Gift from the Sea (23 page)

He smiled. “My secretary and I have had quite a long journey,” he replied. “Perhaps, Mrs. Hunter, I might impose upon you to permit us a place to freshen up and have a small glass of water?”

“Of course,” Lucie replied and led the way up the drive to the inn.

Maggie watched them go, thinking she would have driven a harder bargain. Tell me he’s free, she would have demanded. Tell me you believe him and you may drink your fill.

“Percy,” the ambassador called, “be so kind as to send for Captain Swann and the…the others.”

He hadn’t said
prisoners,
although he’d come close. Maggie felt the knot in her heart loosen just slightly.

By the time everyone was gathered in the parlor of the inn, Maggie thought she would surely go mad. It seemed to have taken forever for the ambassador to refresh himself, for Captain Swann to bring Papa, Frederick and Stefan down to the inn and for the endless offering of tea and food to run its course. Finally the ambassador cleared his throat and took from his pocket the letter Stefan had written.

Maggie drew in her breath and forgot all about releasing it as she leaned forward, her hand itching to clasp Stefan’s.

“Young man,” the ambassador began, then cleared his throat, a habit Maggie was beginning to find annoying. “Young man,” he repeated, “we have perused your information, and admittedly it has some validity.”

“Some validity? It’s the truth,” Maggie said. “He has risked everything to…”

“Seems to have validity, but what?” Jeanne asked as she placed her hands firmly on Maggie’s shoulders.

The ambassador kept his attention fixed on Stefan. “The offensive you have described began two days ago. The new tactics for attacking are exactly as you wrote about them. But, as you surely must realize, the news has come too late to really do anything to prevent what has already begun.”

Maggie thought her heart would hammer right out of her chest. “He’s told you all he knows,” Maggie argued. “Surely the timing…”

“Perhaps. Perhaps there is more to tell—details you do not even realize that you know. That is the hope.”

“And if I cannot provide such further detail?” Stefan asked.

The ambassador shrugged and picked up his teacup. “Then there is a question of whether or not you were well aware of the timing, knew the attacks would take place this week and deliberately withheld the information so that they could not be stopped.”

“He was ill—near death several times. He delivered this news as soon as he could,” Maggie protested.

The ambassador studied Maggie for a long moment. “Did he? Or did he only give up the information when it was necessary for him to do so in order to save himself?”

Maggie glanced around the room looking for reinforcements, but all she saw was that the others, her parents included, were actually considering this possibility.

Maggie twisted around to look up at Jeanne. “Tell him. You know better. You and Frederick were to meet…”

“A German seaman who had certain information. How do we know for certain that the seaman was Stefan?”

“He knew the pass code.”

Jeanne shrugged. “So what happens now, Clarence?”

“I should like some time alone with Mr. Witte,” he replied.

“May I ask what is to become of my husband in the meantime?” Lucie asked, having held her tongue for her daughter’s sake, knowing that Stefan was in the greater danger.

“I apologize, madam,” the ambassador replied. “I should have told you and the duchess immediately that a decision there has already been made. There will be no charges against your husband, the good doctor or Mr. Chadwick. Their actions were not political but were offered purely in the spirit of common decency in caring for someone in need. Your husband and the doctor will be
relieved of their responsibilities as part of the island patrol, but beyond that there will be no repercussion.”

Maggie saw her mother bow her head for a moment and then look up with tears gleaming. “Thank you.”

“And Sir Groton?” Jeanne asked.

The ambassador took some time to sip his tea, wipe his lips and clear his throat. “I am sorry, dear Jeanne. I fought against it, but the times being what they are, certain members of the government’s inner circle seemed quite alarmed that you and Sir Groton—residing outside this country and all…”

“We are to be deported?” Jeanne seemed to barely be able to get her breath and Frederick moved immediately to her side.

“I’m sure it’s temporary, my dear. Once this whole awful business is…”

“No,” Maggie declared in a calm, steady voice as she stood to face the ambassador. “You have said yourself that you do not yet have the entire story. Then the decision is not yet finalized?”

“Well, no, but…”

“Then surely where whole lives are about to be changed forever, there is room for further consideration?”

“I have said I will question Mr. Witte, young woman,” the ambassador replied, his voice gaining in strength. “Quite frankly it is my opinion that we are going well beyond what would be considered the norm in such circumstances.”

“And his information? It has no value at all?” Gabe asked, coming to stand alongside his daughter.

“Well, of course, it has value. Just knowing the tactics to be used…”

“You tell me the offensive has begun,” Stefan said. “If
you show me a map of where the attacks were launched, I can help you track the most likely progression of the front. It would be only a guess, but it would be based on the conversation I overheard that evening.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“But why not think he might be right?” Maggie asked. “What is there to lose?” She hurried from the room and returned a moment later with a large atlas from her father’s study. “Here,” she said, pressing the oversized book into Stefan’s hands. “Show him.”

Gabe and Frederick cleared a table and Stefan set the book on it, turning the large, brittle pages until he came to a map of western Europe. “The attacks began here?” he asked and the ambassador nodded.

Stefan’s finger hovered over the map. “Here,” he said. “And then on to here,” he added, tracing a line across the page with his forefinger. “If they are not stopped…” He drew his finger across the landscape all the way to Paris.

“No,” Jeanne whispered. “Not Paris.”

“Is there no stopping them?” the ambassador murmured as much to himself as to Stefan or anyone else surrounding the atlas.

“Are your American soldiers battle ready?” Stefan asked.

The ambassador shrugged. “Who can say for certain? They are there.”

“Unless he changed his mind, it was the general’s intention to concentrate his force here,” Stefan said. “I am no strategic planner, sir, but it would appear that in that case…”

“This entire area would be undefended,” the ambassador replied, sweeping his hand over an entire stretch of the terrain.

“The resistance is very strong in that region,” Frederick said. “They could be quite helpful.”

“Indeed,” the ambassador replied. He focused his gaze on Stefan. “Why would you do this? Betray your own countrymen?”

“I am not, sir. I love my country as you love yours. It is that love of country that has driven me here. This war must end if humanity is to have any hope of finding a lasting peace.”

“And if the Germans are victorious?” Gabe asked quietly.

“If the regime currently in power in my homeland is victorious, then may God have mercy on us all,” Stefan replied.

Maggie thought that she could not possibly love him more than she did in that moment. To admit such a thing was so clearly heartbreaking for him that she wanted desperately to reach out to him, to reassure him that he was doing the right thing, not only for his country but also for any hope of a future that she and Stefan might have. “You must believe him, sir,” she said, watching the ambassador as he studied Stefan closely.

For one endless moment it seemed as if everyone in the room had stopped breathing. Finally the ambassador drew in a long sigh. “This is not my decision to make,” he said, addressing Stefan directly. “But because the information you provided has proved truthful and because this new information gives me a thread of hope that it is not too late, you, the duchess and Sir Groton will return with me to Washington and speak to President Wilson.”

Maggie suppressed the flare of hope that threatened to burst forth. “And in the meantime?” she asked, ignoring the warning glances her parents and Jeanne flashed in her direction.

“In the meantime, young lady,” the ambassador replied, “I should think that you and your family and friends here
have some decisions to make. Mr. Witte has involved all of you in his actions—whether intentionally or not, that is the reality. In spite of his apparent courage and heroism, he might yet be deported back to Germany.” He widened his attention to include everyone. “I would respectfully suggest that you all use the time it will take for me to go to Washington and meet with the president to prepare yourselves for the worst.”

“I cannot ask this of you,” Stefan said later that evening when the ambassador had agreed to give Stefan and Maggie a few minutes alone on the porch of the cottage.

“You aren’t asking anything. If you are sent back to Germany, then I am going,” Maggie said. She folded her arms tightly over her chest and pushed the porch swing into motion with her feet. “I have learned my lesson, and I will never again be separated from the man I love.”

Stefan forced the swing to a halt by planting his feet firmly on the floor. “Not even if I ask that you give me the time to see this through?”

When Maggie ducked her head, stubbornly refusing to look at him, he lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Look at me,” he pleaded. “I am not Michael. This is not like that. If it’s God’s will, then I will come back to you.”

“And if not? If they put you on trial? If you have no one to speak on your behalf?”

“Ah,
liebchen,
we both know now that God has His reasons for everything. If it is meant to be that we had this time, that we touched each other’s lives deeply and irrevocably, isn’t that enough?”

“But I want so much more,” Maggie admitted.

Stefan kissed her. “So do I, Maggie.”

She snuggled against him as he rocked the swing and held her. “For tonight we know nothing of my fate, so can we not simply pretend that it could as easily go well for me, that one day we will be married?”

Maggie pushed a little away from him. “‘…we will be married,’” she mimicked. “That is hardly my idea of a proper proposal, Stefan Witte.” His eyes grew so wide with alarm that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, Stefan, I am teasing you. Of course, I will marry you. I would marry you tonight.”

“And if things go badly in Washington?”

“We will be together whatever happens,” she assured him.

Stefan sighed heavily and took her by the shoulders. “I cannot allow you to leave your home and family,” he argued.

That was the final straw. Maggie stood and placed her hands on her hips. “You cannot allow? Well, I cannot allow the man I love to face this alone. If you go, then I am coming with you and that is that.”

“You are very stubborn,” Stefan grumbled. “Fortunately your parents are more sensible.”

But once Maggie told her parents that Stefan had proposed and that she intended to marry him as soon as possible, her mother took her side. “A wedding in the midst of all this heartache,” she said, “would be such a blessing—like the coming of spring, a new beginning.”

“Now, Lucie, love…” Gabe said.

“It’s perfect. A kind of confirmation of life continuing along its normal course,” Jeanne announced, and the women in the room immediately began making lists and timetables, while the men watched, each wondering how it had happened that these three women had taken charge of the situation and their lives.

O
n Good Friday it not only rained, it poured. The sky was gray, the sea was gray and the harbor was lost under a thick gray drizzle and fog. And as Maggie retreated to the cupola for perhaps the last time for months to come, her mood was definitely somber. How ever would Stefan make it in such a storm?

He had gone to Washington to present his incredible story to the president. Captain Swann and a detail of his men had accompanied them. Maggie had pleaded to go as well, but Stefan had smiled and cupped her cheek.

“But,
liebchen,
you have a wedding to plan,” he’d said.

It was true. If the outcome of the visit with President Wilson was that Stefan was to be deported, then there would be no time to waste. And if it wasn’t? If by the grace of God his story touched the president’s heart and Stefan was granted asylum?

“Please let it be so,” Maggie prayed aloud as she pressed her palms against the glass of the cupola window and listened to the distant mournful wail of the foghorn. She
closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself in her bridal suit walking down the aisle of the church with her father. She imagined Stefan waiting for her, his gaze a beacon she would seek the rest of her life.

War bride,
Mrs. Pritchard had called her with a disapproving curl of her lips that left no doubt she believed Maggie had chosen the wrong side in the war. Of course, it was true. She was to be a war bride. The plans were in place as far as possible, meaning she had decided what she would wear, who would be in attendance, assuming the ceremony took place on the island, and what flowers she might carry. The day and time—and place—had yet to be determined. If all went as planned, she and Stefan would be married on Easter Sunday afternoon in a simple ceremony at the church. But if not, if he was to be deported immediately without being allowed to return to Nantucket, then she would go to him and they would be married by the ship’s captain or chaplain as they made their way toward an unknown future in a country that would view them both as enemies.

“Maggie, come down!” Her mother’s voice was strong and filled with an urgency that made Maggie run for the trapdoor and down the spiral stairs.

“What is it?” she cried, leaning over the banister so she could see her mother. Lucie was standing in the lobby holding a distinctive yellow sheet of paper. “You have a telegram.”

Maggie had no idea how she made it from the upstairs hall to the lobby so quickly, but she accepted the envelope her mother handed her. With her hand trembling as her heart threatened to hammer out of her chest, she opened it and took out the single sheet of paper. “It’s from Auntie Jeanne,” she whispered and saw that her father, Sarah and
Sean had gathered behind the front desk to hear the news. Terrified at what news she might yet have to share with them all, Maggie scanned the contents of the message.

Sanctuary.
The word resounded through Maggie’s brain as she read the telegram through twice more to be sure she wasn’t missing anything.

“Well?” her mother demanded, unable to stem the tide of her curiosity a moment longer.

Maggie handed her the telegram and listened as Lucie read it aloud. There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Sarah began to laugh and cry at the same moment. “Ah, Margaret Rose, it’s over,” she said, hugging Maggie tightly.

“You’ll be living in Washington from the sound of this.” Gabe frowned at the words on the telegram as if by sheer will he might change that fact and keep Maggie safe on Nantucket.

“It’s not the end of the world, Papa,” Maggie said. “It’s not Germany.”

“Oh my, we have a great deal to accomplish,” Lucie said and ran to get her collection of notes from under the front desk. “We no longer need this—or this or that,” she chanted as she tore pages from the notebook she had called her “just in case” lists.

Early the next morning Maggie slipped back up to the cupola. The steamer that would bring Stefan back to her
would arrive in a matter of hours, and she found it fitting to be in the place where so many of the seminal moments of her young life had occurred when he came up the lane. She opened the window and breathed in the scent of nature coming into bloom as the soft drizzle washed her face clean of all the heartache and worries she’d suffered ever since Stefan had gone away. She closed her eyes and fantasized about her wedding—her Nantucket wedding.

Maggie rested her head on her hands and dozed. She and Mama had stayed up late going over the details of the wedding and although she fought to stay alert lest Stefan arrive and she not know it, she could not help being lulled by the sound of the waves rushing onto the shore, then retreating again. The wind became the murmur of guests gathered on a sunny spring afternoon. The foghorn became the church bell calling everyone inside. The rain was the traditional rice pelting her and Stefan as they left the church, and the garden was the perfume of her bridal bouquet. Maggie smiled at the vision of her perfect wedding day.

But what was that squawking sound?

Impatient with anything that might interrupt her revelry, she opened her eyes and peered out into the gray mist. Again came the squawking, like a goose in distress, followed by laughter that carried through the gloom and up to the cupola. And then she heard the undeniable putter of a car engine.

“Auntie Jeanne,” she shouted as the car pulled up to the front of the inn. “Up here,” she called when Frederick stepped down from the driver’s seat and glanced around. He waved and then opened an umbrella as he ran around the car to the passenger side to open the door for Jeanne.

Maggie held her breath, peering through the rain and fog to see a third person exit the car.

Stefan!

Every prayer of thanks that she knew flew straight from her heart toward Heaven as she ran to meet him. She had listened for God’s answer, and now Stefan was here, standing at the foot of the stairs, his arms outstretched to catch her.

“You’re here, truly, really here,” she said as she buried her fingers in the silk of his hair and covered his face with kisses.

“I’m here,” he assured her as he swung her round in a circle so that her feet left the ground.

“As are we,” Jeanne reminded them.

“Oh, Auntie Jeanne, thank you a thousand times,” Maggie gushed. “And you as well, Frederick.”

“While we’d be happy to take credit, the truth is that Stefan here was the one who insisted we traverse the high seas during an electrical storm,” Jeanne said with a dramatic sigh.

“We were never actually on the high seas, my dear,” Frederick reminded her.

“And then the automobile got stuck. I really do need to speak with Gabe about the roads on this island,” Jeanne insisted. “Now come with me, young lady. Frederick, could you get me that box from the car?”

“I’ll bring it,” Stefan offered.

“Now, Maggie, do forgive me, but you and Stefan will have a lifetime to catch up. We really must plan this ceremony properly.”

“Oh, Auntie Jeanne, everything’s arranged. Reverend McAllister will perform the ceremony Sunday afternoon, and Mama has invited him and his wife to join us all here for the wedding supper. Sarah’s making a cake.”

“But what are you to wear?”

“I have a new dress,” Maggie assured her.

“A wedding dress?”

“A dress,” Maggie said firmly. “It will do.”

“Oh, my dear Margaret Rose, for your wedding day, one cannot simply make do.”

Stefan brought the box and seemed somewhat confused when Frederick ushered him into the library, leaving the women alone in the lobby. Maggie opened the large box, and among layers of tissue she found the most beautiful cream-colored silk suit she had ever seen. “I couldn’t,” she whispered.

“Well of course, you could and you will,” her mother replied looking over her shoulder as Maggie lifted the jacket and held it to her. “Thank you, Jeanne,” Lucie said and hugged the duchess. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, I had visions of her wearing that starched apron and ridiculous nurse’s cap. Are you aware, Maggie, that Stefan abhors that hat?”

“He’s mentioned that,” Maggie admitted.

“This will do much better,” Jeanne announced as she opened a hatbox that Stefan had brought along with the box. She held up a cream straw hat with a wide brim trimmed in delicate silk roses and a wide satin ribbon. “Ever so much better than that white thing,” she announced.

In a whirlwind of activity, Jeanne took charge. By midafternoon the lobby was filled with a parade of vendors summoned by the duchess and more than willing to offer their services in spite of the fact that the groom was known to be a German.

As the evening wore on, it became increasingly apparent that Stefan was confused and frustrated by all the activity
that seemed specifically designed to keep Maggie and him apart until the ceremony. But Frederick assured him that such was the American way when it came to women and weddings. “It’s a bit as if they are planning their own nuptials,” he said with a chuckle. “Stefan, you will need someone to stand with you at the ceremony. I would be honored to serve.”

“Thank you,” Stefan replied. “It is you who honor me.”

“And I shall walk my daughter down the aisle,” Gabe said with a yawn. “Seems to me we men have sorted this entire business out in the span of a few minutes. Why can’t the ladies learn to simplify?”

All three men burst into laughter at the foolishness of such an idea.

On Saturday, Stefan was finally able to catch Maggie alone. She was in the garden, gathering herbs for the wedding supper that Sarah would help the caterer prepare.

“Come walk with me,” he pleaded. “We’ve hardly had a moment alone.”

She laughed. “Oh, Stefan, we have the rest of our lives. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Mama so happy and excited. It’s almost as if she’s reliving her wedding.”

Stefan took the basket she carried and set it on the path. “Come.”

They headed for the beach. The overnight storm had left the air clear, the skies a brilliant blue and the surf light and foamy.

“Give me your shoes,” Stefan said as he paused to remove his shoes and socks and roll the cuffs of his trousers above his ankles.

“Turn your back,” Maggie instructed.

“We’re to be husband and wife,” he reminded her.

“That’s tomorrow. Turn your back,” she repeated, and when he did, she pulled off her shoes and stockings and dropped them on the sand. Then she tagged him on the shoulder and took off at a run.

“Not fair,” Stefan called as he gave chase. He caught up with her easily, grabbing her round the waist and lifting her high over the waves as he stepped into the water up to his knees.

“Put me down,” she squealed. “Not here,” she amended when he pretended to lower her into the water.

Laughing, he swung her up and into his arms and walked out of the waves and onto the beach. “How about here?” he asked.

“Better,” she said, her face a hair’s breath from his, her eyes on his laughing mouth. They kissed with no thought of who first reached for the other. They were in love, deeply and without reservation. Finally they parted and Stefan allowed her to slide to a standing position. Hand in hand they walked slowly along the shore toward the lighthouse at the very end of Great Point, to a place where the harbor was on one side and the ocean on the other.

“Maggie, think of it. The waters of your Nantucket flow into the sea, as do the waters of the great rivers of my homeland. Those waters that brought me here to you are connected as we are connected. We come from different worlds, different cultures, and yet we have found each other.”

“Perhaps this is the covenant that God intended for us, Stefan. A common ground where I come as myself and you come as yourself, but together we walk side by side and hand in hand in love and faith that erases all doubt.”

They were silent for several moments as they stood with
arms intertwined and looked out to a horizon beyond which they knew the world was in chaos and pain.

Maggie rested her head against Stefan’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to start our life together.”

“Even though it means leaving your home?”

“My home is wherever you are,” she said and tweaked his nose. “Whither thou goest…” And as they retraced their steps along the beach and back up to the inn, Maggie could not remember a time when she had felt more certain of the path her life had taken.

Maggie’s wedding suit featured a jacket with a single offset button closing, a wide shawl collar and three-quarter sleeves with deep cuffs lined in satin. Her ankle-length skirt flared at the hem and was edged with a row of satin French knots over cream-colored stockings and matching leather shoes with silver buckles. Her bouquet was a traditional nosegay of purple hyacinth, pink tulips and golden daffodils that had miraculously blossomed just in time for the ceremony.

She stood nervously at the back of the church, thinking how ridiculous it was that she should walk down the aisle when only her parents and the Chadwicks would be in the pews. Jeanne was her only attendant, as Frederick was Stefan’s. The minister and his wife, of course, were there, he to pronounce the words and she to play the music, but that was a given.