Henry stepped from the room and sank against the hallway wall. He was physically drained but emotionally overjoyed. God had answered his prayers, in more ways than one. The fever had finally abated, and in the process, something else had changed. His wife now looked at him with different eyes. He saw it when she spoke his name, saw it again when he leaned her against her pillows. A smile tugged at his tired mouth, for he sensed this was the beginning of a real courtship, a true union, one with commitment and affection on both of their parts.
Thank You, God. Thank You...
Across the hall, he heard the sound of Kathleen’s voice. She was chattering away to Sadie. His smile broadened. Another prayer answered. His strength renewing, he made his way to the little girl’s room. Kathleen was lounging upon her own pile of pillows, showing Sadie the cloth doll Rebekah had created for her.
The young maid smiled and stepped back when she saw him in the doorway. Kathleen grinned, as well. “I’m better,” she announced.
“I can see that,” Henry said as he came to her.
Kathleen’s pert little mouth then turned down with a frown. “But Sadie and Hannah say I can’t go outside.”
“No, not yet,” Henry said, “but soon.”
Her expression brightened. “How soon? When Aunt Rebekah gets better?”
He nodded and hugged her tightly. Kathleen giggled but pulled her face away from his.
“You’re scratchy,” she said.
Letting go of her, Henry ran his hand over his chin. She was right. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It had been days since his face had seen a razor. “What say I remedy that? Then I’ll take you to see your Aunt Rebekah.”
Kathleen nodded eagerly—a little too eagerly, perhaps. Suspecting she would toss back her blankets and hit the floor, Henry told her, “Wait here with Sadie and play with your doll until I return.”
She nodded again, this time with a little less enthusiasm. Satisfied she’d stay put, Henry went to his room. After making the necessary changes, he returned to fetch her.
“You were gone a long time,” Kathleen said.
Henry heard the statement with a smile. Her impatience was a sign of recovery. “Forgive me,” he said. “I wanted to make myself handsome for you and Aunt Rebekah.”
She reached up, her chubby little hand feeling his chin for herself. “You did good. It’s soft now.”
Kathleen put her arms around his neck as Henry carried her across the hall. “Now we mustn’t visit long,” he said. “Aunt Rebekah is still very tired. She needs her rest.”
“When she isn’t tired anymore, will Grace come home?”
“Yes,” Henry said. “Then we can all be together again.” He could hardly wait for that day. For now, though, he knew he must also heed his own command to show patience. Rebekah was out of danger but still far from health. She needed time to heal, not only from the effects of scarlet fever but also from many other scars.
Lord, help me to remember that. Help me to be patient. I don’t want to overwhelm her.
When he reached his wife’s doorway, Henry found Hannah had left and taken the food tray with her. Before going, she had managed to get Rebekah into a new nightdress. His wife looked fatigued but content.
“Someone wants to see you,” Henry said. “Is that all right?”
Rebekah immediately smiled. Despite the ravages of fever, the frail eyes and cropped curly hair, Henry thought her beautiful. He carried Kathleen forward and set her on the edge of the bed, then claimed the chair beside them.
“How are you, love?” Rebekah asked. Her voice was weak, but Henry could plainly hear the motherly concern, the affection.
“I’m all better,” Kathleen told her. She again lamented the fact that she wasn’t yet allowed to play outside.
“Soon,” Rebekah promised.
“That’s what Uncle Henry said.”
His wife offered another fragile smile. “You must listen to what he says. He loves you, and he knows what is best for you.”
Henry felt his confidence swell. He didn’t always know what was best for any of them, but he wanted to do what was best, and if God would grant him the wisdom and the grace, he’d spend the rest of his days proving how much he loved them.
Kathleen noticed her aunt’s hair. “It’s short,” she said.
“Yes,” Rebekah replied, embarrassment darkening her cheeks.
“I think it is beautiful,” Henry said. “Don’t you, Kathleen?”
The little girl nodded. “It’s twisty now.” She reached out and felt one of her aunt’s curls. As she did, Rebekah’s eyes moved to his. They seemed to speak volumes. For a moment, Henry could barely breathe.
Hannah then came back into the room. “Well, Miss Kathleen, your bed is all fresh and ready for you.”
The little girl frowned. She knew what was implied by such a statement.
As much as Henry was enjoying this moment, he knew it was time to go. He could see that Rebekah was growing more tired by the second. “Remember what I told you,” she whispered weakly to Kathleen. “You must listen to Hannah, as well.”
Kathleen nodded once again, but her frown remained.
“That’s a good girl,” Rebekah said. “May I have a kiss?”
The child readily bestowed one. Rebekah embraced her as long as her drained muscles would allow. When her arms slipped back to her sides, Henry claimed Kathleen.
“All right, pretty girl. Aunt Rebekah needs her sleep.”
He was gazing at his blue-eyed child, the one who looked so much like his sister, and remarkably so much like himself, but Henry could feel his wife’s eyes upon him. Did Rebekah know how badly he wished to remain with her? Did she wish for him to do so? If he did stay by her side, would she find his company enjoyable or taxing? Choosing to err on the side of caution, he and Kathleen turned for the door.
Hannah met him. “I’ll take her, Mr. Henry,” she said, holding out her arms and smiling. Then in a voice barely audible, she whispered, “I think Miss Rebekah wants you to stay.”
* * *
Rebekah’s heart leapt as she watched Henry pass Kathleen to Hannah. Was he going to stay with her for a little while longer? It might be selfish, childish for certain, but she had wished for him to do so, at least until she was again sleeping.
Fever had marred much of her memory of the past few days, but of one thing she was certain. He had told her he loved her. He had held her in his arms, and she had felt safe in his embrace. She had wanted to hear those words again, feel the beating of his heart.
Henry turned back to her. “Shall I fetch you anything?” he asked.
“N-no,” Rebekah whispered.
He stood there for a moment as though unsure of what to do or say next. Rebekah didn’t know, either. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to ask. She tried to thank him, but her tongue was tied, her thoughts jumbled, especially when Henry settled carefully beside her. He had shaved and changed his clothing. His pressed white shirt was crisp and smelled of that familiar soap powder. He was dressed as though he had very important matters to attend, but he is sitting here with me. “You took care of me,” she said.
“I did.”
“W-why?”
He smiled gently. Rebekah felt a flutter in her chest. “You are my wife,” he said. “It is my privilege to care for you.”
His privilege? No one had ever even so much as hinted it was a privilege to care for her. In her father’s house, she had been an imposition.
My father. She immediately shut her eyes tight. Those moments in the downstairs parlor ripped through her mind. Henry had stood toe to toe with him while holding her in his guard. She had taken her husband’s actions for possessiveness and arrogance. Now she realized they were something else entirely. Henry had been demonstrating to her father that she was now part of his household and that she was no longer subject to her father’s control.
He was defending me, she thought, but instead of feeling joy, shame flooded though her. I’ve been so wrong about him. More than once I accused him of being just like my father. Nothing could be further from the truth. She tried to voice her thoughts. “Henry, my father—”
“Shh,” he soothed her. “It’s all right. You don’t have to worry about anything concerning him. For now, darling, just rest. We can speak more on that subject later if you like. You’ll feel stronger in a day or two.”
Darling...not a contrived my dear. He was speaking from his heart. Tears filled her eyes. “I’m so sorry... I misjudged you so...”
“Shh,” he said once more. “There is no need for that, no need...”
“You are such a good man.”
“No, I’m not. I’m far from it. I’m simply a forgiven man.” Leaning close, he kissed her again on the forehead. “And I love you.”
Closing her eyes, Rebekah let his words, his scent wash over her. Before long she fell asleep. The nightmares that had plagued her previously did not invade her mind this time. Rebekah instead found herself dreaming of pleasant things. Kathleen was romping through a field of daylilies. Grace was rocking back and forth on her plump little legs, crawling for the first time.
When Rebekah awoke, it was evening. Twilight had colored the sky orange and purple. The curtains danced at the windowsill, a steady breeze blowing, but Rebekah no longer felt chilled. Henry was still at his post, seated in the chair beside her.
She smiled at the sight of him. He grinned in return. “Feeling better?” he asked.
Rebekah shifted beneath her blankets. Her arms and legs no longer felt so weak, but she was ravenously hungry. She told him. Henry leaned his head back and laughed. The sound was like music to her ears.
“That’s a good sign,” he said. “Kathleen herself is much the same. I believe you are both truly on the mend.”
Thank You, God. Thank You... Rebekah noticed then the Bible spread open across his lap. She was curious. “What were you reading?” she asked.
“Romans,” he said. “It’s my favorite book.”
His favorite? She’d read the Scriptures as commanded, but could she really say she had a favorite book? So many of the passages reminded her of her shortcomings. And the verses of peace, joy, a gentle and quiet spirit? That was something she had never been able to obtain. The Bible condemns me more than it comforts.
“Chapter eight is my particular favorite,” Henry said.
“Why is that?”
“The Apostle Paul has just laid out how impossible it is to keep God’s law, how one can never live up to His holy standards, and then he tells us God loves us anyway, that those who’ve asked for His mercy are no longer condemned.”
No longer condemned...?
“Christ took the punishment for the wrongs we have done.”
Rebekah nodded in agreement. All this she knew. “So that we might spend eternity in Heaven.”
Henry nodded in return. “Yes, but so that we might also know His love, His peace, here on earth.”
Know His love? God was a father. Rebekah understood mercy, a reprieve from eternal punishment, but love?
Henry leaned closer. She could see the earnestness in his eyes. “God doesn’t see you as a failure or an inconvenience, darling. You are His daughter. He thought you were worth dying for. He’d have gone to the cross just for you. That’s how much He loves you.”
The words gripped her heart. Jesus would have died to rescue her alone? She could see God giving His life for Kathleen or Grace or Henry, but for her? It was simply incomprehensible.
“What your father displayed to you, what he did, is not a representation of true fatherhood.”
Deep down, Rebekah knew Henry was speaking truth. She knew it because of what she’d seen him display toward Kathleen and Grace. But to believe that God loved her in spite of her temper, her impatience, her resistance to authority? She couldn’t believe that. He might have saved my soul from eternal darkness, but isn’t He eagerly waiting for my character to improve? And isn’t Henry waiting, as well?
Heat crept up her neck. Here her husband had just told her he loved her, had just spent the last several days caring for her needs, and she couldn’t even properly thank him, let alone express all she was feeling inside. Why couldn’t she tell him how the sight of his smile made her practically giddy or how cherished she had felt when she opened her eyes to find him still watching over her?
Henry closed the Bible and laid it on the table beside his chair. “You said you were hungry.” He rose. “I’ll fetch you something.”
* * *
Henry could see the wheels turning in his wife’s mind. She was puzzling through what he had said, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it applied to her. He wondered what type of relationship he would have with God if he had grown up in a household where both parents had been cold.
Most likely I would see the Heavenly Father as indifferent and as stern as she does.
More than anything, Henry wanted Rebekah to find the peace that he had. His character was far from perfect, and his future was uncertain. He had two young children dependent on him and had probably made a powerful man very angry because he had not agreed to assist in his gubernatorial campaign. Henry’s city was still as fraught with tension as it had been the day of Lincoln’s assassination, and no one knew what would happen if the convicted conspirators were actually executed.
Theodore Van der Geld may very likely take it upon himself to go digging up my past associations and try to connect them to any rabble-rousers should there be trouble.
But Henry was not fearful, not this time. He knew God was with him and with his family. I know the road ahead may not be easy, Lord, but I trust You will give me the courage and the wisdom to travel it. Give Rebekah the same.
He brought her a bowl of soup. After she had eaten it, she asked if she might borrow his Bible. Henry took that as an encouraging sign. “Of course,” he said. Removing the tray, he then handed the book to her. “I’ll leave you to the quiet. I’ll look in on Kathleen.”
“Give her a kiss for me,” she said.
“I’d be happy to.”
As he moved toward the door, he could hear Rebekah turning the delicate Scripture pages. He wondered what she was looking for, exactly. He wondered if she would notice he’d written her name alongside his in the marriage record. He had listed Grace and Kathleen as their children, as well.
Henry couldn’t help but wonder if the day would ever come when he would add another name to that list. He certainly hoped so, but for now it was too early even to think about having more children together.
The night that passed was a peaceful one. Both Kathleen and Rebekah slept soundly for the first time in days. Henry looked in on them several times before taking to his own bed. Sleep claimed him almost the moment his head hit the pillow.
Morning dawned on not only a brand new day but also a new month. The strong July sun made the upstairs rooms feel like a bread oven. Kathleen jumped at Henry’s invitation to join him in the shade of the garden. Rebekah was equally delighted. After Hannah had helped her into a comfortable sacque dress and pinned up her curls, Henry carried Rebekah downstairs.
“I think I could manage the walk today,” she said.
It wasn’t a protest, but rather a statement of hope. Henry was thankful she was feeling stronger, but he wasn’t going to forgo the opportunity to hold her close, especially when she smelled of lavender water and fit so perfectly in his arms.
“Why waste your strength navigating the staircase when you could spend it picking flowers?” he asked.
She smiled softly. Henry wanted to kiss her right then and there but held back. At present she was captive in his arms, and he wasn’t going to press forward with affection until he was absolutely certain she wished him to do so. She no longer flinched, but nervousness still darkened her cheeks whenever he touched her.
He settled her in a chair beneath the oak tree. When Rebekah was slow to slide her hands from his neck, Henry’s heart beat a little faster.
“It’s good to be outside again,” she said.
“The fresh air will do you good.”
It was already doing so for Kathleen. Eyes bright, smile wide, she was poking the dirt with a stick, searching for inchworms. He and Rebekah watched her for a moment in silence before Rebekah asked, “When will you bring Grace home?”
“When do you wish for her to return?”
“Now,” she said. “Yesterday.”
He smiled at her. “I miss her as much as you do, but now might be a little too soon. You need to regain your strength to be able to see to her care. What if I ask Julia to keep Grace until Monday?”
“What day is it now?”
“Saturday.”
He recognized the look on her face, the regret over lost time. The week had been as much a blur for him as it was her.
“I suppose that is best,” Rebekah said. “I can’t believe she’s been away so long...”
He sensed where her thoughts were headed. Kneeling down, he rested his arms upon his raised leg. “Don’t worry. While it is true Grace may feel a little out of sorts from being passed about, I’m confident you’ll soon have her smiling again.”
She looked at him with eyes full of amazement. Dare he think even admiration? “You think so highly of me. Why?”
“Because I love you.” Rising slowly, this time he did not kiss her forehead. He kissed her cheek. Henry heard her sigh. Lingering, he hoped she would turn her face toward him, meet his lips. She did not, however, so he backed away and stood upright.
“I’ll send Sam and Julia word,” he said. “I’ll ask them to bring Grace on Monday.”
“Thank you.” Her words seemed to hold more meaning than the obvious, as if she wanted to say more but couldn’t.
Give her time, he thought. He returned to the house. After scratching out a letter to the Wards, he gathered up the newspapers. He figured Rebekah would want to catch up on what had been happening in the world. Tucking them under his arm, Henry went to find James. He would ask the man to deliver the Wards’ letter. Then he would return to the garden.
Henry stepped into the foyer to find James already taking charge of a missive. Immediately his muscles tensed, for the person delivering the particular letter was Rebekah’s former maid, Fiona. So communication from the Van der Geld household has finally come, he thought.
Fiona curtseyed when she saw him. “Mornin’, Councilman Nash. I brought a letter for Miss Rebekah.”
James handed it to him. Henry tried to smile. “Thank you, James, and thank you, Fiona. You are looking well.”
She blushed slightly and curtseyed again. “Thank you, sir. You are very kind. I’d best be off. The missus will be lookin’ for me. A good day to ya.”
“And to you, Fiona.”
When she had gone, James shut the door and then asked about the other envelope in Henry’s hand. Henry explained the details concerning Grace.
“Yes, sir. I can deliver that to Mr. Ward right now.” Taking it, James quickly headed out.
Henry stared then at the remaining envelope. He had accepted it graciously from Fiona but was not eager at all to deliver it to his wife. Despite recovering still from her illness and missing Grace, Rebekah seemed happy. He did not wish to do anything to change that.
Henry did not know if the communication from the Van der Geld household would be charitable or chastising. Given the history, he suspected it would be the latter, so he slipped the envelope into his coat pocket. Deciding to keep it there, at least for now, he returned to the garden.