In the Shadow of Your Wings

by J. P. Robinson

  As Eleanor had noted, he had not spoken in the week since he had come back from the brink. This was not because he could not speak but because he chose not to. After realizing that his nurse was Eleanor, guilt had caused silence to become his refuge.

  He shifted slightly, ignoring the dull pain in his abdomen and covered his face with his hands. What could he say? She thought her husband was dead because of a lie that he bitterly regretted saying. And if she wanted to know the truth? He honestly didn’t know if Will was alive or dead. He had seen the Germans take him prisoner but beyond that he knew nothing.

  A soft groan escaped Malcolm’s lips. The past was a prison from which there was no escape. Of that, he was certain.

  Chapter 30

  Etaples, France. July 1916

  Etaples reeked of blood, gunpowder, and death. It was the latter which had the greatest impression on Leila. Everything around her seemed dead. There were no trees or vegetation—even the people around her slouched about much like she imagined a living corpse might.

  And what of Malcolm? She cringed at the thought that he might be dead. But, if she were honest with herself, the thought of facing him alive was equally distressing.

  Leila’s dark brown boots squelched as she made her way through the sprawling camp. Her feet dragged in the mud as though the earth itself was unwilling to let her take another step forward. On all sides people, horses, and vehicles jostled for space. Parading soldiers filed past her, their faces void of hope. The incessant barrage of noise that assaulted her ears made her long for Northshire’s quiet pastures. But she would not go home—not until she had made her wrongs right.

  She coughed and covered her nose.

  “Decomposing bodies.” Thomas nodded toward a pile of corpses that had yet to be interred, a frown creasing his brow. “The orderlies should have taken care of this. Disease can run rampant in a camp this size.”

  Thomas took the lead, clearing a path for her as they walked. He was in uniform and the decorations on his chest and shoulders parted the crowd as easily as Moses’s rod had parted the Red Sea.

  “The man at the gate said the hospital was straight down this path.” Leila quickened her pace. Despite the warm humid air, she could swear her fingers and toes were made of ice.

  Thomas pointed toward a series of hut-like structures that lay across an open plaza. A scrawling sign across the top of the building read Saint John’s Ambulance Brigade Hospital.

  “Right.” His face hardened as though he were about to commit his men to battle instead of pay a visit to his wounded son.

  “If Malcolm is still alive,” he tugged his khaki cap firmly on his head and pulled on his leather gloves, “he will be inside.” He gestured toward the door. “You first.”

  Leila inched forward but paused at the door. Her skin was gooseflesh, each raised pore bearing mute testament to the incongruous emotions that made her breath come in shallow bursts and turned her hands into moist dishrags.

  “It has to be done, Leila.”

  She glanced at Thomas. His own face was pinched and wan but from the determined set in his jaw she knew that he would not turn back. She realized for the first time how much he was counting on this moment. Today would either reconcile the family or rip it apart forever.

  He was right. It had to be done.

  She set her shoulders, whispered a prayer, then opened the door and stepped inside. Her boots thudded softly on the hardwood floor. The scent of medicine filled her nostrils, but she ignored it, peering at faces as she edged forward.

  “Can I help you?” A woman about her age moved from beside a bed-ridden patient. She wore a blue dress that was covered by a blood-stained apron. Wisps of dark hair escaped the white cap emblazoned with a red cross. Her pale, worn face accentuated the dark shadows beneath her brown eyes.

  “Y-yes, I’m here to see Malcolm Steele. Is... he here?” Leila’s throat felt tight. Have faith Leila. You belong to God now.

  The woman’s forehead crinkled. “I didn’t know he had family.”

  “He’s alive, then?” This was from Thomas who stepped around Leila and stooped to peer at the nurse’s face.

  A soft smile played about her lips. “Yes. Yes, he is alive.” She turned and motioned for them to follow. “I’ll take you to him.”

  They followed. Leila’s boots beat out a funeral procession on the wooden slats as memories of their last meeting swirled within her mind. Death was all around her. Thud. Their marriage was dead. Thud. Her dreams for the future were dead. Thud. Her heart was dead.

  They stopped abruptly in front of a metal bed on which a man lay with his back toward them. The nurse laid her hand on his shoulder. “You have company.”

  He pushed himself up at the sound of her voice and, with a groan, he rolled over.

  Leila’s knees turned to water. She grabbed ahold of the bed’s cold metal frame and stared into the face that was so familiar yet so foreign. “Malcolm?”

  AT FIRST, HE THOUGHT he had lapsed into unconsciousness and the beautiful face that hovered inches from his own was another figment of his twisted mind. But the wild galloping of his heart convinced him that this impossibility was indeed reality.

  Malcolm shuddered. “What... what do you want?” His eyes darted from Leila to Thomas.

  “We’ve come to talk with you.” Leila knelt by the bed.

  He drew back as though her presence was a virus that contaminated the air he breathed. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Malcolm,” Thomas walked around to the other side of the bed clearing his throat, “son... how are you feeling?”

  Rage flooded Malcolm’s mind, muting his pain. “Son?” He barked out a sharp, bitter laugh. “So now that I’ve come back from the brink of the grave, now you call me your son?”

  “Malcolm, please.” Leila straightened, wringing her hands together.

  He twisted toward her. The pain of her betrayal sliced through his heart afresh as he drank in the sight of her golden hair and emerald eyes. Loathing and desire swirled within him, reducing him to a state of abject misery. “I said I never wanted to see you again. That still stands.”

  She flinched. “There are things I need to say to you, Malcom.”

  “Get out of here! Both of you.” His hoarse shout brought the hubbub around them to a standstill. Malcolm fell back against the sheets as spasmodic coughs ripped through his chest.

  Leila glanced around and caught the eye of the nurse. “Is... is there a place we can talk with him privately?”

  “No!” Malcolm waved a hand between coughs. “Don’t listen to her, Eleanor. I don’t want to talk.”

  Eleanor eased him up to a sitting position and waited for him to grow still. Then she pinned him with a hard stare. “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, Malcolm, but it appears to me that they’ve come a long way to see you.”

  She turned to Leila. “There’s a chapel just in the next room. Wait in there. I’ll get a wheelchair and bring him inside in just a few moments.”

  Nodding, Leila moved off with Thomas.

  Malcolm slumped against the pillow. Why did Eleanor have to interfere? What right did Leila have to reinsert herself into his life? And Thomas! To claim that he cared after expelling him from his home was almost laughable.

  He frowned as a thought occurred to him. When he last parted with Leila she had been at odds with Thomas but now the two seemed as though they were on the same side. What could that mean?

  His frown deepened as Eleanor wheeled a thin steel chair toward the bed. She leaned closer and he was startled to see a harsh glint in her eyes. “Malcom Steele, that was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  Shock paralyzed his tongue.

  “A man travels from England to a war zone to see his son and you don’t even have the courtesy to listen to what he’s got to say?” Eleanor jerked him upright and he yelped as pain, caused by the abrupt movement, burned in his gut.

  “You saved my life once,” she positioned
him over the chair and let him drop into it, hard. “God gave me the chance to repay the debt and now I owe you nothin’. Nothin’ but the truth.”

  Malcolm groaned again, swaying in the chair. “You’re no nurse. You’re a she-devil! A fiend!”

  “You haven’t seen anythin’ yet.” Bending low, Eleanor grinned at him then whipped the chair around roughly as she pushed it forward. “Now you listen and think about what they’ve come to say. Anythin’ is forgivable if you’re willin’ to try.”

  His angry retort stuck in his throat. Anything? Anything is forgivable? Would she say the same if he confessed what he had done to her? Uncertainty made him waver and on the heels of uncertainty came a hounding curiosity. How could Leila and Thomas possibly have found any common ground? The only way he could discover the truth was to listen. The wheels of the chair squeaked as they moved toward the chapel.

  “Alright, alright.” Malcolm released a tightly held breath. “I’ll listen. But I have absolutely no intention of forgiving anyone.”

  He winced as Eleanor patted him on the shoulder. “I knew you’d come around.”

  THE CHAPEL WAS A SPACIOUS room with a dedicated space for servicemen in wheelchairs near the front. Light streamed into the room from stained-glass window panes, coming to rest on a simple cross above an elevated platform on which the pulpit rested. Thomas fiddled with his tie and kept his eyes glued on the double doors through which Malcom would enter.

  It was difficult to determine which of the emotions that raged within him was the most powerful. The sight of his son’s body, bruised by enemy fire, had aroused a fierce protectiveness that he had never experienced. Malcolm had been wounded in the line of duty, and severely at that! Pride in his son’s accomplishments tried to dominate his heart, but the warm feeling had been marred by Malcom’s cutting words.

  Easy, Thomas. His gaze shifted to Leila who had chosen to sit down on a narrow, hardbacked pew so she would be at the level of her husband’s eyes.

  Don’t forget, you’re here to make peace, not reignite a war. But for peace to reign, all parties had to be willing to come to terms. After Malcom’s outburst, he doubted that his son was ready to consider any position other than his own.

  Open his eyes, Lord.

  The doors parted, and Thomas caught his breath as his son was wheeled into the room. Malcolm was shirtless but white linen bandages swathed his abdomen and sides. He had grown lean and brawny since his departure from Northshire. Sixteen months of rugged training and active combat had brought solid muscle where it had not been before. His unshaven face was swollen on one side and Thomas could see the faded imprint of a soldier’s boot on his cheek.

  The nurse, whom Malcolm had called Eleanor, dipped her head to Thomas and Leila, then left the room. For a long moment, silence claimed the chapel.

  “Well?” Malcolm’s eyes rolled from Leila to Thomas and back again. “I’m here. Talk.”

  Thomas opened his mouth, but Leila spoke first. “Malcolm, thank you for this chance to explain. I... know we left on bad terms, but I hope that what I’m about to say will help you understand.” She sucked in a deep breath and stared into his eyes. “You left me because you thought that I was unfaithful.”

  “No.” Malcolm straightened in his chair. “I didn’t think it. I caught you in the act. You were kissing a man in uniform outside a pub in London. Or did you do it so often that you forgot the details of that particular night?”

  Leila flinched but did not lower her gaze. “Malcolm, I didn’t love that man.”

  “Oh, well that’s just peachy, isn’t it!” Scorn dripped from his voice like acid. “You leave your husband and make love to any man who happens to be in the right place at the right—”

  “Malcolm, please,” Leila raised her voice, cheeks scarlet. “Just listen to what I have to say.”

  He leaned back, massaging his temples. “Fine. Get on with it.”

  She pulled in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then spoke in clear measured tones. “I... was sent to England as a German spy. The man you saw me kissing was my contact. I heard footsteps and asked him to kiss me to protect my cover.”

  The words came out in a rush, as though she had only a few seconds left of her life in which to make her final confession.

  “I was married once before and,” her voice dropped, “my first husband died while trying to kill me. I fled back to Germany, not knowing what else to do. My life was ruined. Over. I joined Department 3B, hoping to find some kind of meaning for my life. I never thought that it could happen but, after we met, I fell in love with you and I’ve never stopped.” Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. “I-I can’t live without you.”

  He sat as though he had been carved from granite. Thomas’s heart ached for the woman who sat next to his son, head lowered, and shoulders quivering. He silently begged Malcolm to forgive, but he knew before his son opened his mouth that there would be no mercy.

  A vein throbbed in Malcolm’s neck. “Spy. Spy? You married me... for information?” He held up a fist. “If I had a gun, I’d—”

  “You’d what?” Thomas stepped forward, barely holding his temper in check. “You’d kill her? A woman with enough courage to confess something like that in a camp swarming with British soldiers? She didn’t have to come here, Malcolm. She chose to.”

  Malcom’s head swiveled in his direction. “You knew about this?”

  “I only found out the truth when Leila came to my home and confessed.” Thomas shook his head. “I saw through her guilt and welcomed her as a daughter.”

  “A daughter!” Malcolm’s wheezing laugh filled the air. “You reject me as your son, but this woman—an enemy—you welcome into our home? You’re mad!”

  Thomas glanced at the doors behind his son. “Lower your voice!”

  “Malcolm, I’m changed. I’ve found Jesus!” Leila reached for his hand, but he slapped it down.

  “You’re an enemy! A conniving whore of an enemy who deceives everyone around her.” He stared at Thomas, pale face twisted with disgust. “You collaborate with our enemy? Look what they did to me!” He pointed to the bandages covering his chest.

  Thomas’s nostrils flared. “Don’t ever question my loyalty, boy. I was fighting the King’s enemies while you were still sleeping in your cradle. If I choose to overlook this woman’s crimes, who are you to remember them?”

  “I’m her husband!” Malcolm slammed his fist against the arm of his chair. “But apparently another man had first claims on her.”

  His eyes drilled Leila’s crimson face. “You married me without even saying a word about it.” He leaned back with a sneer. “Well, God and Thomas may forgive you, but I swear that I never will.”

  “Malcolm, please!” Leila dropped out of the chair and onto her knees. “I’m begging you.” She clasped her hands in front of her tear-streaked face. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “Well I do.” Malcom’s voice was tight. He grabbed Leila’s wrist and pulled her toward him. She cried out as his grip tightened.

  “Unhand her!” Thomas lurched forward but Leila shook her head.

  “No, Thomas. It’s alright.”

  With a wicked grin Malcom jerked her toward him and kissed her hard on the lips. She gasped as he pulled back and shoved her away. “Since I left you, I’ve shunned all women. The thought of what you’d done was enough to make me sick.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “But as soon as I’m able, I’m going to go to the nearest brothel to make up for lost time.”

  “Malcolm, that’s enough.” Thomas pulled Leila away and stood between them. “Your behavior is sickening.”

  Malcolm wiped his lips with the back of his wrist. “Then nothing has changed, has it? I’m still the disappointment, the son you wish you never had.”

  Thomas’s chest tightened. “You’re wrong, so wrong. When I held you for the first time it was as though Paradise itself had entered our bedroom.”

  He stepped forward, hand upraised. “W
hen I heard your first cry, I thought it was an angel singing.” His hand fell limply to his side. “I never thought you would become capable of such barbarism.”

  Malcolm was still for a long moment. Then he thrust a finger in Leila’s face. “If you ever come near me again, I will denounce you.”

  She stepped around Thomas and stared down at him. Her tears were gone, only the traces of salty lines remained.

  “Then why not do it now?” She balled her hands into fists. “Let them kill me, Malcolm, because a life without you is not worth living.”

  He opened his mouth, gawked a moment, then closed it.

  “Get out or I swear I’ll do it now.”

  “And what about me?” Thomas stood at Leila’s side, hands clasped behind his back. “Denouncing her will tell the world that your father harbored a German in his home?”

  A twisted smile slid over Malcolm’s lips. “Well, that’s just the thing, Thomas. I have no... father.”

  Thomas felt as though a bolt of lightning had fragmented his heart into a pile of seared chunks. Can he hate me so much? The corners of his mouth turned down. “So be it.”

  “So be it.” Malcolm jerked his head to the door. “Now, get out.”

  “Let’s go, Leila.” Thomas took Leila by the elbow and pulled her toward the door.

  “Malcolm, forgive me.”

  “Out!”

  “Forgive me!” Leila repeated the words over and over, but his face remained a cold mask that haunted Thomas long after the doors had swung shut.

  THE NEXT DAY, LEILA and Thomas stood at the prow of a frigate as it chugged across the Channel toward Britain. Other than a few terse words, neither had spoken since the debacle at Saint John’s hospital. Each remained locked in their own world of grief and disappointment.

  Finally, Leila broke the silence. “Thank you, Thomas.” She pulled off her cap, letting the wind play games with her hair.

  “I don’t see any reason to thank me.” Thomas rubbed the nape of his neck. “You’re in more danger now than ever before. If Malcolm ever gets a notion to act upon his threats...” He left the sentence unfinished.