Shep nosed his hand and reality crushed him again. Despite all the sorrow he’d endured in life, nothing compared to this. Why had God deserted him now, after he’d spent months trying to understand and obey God’s will? Had his occasional doubts deafened the Heavenly Father to his pleas?
Scriptures taunted him: “Fear not, for I am with you.” Then why haven’t I heard from my Maggie? “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” I’m no’ afraid, I’m terrified! “He who fears has not been made perfect in love.” Och, is that why I’m in such agony?
Shame drove him to his knees beside the bed. “Forgive me, Faither. I’ve blamed You for keeping me in the dark, when it’s me who’s the problem. If this is a test, I know I failed. My mind’s in such a muddle, I can’t think—only feel. And all I feel is fear. I know I’m no’ the only one going through this. There must be thousands waiting to hear the fate of those they love. Strengthen each of us with knowing You’re there, offering luve and words of comfort, no matter how long it takes for an answer. And please, please be with my Maggie.”
An hour later, Rob trembled with relief when John trotted up the path, waving a letter in his hand. Thank Ye, Lord. Thank Ye, thank Ye! He snatched the proffered letter and limped over to the bench. Hands shaking, he tore open the envelope.
My Precious Rob, Please forgive me for no’ writing but I’ve pulled ten straight doubles and fall into bed so exhausted, I can’t even think. We had a bit of excitement here but I can’t say owt because of the censors.
I’m so happy the shoes fit. My heart aches when I realize I won’t be there to watch you take your first steps, but I rejoice that you’ll soon be stepping out on your own.
I just spent an hour rereading your letters, though they’re so worn, I can recite them word-for-word. I often find myself reliving the months since you came into my life. I have so much to look forward to, I can barely stand how slowly the time seems to crawl until you hold me again. I don’t know why, but my mind has been filled with memories of the song we danced to when we met. “The Nearness of You.” How I long for that to become reality. But our Lord has been so faithful. How I praise Him!
P.S. Don’t try to dissuade Shep from keeping you in line. He’s too smart to fool.
He read the letter a second time, his breath freezing when he came to the line about the “wee bit of excitement.” He passed the letter to John. “I’m thinking I was right. They could have been bombed.”
John read the letter before handing it back. “Och, could be they had some visiting dignitaries.”
“But it might be more. Check it out, John, please. I’ve got to know.”
***
By the time John finished going through his secret channels of information he was tempted to keep the results from Rob. After much thought he called Rob into his office the next morning.
“I want you to sit down and keep calm, for you’ve heard from Maggie and you know she’s fine.”
“I was right. They were bombed.”
“No’ really bombed. A German Heinkel bomber, trailing fire from its twa engines and carrying a full load of bombs, crashed into the ground only ninety-five metres from the hospital. The building received some damage from broken windows, flying metal, and a small fire on the ground floor, but ’tis already up and fully functional again.” John sat back, rubbing his beard.
Rob pushed himself up. “But Maggie? You’re certain she’s no’ hurt?”
“She was on the first storey, opposite where the bomber crashed. There were some patients shaken up, but no injuries.”
***
Though Rob had known from the beginning Maggie could be in danger, he had pressed it to the back of his mind. Now, it tortured him. He even had a nightmare about her being trapped in rubble, pinned by a beam that had fallen across her hips, her body limp and lifeless, her face and hair covered with bits of plaster and splinters of wood.
He woke with a start, almost falling off the chair he used at his worktable. He buried his head in his hands, sobs shaking his shoulders.
Och, Heavenly Faither, please keep my Maggie safe. Now I know how she feels about me being killed. Quiet my heart, please, Lord. I couldn’t live if owt happened to her.
***
A storm in the middle of October brought a second tragedy to Innisbraw. One of the island’s fishing trawlers was lost at sea, all five hands perishing. The bell in the kirk steeple tolled the slow death knell. Rob, wearing his uniform, accompanied John. He now walked unaided and though limping, climbed the steps to the kirk entry without hesitation and joined the folk crowding into the sanctuary for the memorial service.
Seeing Hugh in the pulpit for the first time shamed him. Why had he put off attending kirk so long? John translated the words of the Gaelic he had not yet learned and the message, uplifting and reassuring, impressed Rob.
The minister ended his homily with a quotation from John 11:25. “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, even though he dies, he shall live.”
Rob’s resolve to provide a local rescue boat strengthened.
***
My Precious Maggie,
I went to Kirk this Sabbath and was impressed with the practicality of the Word Hugh teaches, especially his lessons on how to incorporate what we learn into daily living. He has provided answers to many questions I’ve had for years. I never realized the Scriptures could have such a daily impact on our lives. What I once viewed as an optimistic outlook on the part of the folk of Innisbraw is really a daily practice of what they’ve learned. They’re “casting their bread upon the waters” every day in the way they conduct their lives. What a marvelous revelation.
I walked down to Elspeth’s the day. Of course, it was blowing hard and raining, but she had scones and a pottle of coffee waiting. What a blessed, blessed woman she is. I don’t think I could have made it through these past weeks without her loving, practical words. I’ve come to view her as the grandmither I never had.
Keep yourself safe, my dearest Maggie. Always heed the siren quickly and remember above all else, I live for the time we’re together again.
***
My Dearest Rob,
How comforting to know you have so many people bringing you strength. You could never have better friends or advisors than Hugh and Elspeth. Faither has written to tell me you want to start running. Don’t do too much, my darling. The ground can be treacherous after a hard rain. Remember, Shep is your guardian, so pay him heed.
The weather here is dreich and turning cold, and the work continues to be arduous, but I’m content in knowing you’re on Innisbraw and among such warm friends. Please give them my luve, but keep most of it for yourself. I miss you so dreadfully.
***
Elspeth’s concern for Rob’s health grew daily. When she first began offering scones during his Gaelic lesson, he wolfed them down but as the weeks passed, he took only a few bites. His appetite for coffee, however, remained as high, if not higher. She never saw him without a mug in his hand, even after kirk services when Hugh opened the kirk hall for tea, coffee, and sweets to go with the socializing.
She must talk to John.
She cornered him after kirk, making certain Rob was nowhere near. “I’m worried about Rob. He’s as thin as I’ve ever seen him and his eyes look dead.”
John sighed, stroking his beard. “I’ve already talked to him about needing more sleep and eating more, but it’s done no guid. He agrees and goes his own way, doing exactly what he’s been doing since Maggie left—slaving away at the plans for that rescue boat and working to get fit enough to return to duty.”
“It has to be Maggie’s absence, for that’s when all of this started. I’ve never seen twa young folk so smitten. I’ve prayed and prayed for something to spark that lad’s appetite, but so far my prayers have no’ been answered.”
“Nor mine.” John leaned against the wall. “Some men are just naturally thin and I’m thinking Rob’s one of them. He has such broad sho
ulders and with all the sit-ups and weight-lifting he’s doing, he’s so heavily muscled ’tis easy to miss how gaunt he really is.”
She started to respond, but John placed his finger to his lips.
Rob approached, his ever-present mug of coffee in his hand. “What are you twa blethering about? You look like you’ve received bad news.”
“Och, just the twists and turns life takes,” John said. “I haven’t heard from Maggie in almost a week, but I’ve fetched your post. How’s she doing?”
Elspeth flinched at the shadow of pain blooming Rob’s eyes. “She sounds fine, though I’m concerned about the danger she’s in and she seems to be pulling a lot of doubles again.”
“That’s to be expected now the war is escalating on so many fronts.” Elspeth rested her hand on Rob’s arm. “Walk me to the refreshment table, lad. I could use a cup of tea and a scone and I never did like to eat alone.”
“Sounds guid to me.”
Delight at the idea of getting him to eat turned to despair when he refilled his coffee mug and made an excuse to leave.
“I need to ask Malcolm where he got the diesel engine for his boat.”
***
Rob didn’t spurn food deliberately. He never felt hungry. That block of ice had been consumed by the fire now burning in his belly. Working, on either the rescue boat or his legs, was the only way to put it out. He never slept at night, but napped at his table every afternoon for three or four hours, just enough to keep him going for another twenty-four hours.
He started running in earnest—not far at first—but he increased the distance every day, no matter the weather. His left leg strengthened until he could run up and down the rocks along the strand at the bottom of the fell without stumbling.
He worked on his design every night, often until long past dawn. Malcolm brought him a large roll of drafting paper and soft pencils—though rationing was so tight—and Rob began the final design. He wrote detailed specifications on the construction and kept a separate notebook for every piece of hardware needed, plus another for the equipment necessary for cutting and shaping the wood. Several times, he fell asleep at the table and awoke an hour later, berating himself for time wasted.
Now that he could get around well, he allowed himself a few days to explore the island, wanting to store up those mind-pictures he and Maggie had talked about. Shep at his side, he covered seldom-used paths on the western shore that led down to the Atlantic before jogging to that cove near Scaur Fell that had impressed him with its beauty. He slipped off his shoes and socks, rolled up his denims, and raced barefoot through the sand, whooping like a bairn when a sneaker wave wet him to the knees.
The fresh-water loch beckoned him and he spent over an hour circling its banks before the nearby peat bog caught his attention. He scrambled up the slope and studied the countless pits where generations of islanders had cast peat, amazed by how much of the broad bog still remained.
He climbed down the brae to the burn below the McGrath cottage where rains had swelled the placid water into a small river, almost covering some of the willows. He sat on a large rock and watched the tumbling, frothy water, certain that Maggie had often sat in that same spot, looking up at the slopes of Ben Innis before turning her gaze to the vast sky. Though he searched diligently, none of her footprints survived the wet autumn. Heart heavy, he left the burn and climbed the brae.
Shep enjoyed the hours they spent trotting along cottage-lined paths, barking at ranging chickens and exchanging wary sniffs with other dogs. Rob returned greetings in Scots or the Gaelic and stopped to talk to Katag MacLeod, who hailed him from her cottage doorway as he passed. She handed him wee Beasag, now a plump, sonsie lassie. His eyes burned with tears when she grabbed his nose and squealed.
When he checked out the large shed he intended to use for building the rescue boat he found it in even better shape than he had hoped. With a sturdy wooden floor and a large door on the harbor side that would be perfect when it came time to launch the boat, only the roof needed repairing.
The last hours of indulgence were spent climbing to the top of Ben Innis. The sun, only a faint white smear behind black, roiling clouds, offered no warmth as he reached the summit. He walked around the tall stones and looked out over all Innisbraw. Smoke from peat stoves and fireplaces curled around thatched roofs. The autumn rains had transformed closely-cropped cow and sheep pastures into a patchwork of lush green grass between old dry-stone dykes.
The ocean, wild and unfettered, surged from horizon to horizon, and above, the vast, endless sky filled the heavens. The wind off the sea played a haunting song around Ben Innis’s stone sentinels—the same song he heard when flying a bi-plane. The music spoke to his soul as he studied the green, rocky land below, bounded on all sides by the sooking sea. If the Lord called him to Heaven when he returned to duty, he wanted to be buried right here. Kneeling, he rubbed Shep’s ruff. “This is what home looks like.” A husky whisper.
***
Rejuvenated from the change in routine, he returned to running every day, cutting his naps to a maximum of three hours. If it were raining, or even blowing and raining, he still ran until his A-2 jacket was soaked completely through with rain and sweat. Often exhausted, he forced himself to eat something, even a few bites, to keep John’s lectures to a minimum. He drank at least one pot of coffee at supper.
***
One overcast day, he had an exceptionally good run and was still going strong when he rounded the corner where the path passed the harbour. He came to a sudden stop.
Four men were lifting a large sign high above the entrance to the howff.
“Paddy’s Howff,” he read aloud. He jogged in place for a few minutes, then slowed to a walk to cool his muscles. He strode across the path, ordered Shep to stay, and ducked his head to step inside.
A tall, well-built, young, red-headed man barked orders to several young lads who were scraping the sides of the bar down to bare wood. “I’ll tan the daylights out of ye if ye scratch that wood, I will,” he shouted. “Gently, gently, like you’re caressin’ a baby’s bottom.” He whirled about as Rob approached. “Well, if you’re expectin’ to be paid, you’d better get to work.”
Rob grinned for the first time in weeks. This must be Paddy and from his heavy brogue, he was an Irisher. Rob stepped forward and extended his hand. “I never thought the Island Council would find somebody to take over this place,” he said in English. “I’m Rob Savage and welcome to Innisbraw.”
Paddy shook his hand briskly. “Paddy McDonald. You’re a tall one, that you are. Sure you don’t need a little silver to line your pocket? You won’t even need a ladder to do the paintin’ I need done.”
“Sorry. I’m on medical leave from the Air Forces, but I’ll soon be going back to duty in England.”
“’Tis a cryin’ shame. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better keep at this crew of mine before they forget what they’re doin’ and ruin that pretty wood. It’s been nice meetin’ you, Rob.”
“Same here, Paddy. Guid luck with your new enterprise.”
“’Tis thankin’ ye I am.”
Progress on Innisbraw, no matter how small. If the howff was a success, others might be encouraged to open businesses. He praised Shep for staying and whistled the dog to his side as he walked up the hill to the fell, spirits buoyed.
CHAPTER 45
RAF airfield hospital, outskirts of London
The nursing supervisor confronted Maggie on her way down the stairs. “You’re looking much too thin, Leftenant. I want you to eat a hearty dinner. We’re having Bubble and Squeak today. Mashed potatoes and cabbage are both very healthy and filling.” She shook her finger. “Remember, no excuses.”
Maggie’s stomach roiled. Another dinner fried in rancid oil. “Yes, ma’am.” She brushed by her supervisor and hurried downward, soles squeaking on the waxed oaken steps. The ground floor at last. She ducked around a corner and made her way to the back door off the scullery, avoiding the noisy, cro
wded dining room.
Once outside, she stopped and looked around. No one in sight. She cut across the tall grass, blades bending beneath the weight of last night’s rain. At last! Almost half an hour to spend alone.
Thank the Lord the nursing supervisor never took her meals with the nurses or orderlies. She didn’t like deceiving her superior, but how could she eat when she worried so about Rob?
She wandered through a copse of trees, tights wet to the knees, chapped hands thrust deep into the pockets of her sweater. His last few letters had been so brief—no information about his progress, no news of their friends, no humorous anecdotes about Shep.
Only weekly posts from her father, Elspeth, and Hugh kept her from panicking. But they didn’t answer one unsettling question. Why did she learn from others that Rob really could walk unassisted now? May soon start running?
He should have told her.
He wrote only about how much he missed holding her, hearing her voice, inhaling her scent, looking into her violet-blue eyes, how no words in any language could express his love for her. Every note ended with an underlined admonition to heed the air raid siren immediately. Had news of the German bomber crashing so near the hospital been reported in the Edinburgh Scotsman? But even if it had, Rob didn’t know where she was posted.
A tangled bed of ivy tripped her, but she continued to a copper beech tree she favoured for its shimmering, handful-of-new-minted-pence foliage. Now, only a few brown leaves clung to the branches. She leaned against the slick grey trunk, hugged herself to keep from shivering, and glanced at her watch. Only fifteen minutes before her dinner break ended. And she should allow time for a change of tights and shoes. Always such a regimented schedule.