She followed Susan into the small cottage. “Of course Mark works hard,” she said, forcing a calmness she didn’t feel. “But I must talk to you about Maggie, you being a friend of hers.”
“Maggie?” Susan reached into her aumrie, removing a canning jar turned blue with age. “What could you possibly know about Maggie?” She filled the jar from a bucket of burn water and arranged the flowers on the table. “She spends all of her time at the infirmary tending her patient.”
“That’s just it,” Una said. “Rumor has it he won’t even allow her out of his sight.”
“Rumor, is it,” Susan grumbled, reaching for her griddle. “You’d do best to keep such thoughts to yourself. You know what our Hugh says about sins of the tongue, and I saw Maggie at kirk last Sabbath. Alec brought her while Morag stayed at the infirmary.”
Una opened her mouth. “She—”
Susan said, “I’m certain Maggie doesn’t want to leave him with others for long. Remember, his legs are paralysed.”
Una edged closer. “Flora told me he’s in a wheelchair now and getting around fine. You were at the dock when they landed, so you know he is a handsome man, though much too old for our Maggie. Not only that, but Flora hinted that the two of them are ... you know ... carrying on improperly.” All the older women she shared this with were aghast, and promised to pass the word on.
Susan laughed. “Good for them!” she exclaimed, pulling a tin of flour from the aumrie.
Una sneered. “You young girls are all alike, your heads turned by a handsome face and sweet words.” Una wagged her finger. “You can consider yourself warned right now, young lady. Yanks cannot be trusted. They’ll lie for no reason, except to get what they want, and then walk away from the mess they’ve made of other’s lives without a backward glance.”
Susan measured the coarse oat flour into a large bowl. “I’ll not listen to any more of your gossip, Una. It’s hurtful and wrong—as wrong as Flora was for ‘hinting.’”
Una wanted to strike the impertinent lass. She strode out, slamming the door.
Susan would see. All of the young girls would soon see what came from trusting a man—especially a Yank.
CHAPTER 21
Sunday morning, Rob once again urged Maggie to attend Sabbath services. “And I don’t need a nursemaid,” he said, deflecting her protest. “I’ll stay on the entry with the brakes locked on my chair. I can’t get into any trouble doing that.”
Maggie glanced at the wheelchair. But what if something happened? What if he fell or—
“Please, Maggie. Do this for me.”
“For you?”
“For me. I mean it, Maggie. I need you to go to kirk.”
She looked into his pleading, green-flecked hazel eyes. “You really won’t move? No’ at all?”
“No’ even a centimetre.”
***
She savored the walk down the fell. A light onshore breeze teased tendrils of her hair, tickling her forehead, while the sun flickered across the waves of the Minch, and transformed delicate wildflowers into fluttering butterfly wings. Overhead, the vast, cloudless sky offered a glimpse of heaven.
How could her father bear spending most of the year in Edinburgh with its dreich grey buildings, wee twisted streets, and soot-blackened seventeenth-century tenements collapsing against one another like decaying teeth crowded into a narrow jaw?
Only the MacPhees, Elspeth, Alice Ross, and five fishermen and their families lived on this side of the island. She hoped they had already left for kirk. She needed time to be alone to thank God for the bonnie day and for Rob’s progress, and to prepare herself for hearing the Word of God.
Once she passed the pier, Maggie’s eyes darted eagerly over the landscape. So many details had escaped her when she rode in Alec’s cart. She eyed the large fish-packing shed Rob had pointed out from the infirmary entry, a part of the scenery so long she had forgotten all about it.
Her steps slowed as she passed the five small fishermen’s cottages tucked into a wee cove on the shore. Crab, lobster, and crayfish baskets, buoys, and an old upturned rowboat cluttered the sandy girse between the thatched dwellings. The keening cry of a gull interrupted her reverie. She glanced at her watch and hastened her pace.
The tall trees surrounding the manse and kirk brought a smile to her face. Horse chestnuts shot forth their tall, white blooms and broad rowans crowded out small firs trying for a foothold. When the kirk came into view, her heart swelled with love. Over one hundred years old, it stood proudly, stones darkened by the harsh winter weather, stained-glass windows rising majestically to the eaves. It had been a haven of peace and strength all her life.
Hugh still stood on the broad entry, his arms open wide in welcome.
Not late, after all.
“So how’s our lad?” he asked, hugging her.
The familiar texture of his tweed jacket, rough against her cheek, brought tears to her eyes. “Getting stronger with each passing day.”
“That’s guid to hear. ’Tis an answer to all our prayers.”
He released her to greet another latecomer and Maggie walked to her usual pew. Usually several of the older women stopped her for a short blether, but this day they didn’t even return her smiles. Only a few women smiled warm greetings, Morag, Susan Ferguson, Elspeth, and Flora among them.
She dropped to the kneeler, confessing her confusion and unease. Rob had sacrificed a lot to give her this opportunity. Unwilling to allow her foolish mind to conjure up anything to interrupt her joy at being in kirk to hear Hugh’s lesson, she raised her gaze to the large stained-glass picture of the Risen Christ behind the altar. As always, peace washed over her. “Thank Ye, Faither,” she breathed.
When she got to her feet, Una Hunter turned in the pew in front of her and gave her a glance that chilled to the bone. How she disliked the woman. Una had a wicked tongue and often stirred up unrest out of bits and pieces of nothing. Och, Maggie needed to pray to love her enemy.
She lost herself in the first hymn and then in Hugh’s message. His lesson that day concerned seeing that one’s relationship with the Lord was strong and healthy before attempting to help others. She took copious notes and marked several passages in her Gaelic Bible. How had he known exactly what she needed to hear?
After the Benediction, she made her way out to the entry and hugged Hugh, thanking him for the lesson. “You always feed my soul.”
His brown eyes danced. “That’s because we are all so much alike,” he said with his elfin smile, “and our needs so similar.”
Morag and Alec and then Elspeth, Flora, and Angus stopped her at the bottom of the steps. They talked for several minutes before she turned her steps toward home. As she approached the main path, a large group of older widows, Una Hunter in the lead, stepped in front of her.
“We need to hear how you are faring,” Una said in the Gaelic. “I do hope you aren’t working your fingers to the bone over that stranger.”
“Stranger? What do you mean? What stranger?”
“Why, that Yank airman you have to take care of,” Catriona Douglas said with a shake of her head. “Your father must not have a brain in his head, asking his own daughter to do such difficult, thankless work.”
Maggie’s temper flared. So that was it. Una had latched onto Rob as a sacrificial goat for her viper’s tongue. “I would hardly call my patient a stranger,” she said, voice cold, “since he was the commander of the air base I served on. As for the work, you seem to forget I’m a nurse well trained in rehabilitative therapy. ‘Stranger,’ indeed.”
She stepped aside but the women pressed forward, stopping her again.
“We’re only here because we care about you, Maggie,” Una said. “We don’t want that Yank to turn your head with sweet words and then leave you alone and broken-hearted.”
Maggie placed her hands on her hips glaring at the faces around her. What had Una stirred up this time? “I won’t listen to another word of such nonsense. I’m in a hurry,” she
said, pushing through the group. “The colonel has been alone far too long as it is.”
“Watch what you two do in private,” Dolly MacSween called. “After all, we’ve always thought you a good girl.”
Maggie had heard enough. She shot them a scathing look and walked quickly up the path, all thoughts of savoring the walk back to the infirmary pushed from her mind. What they did in private. What did that mean? Who had been spying on them, and why? And what did they think they had seen?
Tears welled in her eyes. How dare those old women lay in wait for her, pretending to care, when they only wanted to stoke their small-minded, gossipy minds?
Angus stopped his cart and offered her a ride but she refused, saying she needed to stretch her legs. Elspeth and Flora both smiled and wished her a “guid-day.” Had she imagined it, or were Flora’s cheeks redder than usual? Flora. Och, dear Lord, had she somehow started all of this? It seemed hard to believe. Like most of the women on the island Flora did love to gossip and often eagerly took part in spreading news across the island, but never in a mean, hurtful way.
Maggie walked quickly, climbing the hill as fast as she could. Her heart fluttered when she saw Rob, sitting in his wheelchair on the entry, close to the railing, where she had left him. He smiled broadly and she waved, choosing to wipe the past unpleasantness from her mind. She couldn’t wait to share Hugh’s lesson with him.
CHAPTER 22
John McGrath radioed Maggie Monday morning to inform her he would be arriving on Innisbraw the following Friday and apologizing for the delay. She acted giddy with excitement as Rob lowered himself from the bed into his wheelchair.
“Faither’ll be amazed at your progress.” She hugged him the moment he was seated. “Then, if he thinks you’re ready, he’ll let you start raising your hips, and I’ve told you what the next step is—walking!”
Her exuberance contagious, Rob’s heart pounded. “That’s what I’ve been working for.” Not long now and he’d be free of this chair and the frustration of being dependent on others for things he’d always done for himself. “Believe me, I’m ready.”
“I know you’re ready. Do you realize how far you’ve come in the few weeks we’ve been here? Though you have some numb spots on your lower back, the feeling in your legs and feet has returned.” She gave him a saucy smile. “And your appetite, too.”
She looked like a delighted lassie who had just bested him in a game. “My appetite’s back because you’re feeding me real food.” He grinned. “Only somebody on their deathbed could eat what they put on those trays in Edinburgh.”
“What do you expect with rationing so tight? Be careful what you say or I’ll skite your lug—och, box your ear.”
That afternoon, Maggie left Rob sitting in his wheelchair on the entry with firm instructions not to move while she walked down to the harbour to get the mail. He thought about the doctor’s visit, how he’d hoped to find an answer about how to alter McGrath’s opinion of him in the Selkie tale. But nobody knew what had changed the fishermen’s minds.
He fidgeted, hoping Maggie would return with copies of the Edinburgh Scotsman newspaper her father posted to them every few days. Being out of touch with world news frustrated him so much he read the papers from cover to cover—with the exception of the section devoted to the Gaelic readers.
The moment he caught sight of Maggie walking slowly up the hill, he realized something was wrong. She held her handkerchief pressed to her mouth and her steps were hesitant. Twice, she pulled something from her sweater pocket, stopping to read it.
She must have received bad news.
She would be fashed, but he unlocked the wheelchair brakes and moved closer to the steps. “What’s the matter?” he called when she turned off the main path.
***
Maggie couldn’t trust herself to reply without breaking down. There had to be a mistake. When they were at the Royal Infirmary, her commanding officer had given her until late August before she had to report to duty in London. She pulled her new orders out of her pocket again, but her eyes were so filled with tears she couldn’t read them.
Rob called her name.
Och, he was far too close to the steps! She dashed forward, tossed a roll of newspapers into his lap, and grabbed the back of the wheelchair, pushing him away from danger. “I told you no’ to move,” she cried. “What were you thinking? You could have fallen.”
“Why are you crying? What’s happened? Maggie, talk to me.”
She closed her eyes for a moment before wheeling him over to the bench where she handed him the letter from her pocket and sat, tears trickling down her cheeks.
He read it quickly, then let it drop to the stones. “They can’t do this. They can’t just order you to report to London in a week.”
She swiped angrily at her tears. “Of course they can. They can do anything they want.”
He pulled her onto his lap.
“I’ll hurt you.”
“You’re light as a newly hatched pewlie gull. We can’t let them do this, Maggie,” he whispered as she buried her face against his chest. “We haven’t had enough time.”
***
Rob felt like his heart would beat out of his chest. He couldn’t lose her so soon. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head. He’d been a fool, tiptoeing around the thought of returning to Innisbraw after the war, concentrating on what he would lose if he did, agonizing over the thought of having to someday give up flying, refusing to admit even to himself how much she meant to him. If what he felt for Maggie wasn’t love, he couldn’t imagine what love could be.
Faither, please help us. I’ve been blind, thinking I had so much time left to make up my mind. And now ... it might be too late. How could he bear the following months without Maggie’s smile, her soft voice, even the short but well-deserved tongue lashings she gave him?
But worst yet, what if he lost touch in the confusion of war and had to live the rest of his life without her?
***
Maggie’s thoughts tossed like a burn in winter, water dodging and boiling over rocks. It had been hard enough knowing she would have to leave before Rob was walking completely unaided, but how could she leave him now, just before his first steps between the parallel bars? How could she give competent care to other injured aviators when she’d only be thinking about how he was doing, fretting about his progress, and how they could manage to meet again? He was right. They hadn’t had enough time.
He raised his head and held her at arm’s length. “Radio your faither. He’s the one who got your orders taken care of last time. He can surely do it again.”
“I ... I don’t know.” She wiped her face with her soggy handkerchief. “He did warn me my orders could be changed.”
“We have to try, Maggie. We can’t give up without a fight.” He pulled her close again. “Please, Maggie. Please say you’ll try.”
She nodded.
***
Doctor McGrath reacted to her news with disgust. “What are they thinking? We haven’t the room to bring the colonel back here. Every bed is taken and we’re even turning away patients who want to schedule elective surgery. I may have to send somebody from my staff to Innisbraw to take over his therapy, though I don’t know how I can do what I must with one less qualified nurse.”
“So you will call Leftenant Colonel Smythe and try to get my orders changed back to the original date in late August?”
“Of course. But it will take time to reach her. And don’t count on me being able to convince her to rescind your latest orders. I’ve been afraid this might happen, with the war in the sky escalating and never enough RAF nurses. I’ll call you the minute I have some sort of resolution to this muddle, but it could take days.”
***
Neither Rob nor Maggie ate supper that evening. Both slept poorly and were exhausted when dawn broke. Maggie fixed his coffee but he asked her not to bake any scones. “I couldn’t swallow a bite of food around the lump in my throat.”
&n
bsp; Too upset to argue, she acquiesced.
***
Elspeth sat in her rocker before her peat fire, rubbing her throbbing knees. After all the years she’d spent kneeling in prayer, her body should be accustomed to the abuse. She couldn’t get Maggie and Rob out of her mind and her aging joints added to her frustration. Though she had prayed for them for over an hour—for Rob’s continuing progress, for Maggie’s strength to care for him properly—her distress had not eased.
She picked up her walking stick and pulled herself to her feet, hobbling to the window overlooking the entry where she pushed aside the lace curtain. Usually, the first glimpse of the riot of colorful flowers and vegetables in her garden brought a burst of joy, but this morning they appeared only an inconsequential blur. Something was happening in those precious lives and she had to find out what, so she could pray effectively.
Angus’s cart pulled up in front of her cottage and she smiled, pulling her shawl over her shoulders.
Right on time.
***
Though Rob and Maggie were reluctant to burden Elspeth, it didn’t take the cannie old woman long to wheedle out of them the reason for their long faces.
“Then there’s no time to waste. Our Heavenly Faither needs to perform one of His miracles. I trust you’ve prayed about this?”
“Of course,” they said in unison.
“Most of the night,” Maggie added.
“I’m going into the foyer where I can petition our Lord without any distractions,” Elspeth said. She paused in the doorway. “Have faith. Our Lord will no’ abandon you in your hour of need.”
Elspeth waved Angus off when he came to pick her up an hour later, telling him Maggie would radio when it was time for him to return. She prepared tea and coffee and took it into John’s office. “Drink this,” she ordered. “What guid will it do if you become ill?”
Their drawn, exhausted faces brought tears to her eyes. Och, the de’il worked hard to keep these twa from fulfilling what the Lord had planned for their lives.