Elinore could no longer remain in the hospital under the circumstances. Without a moment’s hesitation, she left the floor and walked out the front doors to drive to the house. She would send Jens back to the hospital for Philip when he was ready. In her frame of mind, she didn’t care of Philip never came back.
As for Jeffrey, she would have to find another way to reach him. Using Michael’s illness as a bridge would not bring them closer together now. She would have to wait until he was fully recovered and home from the hospital. With the Sister around, she couldn’t get near her brother-in-law, that much was obvious.
No, she’d wait till the Sister returned to her cloister, and life returned to normal once more. There were other ways to make a man interested. She just had to be patient a little longer.
*****
With the crisis over, Catherine slept through the late morning and part of the afternoon in the nurses’ quarters. Because her exhaustion had reached its peak, it was a deep sleep without dreams. Once rested and fortified with a late lunch, she returned to Michael’s room.
His father was sound asleep on the cot by the bed where Michael lay. Both father and son were sprawled over their beds in much the same position. Smiling, Catherine tiptoed in. Michael’s father looked younger now, despite the day’s growth of beard. He seemed almost helpless. Not at all the way she’d first thought of him back at the convent. The lines had gone from around his mouth and eyes.
She went to the closet and found a blanket that she carefully put over him. The room was cool. He opened his eyes briefly and saw her face close to his as she tucked in the sides. With a smile he settled back to sleep, evidently enjoying his new found warmth.
Since both were sleeping, she left the room and inquired about some books at the nursing station. Something a little boy would like to read. The sister said there was reading material in the children’s wing on the main floor. Catherine went downstairs and was shown into a playroom that was a make-shift nursery for the convalescents. She found blocks, toys, tables and chairs, a piano. Over on a corner table were several stacks of books, well worn.
She looked through them, but nothing appealed. Then she saw a book on the floor behind it, an old edition of Robin Hood. She leafed through the pages, loving the drawings. It had been one of her favorite books as a child. Michael would enjoy it. She put it under her arm and went back upstairs.
Michael and his father were still asleep as she crept in, so she sat quietly in a chair near the window. For want of anything else to do, she opened the first page and found herself immersed in the story.
As the Sheriff of Nottingham was about to dismount, Jeffrey stirred. She looked over at him. He yawned and then sat up, staring at her as if she were an apparition. “Sister? How long have you been here?”
“For an hour or more.”
He felt his beard. “I didn’t hear you come in. Where did the blanket come from?”
“It felt cool in here so I put it over you.”
He smiled. “Thank you. “What time is it?”
“Almost five o’clock.”
“I’ve been asleep all day,” he murmured, sounding surprised.
“So has Michael. It’s been good for both of you.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. “Did you get any?”
“Yes. All morning and part of the day.”
Jeffrey got up and folded the cot and blanket away in the corner. “I’ll see if they can’t bring us some tea and biscuits.” He left the room and came back shortly with a tray.
He poured the tea and brought her a cup, leaning over to see what she was reading. “Robin Hood. Where did you manage to find that?”
“In the nursery. I’m anxious to read it to Michael when he wakes up.”
“He’ll love it. There are books at home I can bring to him, Sister.”
Her eyes sparkled. “You wouldn’t happen to have The Count of Monte Cristo, or The Black Tulip?”
He smiled broadly. Those were two of his old favorites. “I have those and more back at the house. When I go home tonight I’ll pack a bundle and bring them to the hospital in the morning.”
“That would be wonderful. He’s lucky to be surrounded by good books. Most of the children at the convent are sorely lacking in that department. I’m afraid the library there has little to offer them. I’ve had to rely on memories from own childhood to keep them entertained.” It suddenly occurred to her she was talking too much.
“I wish I’d known. I’ll have Jens pack a box and we’ll see that your library is enriched right away.”
“You can’t imagine how happy it will make the children. You’re very kind.”
“Not at all. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for Michael and me.” He stared at her. Heavens, but she was beautiful.
Catherine averted her eyes. “I’ve discovered that when a child is frightened or sick, a book can do wonders to alleviate the stress. They escape for a while. You can tell they’re starving for good literature by the way they hang on your every word. It’s a type of therapy that benefits them for years to come.” She paused. “What other books do you have?”
Her hopeful glance intrigued him. He paced the floor while he digested what she’d just said. “Like what, for instance?”
“Oh, historical novels. Anything to do with the Plantagenets, or something on the French revolution. Russia.”
“Aren’t those a little steep for Michael?”
“I was asking for myself. When Michael’s asleep, I like to read.”
Impressed, he stroked his chin. “I’ll see what I can find. I know we have Les Miserables.”
“I read that years ago,” she remarked. “That’s one book I’d like to be reading for the first time.”
“I know what you mean.” His eyes reluctantly left hers. “I’ll go through our books and bring anything I think you’ll like.”
As she thanked him, Michael began coughing. They walked over to the bed. He opened crusty lids and looked at them. “Sister? I’m hungry. Can I have something to eat now?”
Catherine was delighted. “Of course. How about some broth and a little egg custard?”
“That sounds good.”
“All right. I’ll go down the hall and get it. Commander? He can have those biscuits I haven’t eaten.”
Jeffrey nodded and handed them to Michael. He took a tiny first bite, then devoured them between couching spells. It was so wonderful to see his appetite back, Jeffrey felt giddy.
Catherine returned and began feeding Michael the custard, spoonful by spoonful, like a mother with her baby. They were so natural together, Jeffrey sighed with contentment.
When Michael pulled a face, she knew he was full. “Now,” she said, “you lie back and I’ll read you a story you’ve been wanting to hear for a long time.”
“Ivanhoe?”
“No. Another one you wished we had in the convent library.”
“King Arthur?
“No. Robin Hood.”
“Goody.” He clapped his hands before coughing violently. Catherine held her breath till it was over.
As she started another of his favorite tales, Jeffrey found a chair and sat back, putting his hands behind his head to listen. When the different speaking parts were introduced, she changed her voice to suit the characters. Michael was living the adventure. So was Jeffrey for that matter. The lovely Sister was enchanting. She came to the part where King Richard had returned from the crusades.
“Sister?” Michael broke in. “What’s a crusade?” Jeffrey waited for the answer.
“Well, it was a religious war. The place where Christ was born had been overrun by infidels, men who didn’t believe in God. Many knights went to that country to free it and make it God’s country once more. King Richard went for England.”
“I wish I could have gone.”
Jeffrey glanced at Catherine and they both smiled. “Michael, did you know there was a whole army of little children from France who went on a crusade? If you
’d been alive then, you might have been among them.”
“Really?” They could hear the wheels turning. Then, “Did they die?” he asked softly.
“Yes, some of them.”
“They were brave.”
“Very.”
He pondered her answer, then said, “Will you keep reading now?”
Catherine resumed the story. Jeffrey said nothing and continued to listen and enjoy the exchange between the two of them. It gave him a great deal of satisfaction to know his son had been in her stimulating company for such a long period of time. He was more fortunate than Jeffrey had realized.
Michael’s eyelids closed just as King Richard was knighting Robin Hood Sir Robin of Loxley. Catherine closed the book. She turned to Jeffrey and noted the pleased expression on his face. It made her happy to see he was no longer burdened with worry. “Commander? Until Michael has recovered, I’ll stay here at the hospital. I can sleep on the cot.”
“Thank you. I was hoping you were going to say that. Michael will rest easier if you’re here at night. However that cot isn’t the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept on. Perhaps you can use a bed in the nurses’ quarters. I’ll inquire.”
“That’s not necessary. I want to be right here with him until he’s on his feet. The cot will be fine. At the convent—“ She stopped talking. She shouldn’t be telling him about her life. It just slipped out. He was easy to talk to. In the future she’d have to be more careful.
Jeffrey understood her momentary plight. He knew she’d almost said something she shouldn’t. It made her seem more human and he was glad of it. “Very well. Will you join me for dinner?” He wanted to continue their conversation.
“I think not. I’ll stay with Michael until you return. Then I’ll eat and go to chapel.”
He nodded and left the room. There was a pub around the corner from the hospital where they served fish and chips. He’d go there. It wouldn’t take long and he could get back quickly. The thought occurred to him that fish might taste good to her too, so he placed two orders and picked up a light wine. While he waited for the order, he phoned Jens and instructed him to bring the car to the hospital later.
When he slipped back in the room, Catherine was still reading. She looked up to see his arms loaded. The odor of fish permeated the air. She hadn’t eaten flounder in newspaper since she was twelve. It brought back many memories.
Jeffrey watched her eyes light up. “I’ve brought some wine for you too, Sister. Shall we eat?” he invited her, having distributed everything on the table.. He pulled up a chair, indicating she should sit down.
He was a very thoughtful man., but when he poured wine into a glass and offered it to her, she hesitated.
“Aren’t you hungry, Sister?”
“Sister always blesses the food before she eats, Daddy,” Michael blurted in a raspy voice.
Jeffrey smiled. What else did his son know about this delightful creature? He put the wine down. “I’m sorry, Sister. I’m afraid I’ve gotten into some bad habits this last year. This is what comes from not having a woman around. Would you say grace?”
She bowed her head. “Please, Dear Lord. May we be thankful for this food. May it help us to remember Thee and to do good in Thy sight. Amen.”
“And thank you for letting Sister come,” Michael chimed in. “Amen.”
Catherine’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
Amen,” Jeffrey followed in his deep voice. Then he offered the wine once more. “Is it against the rules of your order to have this?”
“No.” She smiled charmingly and sipped it. “It’s delicious. Just right.”
“I think it’s a good companion to a salty dish. I, however, prefer ale.” He proceeded to swallow the contents of his glass without stopping for breath.
“My father loved English ale. He said it was their most outstanding contribution to mankind.”
Jeffrey broke into quiet laughter. Her eyes told him she found it all very entertaining. There was something so natural and refreshing about her. He was charmed by her.
“All right,” he said after they’d finished eating, recognizing food had never tasted so good before. “What will it be now?” He looked over at Michael who lay quietly in bed watching them. “Another story, or a game maybe?”
“A game please, Daddy.” Michael looked at her with an eager expression. “Sister?” Jeffrey didn’t know what was coming next. No doubt she had some new idea up her sleeve that Michael wanted her to share with him. His curiosity was piqued.
“Charades?”
He nodded his curly head. “Daddy,” he began, but coughed for a full minute. It was a horrible reminder of his illness. They exchanged worried glances. Finally the spasm subsided. “You and sister have to find out what nursery rhyme I’m doing.” He pretended to bleat like a sheep. He did it with such feeling despite his illness, both of them laughed.
“Baa Baa Black Sheep,” Jeffrey answered.
“He guessed it, Sister. It was too easy.” Again they laughed. He was so dear. “Your turn, Sister.”
“All right. Let’s see.” She rolled her eyes in mock pretense of concentration. Jeffrey had thought of them as being clear blue, but now he saw a tinge of violet that shown like a rare amethyst though the black lashes. She stood up and put her hands to her full, wide mouth. Her lips were red as the wine that had touched them. She pretended to blow on a horn.
Jeffrey had forgotten the game as he fixed his attention on her. He had to rack his brain to think of the answer, but it wouldn’t come.
“Daddy-- don’t you know? It’s Little Boy Blue.”
“Yes,” she cried and gave him a kiss. He turned to his father. “It’s your turn now.”
“I’m not quite up to this,” he apologized. “Let’s see.” Finally he ran about the room knocking on the door and window.
“Wee Willie Winkie!” Michael clapped his hands.
“Couldn’t fool you.” He patted his son’s cheek. They played several rounds of charades, then Michael tired. He said his prayers and soon was asleep. Catherine pulled the covers over him and gave him a goodnight kiss. “I love you.”
Jeffrey heard her. How could the boy help but love her too. He thought of the other children back at the convent and wagered she was sorely missed. In fact he began to realize how remarkable it was that she’d come to Norwood at all-- that she was here with Michael, taking care of him as only she could do.
“Sister, thank you for what you’re doing for him. I’m going back to the house now, but I’ll see you in the morning. I won’t forget the books.”
“Thank you for the delicious dinner. It was kind of you. Good night.” They clasped hands briefly.
“Call me if Michael should need me, no matter the hour. Good night.”
Jens was waiting as he stepped out the hospital doors. The air was soft and sweet. Jeffrey took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He felt as if the terrible episodes of Connie’s death and Michael’s illness were things of the past. He hadn’t had this feeling of well being for a long time.
When he thought of Michael now, he knew his son was in the best of hands. A feeling of sweet relief flooded through him. Tonight he would sleep as he hadn’t done in over a year.
He rested his head against the back of the seat. A smile still played on his lips to remember the events of the evening. Like a montage, Catherine’s face appeared animated, thoughtful, happy, sad, haunting, radiant...spiritual. She was resourceful as well as intelligent. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent such an enjoyable evening.
Catherine prepare for bed after a period of prayer in the chapel. The hospital was quiet. Dr. Endicott made his nightly rounds. Now it was time to sleep, but she couldn’t turn off her mind. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, sleep was impossible.
Michael was going to get well. What a great blessing! But she found herself thinking other thoughts too. Michael’s father was on her mind. He’d left the room so happy and relaxed. She’d found
him easy to talk to. In the car on the way to Norwood, she’d feared that being in his company would prove to be uncomfortable. But nothing was further from the truth. She could talk to him as easily as she did the Holy Mother.
It had been a very pleasant evening, and so thoughtful of him to bring the fish and wine. He even planned on sending books to the convent. She thought of the games they’d played. No doubt he hadn’t said nursery rhymes since his childhood.
Michael was a wonderful child. He obviously received his good nature from his father.
Her thoughts continued to drift until she knew no more. The next morning she got up early to go to chapel. Now she was ready to entertain Michael. He seemed much more chipper and ate a substantial amount of oatmeal. Color was reappearing in his cheeks and a smile brightened his face. The two of them were going over sa list of items Michael wanted when Jeffrey walked in with a load of books beneath his arm.
She stared for a moment. He was clean shaven and sportily dressed in a brown jersey and trousers. A heathery fragrance entered the room with him. He looked different somehow, dashing even. He radiated health and vigor. She was dazzled by his smile and looked away.
“Good morning. I can see you two are already hard at work.”
Michael reached for his father and hugged him. “Daddy, we’ve made a list of things we want.”
Jeffrey scanned it. “If I’d known, I would have brought them with me. It looks like you’ll be doing some sketching. I recall those geese drawings. I want the truth now.” He looked around with a half smile. “Did you do them all by yourself.”
“Sister helped me,” he answered honestly.
“I thought so. Sister?” He turned to her. “They were very good. I have them in my study and would like to see more of your work.”
“I’m afraid you’d be disappointed. I’m no artist.”
“Yes you are,” Michael challenged her. “My daddy’s good at drawing too.”
“Really?” Her eyes probed Jeffrey’s, interested in this new aspect of him, but he shook his head.”
“Yes he is. Draw her a picture of a plane. He can draw anything, just like you, Sister.”
Lovers in Enemy Territory Page 6
