All that mattered now was that she live. . . . Please, dear God, let her live.
Bill straightened and looked at her as if to memorize her face. With his fingertips, he tenderly traced the graceful line of her cheek, her jaw. “Pretty Sarah, open your eyes; don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. I don’t want to go on living without you.” He pressed his lips gently to the corner of her still ones. A tear dripped onto her cheek. “You must live, sweetheart.”
Seeing her beautiful hair imprisoned in the thick braid frustrated him. His hands trembling, he unwove the long silky strands, freeing them and spreading them to one side of her in a shimmering curtain. His gaze went to her flat stomach, and at the reminder, another stab of pain sliced through him. She must have known for months.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the baby, Sarah? Did you think I wouldn’t want it?” Gently he brushed tendrils of her hair from her temple. Memory of those occasions she’d asked if he liked children and seemed apprehensive about his offhand responses accused him. These past nights, when they’d discovered their love and she’d lain in his arms, he’d felt the slight swell of her stomach but thought it was weight gained due to her renewed appetite for food. What a fool he was!
He closed his eyes. “Oh, Sarah, Sarah. God willing, we’ll create another baby. I do want children with you. Just please, don’t die.”
Time passed, but Bill remained. Brent came inside and laid a consoling hand to his shoulder, trying to urge him away from the bedside to eat something. Bill refused, and Brent finally left him alone to his tortured vigil. Night darkened the windowpane.
Throughout the bleak hours, Bill sat near her bed and replayed every sin, every crime he’d ever committed. That his Sarah should have been the one to suffer for all of them sliced through his conscience, tore through his heart. Why couldn’t it be him lying there? He deserved it. Why couldn’t it have been him?
He watched her face, took note of the shallow rise and fall of her chest, afraid to look away, as if by staring at her he could keep her alive. His prayers were without words but contained his entire soul. If she did come back to him, he would never again fail to tell her of his love for her, would tell it to her a hundred times a day.
Early into the morning, exhaustion overtook him, and he laid his head down beside her arm to rest. Her moan woke him what could have been minutes or hours later. Snatched from uneasy sleep, he raised his head in shock. Saw her lashes flicker. His heart skipped erratically as she slowly opened her eyes.
“Bill. . .” Her word was a mere breath.
“I’m here, baby.” Tears threatened again, and he squeezed her hand tightly. “I’m here. Just hold on; don’t leave me. You’re going to get well, and we’re going to have a great life together. I promise.”
In the depths of her dark eyes shone a look of such intense love it took Bill’s breath away. She nodded her head slightly against the pillow in confirmation and again closed her eyes.
How could he have ever doubted her love for him? Never again would he.
He waited until he was assured Sarah slept peacefully, then rose, his legs numb and shaky from sitting for so long. Brent met him when he came outside the door. A wave of gratitude that his brother had been with him throughout the whole night threatened Bill’s dubious composure. Relief caused everything to converge upon him at once.
“Bill?”
“I feel she’s going to make it.”
“I’m relieved to know it.” Brent looked uneasy. “Do you think we should ask for the police to post a guard on the event that those men will return?”
Averting his gaze from his brother to the gray light now coloring the window, Bill swallowed hard over the grief that clogged his throat and stared straight ahead.
“Bill?”
“There’s no need for that. A life for a life.” Bill gravely looked at his brother. “Vittorio won’t be bothering us again.”
Without another word, Bill strode from the house. He kept walking until his legs burned, until his breath came fast and he could go no farther. Slumping down against a tree, he finally allowed the emotion to overtake him and wept for Sarah and the child he would never know.
Twenty-three
Bill sat and stared at the cracks in the porch. He heard someone come up beside him but didn’t turn to look. For a long time, they remained silent.
“You need to stop taking all the blame,” Charleigh said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“How can you say that?” Head hung low, Bill threaded his fingers through his hair to the back of his scalp. “It was only my fault. If I hadn’t joined up with those men years ago, none of this would have happened.”
“Bill.” She put a kind hand to his shoulder. “You simply can’t go on like this. You haven’t eaten, haven’t slept. Forgive me for saying so, but you look terrible. You spend almost all your time sitting out here, staring at nothing. It’s been almost three weeks. The doctor says Sarah’s going to be fine. But she needs you to be strong right now; this has been very hard on her.”
Bill swallowed hard. “How, Charleigh? How can I be strong for her when I feel as if my own soul and heart are crushed, when I know that all this happened because of me?” He looked at her, pleading. “Please. Tell me. How?”
She sank to the chair beside him, her manner one of gentle earnestness. “Only God can help you get through this, Bill. I know you’re having a hard time trusting Him right now; I understand that. But you need to let go of the blame and stop looking at what you could have done differently in the past. We all make mistakes; we’re human. Sometimes, unfortunately, we end up having to pay for those mistakes, as Stewart already told you. Even after we get right with God. But what’s important is to continue the course, to put this all behind you, and go on.”
“Put it all behind me?” Bill stared at her, incredulous. “We lost a child. My wife was shot and almost died.”
“I know.” Her eyes were full of sympathy. “And I know what I’m saying doesn’t seem to make sense right now, but it really is the way not only to survive but to live a life of victory. The days will get better; I speak from experience. When you accept Jesus into your life, the storms do come, but so do the blessings. And they will come for both you and Sarah. Just don’t give up on God.”
She hesitated, as if unsure she should speak. “What Sarah did in pushing you out of the way and then taking that bullet reminds me of the love God showed for us, in that He took the punishment that should have been ours. I really think you’ve punished yourself long enough, Bill. God forgave you. He died on the cross for you. Sarah forgave you, too.”
Bill closed his eyes at that, emotion causing his throat to ache. Sarah had been nothing but gentle and loving, forgiving all his wrongs both past and present when he didn’t deserve her forgiveness. In the cemetery now lay a small granite marker, an eternal testimony of his past sins, but she had never blamed him for the loss of their child or for any of his mistakes. And that sharpened his guilt almost to a point beyond what he could bear. He’d hardly been able to look at or be with her. Though it was all he wanted.
“Go to her. She needs you.”
Bill nodded, resigned. He needed her, too, but still felt unworthy of her. He stood and went into the house, heaviness underlining his every step as he ascended the stairs.
When he opened their bedroom door, Sarah turned from the pillows to look at him. Such joy, such hope shone across her face and in her eyes, making Bill catch his breath. Gone were the days when she shielded her emotions; each nuance of expression told of her strong love for him.
“Sarah.” Apprehension lifted from him as he quickly strode toward the bed and sat beside her, pulling her into his arms. Her head rested beneath his chin, and he fought the tears that now so often dwelled just beneath the surface. “I’m so sorry.”
“Bill.” Her hand reached up to press against his cheek, and she moved back as though to look at him. He stiffened his hold, not wanting her to see his tears. Regardless, the
y dripped onto her fingers.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she said softly. “We have both suffered this loss. You aren’t to blame.”
He closed his eyes tightly. Would he ever believe that?
“I have felt so alone,” she admitted. “Please don’t go from me, too.”
Her fearful tone sliced his heart, and he pulled away slightly, lifting his hands to cup her face. “Sarah, I will never leave you. Never. I’ve just been so confused, so upset. I didn’t know how to sort out all that’s happened to us. I still don’t.”
She nodded as though she understood. Tears ran from their eyes. They looked at one another seconds longer before he again drew her close. Weeping in each other’s arms, they shared the pain of their loss.
While wrapped in one another’s embrace, they experienced healing’s first touch.
❧
“Sarah?”
At Bill’s voice, she turned from entering the lake.
“I thought I’d find you here.” He wrapped his arms around her waist in greeting and kissed her firmly. Pulling back, he gently slid a fragrant red blossom above her ear.
Sarah’s heart leapt at his touch and his smile. Often he brought her roses in full bloom, since he’d told her about love’s gentle fragrance. The continual bloom of their love filled her heart with song.
“Swim with me?” she asked.
He looked out at the lake. “Oh, well, why not?” He went to sit down and took off his shoes and socks. “The water shouldn’t be too cold for early summer. At least I hope it isn’t.”
She giggled and pulled on his hand. “I have found that the cold can be invigorating.”
The water was more than cold; it was frigid. Bill yelped and tried to shoot out of the lake, but Sarah tugged on his hand, pulling him in farther. “Do not cast a kitten or be such a high hat,” she teased.
“Have a fit? Me? And pretty Sarah. . .” He changed his tactics, playing the predator to her prey. A flame kindled in his eyes, and his brows lifted with promise of sure retribution as he advanced a step toward her. “If you’re going to call me a snob, then you’d better be willing to pay the consequences.”
Squealing, she released his hand and splashed farther out until the water hit above her shoulders. He made a shallow dive after her. She didn’t try very hard to escape, anticipating the moment of his sure victory.
He caught her and held her close. She melted against him. Soon neither of them felt the chill as he exacted his sweet revenge and she delighted in her defeat.
“I love you, Sarah,” he whispered against her mouth long moments later. He pulled away to look into her eyes. “Every day that passes, I thank God that we’re together. I hate what Vittorio did to us, but strange as it may sound, I think it bonded us even more. I never fully realized the extent of your love for me, or mine for you, until that day you took the bullet that should have been mine.”
Sarah was surprised by his words. During her recovery all through the long fall and winter, and even into the spring, they hadn’t spoken of that horrible day except briefly. Always, they tried to step around the subject that had brought them so much grief and loss.
She pressed her hand against his cheek. “I did not think; I only acted. I was afraid you would be killed.”
“I almost did die when I heard that gun go off and saw you lying there.”
Sarah remembered the pain, the heartache, the loss. Yet with Bill’s love and encouragement, his tender care and touch, he had pulled her through that trying time, helping her to heal both in heart and in body. And she had helped him to heal as well. Together, they’d helped one another.
At first, fearful uncertainty that the men might return had tormented her, but Bill assured her that Vittorio had taken his vengeance. Bill knew these men, and he knew they would have observed from the shadows, learned of the private funeral, and would have looked to see the child’s grave.
As though sensing her sudden melancholy, he tilted her chin so that she was looking into his turquoise-colored eyes. They gleamed with assurance, reminding her of inviting waters. “Don’t be sad, pretty Sarah. We’ll have a family some day. Whenever God thinks the time is right, we’ll create another baby.”
A slow smile tilted her lips. She took hold of his hand beneath the water and guided it to her flat stomach, pressing it there.
“The time is right.”
Bill’s eyes widened at her quiet words and he stared for a few seconds before he spoke. “You don’t mean. . .”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I am.”
Bill’s boyish whoops and hollers made Sarah laugh in delight. Their joy rang out over all the lake. Scooping her up into his arms, he held her close, while she wrapped her arms about his neck.
“I love you, Bill.”
“And I love you, my pretty Sarah, always and forever.”
She met his kiss, revealing all the feelings she had for him, never again holding back. For in both God’s love and Bill’s, she had found her source of true strength.
Epilogue
Bill paced up and down the parlor. Outside, a wet snow fell. Each time he heard the creak of stairs, he halted his trek to dart a glance that way, but it was always only another of the children.
“Keep this up, guv, and we’ll have to ship you off to Bedlam. I declare you must be wearing a hole in that rug.” Darcy bounced her and Brent’s newest baby, Madeline, over her shoulder. From the swell of her stomach, she would be expecting another child early in the summer. As would Charleigh, who walked in from the kitchen, bearing a huge pot of steaming water and towels over her arm.
“Let me get that for you, sweetheart.” Stewart grabbed the pot and followed her upstairs. Bill noticed that since hearing news of the baby, Stewart had treated Charleigh like china, barely allowing her to lift anything at all. Much as Bill had treated Sarah.
“I don’t recall ever seeing you this nervous about anything.” Brent eyed Bill.
He threw his brother a disgusted look. “Don’t you think the situation warrants it?”
Brent had the audacity to chuckle and settle back on the sofa, one of the twins sitting on each side of him. Clementine sat beside Beatrice, and both toddlers looked at the pictures in a book spread out on their legs. On the phonograph in the next room, Joel and Jimmy had put on a record that scratched out the tune “Ain’t We Got Fun?”
Bill thought it highly inappropriate for the moment. Fun was the last thing he was having.
“Ah, but I’ve been through this event twice before, Bill. Truly, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Aw now, guv’ner,” Darcy teased as she came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “The way I heard tell it, you passed out cold when Robert Brent was born. Fainted dead away, he did.” She winked at Bill in amusement.
“Yes, my dear. But Robert’s presence was highly unexpected. I didn’t know we were having twins.”
Bill suddenly felt sick and dizzy at the same time. He’d heard twins ran in families. . .and Brent was his brother. The thought of having one was both terrifying and wonderful. The thought of two. . .
Suddenly from upstairs, the sound of a baby’s lusty cry stopped everyone from what they were doing and had them glancing toward the ceiling.
Brent’s smile widened as he looked at Bill. “Congratulations, big brother. It sounds as if you’re a father.”
The dizziness threatened to overtake Bill, and he grabbed the back of a chair.
“You all right, guv?” Darcy moved toward him.
“Just a little lightheaded.”
She grinned. “Must run in the family.”
Bill moved toward the staircase as if he were wading to it through deep water. He put his hand on the banister but just looked up the stairs. He heard a door open. Charleigh came out, and upon seeing him, her smile grew wide.
“I was just coming to get you. Come along.” She motioned him upward, as if encouraging a nervou
s boy.
The weights that had grounded him released, and he charged up the staircase. She laughed and put a finger to her mouth. “Shhh.”
“Oh, uh, sorry.” Feeling suddenly awkward, he swallowed as he followed her into the bedroom he shared with his wife. The moment he saw Sarah, all hesitancy vanished.
Her face shimmered with perspiration; her hair was damp and clung to her, but the joy that glowed out of her dark eyes was unmistakable. “Bill.” Smiling, she held out her hand to him, and he quickly moved to her side, sitting on the bed. He took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips, closing his eyes.
“Sarah.” He couldn’t push anything out beyond that.
“Would you like to see your son?”
Son. Bill’s heart went into double-time, and all he could do was nod.
She pulled down the thin sheet that had been protecting the wrapped bundle she held against her side in the crook of her arm. Bill stared in wonder at the tiny face, the closed eyes with their thick lashes. A thatch of dark hair covered his scalp. In awe, he brushed his finger along the baby’s head, his soft cheek, to the little hand, which held tightly to a lock of Sarah’s hair. How could a baby be so tiny?
Fierce love swamped Bill—for both the little fella who was flesh of their flesh and for his beautiful wife. “He’s amazing. And I know the perfect name for him.”
She looked at him, expectantly.
“Josiah.”
Tears touched her eyes. “He would be honored.”
“If it wasn’t for your father, none of us would be here right now.” His gaze was tender as he looked upon his wife, then down at his son. “Including this little guy.”
“Josiah William.” Sarah smiled. “It is a good name.”
“God has been good to us, Sarah.”
“Yes, Bill. He has.”
Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers, thankful for the gentle fragrance of their love.
Aobut the Author
A Gentle Fragrance Page 15
