Eyes closed, she rested her cheek against smooth bark. Take care of my Rob, Faither. I miss him so dreadfully. He used to write long posts, filled with news about the island, our friends, and especially how well he was doing. Now his letters are just notes. I’m worried about him. Something is wrong.
***
By the last week in October, Rob abandoned the entry bench where he and Maggie had spent so much time together. He climbed down the steep path to the strand at the base of Innis Fell and hunkered down beside a large rock, staring southeast toward London. He confessed his despair to the Lord. Countless couples worldwide had been apart far longer, but unlike most adults, he’d never known what it meant to love and have that love returned. His heart ached, the pain almost unbearable.
***
John grew more and more concerned about Rob. The lad drove himself relentlessly, sleeping little and eating far less than he should. Though his muscles were rock-hard, his clothes hung loose on his tall, thin frame. He never smiled or laughed, and his eyes looked empty—lost.
The doctor wrote to Maggie, asking her to request a leave.
Tell them your faither is ill, anything. I hate to resort to duplicity, but I’m worried about Rob. He’s driving himself relentlessly, sleeping, and eating little. I don’t want to frighten you, for he’s no’ really ill, but I’m afraid he will be if this continues. Please try to come home as soon as possible.
She replied by the next post.
I’ve requested compassionate leave. I’ve been told I can only have three days off, but no’ ’til the end of my shift on the fifteenth of November. Pray for guid weather so Malcolm can take me home from Oban and please take care of my Rob. He writes over and over that I’m to take great care if I hear the siren. I’m worried sick about him.
***
The plans for the rescue boat almost complete, Rob focused on his return to duty. He could run the path around the island—over seventeen kilometres—and do a hundred sit-ups on the incline board, more than enough to pass any physical the doctor at Edenoaks might throw at him.
He asked John for a few minutes of his time. He needed that medical release signed.
“I would be remiss as your physician if I didn’t remark on how much weight you’ve lost. Yes, your muscle mass has increased greatly, but you also need some fat on your body. You have none.”
“Fat slows me down.”
“Nonsense, fat gives you stamina. You must start eating more. I’ll post your release when you put on a few pounds.”
“A few pounds!”
“Aye. In the meantime, I suggest you write your commanding officer and inform him of your desire to return to duty. By the time the paperwork’s done, we’ll have a little more flesh on that tall frame of yours and you’ll be ready.”
Rob shook his hand. “Thank ye. I’ll start eating more. Anything to ...” he choked up “… to get back to duty—and Maggie.”
“Then, go ahead, lad, write your commander. But don’t go running off yet. I have some news that might interest you.”
“News? From Maggie?”
“No’ this time.” John stroked his short beard. “I just received a letter from that young constable on Skye. It seems there’s to be no trial for Una after all. Several psychiatrists have examined her and all agree that she must be institutionalized before she does herself harm.”
“She’s that bad then?”
“Aye. According to the constable, she spends part of her time sitting in her cell rocking back and forth, as though holding a bairnie, and crooning lullabies in the Gaelic. The rest of the time she’s tearing at her hair and clothing, and making the evil eye at the guards, screaming about revenge.”
“Och, what a terrible, tormented soul. What could have driven her to such madness?”
“I’ve no idea, but I’m thinking she’s been daft far longer than any of us realized.”
“What makes you think that?”
“According to the constable, Una has no kin living at or around Portree or anywhere on the Isle of Skye. The Hunters have all passed and the Monroes immigrated to America before the war, including that auntie she wrote about in the note she left on her door. They sold the family home and land outside Portree to pay for their passage and set them up in business when they started their new lives. They do send Una silver every month, but that’s been their only contact with her. She’s been living in an imaginary world far longer than any of us ever knew.”
Rob could only shake his head. A life destroyed by madness—what a waste.
John re-stacked papers on his desk. “Get busy with that letter to your commander.”
***
Rob forced himself to eat more, hoping to hear from wing quickly. When General Wells did not reply after almost two weeks, he again went to John. “Since we don’t have telephones here, I’m going to Oban with Malcolm on the morra to call General Wells.”
“No need. I’ll radio my office and have them put in a call to Wing Headquarters. General Wells may no longer be there.”
***
John was informed that Brigadier General Thomas Wells had been transferred back to the States and that Major General Harlan Fielding replaced him. When Rob heard the general’s name, he showed more animation than John had seen from him in weeks.
“Hal Fielding and I go way back.” He paced the office. “He was my instructor at Flight School, plus multi-engine and P-47 training. You couldn’t ask for a better man to command wing. I’ll catch that ride with Malcolm so I can phone Hal at Edenoaks Hall. We got along verra well. I need to find out if he wants me back in command of the 396th.”
“No’ necessary. He assured my head nurse he’s eagerly looking forward to your return. He’s only waiting for my release. He also said something most puzzling.”
Rob stopped in mid-stride. “What?”
“He said he was verra happy to hear you still remembered how to land a plane without your initial three bounces.”
Rob grinned. “’Tis a private joke.” He eyed John closely, grin fading. “Well? I’ve been eating more. Please sign that release and post it to him. I have to get back to duty.”
“Has Maggie written you about her leave?”
“No! What leave?”
“She’ll be here on the sixteenth. She has three days, so with travel time, she can only spend one full day here.”
Why didn’t Maggie mention a leave in one of her letters? Mebbe because of the censors. It didn’t matter. His Maggie was coming home! “Then write that release. With luck, I can coordinate my return to duty to coincide with hers.”
“I’ll send it by the morra’s post, though you’re still too thin by far.”On the Threshold
Suzanne—a mother with a long-held secret. Tony—a police officer with something to prove. Beth—a daughter with a storybook future. When all they love is lost, what's worth living for?
Suzanne Corbin and her daughter, Beth Harris, live a seemingly easy life. Suzanne has distanced herself from her past, replacing pain with fulfillment as a wife and mother, while Beth savors her husband’s love and anticipates the birth of their child. But all that is about to change.
Like a sandcastle buffeted by ocean waves, Suzanne’s façade crumbles when her perfect life is swept away. Tragedy strikes and police officer Tony Barnett intersects with the lives of both women as he tries to discover the truth. Left adrift and drowning in guilt long ignored, Suzanne spirals downward into paralyzing depression. Beth, dealing with her own grief, must face the challenge of forgiveness. Can these two women learn to trust each other again? Will they find the power of God’s grace in their lives?
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