Maggie’s smile faded when she saw the pitying glances many of the old women cast her way. Her heart plummeted when Una Hunter, surrounded by a group of widows, hurried toward her father.
Not again.
***
“It’s so good to see you home, John,” Una said in the Gaelic, her cold, piercing gaze belying her words. “It’s about time you came back to Innisbraw to rescue your daughter from the clutches of that Yank.”
“What are you talking about?” His voice often grew gruff when talking with the only woman on the island he could not bear to be around. Her wicked tongue caused many a muddle over the years.
“Why, it’s all over the island how he’s working that poor lass to the bone, keeping her captive in that infirmary and turning her head with sweet-talk before he leaves her here alone and heartbroken as soon as he can walk.”
“Have you lost your mind?” He took a step back. “What nonsense have you been spreading?”
Una pressed forward. “You’re her father, John, and as her father it is your responsibility to protect that poor, innocent lass.”
As he opened his mouth to rebut her tirade, Hugh came down the kirk steps, arms outstretched in greeting. John took Maggie’s elbow and pulled her toward their minister.
“John,” Hugh exclaimed. “’Tis so guid to see you attending kirk with Maggie. Welcome.”
The two men hugged shoulders and shook hands before Hugh greeted Maggie. “You’re looking a bit pale, lass. You need more time in the sunshine.” He pulled out his pocket watch, face creasing into an elfin smile. “Och, ’tis time to begin the service. Walk in with me.”
***
Una stood in the kirkyard after the service, watching John and Maggie ride off in Angus’s cart. The corners of her mouth pulled down. So much for thinking John would rescue his daughter. Men were all alike—blind to each other’s faults and untrustworthy.
It was her duty to rescue the lass before that handsome Yank with the silver tongue broke her heart.
And she had devised a perfect way to make it happen.
CHAPTER 26
The joy of newly declared love brought the same euphoria as taking off into a heaven ceiled with cloudless blue skies. Rob floated through the hours. The only thing bringing him back to earth was the grueling, painful therapy.
“You have to build up your abdominal muscles before you can raise your hips,” John told him. “The abdominals act as a girdle that supports your back when you stand and walk.”
“All right, how do I get started?”
“Modified sit-ups. Let me show you what I mean.”
John’s demonstration didn’t impress. “Is that all? At one time, I could do several hundred sit-ups on an incline board.”
“Then isn’t now. Some of the nerves sending impulses to your back muscles were badly damaged and you haven’t used your abdominal muscles for some time. ’Tis amazing how quickly they lose their tone.”
“Do you know how the crew stationed forward of the wings enter B-17s? We grab the top of a small hatch in the fuselage, which is above our heads. Then, we lift our legs up through the opening and pull our bodies in. It might sound simple, but it isn’t.”
“Then you should progress quickly.”
Rob laced his fingers beneath the back of his head and spread his elbows, took a deep breath, raised his head. Shoulders off the bed. Another deep breath. Pain shot through his back. Use your abs. He sat, sucked two deep breaths, and slowly lowered himself. Forget the pain. Down, slowly. Success. One sit-up.
The second one came easier, finding a rhythm. Forget the pain. Control your landing. Two sit-ups.
The rhythm faltered and the hurt grew. Abs—use your abs, eejit! Exhale—louder! Falling too fast. Crash landing.
John handed Rob a towel. “You meant what you said. I never imagined you could do almost three before you tired.”
Rob scrubbed his dripping face, sucking in air. “Can’t count the last one. Should have used full flaps on my descent.”
“Och, you pilots.” John’s beard tilted with the breadth of his smile. “When you can do twenty of them in one session without severe pain, it will be time to start the hip-raises.”
“Twenty?”
“Aye, twenty.”
***
Rob worked every other day for the rest of that week, starting very early in the morning. John’s return to Edinburgh loomed and he wanted to accomplish as much as he could before the doctor left. By the end of the week, he was up to fifteen controlled sit-ups and the pain in his back, though severe at first, gradually lessened.
The doctor congratulated Rob and gave Maggie his parting instructions. “I won’t be able to come back for at least a month, so you’ll have to proceed without me. Remember, lass, don’t put him on the parallel bars at the beginning without Sim or Edert or some other lad at hand to catch him should he fall. If you try it alone, you could hurt your back badly.”
“I’ll remember, Faither.”
Maggie walked her father down to the dock and saw him off. When she returned, she flew into Rob’s arms. “Och, he’s so impressed with your progress,” she exclaimed, “and your determination.” She kissed him with exuberance. “And, he says he’s absolutely certain you’ll walk again, and soon.”
“I know I will.”
By the end of the week, Rob completed twenty controlled sit-ups.
Maggie clapped her hands, laughing. “I’ll give you five days of hip-lifts, and then we start the bars.”
The hip lifts were very painful as more muscles were put to use, involving nerves still regenerating, but they became easier every day. At the end of the five days, he could do them smoothly and almost pain-free. Why had he dreaded them so?
Maggie sat on his lap on the entry after supper. “On the morra’s mornin, we start the parallel bars. That’s when the real work begins.”
“I think I’ll need a little extra luving the night. Need to build up my strength.”
“How’s this for a start?” She pulled his face to hers and gave him a very thorough, very long kiss.
That night, he had a hard time falling asleep. “Lord, I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m so afraid. I could never have gotten this far without Your help, so I thank Ye. And please, please give me the faith I’ll walk come mornin.”
***
Angus showed up after breakfast. “I’m here to help,” he said to Rob, “and ’tis a fine mornin indeed to take your first steps.”
“But you’ve sheep to tend. Isn’t it still shearing season?”
“I didn’t bring my shears, but if Maggie has some scissors, I can give you a guid, close haircut.” Angus laughed, slapping his knee. “Och, if you could see your face.”
Rob attempted a smile.
Angus patted his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m a wee bit kittled up. Maggie asked me to send Edert but I wouldn’t miss this for owt.”
Maggie led the way as Rob wheeled his chair down the hall past John’s office to the therapy room. Weights, benches, an incline board, and a set of long parallel bars filled the narrow room.
“Wheel your chair between the bars and wait.” Maggie nodded to Angus. “Once Rob’s on his feet, I’ll remove the chair. Stand behind him and grasp him as high on the chest as you’re able. Lock your elbows, but don’t support his weight unless he falters.”
Rob moved into position.
Maggie leaned over and kissed him.
Angus’s mouth gaped.
“Och, Maggie lass.” Rob groaned. “You turned my knees to jelly.”
“On with you. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.” He set his mouth in a grim line of determination. For months, he had feared this day might never come. Please, please Lord, I’m verra afraid. If it be Your will, help me walk.
“Reach up and grasp the bars,” Maggie instructed. “Keep your weight evenly distributed and pull yourself to your feet as slowly as you can. When you feel in control, give a nod. I’ll remove the chair, and Angus will be right behind
you.”
“On we go then.” He grasped the bars and pulled himself to his feet, grateful for all the exercises to strengthen his arms and shoulders. He reeled as the room spun around him. “Och, I’m wobbly.” He nodded.
“Take your time.” Maggie removed the chair.
He took several deep breaths, toes tingling. How strange but exhilarating to feel the floor beneath his feet.
Angus’s arms circled his waist, the man being too short to reach his chest.
“Is standing painful?” Maggie asked.
“Just the usual deep ache.”
She moved in front of him. “Concentrate on sliding your right foot forward. No’ far, only fourteen or so centimetres. Imagine you’re doing leg-lifts.” She beckoned him forward with her hands.
This was it. Only a few centimetres determined his future. If he failed he would have to give up Maggie, and without her ... He looked deeply into her eyes and concentrated with all his might.
CHAPTER 27
Rob slid his right foot forward. Sweat stung his eyes.
Maggie blotted his forehead. “Perfect. Now, your left. Be careful, you’re off balance.”
Again, Rob concentrated. His legs trembled, but only a dull ache throbbed in his lower back. “Come on, Savage,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Move.”
His left foot moved several centimetres.
Maggie’s eyes sparkled. “Now, slide your hands forward so you’re balanced. That’s right. Can you do it again? Both legs? Don’t start until you’re certain.”
Angus’s arms tightened.
Rob gulped in air and nodded. His right leg responded, then his left. Both legs trembled so hard, he feared collapsing into a heap on the floor.
“Angus, you need to move and support his weight from the front,” Maggie said.
Angus slipped around to Rob’s front as Maggie got behind him.
The wheelchair seat bumped against the back of his legs.
“Do you have the strength to lower yourself slowly? Just nod or shake your head. And be honest.”
“Don’t know,” he groaned between clenched teeth. “Hurry.”
The chair pressed his legs and they gave way. His sweaty palms lost their grip on the bars.
Angus grasped his denim waistband tightly, easing him down.
At last, he sat, chest heaving, leg muscles quivering.
Maggie wiped his face with the towel. “Och, Rob, you’re the only patient I’ve ever had who’s taken four steps on his first try.”
He didn’t care if his smile felt lopsided. It was only a few centimetres, but he had done it.
He had walked.
***
They spent most of the evening on the entry while Maggie explained the next phase of his rehabilitation, interrupted often by exuberant hugs and kisses.
“I can’t wait to run again,” he said as she walked beside his chair into his room. “I’ve always done a lot of running.”
“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
When he lay in bed that night, he thanked God for allowing him to walk again—and for giving him Maggie. He turned onto his side, grateful he no longer had to spend all night flat on his back. He tucked his arm beneath his pillow, felt something on the sheet below his elbow, and pulled out a piece of paper, grinning. It was so like Maggie to leave him a note after such a momentous day.
He couldn’t turn on the lamp because the blackout curtains weren’t in place so he squinted in the half-light coming in the windows.
Yank.
This wasn’t from Maggie, but it was written in English.
Be warned. You are being watched.
He held the paper closer to his face, stomach cramping. The tiny, old-fashioned handwriting was almost unintelligible and the pen had been pressed into the paper so hard the ink blurred in places. He narrowed his eyes and continued reading.
You may have fooled a few of the folk, but not all. Maggie is too sweet for her own good. Bad things can happen to good lasses. You are not welcome on Innisbraw, not now or ever! You must leave now before it is too late.
There was no signature, only a strange symbol, like an eye with an enlarged pupil, drawn at the bottom of the page.
He read it again and then again. How could this be? Sometime today someone had sneaked into the infirmary—into his room!—and left this paper for him to find. What was this all about? And who was it from? Few of the islanders even spoke English, let alone wrote it.
He started to wad up the note, then changed his mind and placed it in the drawer of the bedside table and lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling.
He was being watched. When? Why? But most importantly, by whom? He pictured all of the folk he had met on Innisbraw. They were so friendly. Fooled a few of the folk, but not all. Fooled them how?
They had mentioned Maggie. Bad things can happen to good lasses. Were they threatening her?
The meaning of the last two sentences was crystal clear. Someone on the island wanted him gone—forever. Those last words were definitely a threat.
He took a deep breath. It caught and splintered in his throat. His plan of making a life on Innisbraw no longer seemed as easy as he hoped. And right now, he was so vulnerable. Taking a few faltering steps on the parallel bars was a long way from being able to defend himself, let alone Maggie.
The pinched, old-fashioned penmanship probably meant the note had been written by a woman. But who? And what did that strange symbol mean?
He couldn’t share this with Maggie. She worried enough about him. He could show it to John, but it would be almost three weeks before the doctor returned to the island. He punched the mattress in frustration. Why did this have to happen now, after he decided there was a way for him to return to Innisbraw after the war and still fly? He thought about the note most of the night, only falling into an exhausted sleep early in the morning.
***
When Maggie brought him breakfast he was dismayed by the amount of food on the tray. “What did I do, sleep through breakfast? That looks like enough for dinner.”
She slid the tray onto his bedside table and placed her hands on hips. “You’re on your feet now, so ’tis a real breakfast with sliced sausage, eggs, tinned beans, and fried bread. If you’re still starving after you eat it all, you can have your scone.”
He choked down every bite.
***
The next three weeks dragged so slowly Rob was sure he was caught in a nightmare where time moved backward. Normally, that would have pleased him. He dreaded Maggie’s impending return to duty. Now, he feared for her life. That note had mentioned her name so she could be in danger. He kept a close eye on her, spending as much time as possible with her and keeping such a tight rein she finally balked when he told her she didn’t have to hang the washing yet again.
Though obviously puzzled, Maggie said, “If you’re thinking I’m lonely oot there alone, I’ll send word to Susan Ferguson, a friend. She spent last Monday helping me with the washing and I know she won’t mind coming again.”
He was wary every time they were on the entry or when she worked in her garden next door, keeping a sharp eye out for anyone on the path, fearing for her safety when not at her side.
Did he really want to return to Innisbraw after the war? He’d spent his childhood in a small village where taunts of “orphan brat” were a daily occurrence. Could he spend the rest of his life on an isolated island where he wasn’t wanted?
Though he tried to press such negative thoughts from his mind, they returned night after night, interrupting his sleep. This must have been how the crofter felt when he hid the Selkie from the fishermen.
Only his work on the parallel bars took his thoughts off the note. Though exhausting, he kept at it, and after a week, could walk over two metres without having Angus or Edert nearby to catch him if he faltered.
Not good enough. He had to work harder so he could protect Maggie.
CHAPTER 28
John McGrath watched
Rob walk the entire length of the parallel bars and lower himself into the wheelchair with no help. “Grand. Maggie tells me you’ve been unusually quiet, but I can see you’ve been working hard. How’s the pain?”
“Much better.” Rob wheeled over and closed the rehab room door. “There’s something I need to show you.”
“Is there a problem with your legs, then? Or your back?”
“Och, no.” Rob reached into the back pocket of his denims and pulled out the threatening note, handing it to the doctor. “I found this the night after I took my first steps.”
John unfolded the paper and adjusted his glasses on his nose. He read it quickly, glanced at Rob, and read it again. “Where did you find this? And why didn’t Maggie tell me about it?”
“I haven’t told her. I found it ’neath my pillow before I went to sleep.”
John read the note again. “Have you shown it to anyone else?”
“No one. But I’ll be honest, John, I haven’t slept well since and I’ve had the de’il’s own time trying to keep Maggie in sight as much as I could. I don’t like whoever sent that saying what they did about her.”
“Nor do I.” John leaned against the top of a parallel bar. “Now I can see why Maggie’s worried. You look like you’ve lost some of the weight you put on.”
“That symbol at the bottom of the page? Do you recognize it?”
John stroked his beard as he studied the paper. “I do, though I haven’t seen anything like it in years. ’Tis called ‘drosh shuil’ in the Gaelic—an ancient Celtic symbol for the evil eye.”
“Evil eye?”
“Och, just a bit of nonsense about a curse to bring you bad fortune.”
“Then, forget it. But I can’t plan on coming back to Innisbraw after the war if Maggie’s in danger or if I’m no’ wanted here. I wo—”
John snapped his fingers. “Of course. ’Tis only one of our folk who don’t want you here, no’ many. I’m almost certain I know who wrote this.”
“Who? I’ve wracked my brains, but I can’t imagine anyone I’ve met doing something like this.”
“I doubt you’ve ever met her.”
“So it is a woman. I thought it might be by the writing.”
John stuffed the note into his jacket pocket and thumped Rob on the shoulder. “The morra is the Sabbath. How would you feel about attending kirk and bearding the lion?”