Heathersleigh Homecoming (31 page)

 57 
Departure

The chalet remained subdued all evening.

Every one of the sisters had heard portions of the heated discussion. When, after silence had fallen, one by one they began to return downstairs to find Sister Hope alone and in tears, they knew well enough what had been the outcome of the exchange.

Sister Gretchen tried to comfort her friend, telling her she had had no choice but to speak. But to Hope Guinarde's grieving heart it was little consolation even to see Gretchen herself in front of her, to whom she had once spoken nearly identical words, knowing that Amanda had angrily rebuffed her attempt to help.

“If only I had been more gentle . . .”

“Hope, listen to me,” insisted Gretchen, “there are times when firmness in the face of such attitudes is the only course. I am one who knows.”

“But perhaps I should have been less confrontational—”

“I thank God,” said Gretchen, “that you had the courage to expose my own self-centeredness. I shudder to think how long I might have gone on had you not looked into my eyes and said, ‘Gretchen, you will never be happy as long as
Self
is ruling your life.' That took courage, and I am thankful for those words. They changed my life. A person's response to the truth is theirs to make before God. Yours was yours, mine was mine, and so is Amanda's. She must face what she has made of herself, and decide what to do about it. She is in God's hands now.”

Sister Hope nodded, and her friend left her.

For the rest of the day the sisters went quietly about their business, each praying silently that Amanda would be able to find it within herself to heed Sister Hope's exhortation.

The following morning, after most of the others were seated around the table for breakfast, Amanda slowly walked downstairs and took a seat at her usual place.

“Good morning, Amanda,” said Sister Regina in a quiet and loving voice as befitted the somewhat somber situation.

Amanda nodded. Greetings were extended by the others without reply.

After thanks had been given and tea was poured, at last Amanda spoke.

“I have decided that it is probably best for me to leave the chalet,” she said in a calm voice.

“Amanda, I want you to know—” began Sister Hope.

“Please,” interrupted Amanda, “don't apologize or try to talk me out of it. I think it is obvious that I will never fit in here. I'm not . . . like the rest of you.”

“Oh, Amanda dear—” now began Gretchen in an imploring voice.

“My mind is made up,” said Amanda. “Maybe people like me can't stay in a situation like this forever. I appreciate what you have all done for me, but it is time I considered what I ought to do next.”

A brief silence followed. A few chairs shuffled.

“Where will you go?” asked Anika.

“I don't know, but right now it feels that anywhere would be better than a place where—”

Suddenly Amanda caught herself. Even her residual anger from yesterday's events could not prevent a momentary pang of hesitation for what had nearly popped out of her mouth.

She paused. The sisters continued to stare down at their plates in embarrassment and heartbreak. Most of them had at one time or another been exactly where Amanda was this moment—at a critical crossroads of character where pride and humility intersected, and where only one road led toward the future. It was so small, so simple, so
right
a thing to humble oneself and heed the precious counsel of wisdom. They had each faced their own such turning points and had had to painfully relinquish that which had bound them in their own maturity-inhibiting bondages.

But they could not help Amanda now. This was her crisis. Every man and woman must face the decision such a moment brings in the solitude of their own souls. They had told their stories, but would
Amanda learn from them? They could only wait silently to see which of the character pathways she would choose to take.

“I don't know exactly what I will do,” Amanda said after the brief, awkward silence. “I only know I must go.”

Another period of quiet settled around the table, this time more lengthy. The sounds of forks and spoons and a few cups of tea being poured were the only indications that breakfast was continuing, though no one was very hungry.

“I promised we would help when you were ready to leave us,” said Gretchen at length. “What can we do for you?”

The question took Amanda off guard. She glanced up with a look of bewilderment on her face. She seemed stunned by the words.

“You mean . . . after what I have done and said . . . you would still help me?”

“Of course,” said Galiana.

“We love you, Amanda,” added Hope. “Sister Gretchen speaks for all of us. Yesterday and what you have said just now changes nothing in our commitment to help you however we can.”

“Just help me get back to England,” said Amanda after a moment. “If you can lend me enough money for a train and boat to London, I will send it back as soon as I can.”

“Of course, we will be only too glad to give you enough to get you home.”

The rest of the day remained quiet. Amanda returned to her room. Subdued by the unexpected offer, she quietly began making preparations to go, packing her few things, and trying to convince herself in the face of gnawing unease that she had no choice other than to leave. She was not yet strong enough to admit herself wrong and reconsider her plans. She was especially not yet mature enough to ask for anyone else's help or advice.

After breakfast the following morning, as the entire household, including Kasmira, stood by the front door, a series of awkward hugs went around the somber group.

Sister Hope embraced Amanda tightly, but Amanda's pride was still too wounded to offer more than a stiff response.

“Dear, dear Amanda . . .” began the older woman. But she could say no more. She pulled away and broke into tears. “Good-bye,
Amanda,” she managed to add, kissing Amanda on the cheek, then turning and disappearing into the chalet.

Sister Gretchen and Amanda, both heavily bundled, walked crunching across the snow and got into the small waiting wagon where Amanda's bags already sat. Gretchen took the reins and urged the single horse forward toward the tracks through the snow down the slope toward the valley. A few more waves and good-byes came from the group of women clustered by the door. Amanda glanced back once more, lifted her hand in a final halfhearted wave, then turned away and did not look back at the chalet again. One by one the rest of the sisters followed Sister Hope back inside.

By the time the wagon disappeared in the distance, every one of them was weeping with her.

 58 
Lauterbrunnen

Under the shadow of the Jungfrau range, situated in the long narrow valley extending from Interlaken to the base of the Jungfrau herself, Lauterbrunnen was not a large village. Fortunately on this occasion, it proved just large enough to keep Amanda from the danger that was stalking her much closer than she had any idea.

As Amanda and Sister Gretchen entered the village and made their way to its small station, the husband whom none of the sisters knew about had at last narrowed his search to the Lauterbrunnen valley. He and his treacherous companion, in fact, had arrived only twenty minutes earlier on the very train whose scheduled return trip his wife planned to take, not knowing that she would be doing so under his very nose. He was at that moment questioning the man whose name their contact in Interlaken had given them.

“Look, old man,” an angry Ramsay Halifax was saying, “the name is Reinhardt. She lives somewhere around here.”

“If she were one of the villagers,” the man insisted, “I would know it. I tell you, I have never heard the name.”

“You old fool!” cried Ramsay. “She is here, and I think you—”

“Let's go, Halifax,” said Scarlino. “This is useless. He knows nothing.”

“I think he does.”

“Then you are a fool too, Halifax. His eyes would betray him. I can tell. He knows nothing. We will try the church.”

“The church—that's it!” cried Ramsay glancing about. “There it is, over on the other side of the station. I remember seeing it when we got off the train. Of course the priest will know.”

“Perhaps I should handle the interrogation,” returned Scarlino sarcastically. “You are too hotheaded. We can't have you losing your temper and killing a priest.”

It was quiet between the two women as they awaited the time for Amanda to board the train into Interlaken. How much had changed since their first meeting in Milan! Across the tracks rose the steeple of the Catholic church. Amanda glanced toward it and was reminded nostalgically of the Milverscombe steeple.

The time finally came. The train was preparing to depart back down the valley. A strained embrace followed.

“Thank you again,” said Amanda. “You helped me when I had no one to turn to. I won't forget it.”

She turned and walked toward the train.

The moment she was out of sight, Sister Gretchen began to cry. She searched the windows, but Amanda had taken a seat on the opposite side.

Gretchen could bear the wait no longer. She turned and hurried back to her waiting wagon.

The two strangers to the peaceful valley entered the church gate and made their way through graves and tombstones toward the empty church building. Scarlino led the way to the rectory behind it. If he was intimidated by the sacred tradition and intimations of eternity around him, he did not show it. Whatever his warning to Ramsay, he himself would not hesitate to kill a priest if need be. Although on this occasion, necessity probably did not extend quite that far. His plans involved larger fish than anyone in this little village, or anyone in Ramsay Halifax's scheme either.

“Good day,” said Scarlino with a smile as the door of the rectory opened to his knock. “We are looking for someone and hope you might be able to help us.”

Immediately on his guard, the priest eyed the two carefully. How deeply a spiritual man he was, his eyes did not immediately reveal. But that he was a better-than-average judge of character was clear from the imperceptible squint accompanying his first glimpse of these suspicious visitors.

“For what purpose?” returned Father Stein.

“She is believed to be harboring a spy.”

“She?”

“That is, we
think
it is a woman—the name is Reinhardt,” replied Scarlino. “The individual we speak of is extremely dangerous.”

“Switzerland is neutral. I am neutral. I have no allegiance one way or another in this conflict. Whoever it may be is no spy to me. I am afraid I cannot help you.”

He attempted to close the door.

“I realize the war is none of your concern,” said Scarlino, preventing the door from closing with his foot. “Yet she could be a threat to your parishioners,” he added with a subtle tone which was not lost on the good priest, “if not found.”

The point was well taken, though Father Stein was still reluctant. The eyes of the two men locked momentarily. Father Stein knew the words he had just heard were a threat to him as well as to the people of the village. He was not overly anxious about his own safety. But it would be better to be straightforward than confrontational, and hope the men would simply leave without causing any trouble.

“There is no one by that name in Lauterbrunnen, I assure you,” he said. “You can confirm what I say with anyone in town. Your information is obviously wrong. I know only one Reinhardt, and she lives at the chalet in Wengen, not Lauterbrunnen.”

“Chalet . . . what chalet?”

“She could not possibly be the person you are seeking.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It is a house of unmarried sisters.”

“Sisters?”

“Sisters, women of God . . .
nuns
, if you like,” he added, stretching the truth just a little, hoping it would dissuade them. He already had the uncomfortable feeling he may have been a little
too
straightforward. “Believe me, the last thing you will find at the chalet is a spy.”

“We will be the judge of that. Where is this Wengen?”

“There . . . on the mountain,” he answered reluctantly.

The two followed his pointing hand.

“Up there! But how does one get there? Is there a train?”

Father Stein smiled.

“I tell you, whoever it is you are looking for is not there. Even if they were, you will not get there at this time of the year. No, there is no train.”

As a train whistle sounded behind them, Ramsay turned quickly toward it. A premonition swept through him. He had not realized the train was pulling out behind him on its return from where it had come an hour before. He stared after it for several seconds as
it picked up speed and gradually disappeared down the valley. His thoughts were interrupted by Scarlino's voice.

“But I see a wagon that appears on its way up the mountain right there,” he said, still looking off in the opposite direction toward the mountain.

“A few people make the trip,” said Father Stein. “But unless you found one of the villagers willing to take you by wagon or donkey, I do not think you will get there at all. On foot you would never make it. And unless I am mistaken,” he added, glancing over his shoulder toward where the peak of the Jungfrau would be had they been able to see it, “a storm is on the way.”

“Then who is that there!” finally exclaimed Ramsay impatiently, pointing toward the wagon pulled by a single horse that was just disappearing into a thicket of trees.

“From this distance, I really could not say,” answered the priest.