. “We will not stand in your way, Maggie, even though we will always worry…”

“I know.”

Jeanne joined them, wrapping her arms around them
both. “Listen to your heart, child, for it will be your guide in what is best for you and for Stefan—even if that turns out to be letting him go. Do you understand?”

Maggie nodded. “But for now,” she said as she clutched the book to her heart. “For now, we are together and I will not take one hour of that time for granted.” And with that she ran up to her room to compose and practice the message she would send Stefan that night.

S
tefan had just heard the clock chime midnight when he turned to find Maggie’s father bending over him, shaking him gently. “I’m awake, sir,” he said as he sat up. “What’s happening?” Surely the old man wasn’t planning an escape.

“Look out the window,” Gabe whispered as he crawled back under the covers of his bed and turned his back to Stefan. “There’s a message for you.”

Baffled by the older man’s instructions, Stefan sat up and glanced out the window. At first there was only the blackness of the night, but then there was a blink of light followed by dark and then another blink.

He moved closer. The light came not from the direction of the lighthouse, as he might have expected, but from the inn. More specifically from the room in the tower—Maggie’s room. He waited. And there it was again.

“I’m hoping you know Morse code,” Gabe said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, then you won’t need me to translate and you and my daughter can speak freely. I’m going back to sleep.” He
rolled over to face the wall and pulled the blanket over his head to shut out the lamp. “You’ll have to give her some time,” he mumbled. “Remember, she’s just learning, so keep it simple.”

“Yes, sir.” Stefan hoped
I love you
was simple enough.

With each passing day the weather would promise to improve, and then deteriorate again. Fortunately, Captain Swann expanded the visiting hours to include a visit after lunch and another shorter one after dinner. He accepted the books that Maggie chose for him and seemed to look forward to the afternoon tea, which moved out onto the porch when the weather improved. It was only a short leap from that to including Stefan in the pickup baseball game the guards played when they were a man short.

One evening, at Jeanne’s suggestion, Maggie and Stefan took turns reading poetry aloud during the visit. No one doubted that the selections they chose were meant to send the secret messages of their growing love.

“I wonder, Stefan,” the captain mused after the ladies had returned to the inn, “if you might not spend a part of your time tutoring my men in the practice of Morse code.”

“Excellent idea, Captain,” Gabe said and returned to reading his newspaper. Stefan glanced at Gabe but Maggie’s father ignored him.

“Of course, if you aren’t interested,” the captain continued, “I could always ask Miss Hunter. She seems to have been a quick student, judging from the communications I’ve noticed flashing across the compound here lately after lights-out.”

Stefan felt his face flush, but then the captain smiled. “Might want to save the more private stuff for the poetry
readings, son,” he muttered as he patted Stefan’s shoulder on his way out.

Gabe lowered his newspaper just enough for Stefan to see the frown that furrowed his brow.

“I assure you, sir, there has been nothing said that I would not say in front of you and Mrs. Hunter.”

Gabe grunted and went back to reading his paper. After a while he folded the paper and tapped it lightly against his knee as he stared at Stefan. “Do you truly love my daughter, Stefan?”

“I believe you know that I do, sir.”

“Enough to give her up should that be in her best interests?”

“You mean if I go to prison.”

“Or are deported back to Germany, in which case I expect you would face an even harsher punishment.”

“I would not permit Maggie to suffer,” Stefan said.

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question. Whatever your fate, she will want to be with you.”

“I will see to it that Maggie is never in danger and never has cause to suffer because of me.”

“She’s already suffered a great deal. Women take these things harder than we do.”

“I don’t agree with that, sir, but I do agree that she has been through enough. I assure you that I will do everything in my power to ensure she suffers no more.”

“That’s all I ask,” Gabe replied as he passed Stefan the newspaper and then stretched. “It’s been another long, boring day. I think I’ll turn in.”

Stefan considered the moment and decided the timing was right. “I wonder, sir, if I might ask you a question.”

Clearly Gabe heard something in Stefan’s tone that
made him give the younger man his full attention. “What is your question?”

“Well, sir, if God should see fit to show the American leadership that my information can be believed and if in return for that I am able to find sanctuary here in your country, then I would ask permission to marry your daughter.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Gabe replied with a frown. “There’s a lot that needs to happen before you can even begin to…”

Stefan shrugged. “We are speaking hypothetically this evening, sir. I appreciate that. You have asked what happens if I am imprisoned or deported. I am simply asking what happens if I am not.”

“What kind of work were you in before you joined the war?”

Stefan smiled at what only appeared to be an abrupt change in subject. “I was studying for the law, sir. My father and grandfather were both in that field.” Stefan saw that Maggie’s father was surprised and impressed.

“Would your desire be to complete those studies here in this country?”

“I would very much hope to do that.”

“Then, hypothetically speaking, you would have my blessing to marry Margaret Rose—and her mother’s, I’m sure.”

“Thank you, sir. With your blessing all we need is God’s.”

“Can’t help you there, son,” Gabe replied as he started for the door. “Also can’t help you make up Maggie’s mind, either.”

On Sundays the women were permitted to attend church services, with the guards driving and standing watch
outside the small church. The women took their place in the Hunters’ usual pew and ignored the whispers of speculation that accompanied their entrance and exit from the church. But on the second Sunday after they’d returned from church, Maggie was surprised to see the minister and his wife drive into the yard in midafternoon.

“We’ve come to pray with the prisoners,” Reverend McAllister informed the captain. “If they cannot be permitted to come to the church for prayer and worship, then my wife and I shall bring them the word of God here.”

Captain Swann invited the McAllisters inside the cottage and kept watch while they prayed. The following Sunday, he met the minister in the yard and made the suggestion that perhaps Reverend McAllister might want to minister to his men. “They won’t have duty like this forever,” he said. “In time—and sooner rather than later—they will be assigned to units overseas. Some of them won’t make it back, Pastor.”

Yet even as the pattern of their days and evenings took on a kind of routine normalcy, Maggie could not shake the feeling that they were all waiting for something—the other shoe to drop, her mother had once said. This was not real life. That would come only once they had gotten the decision from Washington. Every day Maggie waited for the phone call that would decide their fate.

“It’s surely a good sign that they are taking so long,” Jeanne said, but after two long weeks even she had trouble sounding positive.

Maggie returned to her habit of spending time alone in the inn’s cupola. The difference was that now she spent that time in prayer. She had heard her mother telling Sarah of Stefan’s conversation with Gabe. She knew what he had
promised, and she had no doubt that he would never ask her to marry him unless good news arrived from Washington.

She no longer doubted that God would hear her prayers. It was waiting for some sign that He had decided to grant or deny her prayer that was the torment. Surely God would touch the hearts and minds of those strangers in Washington who unwittingly held her fate in their hands. Surely soon there would be word. But she was torn between wanting desperately to know Stefan’s fate and her fear that he would be taken from her.

Well, whatever the outcome, I will go with him, she thought defiantly and was immediately contrite.
If that be Your will,
she added.

The party line telephone was signaling a call when the women returned from their nightly visit to the cottage. With Easter just a few weeks away, they had shared a wonderful evening filled with songs and stories. Maggie’s parents had done their best to raise everyone’s spirits with reminders of happier times. Although it was very late for any call that was not one of distress, Maggie paid no mind as she ran to the phone. “Hello?”

“This is the office of Ambassador Clarence Tisdale calling. To whom am I speaking, please?”

“Maggie—Margaret Rose Hunter,” Maggie replied, her voice barely a whisper. She cleared her throat. “Would you like to speak with the duchess?”

“Indeed.”

Maggie held the receiver out to Jeanne. “It’s the ambassador’s secretary,” she whispered.

“Hello?” Jeanne shouted as if she needed to make herself heard without benefit of a telephone. “Clarence? Is
that you?” She pressed the receiver tighter to her ear. “I’m having trouble hearing you,” she shouted.

Maggie and Lucie pressed closer as Jeanne held up one finger and concentrated on listening. “What has happened? Is there news?” Her expression crumpled with disappointment as she replaced the receiver on the hooks. “The line went dead.”

“But what did he say? Is Stefan to be cleared? And Papa?”

“I don’t know. The connection was bad, and all I got was something about arriving tomorrow.”

“I’m going to tell them,” Maggie said and took off at a run before either of the other women could stop her.

“Whoa, little lady,” Swann said, intercepting her before she could reach the cottage. “Visiting hours are over for today.”

“But there’s been news.”

“Yes, ma’am, there has.” Swann looked toward his command post, where one of the soldiers was scribbling furiously as he listened to someone on the other end of a field telephone.

“Then it’s true.” Maggie thought her heart would quite literally burst with relief and happiness.

Swann scratched his head. “Tell me what you know.”

“The ambassador telephoned. It was a terrible connection, but we think that the decision has been reached and he’s…”

“Now, miss, I think it would be best if you wait until the ambassador and his party arrive before we say anything to your—to the prisoners. It wouldn’t do to raise false hope, now would it?”

False hope?

“If I could just see my father for a minute,” she pleaded.

“Now, miss, we both know it’s not your father you’re wanting to see. Please go on back to the house and wait
for the ambassador to get here tomorrow.” He signaled to two of his men, and they immediately came to stand at either side of Maggie. “Please, miss. It’s for the best.”

Maggie took one last glance at the upstairs window of the cottage. “Very well,” she agreed, knowing there was more than one way she could talk to Stefan.

But when she went to her room and sent her news, the room at the cottage remained dark and there was no reply. She tried again with the same result. Grabbing her father’s binoculars from the side table where they’d been since she’d first begun signaling Stefan, she focused on the window across the way.

It was dark because it had been covered with a heavy black drape. As Maggie lowered the binoculars, she saw Captain Swann standing in the yard and looking up at her. When he saw her looking, he tipped his hat and returned to the cottage.

A fierce storm reminiscent of the night when Stefan had first come to them delayed the ambassador’s arrival for three long days. During that time the afternoon and evening visits were more like vigils than social gatherings. Finally, on the third day, the sky cleared and early that afternoon Maggie spotted a carriage coming up the lane.

“Mama! Jeanne!” She ran down the stairs from the cupola, along the hallway, past the open doors of the inn’s guest rooms and down the main stairway to the front hallway. “Someone’s coming,” she shouted even as she tore open the front door and ran across the yard to meet the approaching carriage. Behind her she could hear her mother, Jeanne and Sarah, their voices entreating her to wait for them as they ran to catch up with her.

“Whoa,” the driver ordered his team and pulled the carriage to a halt at the entrance to the circular drive.

The carriage door swung open and Maggie paused as she watched the ambassador’s secretary emerge and then hold out his hand to assist another passenger. An elderly man dressed in a business suit with matching bowler climbed down from the carriage. “Pay the good man, Percy,” he declared. “We can walk from here.”

“Clarence!” Jeanne shrieked as she ran to the older man and embraced him. “It is so wonderful to see you. Come, let me introduce you.” She hooked her arm through his and led him toward Lucie.

“This is Mrs. Gabriel Hunter and her daughter, Margaret Rose. The woman there on the porch is Sarah Chadwick, and the men, as you no doubt know, are being held prisoner in that cottage there.”

“Now, Duchess,” the ambassador said in a voice that was raspy and thin, “you know as well as I that matters of this sort must be allowed to run their course.”

“And have they run their course?” Jeanne asked as she paused next to Maggie and her mother so that all three women were surrounding the ambassador.