Letters in the Grove

by Felicia Rogers

  The current dragged him downstream. Struggling to rise, Teresa finally made it to her feet and stumbled to the water’s edge. She grabbed a long stick, and climbed on another rocky outcropping and lowered the branch into the water. Victor floated by and grabbed hold.

  Hand over hand he pulled himself closer to the riverbank. Blood rushed between her ears and Teresa struggled to keep the branch steady. Cracking noises floated through the air and Victor’s eyes widened. The branch broke in half. Teresa stared in awe as Victor fell, his head dipping under the swirling water as he floated away.

  She followed the stream for a while but lost sight of him. Victor was gone. Whether he found a hold and pulled himself free or whether he drowned, she wasn’t sure.

  Night fell and Teresa struggled to find Bryce’s cabin or the Cameron keep. Exhaustion overwhelmed her and she settled next to a tree and laid her head against the rough bark. Through its branches, the stars twinkled. The moon glowed bright. The sound of owls hooting was the last thing she remembered before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

  ****

  The local town authorities were contacted and Herr Raeder was given a choice: leave or go to jail. Fortunately he accepted the first option.

  Before they left, Berend secretly met with Gustav at the Cameron keep. “We will find a way to draw him off Teresa’s trail.”

  “I thought you were already doing that. Which begs the question, why did he come so far to find her?”

  “The conflict is growing worse. I’m afraid this is just the beginning. But I believe with a few well thought out comments, Herr Raeder will realize Teresa is of no use to the movement as long as she remains in Scotland.”

  Gustav agreed. He watched covertly as the band of men left town. Neither Victor nor Teresa was with them.

  Organized into groups, Cameron men scoured their land. Grumbles were heard from across the valley. They didn’t think the lass wanted to be found, or if she did, it was too late. But Gustav refused to give up. If Teresa was out there, he would find her.

  Drizzles of fine rain coated their clothing. Pulling his sheepskin coat tighter around his person, his worry increased. Was Teresa out in this weather without shelter? If so, how long had she been exposed to the elements?

  Gustav found a place near the stream and dipped his feet in. The cool water soothed his sore appendages while sending a cascade of goose bumps along his body.

  The tree that had earlier fascinated his wife was now charred and black. A smattering of arrows lay at the base. Broken branches leaned toward the ground. Standing and placing his shoes back on, Gustav shifted his gaze back and forth along the water’s edge. Footprints and areas of depressed grass dotted the area.

  The prints continued along the perimeter of the stream and ended at a rock jutting over the water. Standing on the rock, Gustav used his hand to shield his eyes. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he decided to move on.

  The farther he walked, the more worried he became. Tiny pieces of cloth clung to various tree limbs. Rocks along the stream bank were displaced. Someone or something had been through here and disrupted the serene atmosphere.

  Each step brought more dread. If by some chance Victor had pulled Teresa along the bank, what would be his intended purpose? To thrust her beneath the chilly depths?

  Then he saw her. Propped against a tree trunk, Teresa slept with her head tilted to one side and her arms wrapped around her chest. With every breath, she shivered. The sight of her well and whole stunned him.

  Reality set in and he ran, dropped before her, and folded her into his arms. Her eyelids fluttered open and she placed a frigid hand upon his cheek.

  “Gustav? Am I home?”

  Effortlessly he picked her up and cradled her against his chest. Stumbling back along the path, he easily found Bryce and Lucy’s cabin. Lucy removed Teresa’s wet clothes while he gathered firewood, and Bryce raced to the keep to find someone who could help.

  For days Teresa’s life hung in the balance. A rapidly growing fever assailed her and Lucy and Sorcha worked day and night to keep it under control. Gustav was powerless. Prayer was the only course available to him.

  In the yard, Bryce created a fire. Gustav settled before the glowing embers. The wood popped and cracked with life, the flames enacting their own dance.

  “Gustav?” asked Bryce.

  “Aye?”

  “Lucy wants to see you.”

  His heart plummeted as he stood shakily to his feet. He tripped and Bryce rushed forward. “I’m all right.” Bryce stepped back and allowed him to make his way to the house.

  Stepping into the dimly lit room, he gulped. His mouth dropped open. There sitting up in the bed was his engel. She was pale, but alive. She held her hands out to him and he rushed forward, and fell at her side.

  “Teresa?”

  “Aye, I am all right.”

  He laid his head on the bed and cried. He cried as she smoothed his hair. This time she whispered words of encouragement to him. She didn’t use Gaelic, instead she quoted lines from their letters. With each phrase his heart soared. And he knew there was no longer a need for the grove. From now until they parted in death, they would share words of love with one another in person.

  Epilogue

  Bundled, the baby cooed as it kneaded her breast. While feeding her hungry son, she watched Gustav as he worked by Bryce’s side to plant a garden.

  Behind her was their home. Small and efficient, it had been completed just the week before.

  Bryce had generously given them a piece of his own property to build on. At first Teresa had feared Gustav would decline and they would remain like nomads moving where the wind blew, but she had been pleasantly surprised. Gustav had decided to remain in Scotland. The fields were as fertile for reform as in France, and besides that the great Grant Cameron wanted a designer of fine clothing in his midst.

  Dark brown eyes studied her and Teresa traced the pursed pink lips of her newborn son. Lucy came outside, her daughter comfortably snug against her.

  “How are you today?” she asked.

  “Good.”

  “Here is something Grant brought over yesterday. I thought you might like to see it.”

  “What is it?” asked Teresa, worry creasing her brow.

  “I didn’t read it, but it looks like a letter from Olga Schmidt. Grant said the messenger who delivered the missive is waiting at the keep until Gustav can write a reply.”

  Teresa peered at her husband.

  “Let me have the baby and you go talk to Gustav. Send Bryce this way. He needs a break anyway.”

  Teresa nodded and handed her son to Lucy. Every step she took had her looking over her shoulder. Lucy smiled warmly and Teresa tried not to worry. Would the letter tear apart her family when they had just settled down?

  Gustav noticed her coming. He placed his tool on the ground and leaned against the handle, a smile covered his handsome face. Nights of passion flooded her mind and heat rushed to her cheeks. He cocked a brow and she lowered her gaze toward the ground to cover her embarrassment.

  “Bryce, Lucy said you need to come to the house for a break.”

  Bryce didn’t question as he sped down the hill toward his waiting wife. Gustav’s chuckles rent the air.

  Alone with her husband, the sobriety returned. Teresa handed the missive to Gustav. Placing her hands together in a tight fist she waited for him to read the note and tell her the bad news, but instead he drew her close. Beside the plowed garden he sat on the ground and placed her before him. Holding the letter, he read aloud.

  Dear Brother,

  We received your letter at our new home and were delighted to find you have finally settled. The news that all is well with you and Teresa and that you are expecting a child has everyone happy. Words can not begin to express how I personally feel. I have wanted nothing else for you but this.

  However as I pen this letter my own heart is terribly burdened. I fear that as we reached our own destination a tragedy
occurred.

  Gustav stopped reading. He closed his eyes and laid his chin on her shoulder. Turning, she placed a soft kiss on his lips and squeezed his hand encouraging him to continue. He cleared his throat.

  The journey was arduous on us all. Several of the children came down with the fever but fortunately we found a group of people willing to help. Sarra and Cedric MacNeil offered the assistance of Charism. She is a wonderful woman that took extra pains to care for the children’s illness. Now they are well and running around the English household.

  Alas this is where I come to the distressing news. While we waited for the children to heal, Hans disappeared. All he left behind was a letter telling us not to worry, that he had found his true calling. But still, he has gone. I was unable to even tell him good-bye.

  I love you dearly. We continue to pray for you and your family. Let us know when the baby comes, being an aunt will bring me great joy. Your loving sister, Olga

  Gustav lowered the letter. “I can’t imagine how she must feel. Hans just came home and now he is gone again. Why would he do such a thing? Where could he have gone?”

  Teresa patted his hand. “Gustav, do you trust me?”

  He picked up her hand and kissed it. “With my life.”

  “Then trust me when I tell you Hans is safe.”

  “B–but how do you know?”

  “Hans and I spent a great deal of time together. He told me what he wanted to do with his life. I would say he decided not to wait any longer.”

  Gustav planted a kiss along her collarbone. “And is there something my wife wants to do with her life that she refuses to wait on?”

  Teresa shifted in his arms until she cradled his face in her hands. Pulling him close, she kissed him and he gasped. Leaning back a smile tilted the corner of her lips. “I can think of a few things.”

  ****

  Water rushed over the sides of the boat and Hans tightened his grip. The wind blew, causing roughness on the open water. Lifting his chin, he smelled the salt in the air. He threw his head back and laughed. This was the beginning of his new life.

  About the Author

  Felicia Rogers born and raised in the southern part of the United States is a Christian wife and mother, with a side interest-- writing. She won the Celebrate the Season Contest by Solstice Publishing in Sept. 2010 allowing her first novella, "The Holiday Truce" to be published. Since then she has published more than fifteen novels and novellas.

  Also from Felicia Rogers

  Chapter One

  “Good morning, Mr. Hampton,” said Elizabeth Smith, as she entered her boss’s office and placed his morning cup of coffee on his rich mahogany desk.

  “Oh, good morning, Elizabeth,” replied Charles Hampton in a distracted manner. She placed his day planner before him. The ancient bifocals he’d bought off eBay slid down his nose, forcing him to push them back into place. “Is this my schedule for the day?”

  Elizabeth moved around to the opposite side of the desk and settled herself in a chair. A clipboard rested on her lap as she adjusted her long flowery skirt. “I’m afraid so. You have a meeting with the Brownstones to discuss their divorce arrangements. Also an eleven-thirty luncheon with Mrs. Hampton. And then you have a meeting with the Winterbottom Corporation at two o’clock.”

  “Tell me. Why did I agree to do this divorce again?”

  “I believe you said it’s because Jack and Jamma Brownstone are two of your oldest and dearest friends, and you were hoping you could help them reconcile their differences before an actual divorce occurs.”

  “Hmm…that’s what I said, but I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t see how the two of them ever got married in the first place. They can’t agree on anything.”

  “I was under the illusion it gets easier to live with one another as time goes on. Not the other way around.”

  “You’re partially right. In most cases, each individual learns to let certain things go. These two haven’t spent enough time together or something. They haven’t reached the point of letting stuff go. Have you seen this list they’ve created of their assets?”

  “Yes, I can say I have.”

  Charles shifted in his reclining chair. The fact was Elizabeth was privy to more than just divorce documents. Classified papers often came through his office. Papers that contained dangerous information to certain people.

  Focusing on the list in front of him, he cleared his throat, “They even listed the kitchen sink. I mean, really, the kitchen sink. One of them wrote they wanted the, and I quote ‘pink fuzzy slippers that always sat under the dressing vanity in the bathroom.’ I hate to say it, but I don’t think it was Jamma that asked for those.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t retain the giggle that escaped from behind her hand. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it all work out for both of them.”

  Leaning back, he stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Breathing deep, he forced himself to relax. She was right, of course. That was why all his friends came to him if and when the need for a separation arose. They trusted him to take care of their every need. Although this particular case could turn out different.

  With a smile spreading across his face, he said, “I’m sure you’re right. It’ll work out. But I’m not sure either of them will be happy, no matter what happens.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Charles sent a lingering look in her direction. There was nothing she could do for him. Perhaps a better question was what he could do for her. What could he do to keep her safe once everything went down?

  She continued to stare at him with those big doe-like eyes, waiting for an answer. Finally, he said, “Yes, take these briefs and type them up. Get George on the line for me. I need to see if he’ll meet his mother and me for lunch today.”

  She nodded as she jotted down her notes. When she finished, Elizabeth headed toward his doors and the front office which contained her own desk.

  “And Elizabeth,” Charles said, stopping her before she closed his office door. She turned to face him. As she stared at him, he studied her mussed appearance. The skirt she wore touched the ground. Her curly mass of hair spread out at least six inches on either side of her head. This disguise had kept her from harm for months; now all of that might be about to change. Before he changed his mind about maintaining the secret, he added, “Thanks.”

  “Of course,” she said. A genuine smile rested on her lips as the door clicked shut behind her.

  ****

  Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon at her desk typing and listening to the elevator music that played throughout the office. The law offices of Hampton, Hampton, and Hampton consisted of three floors. Each floor contained one partner, several lawyers and many assistants. Her position was a special one. In essence, she was the head assistant, not in charge or control, but rather one who knew everything that occurred in the building. Every case taken by the lawyers in the firm first came through Charles Hampton’s office and therefore fell across her desk.

  Sometimes the mere fact that she held such an important position astounded her. Trust between Elizabeth and Mr. Hampton was vital. Simple things had been asked of her to maintain this trust.

  Fingering the material of her clothes, Elizabeth released a pent-up breath and walked to the long row of windows and looked outside.

  Charles Hampton, her boss, was the senior member of the firm. He had the best floor, located at the top of the building. From this position, one could see the outstretched arm of the Statue of Liberty. Those in the lower tiers called it “The Penthouse.”

  The next floor down was for George Hampton, Charles’ eldest son. Then one more floor below contained the last part of the firm. It belonged to Henry Hampton. Henry, the youngest of the family, had just joined the firm about three years before. Among all three of the members, the law firm of Hampton, Hampton, and Hampton could take on just about any case imaginable.

  Charles’ specialty wa
s contract law. George defended white-collar crime and the youngest son, dubbed ”little Henry,” had taken on divorce and injury law. Although all of them took other cases on occasion. The firm was a smorgasbord. When you came to Hampton, Hampton, and Hampton, it was like going to a buffet. They had a little bit of everything to choose from.

  Under each of the Hampton men, there was another tier of lawyers. And under each of those lawyers was a layer of paralegals, assistants, and other personnel. In all, the firm employed anywhere from fifty to one hundred employees, and right now Elizabeth was at the pinnacle of the operation.

  Elizabeth had graduated law school in her early twenties and went into practice in her hometown in Tennessee. When her aunt Mary, who lived in New York, passed away, she left Elizabeth a townhouse with a half-paid mortgage in her will. Elizabeth left her job and her family and moved.

  Upon arriving in New York, she realized she no longer wanted to be the lawyer working eighty hours a week with no home life, no family. While skimming ads in the newspaper, she found an advertisement for a position at the Hampton law firm. It was just an assistant’s position, but proved to be steady work with set hours and decent pay.

  Elizabeth had jumped at the chance. Now she was the assistant to the top man of the entire firm. She loved it. He was a great man to work for. His wife, Janice, was a dear. The three of them got along fabulously.

  The only downside to working at the firm had been a change in attire. There was no chance Elizabeth would ever be included in a fashion magazine, that was certain. Before getting the job, she had worn clothing that at least fit her body. Elizabeth walked back to her desk and sat down. Sighing deeply, she shuffled through the papers on her desk and thought about Janice’s request.