Love Comes Blindly (book 5) (The Fielding Brothers Saga) (3 page)

“Mr. Fielding?” When she bent and touched his arm, he jumped and grabbed her hand, making her inhale sharply. “Forgive me for startling you, it’s just me.”

He scooted up in his bed and she helped by stuffing a few pillows behind him.

“Who are you?” he asked. “You have not told me your name, but I recognize your voice from yesterday.”

Now was certainly not the time to confess, either. Would God forgive her if she told a little white lie for now? “I’m…Sister Mary.”

He tilted his head. He wore clean bandages today, and his skin didn’t appear so pallid.
“Just Sister Mary?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, she convinced herself.

His mouth pulled into a grin. “I understand. Your accent is different from the others. Are you from England?”

“Yes, but my home is here in Scotland now.”

“Very well then Sister Mary. I want to thank you for your care yesterday. Your presence was a great comfort when I needed it the most.”

Her heart flipped. If only he knew the person to whom he spoke these kind words. “I was only doing what I felt needed to be done.”

“The doctor told me about my friends.” His voice tightened and he scratched his head as if looking for something to keep his hand occupied.

“I’m sorry to hear about them, too.”

“Jonathan Black was one of my newer employees at the newspaper. He was so young, so eager to give his best. I’d worked with Harvey Westland since the opening of the newspaper. I’d never seen such great pictures before.” He shook his head. “I wish I knew what happened. We were traveling to meet a man who had served in the Crimean War. I didn’t think he wanted us dead.”

She sat on the chair beside his bed. “I heard the Reverend Mother mention the man who fired the cannon was General McFadden who is retired and now a landowner. He mistook you and your friends for Russian soldiers.”

“Impossible. How could that be? We were not wearing uniforms. Besides, McFadden is the one who invited us to his land. He was going to give us a story to put in the newspaper.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Fielding. I have heard General McFadden hasn’t been in his right mind since he returned from the war.”

“If I wasn’t blind, I would take the imbecile to the authorities and have him hanged for what he did.”

“Mr. Fielding, I don’t believe you will be blind forever. Besides, I did hear the man was arrested. I’m quite certain justice will prevail.”

“I’m relieved you’re so positive, Sister Mary. Forgive me if I don’t see a light at the end of this dark tunnel.”

Her heart twisted. She’d never known him to be like this. She’d met many men in her young life, but Gregg had been the one with the jovial attitude who could always make her laugh.

She took his hand in hers and stroked his skin with gentle care due to his cuts. “I will help you all I can. Please know I am here for you whenever you need me.”

After she’d said the words, she wondered why. Did she want to be here for him? She did want him to forgive the old
Maddie
, and if it took catering to his every whim, then she’d do it.

“You are too kind, Mary.”

“Sister Mary,” she reminded.

The corners of his lips lifted slightly.
“If you say so.”

Even through his pain, he could still find humor. Perhaps he would recover soon after all. Then again, that might not be a good thing, especially until she could show him the loving and caring side of Madeline O’Neil.

* * * *

Gregg listened intently to the sounds around him. He knew Lord Drake’s bed wasn’t too far away since it squeaked every time his friend turned over. The nuns spoke in whispers, although he could still tell where they were in the room. By now, he’d guessed the room to be the size of the drawing room in his townhouse.

Off and on throughout the day, singing could be heard from down the hallway as the nuns sang praises to God. He enjoyed the peacefulness settling in his chest during these moments. Yet at the same time, his future looked bleak. How could he run the newspaper as a blind man? Would he ever marry and have children? What was the point if he couldn’t see?

“Drake?
Are you awake?” Gregg asked, hoping his friend’s cot was nearby.

“Yeah.”

The weary tone of his friend’s voice tugged on Gregg’s heart. “How are you faring?”

“Not as well as you, I’m afraid.”

“I’m blind. How can you be worse?”

“I might lose my leg from the middle of my thigh down or if infection settles in, I might die. At least you will still have use of your limbs.”

Inwardly, Gregg groaned. “Forgive me, my good friend. I suppose I’m not thinking straight. How can I when I know it’s my fault for two of my employees dying and one of them being maimed?”

“It’s not your fault.” Lord Drake’s voice tightened. “We chose to come here on our own free will, not knowing what we’d find.”

“But what you don’t realize is if I hadn’t been looking for the next big story—”

“Fielding, please stop. We can discuss who holds the blame all day and it will not make things better. We both have to admit we were at the wrong place at the wrong time—and deal with the consequences.”

“That’s wise of you, Drake.”

Silence stretched between them for a few awkward moments before Drake shifted on his bed, the ropes grinding against the steel bars under the mattress.

“Do you know what keeps me from giving up?” Calvin said softly.

“What’s that?”

“My need to leave this place—walking—and healthy enough to find that devil of a man, McFadden and make him pay.”

Gregg nodded. “Indeed. That thought has crossed my mind a time or two.”

“I have heard whispers at night from the nuns.” Drake lowered his voice. “Apparently, Russian spies are rumored to be amongst the people in Scotland.”

“Are you jesting? Why on earth would they be here?”

“Because they would likely become captured if they were in England.”

“True, but the war is over. What could they possibly gain from their foolery?”

“Unless, like General McFadden, they have lost their mind.
Or perhaps they are still upset for losing the war.”

“That makes sense.”

“But hearing about Russian spies got me thinking.” Calvin cleared his throat. “I wonder if we were targeted by the crazed McFadden…or by Russians.”

An ache started pounding in Gregg’s forehead and he tried to rub his skull through all the bandages. “That’s an interesting theory, to be sure. Perhaps once we have recovered, we should look into this further.”

“Agreed.”

A lump formed in Gregg’s throat. At least this gave both of them a reason to keep going.”

Nothing more was said, and Gregg concentrated on listening to the sounds around him. Calvin shifted on his cot one more time. Nuns still sang in the chapel. Footsteps from down the hall echoed. And even other sounds came from the hallway, like utensils clicking together. Then the aroma of roast duck filled his head, making his stomach grumble. The soft tap of shoes on the wooden floor grew closer, as did the scent of food.

“Good evening, Mr. Fielding.”

His heart lifted slightly.
Sister Mary.

He smiled. “By the smell, I’m assuming you’re bringing my meal?”

“You are very acute.”

He shrugged. “Just because I’m blind, doesn’t mean I cannot smell.”

The light lift of her laugh was music to his ears. Better, in fact, than the choir of nuns.

“Well, I have your tray of food, but it’s specially arranged.”

“It is?
How so?”

“Let’s sit you up first, and I’ll explain.”

She stuffed pillows behind him as he adjusted to a sitting position. Then she placed the tray on his lap.

“The food on your plate is arranged so you’ll know what you’re eating,” she said. “Think of it like a clock. The top of your plate is twelve, noon.” She took his fingers and guided them around the plate without touching any food. “The side, here, is three o’clock, and the bottom is six. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with my meals?”

“When I bring your meals, the food will be placed on your plate at noon, three, six, and nine o’clock. Your meat will be placed at six, your veggies will be at three, and your potatoes will be at noon. If there is a roll or bread, it will be at nine.”

He smiled. “What a marvelous idea. Did you think of it yourself?”

“No, I didn’t, but it was the way I was taught.”

Her words didn’t make sense, unless... Oh good heavens! She couldn’t be, could she? “Are...you blind, too?”

“No, but when I first came to the Abbey, I helped a woman who had been blind for years. She taught me this.”

He breathed a heavy sigh. “I’m quite certain you were an apt pupil.”

She squeezed his hand.
“Just as you will be.
And tonight, I will let you feed yourself. How does that sound?”

“Sounds heavenly.
Actually, I look forward to the task. You can’t image how bored I am.”

She handed him a fork and brought it to his plate. Using both hands, he felt for the food, then carefully, shoveled it on his fork and slowly lifted it to his mouth. Her hands were there the whole time, guiding him. She didn’t treat him like an imbecile, but a man who needed to learn. His respect for her grew. He wasn’t doing very well, in his opinion, and he doubted he’d ever become a real man again.

“Mr. Fielding, how are you faring today?” she asked after a few moments.

“Not as well as I’d hoped. I fear I’ll be blind for the rest of my life. What good will I
be
then?”

“You cannot say that. You will see again. I feel it in my heart.”

“Sister Mary, please don’t patronize me. I know the women in London, and I know that they only accept offers from fine-looking gentlemen whose bodies are complete. And as you know, I am definitely not complete.”

She touched his arm. “Mr. Fielding, you shouldn’t say things like that. It makes my heart break to hear those words come from your mouth. I seriously think that you’ll be able to see, but it’s going to take some time to recover.”

“How can you believe that? The doctor told me I was close to the cannon, and yet you still say that I’m going to be all right? How can I be when I should be dead right now?”

“Exactly.
You should be dead, but you’re not. Your life was spared for some special purpose. How can you feel sorry for yourself when you should thank God for preserving your life?”

“What life, Sister Mary?” His voice rose with anger as he sat forward.

She took hold of his hand. “You’re alive, Mr. Fielding.” She squeezed his fingers. “You can really do anything you want, but you’ll have to work at it. God gave you a second chance, so I suggest you make the best of it. I personally know many extraordinary men who’ve overcome their disabilities and accomplished great things.”

“Name one,” he snapped.

Silence lasted for a few awkward moments. He’d put her in a predicament, and he knew it. But damn it, he wanted answers, and he wasn’t getting them.

“Johann Sebastian Bach!” Her voice rose with enthusiasm. “He was orphaned at the age of ten and still,
look
what great work he accomplished with music.”

He thought for a second then chuckled lightly. “That’s funny, I thought he was dead.”

She grinned. “He’s dead now, but he accomplished many things before reaching the end of his life.”

“Okay, since you’re so intelligent, who else can you think of?”

“Ludwig Van Beethoven!”

Gregg laughed loudly.
“Oh, Beethoven, huh?
Do you know him personally?”

“No, I don’t, but you have to admit, for being deaf, he really put together some great symphonies.”

It took him a moment, but he nodded. “True. You must enjoy music.”

“Very much so, yes.
I enjoy really good music, and both of these men are great artists.”

“True.” He paused, and then asked, “Who else do you know?”

“You,” she answered softly.

The grin left from his mouth. “Me? I haven’t accomplished great things.”

“Yes you have. You’ve escaped death. Now to me, that is the greatest accomplishment of all.”

He sat in silence for the longest time before finally squeezing her hands in gratitude. “Sister Mary, you are truly an angel, aren’t you?”

“No, not really.”

He hesitated before asking, and when he did it was softly, “Do you really think I can accomplish something as a blind man?”

“You already have.” Her fingers caressed his in a soft stroke.

“I have?”

“Yes. You’ve managed your first meal by yourself without spilling anything.”

A wide smile broke out on his face and he laughed heartily. “That’s not really a great accomplishment, but thank you for the compliment nonetheless.”