Rob, fuming, picked up a glass paperweight from John’s desk and aimed it at the wall.
Only Maggie’s horrified gasp kept him from hurling it, smashing it into a thousand pieces.
“What’s the matter with that Grant? It can’t take this long to compare some fingerprints. I’m about to crawl out of my skin.”
“You’re not the only one anxious to hear.”
He slumped deeper into his wheelchair, head in hands.
Och, what right did she have to complain when he had been either lying in bed or sitting in that wheelchair for so many weeks?
“I’m sorry, luve.” She took the paperweight from his hand and returned it to her father’s desk. “I’m just weary of staying inside, and you’ve been confined far longer than I.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m so tired of having my stomach tied in knots, fearing somebody’s going to hurt you.” He squirmed beneath her steady gaze. “What’s the matter? Still upset, or did I miss a place shaving?”
“Let’s go into the foyer and I’ll give you a haircut.” She pushed the forelock off his forehead. “If it grows much longer, you’ll need a bit of string to tie it back.”
“Can you cut hair? A barber did it at the Royal Infirmary.”
“There isn’t a woman on Innisbraw who can’t give her menfolk a proper haircut.” Though she had no clippers, she used a pair of sharp surgical scissors like a professional, and even lathered and shaved the back of his neck. When she finished, she wheeled him into his room and brought him her hand mirror. “Well?”
“’Tis perfect. I’ve never had a better haircut.”
***
Hugh, who had been dropping in for a visit every few days, noticed how the waiting upset them, made them sober and anxious. The lighthearted bantering between them no longer animated their conversation.
On his latest visit, he made a joke about Rob’s short military haircut, saluting him briskly when he walked into the foyer. When neither reacted with a smile, he said, “Och, I’ve had enough of this. You are going to listen to me.”
They stared at him as if surprised.
Granted, he was a spokesman for the Savior, but hadn’t the Lord exhibited righteous anger at least once? He stood in front of Rob’s wheelchair, rocking back and forth on his heels, hands clasped behind his back. “This fear and unhappiness has gone on long enough.” He pinned them with a stern gaze. “I know you’ve been praying about the polis investigation, but ’tis obvious you’re no’ depending on the Lord to provide the outcome He deems fitting.”
Maggie stood stiffly at Rob’s side.
“Lass, I expected better from you. You spent years under my teaching and, though your schooling and war duties have kept you from hearing the Truth for a long time, you should have enough residual doctrine in your soul to see you through this.”
Maggie blinked away tears. “I know.”
“Then perhaps you could share your reason with me.”
She lowered her head. “I’ve been afraid to ask for God’s perfect will. I can’t bear the thought of somehow losing Rob.”
“This isn’t about the threat on your life?”
“Och, no. I know I won’t be called home to Heaven ’til our Lord deems it time.” She knelt next to Rob’s wheelchair.
Rob rested his cheek against the top of her head. “Maggie’s just voiced my own fears about asking the Lord’s perfect will,” he said, words hesitant. “I haven’t been able to end my prayers that way, because I’m afraid I’ll lose my Maggie, either to a killer or because ...”
“Because you’re no longer convinced you want to return to Innisbraw at the end of the war?” Hugh did not wait for an answer. He put his arms around their shoulders, praying silently for the Holy Spirit to guide his words. “For many weeks you’ve been beset by emotional and physical trials, Rob, yet you’ve told me you’re reaching out to our Lord in prayer more and more. Why?”
“Because Elspeth and Maggie have just about convinced me God hears my prayers, no matter how inadequate I feel.”
“They’re telling you that every child of God is infinitely precious to Him and He is capable, through His omniscience and omnipresence, motivated by His perfect luve, and aided by the power of His Holy Spirit, to answer every prayer of each believer?”
“Aye.”
“So, you once trusted Him to forgive your sins and accept you into His presence when your journey on earth is over, yet you can’t trust Him enough to take care of this latest stumbling block to your future happiness?”
“I know He’ll take care of it,” Rob said. “I’m just no’ sure I’ll want to live with His answer.” His arms tightened around Maggie. “I prayed for His perfect will before I confronted Una. Yet, instead of changing her mind about hating me, she threatened Maggie’s life. How could He want that?”
“Haven’t either of you realized there are many, many more affected by Una’s evil doings than only just you twa? There are all the folk on this island, John and his staff, the polis and their families and co-workers, the patients who could be waiting for your future care, Maggie. And the men you could someday command again, Rob. Even the results one load of bombs dropped from your B-17 on enemy soil could have on a war that affects so much of the world. Och, the list is endless.
“Our lives are never lived in a vacuum, but are interwoven with countless others, yet God’s perfect plan is just that—a perfect plan for each and every life, worked out to His satisfaction, in the fullness of His time.”
“I ... I’ve never considered that,” Rob said. “You must think me selfish.”
“No’ selfish, just human with only finite knowledge and a limited exposure to the Truth.” Hugh squeezed his shoulder, then looked at Maggie. “And you, lass?”
“I have no excuse for disremembering all you’ve just said. I’ve heard you teach the Truth all my life. I’ve allowed my emotions to overwhelm what I know.”
Hugh couldn’t help a wee smile. “I’m told first luve can be a bit overwhelming.” He stood over them, the sorrow he felt for their fear of the future tightening his throat. “’Tis easy to trust the Lord when everything is going right, but when all is darkness, can you still see the bright beacon of His Word? He hasn’t changed. He’s the same yesterday, the day, and forever. He’s waiting for us to trust Him so He can bless our lives. David said it so simply in Psalms 40: 1. ‘I waited patiently for the Lord and He listened to me and heard my cry.”’
“Patiently.” Rob shook his head.
Hugh placed a hand on each of their heads. “Take that step right now. Ask silently for His perfect will with this problem and you won’t be disappointed.”
They closed their eyes and prayed.
***
Their radio call sign came faintly from John’s office only moments after Hugh’s departure. Maggie raced through the hall, pushing Rob’s wheelchair. She answered the call while Rob leaned close.
“This is DS Grant.” The formal, clipped tone of the sergeant’s voice brought such a relief, she exhaled a deep sigh. “Is this Miss McGrath?”
“It is that.”
“Is that shotgun-armed colonel at your side?” Grant asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Of course.” Maggie crossed her fingers, giving Rob a wicked smile. “And since it’s taken so long to hear from you, he’s threatening to keep the gun loaded.”
“Och, tell him there’s no need for that.”
She and Rob exchanged smiles.
“It’s taken longer than I expected to get back to you because we’ve been trying to convince MacGinnis to implicate the person who gave him the whisky. But he’s a stubborn man and won’t budge, even when threatened with extra jail time for being uncooperative. The man has been drunk so long his mind has gone soft. Every time it looks like he’s about to give us a name, he mutters something about bringing a curse on his head and refuses to say owt.”
“What about the fingerprints?” Rob shouted.<
br />
“There’s no need to raise your voice, Colonel. I was about to tell you that indeed, there were prints on the handle of the knife, and though some were smudged, we did find a match to those we took from MacGinnis. He’s definitely the man who damaged Miss McGrath’s clothing and pillow.”
Rob closed his eyes. “Thank Ye, Lord,” he breathed.
Maggie shivered. “Is he going to jile?”
“The Procurator Fiscal has assured me he’ll spend at least six months in prison, perhaps longer since his crime was committed in an infirmary with a patient in residence, and he’ll also be charged with receiving stolen goods which will add at least another six months.”
“And Una Hunter?” Maggie’s voice trembled. She had no idea how, or when, God would solve the woman’s determination that Rob leave the island.
“As I already explained, without MacGinnis naming her as an accomplice, we have no legal recourse but to serve her with a Restraining Order, which will be delivered to her in person by two of my staff by the end of the week. I do want you to know, however, that before I left Innisbraw, I visited Miss Hunter and assured her that should an unfortunate accident befall you, Miss McGrath, she will spend the remaining days of her life in jail.”
Maggie thanked the Sergeant before bursting into tears.
***
Rob fought raging emotions. She was safe. His Maggie was safe. He took the shotgun from his side, put it on John’s desk, and gathered her close, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, and fragrant hair, as he sent up a silent Thank Ye, to a very forgiving and faithful Savior.
Maggie radioed her father, Hugh, and Morag and Angus, and the word of the policeman’s information quickly spread around the island.
***
Engrossed in sweeping her front stone flags, Una jumped when Mark Ferguson surprised her by coming home early from a fishing trip. He hollered the news from the path to Susan, busy at her spinning wheel in their croft yard. “Tormad radioed every trawler, lass,” he shouted. “Auld man MacGinnis is guilty. His fingerprints were on the knife. He’s going to jile!”
As he embraced his joyous wife, Mark looked over the path at Una who stood frozen in place, her heather-twig broom clutched tightly in her fingers. “You’re next, you auld witch!” he yelled.
Una barely heard his taunt. Did he betray me? her mind screamed. Did that old drunkard tell them about me?
***
Rob and Maggie spent the evening on the entry, savoring the crisp ocean-scented breeze, gazing up at the startlingly vivid reds and purples undulating across the sky. “I just pray your faither and Hugh are right, and Una won’t be able to talk another man into doing her evil deeds,” Rob said.
“I know they’re right.” She laughed as she grabbed his ears and brought his mouth down to hers.
CHAPTER 33
Angus’s cart pulled up in front of the infirmary, Elspeth on the front bench while old women crowded the back.
Rob, who had been waiting for his Scots lesson, released the brakes on his chair and started to retreat until Elspeth called out to him. He turned his chair and watched through narrowed eyes as she slowly climbed the steps.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. The familiar scent of heather brought an ache to his chest.
“I once said you weren’t one to run away from a challenge.” She hugged his shoulders. “Was I wrong, lad?”
“I have nowt to say to them.”
She brushed aside his gruff words with a wave of her hand. “They haven’t come to hear anything from you, but to ask forgiveness. You’ve told me a wee bit about your lonely days in the orphanage, but you aren’t the only one in this world who has felt the pangs of loneliness.”
He sighed with a reluctant nod.
The women hobbled up the steps, so frail they looked as if a brisk breeze could lift them from their feet and send them sailing off the fell like desiccated leaves. Clad in threadbare cotton housedresses with tattered shawls over their white hair or stooped shoulders, faces sunken-cheeked and wizened, gnarled fingers clasped tightly together, they huddled in silence behind Elspeth.
Maggie had told him about these women who spent their lives labouring in cottage and croft for eighteen or more hours a day, birthing their bairnies on straw-filled pallets and only hours later cradling them in crude cloth slings so the wee ones could suckle without interrupting their mother’s unending tasks.
He could see no trace of the young lasses they had once been—clear-eyed and dreaming away nights with visions of a bright future once they won the heart of a lad. The hard knot of resentment filling his chest began to loosen.
Maggie stepped from the doorway, smiling a greeting.
“Remember, none of our aulder women speak Scots,” Elspeth said, “so I believe your Maggie should translate what they have to say.”
“I’ll be as true to their words as I can, luve.” Maggie squeezed his hand.
He cleared his throat. “All right.”
The first old woman to speak had been at that Hunter woman’s side in the kirkyard. She began in a halting voice, her words so soft they were almost carried away on the brisk breeze. By the time she finished speaking, she held a frayed handkerchief clutched to her mouth, sobs shaking her body.
“This is Dolly MacSween,” Maggie said. “She wants you to know she will never forgive herself for no’ grabbing the stones from Una’s hand when she saw her scoop them up from the ground. She begs your forgiveness, though she knows she doesn’t deserve it. She also said she will have nowt to do with Una again and will never, ever allow herself to open her heart to the darkness that overcame her that dreadful day.”
Dolly knelt before Rob and groped for his hands, sobs shaking her thin shoulders as she spoke again.
Maggie pressed his shoulder. “She said you remind her of her son who served and died in that terrible First World War, and she thanks you for caring enough to come all the way from America to help fight this war and prays you will return safely to Innisbraw when it is over.”
Rob prayed for the Lord’s help before laying a hand on Dolly’s trembling arm. “Please tell her I’m trying to understand. And I hope we can be friends someday.”
After Maggie translated his words into the Gaelic, Dolly kissed his hand, struggled to her feet, and collapsed into Elspeth’s waiting arms.
An emotional hour followed. After the last woman apologized, Rob slowly rubbed the side of his nose. “Tell them I understand how hard this was to do. I’m as sorry as they are about what happened, but it showed me something I never could have known otherwise—some of Innisbraw’s folk might get wrong-footed at times, but they have the courage to admit their mistakes.”
***
The encounter exhausted him, and Maggie insisted he take a nap. “I know you didn’t sleep well last night after our guid news so don’t look at me with that stubborn set to your jaw,” she scolded when he started to protest. “Besides, I’m tired myself. I’ll curl up in the chair while you sleep.”
He soon lay in the bed.
Maggie wanted to ask if he felt better about making a life on Innisbraw someday, but he fell asleep so quickly, she didn’t get the opportunity.
When he awakened an hour later, he broached the subject while she helped him into his boots. “I noticed one woman missing from that group this mornin.”
“Och, if you mean Una, don’t hold your breath for that one to ever show up here, though I’m thinking she’s going to find herself verra lonely with all the auld widows shunning her.”
“She’ll just find others to take their place.”
Maggie stood and brushed off her palms. “Never. After what Flora told me Hugh said at kirk, there isn’t a woman, or man for that matter, who will listen to a word she says.”
“What makes her so hateful?”
“I don’t think anybody knows. All I’ve ever heard is that she suffered when no’ a lad on the island showed any interest in her. It happened long before I was born.”
***<
br />
He sat on the bed, looking out the window at the cloud-streaked sky. Was there a chance he could find himself accepted here on Innisbraw? He would have to meet more of the folk, see how they reacted to him. He’d read or heard someplace that the Scots were notorious for carrying grudges. Surely, the old men who enjoyed their wee drams would resent losing their only supply of whisky.
***
Many of the island’s folk dropped by the infirmary. Sheila MacNab, the kirk organist, and her crofter-husband, Arthur, overcame their initial shyness and chatted amicably.
“We are most sorry about that awful Sabbath,” Arthur said as they were preparing to leave. “Please know our folk will be most pleased if you choose Innisbraw for your home.”
All the other crofters and fishermen and wives who came by voiced the same sentiments. Rob and Maggie had such a grand time visiting with Mark and Susan Ferguson, Maggie asked them to stay for supper.
Every time visitors left, Rob waited for Maggie to ask if he finally felt welcome and was relieved when she never did. He had no answer yet. Some of the folk in Newton, New Hampshire, resented having such a large orphanage in their small village and he had often been the target of their kids’ taunts about his patched, second-hand clothing and rusty bicycle. Despite Maggie and Hugh’s reassuring words about incomers being welcome, how could he live the rest of his life on such an isolated island where he wasn’t wanted?
The visits slowed to a trickle. Rob worked on the parallel bars and spent the rest of the day in his wheelchair, accompanying Maggie as she went about her daily turns. If John didn’t allow him crutches soon, he’d go daft.
***
Rob tapped his fingers on the arms of the chair during his new studies in the Gaelic.
“Are you feeling a wee bit pent-up, lad?” Elspeth asked. “The way you always have your fingers tapping, tapping. Or perhaps ’tis the swarms of midges making you so jumpy. Those meanbh-chuileags—wee flies—can be most irritating. I’ve an idea you’d be pacing the stones of this entry if you could.”
“In a minute, and it isn’t the midges.” He slapped the arm of his chair. “You don’t know how tired I am of sitting in this chair. I feel like I’m in prison.”
She rapped his arm with her pencil. “How do you fill your time when you’re no’ exercising or studying with this auld woman?”