Philip was tremendously relieved and grateful that she was actually going to be traveling back to Norwood village with them. Somehow Jeffrey was able to make things work out. As he was about to congratulate his brother on his good fortune, he realized he wasn’t looking at the same exhausted man who, on a thread of hope, had frantically driven to Castle Combe in the dead of night.
The expression on Jeffrey’s face was one of complete relief, even awe. But he’d known Jeffrey all his life and wondered if there wasn’t something else mingled in that look as his brother’s eyes followed the graceful figure of the retreating nun.
Catherine walked slowly down the hall to find the Holy Mother, but she felt like picking up her skirts and running. She had this suffocating feeling in her chest.
When she approached her mentor, the Holy Mother was just leaving the chapel. She looked up and saw an expression on the young nun’s face that hadn’t been there before. She knew Catherine had agreed to go to Michael and suspected this filled the girl’s heart with great joy. But there was a new restlessness about her and the Holy Mother sighed, feeling the full weight of her eighty years.
She’d had to experience those painful early years of the refiner’s fire and had done so with eagerness, coming to a new peace with God that transcended the worldly. Now it was Catherine’s turn, and the older woman knew exactly what the girl was experiencing. It wasn’t difficult to understand. Mr. Norwood was a striking, exciting figure of a man, and he was Michael’s father.
The resemblance between the two of them was uncanny. With the boy so ill, the combination was too much for Catherine to handle in just one meeting. Many forces would start pulling her apart. It would be a testing period. For once in her life the Holy Mother was not confidant of the right outcome.
“Sister, I perceive that you plan to go to Michael’s aid. It’s the right decision, my child. You’ll be on God’s errand, make no mistake. Trust in the Lord always and you’ll be guided in the right direction.
“I know the turmoil that’s been going on inside of you. I’ve seen it festering for weeks, Catherine. You love the boy. Don’t be ashamed and don’t worry about detaching yourself from him again. This is a unique case. God has sent you this test. I’m sure you’re aware that He is answering many prayers at the same time.”
Catherine nodded, marveling at the Holy Mother’s wisdom. Honesty and love had always been the older woman’s way. When Catherine had entered the novitiate, she’d told her, “A nun is not an unhappy spinster, but an eager, joyful bride of Christ. Anything less offered to the Bridegroom would not be sufficient, nor would it make for a good nun. Right now your mission is one of an administering angel to a sick child who wants nothing more than to see you again.”
“Thank you, Holy Mother.” She kissed her hand, then raised her head. “Commander Norwood wants to get back to Michael right away.”
“Of course. I wish I could spare a sister to go with you, but the convent is severely understaffed with all the children here right now. I’ve given the matter some thought. Since the drive back to Norwood is reasonably short, I see no reason why you can’t go with them as soon as you’ve packed.
“You’re going to be on your own for a time, and no one knows how long that will be. But you’ll never be alone, my child, not if you pray for the Holy Spirit to attend you. You’ll be in my prayers day and night. There’s a chapel in the hospital there. Attend to your Holy Office whenever it’s possible. I trust in your basic goodness and wisdom, your instincts. There are no precedents to follow in this situation, Catherine. Do you understand that?’
“Yes.” She nodded, suddenly frightened.
“Remember you can call here day or night if you should need anything. Don’t forget. This mission of yours is holy. Treat it with respect and reverence, and you can never doubt that God approves. Go along now and prepare for your journey.”
“Bless you. “ Catherine sank to her knees and kissed the ring on the holy woman’s finger a second time.
While the Holy Mother went back to her office to discuss certain matters with the Norwoods, Catherine hurried to the dormitory to assemble the few items she would need. She made a detour into Michael’s old room and pulled something from the drawer that had been left as an oversight. She put it in the large pocket of her habit to be given back at a later date.
With satchel in hand, Catherine stepped out from the somber passageway into the courtyard. The warm sun fell on her face, stinging her eyes and blurring her vision of the Holy Mother and the brothers conversing near the dark blue automobile.
“Sister?” the older woman said, taking Catherine in her arms for a brief embrace. “Godspeed and a safe journey. Michael will recover. Never fear.”
Though Catherine felt small and alone, and thought how easy it would be to run back inside and shun the world, the Holy Mother’s prophecy gave her new faith.
As for Jeffrey Norwood, he’d climbed in the car and had started the engine. She couldn’t look at him without seeing Michael’s precious face and that’s all it took to strengthen her resolve. His father wss impatient to be on his way.
Philip stood on the other side and opened the door so she could climb in the back seat. She settled against the plush upholstery. How incongruous she appeared against such a backdrop. In seconds they were off.
Once they reached the open road, he pressed on the accelerator. It was apparent to Catherine he was very adept at handling a car at high speeds. She knew that skilled, experienced hands were on the wheel. He was a brave man to have gone after all those helpless men and children floating about in storm tossed seas.
Holy Mother had allowed her to read the news clippings concerning the rescues. Michael was proud of his father as well, even if he didn’t quite understand the magnitude of the circumstances. It was strange to be riding in the car with this man after hearing about him for so many months.
CHAPTER THREE
Jeffrey chanced a look at her in the rearview mirror, as if to insure her reality. Their eyes met and he smiled, still amazed that he was actually bringing her back with him. “Michael’s going to be one surprised, happy little boy when he finds out what I’ve brought back with me.”
Catherine couldn’t help smiling and finally left his gaze to stare out the window, oblivious to the passing landscape.
Philip half turned to talk to her. “Sister? Have you been to London before?”
“I passed through once when I was a child.”
“Well, Norwood is a small village to the northwest. We should be there before noon.”
The mention of noon reminded him they hadn’t eaten anything and he was starved. Jeffrey was probably famished too. “Are you hungry, Sister? We can stop some place along the way.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Norwood. We only eat two meals a day at the convent and I don’t plan to sup before evening.” After she’d explained herself, she realized the men were probably anxious to eat, but were too polite to mention it. They’d been driving all night. “Please stop if there’s something you want. It was thoughtless of us not to offer you food at the convent. It’s just that everything happened so fast.”
“Please, Sister,” Jeffrey broke in. “We imposed on you, but I have to admit I would like a little something. We’re coming into Chippenham. How about it, Phil?”
After Philip nodded, he pulled the car over in front of a shop. In a few minutes he’d purchased some meat pies they both devoured with relish.
Catherine was reminded of the time when her father was still alive. He’d always had a big appetite after coming home from the college where he taught history and mathematics. In a few minutes she felt Commander Norwood’s eyes on her again after he’d started up the car.
“Michael says you’re part French, Sister.” He spoke casually, as if they were all good friends out in the country for a lazy afternoon drive. Being in the company of men was something she was going to have to get used to. It was inevitable. The Commander wouldn’t be normal if he weren�
��t curious about her.
At the convent there was little casual conversation except around the children. If there weren’t a war on, there’d be no children at Our Lord of the Lamb and life would be austere and quiet. To be engaged in conversation with someone like the Commander was no small matter, but she found it stimulating and it eased her nervousness. She presumed it was a release for his pent-up emotions as well, so she tried to react as naturally as possible.
Jeffrey noticed a far away look in her eyes and wondered if she’d heard his question. “Sister? Are you part French?”
“Actually my father was Belgian.”
“And your mother?”
“English.”
He smiled. “An interesting combination. Where you were born?”
“In Bruges.”
“That explains why you’ve taught Michael so many French songs. I think his pronunciation is quite remarkable for a child.”
“Michael has a good ear and is an excellent student, even if he’s only five,” she volunteered.
“Six,” he corected her. “We had a birthday party for him the second day he was home. Needless to say, his great wish before blowing out his candles was that you would come to see him.”
Catherine closed her eyes. “He loved parties,” she admitted. “There are birthdays almost every day of the year with all the children we house at the convent. It helps to pretend there’s some normalcy in the world. The children play the game much better than do some of the rest of us.”
Philip eyed Jeffrey. He realized this nun was no backward farm girl. “Michael told us you lost a brother in the war last year, Sister. I’m very sorry.”
She paused before answering, a bit surprised Michael had revealed so much information to them. “Yes. He lost his life in the trenches.”
“Don’t you have another brother as well?”
“Yes. He died of a liver ailment when I was thirteen. His death killed my father who suffered from a bad heart. After that, my mother brought me back to England, to Castle Combe. When she knew she was going to die, she asked the sisters to look after me.”
“You’ve been through a great deal of suffering in your life, Sister,” Philip murmured.
“Hasn’t everyone?” she answered abstractly, her thoughts on Michael. If he died... But the Holy Mother had said he would recover. She had to believe it.
After that last statement everyone was pensive and sat in silence. Catherine had been so keyed up emotionally, the purr of the motor seemed to be the soothing balm she needed to relax. Soon she felt drowsy. A few more minutes she was lulled into slumber, totally exhausted from the strain and worry of the morning’s unexpected activities.
Phililp glanced at Jeffrey, but his brother wasn’t in a talkative mood. In fact both of them were more quiet than usual. He closed his eyes and stretched out, putting his hands behind his head. He’d rather have looked at her. She was quite breathtaking. He had no way of judging one nun from another, but he had the impression she was no ordinary oblate.
This premonition hadn’t come purely because of Michael’s attachment to her. It was something else. Her demeanor, the way she spoke with such authority and poise, her native intelligence, the way she carried herself. There was depth of character here. He knew this despite the fact he’d only been in her company since morning. Jeffrey sensed these things as well. Philip could tell.
Another hour and the car pulled up in front of the Sacred Heart Hospital in Norwood. It was made over from a municipal building that had been erected before the turn of the century and looked more like a government building than a medical center. Jeffrey turned off the engine and and jumped out of the car, quickly opening the back door for Catheine who’d awakened. Philip preceded them into the hospital.
Jeffrey turned to her. “Michael has a room on the second floor, Sister. Before we go up, I want to find Hugh and let him know we’re here. Phil, wait with Sister Catherine for a moment, will you?” Philip nodded as his brother ran down to the end of the hall and disappeared.
Catherine gazed around at the high ceilings and well worn linoleum floors. Sisters from the Dominican Order served the hospital. She was thankful that other sisters were on the premises. She’d never done hospital work, In truth she had little taste for it, much preferring the life of the children and the school room.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Jeffrey came back. He’d put an arm around the shoulders of a small, balding man while they conversed. The other man looked at Catherine with fresh interest.
“Sister? This is Hugh Endicott, Michael’s doctor.”
“Doctor.” Catherine smiled.
“How do you do, Sister,” he responded with warmth. “Frankly, when Elinore told me the boys had gone to fetch you, I shook my head, but I hoped. Now you’re here there’s not a moment to lose.” He grew serious. “Come with me. Michael’s in a very weak condition.
“I don’t have to tell you what it will mean to the boy to see you. He’s been asking for you continually. I respect the field of medicine, but there comes a time when a case is in the hands of God. Michael requires a miracle, Sister. I presume that’s why you’re here.”
Her fear increased. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
The four of them went up the stairs and down the hall to the end door. Jeffrey turned the handle. “I want to go in first and tell him you’re here.”
She nodded and folded her arms tightly with her hands tucked in her sleeves. Her anxiety grew by the second. He finally reappeared, his face wearing the haggard expression once more. His skin was the color of paste, causing Catherine to groan inwardly. He raised pained eyes to her. With a weak hand he motioned for her to come into the room. Catherine stepped inside, shuddering at the thought of Michael under these conditions. The day he’d left the convent, he’d been a strong, healthy child with sparkling blue eyes that shed sunshine. To think it had come to this! She tiptoed past the curtain that had been pulled aside, but she hesitated to go any closer to the bed.
There was a little body lying there, propped so his head was higher than his feet. But a
croup tent had been erected about his chest and head so she couldn’t see him. The blinds were shut, darkening the room. Several chairs and a bedside table were the only furnishings in the sterile green room.
That couldn’t be Michael lying there, she cried to herself. Not the energetic child who kept all the sisters alert with his vitality.
His father went to the side of the bed and lifted the flap of the tent so she could see him. Catherine finally found the courage to cross over to him. One pale hand lay palm down on the sheet, seemingly lifeless. She slipped her hand into his. No response.
Her heart pounded painfully. She leaned over to look beneath the tent cover and beheld the white, pinched face of the dear child. His red-rimmed eyes were half open and the golden locks that hugged his scalp in straggly wet tendrils were dark. They’d lost their luster.
He was much thinner. Hollows appeared where there’d once been firm, rosy flesh. A distinct rattle came from deep inside his chest each time he took a breath. He was fighting for every bit of air he could get. Her pain grew. She shook her head unconsciously.
“Michael,” she whispered. “My little love,” she cried out softly and bent over to kiss the sunken cheek which bore the telltale red spots of high fever.
His head didn’t move, but the eyes opened a little wider at the sound of her voice. Their color was more gray than blue. Dull and lifeless. “Not his eyes...not his eyes,” she murmured, fighting for control. “Michael,” she called to him again. He stared and finally recognized her. She smiled, but a sob got trapped in her throat. “Yes, darling. It’s Sister Catherine. I’ve come to take care of you.”
He closed his eyes. His lids looked like dried parchment. Then he opened them again, turning his head a trifle this time to get a better look. His hot little hand pressed her fingers. “Sister-- I knew you’d come. It took so long.” He sobbed and the thin chest heaved, forcing a deep
rasping cough that she felt through her being.
Her heart lurched and her arms went around his shrunken form. He tried to sit up and put arms around her neck, but his strength failed and she held him against her breast. She put her face against his burning cheeks, letting him feel her coolness for a moment. The boy wept, soaking the scapular of her habit.
“My precious one,” she wept along with him. “I love you, my darling. I’m here now,” she assured him over and over again. “Go ahead and cry. It’s all right. I won’t leave you.”
Jeffrey stood spellbound while he watched the love flowing between them. He raised his head, blinking back tears. Such deep affection emanated from her face as she held the boy close, he knew he’d done the right thing. If only he’d realized it sooner, he’d have gone for her two weeks ago, before the illness had reached this stage. He noticed how Michael clung to her. There was a desperation about the way he whispered her name repeatedly. They were like mother and son.
Michael finally fell into a light sleep. She reluctantly lay his head back against the pillow. His hand still clung tightly to hers. She raised a tear stained face to Jeffrey after he’d replaced the flap. Unspoken words passed between them. Both their hearts were on the verge of breaking. Finally she bowed her head in prayer, never letting go of the limp hand.
Jeffrey moved over to the window to pray for his son’s recovery. He’d done everything he could do now. Sister Catherine was here. The rest was up to God.
In a minute Catherine sat down in one of the hard chairs near the bed. Jeffrey came back over to join her. “How long has he had this difficulty breathing?” she asked.
“Since yesterday.”
“He’s burning with fever. Would you ask the sister for a basin of cold water and a cloth? I could at least keep his lips moist. He’s dehydrated.”
Jeffrey nodded and went down the hall, bringing the items she’d requested. Together they took turns wetting his lips and face. By late afternoon he stirred and Catherine removed the cover. “Hello.” She smiled at him.
Lovers in Enemy Territory Page 4
