The Rogue's Redemption

by Ruth Axtell Morren

  Jamie looked at Gerrit. “I’m sorry, Gerrit. I shoulda’ listened to you.”

  Gerrit met the boy’s frightened eyes and couldn’t find it in his heart to be angry. Only grateful. “Forget it. I’m just thankful you made it.” His teeth began to chatter in the cool April river breeze. His clothes stuck like wet clay against his skin.

  The boat had arrived at the banks of the river. An oxcart driven by Farraday was waiting for them. He helped them aboard and piled more blankets on them. “We’ll get you to the camp and in front of a good fire,” he told them.

  “I thought I was going to die for sure,” Jamie said, huddled beside Gerrit on the jostling wagon. He gave a weak smile. “I saw my life pass before me, as they say. Mama, Papa, Hester, Katie and Adele—I saw all their faces and wanted so badly to live. I just prayed so hard to live. I promised God I’d never disobey you or Pa again.”

  Gerrit glanced sidelong at him, his body still shaking from the cold. “I hope God understands that’s one promise sure to be broken.” He grinned as much as his frozen lips would let him.

  Jamie looked at him, his face still pale, his expression scared, then recognizing the teasing in Gerrit’s tone, finally managed a small smile. “I meant it then…it’s just sometimes hard to obey.”

  “I know…I know.”

  “I felt so useless sitting there in the bateau.”

  “I understand. You don’t have to explain. Save your strength. I’m just thankful you made it.” As they both fell quiet, Gerrit began to go over what had happened.

  He’d cried out for God’s mercy and the Lord had heard his prayer. Whether He’d heard his prayer or Jamie’s, or one of the other men’s, Gerrit would never know, but the fact remained, God had seen fit to let Jamie live—and had allowed Gerrit to rescue him. Gerrit bowed his head, overwhelmed by the fact that he’d be able to bring Leighton’s son back to him in one piece.

  He remembered Leighton’s words to him. It’s easy to destroy. It’s much harder to build something. He could just as well have said, It’s easy to kill. It’s much harder to save life.

  Was God giving Gerrit an opportunity to build and not to destroy? Would his past sins be outweighed by a new beginning? He tried to picture the French cadet, but the memory seemed dimmer now.

  He’d spoken many evenings with Orin, the teamster, during the cold winter nights at the logging camp and thought long over the man’s words. But he hadn’t been able to believe that the promises could really hold for him. He’d wanted so much to believe, but couldn’t.

  Was God showing him today that He was giving Gerrit a second chance?

  Hester’s mother entered the warm kitchen where Hester stood rolling out pastry for a pie crust.

  “What’s that?” she asked, indicating the dirty-looking bundle in her mother’s hands.

  “I don’t rightly know. I thought I heard a thump on the door and when I went to look, I found this on the stoop.” She began to undo the string that held the package together. She sat down across from Hester and began to unwrap the parcel.

  “Why, they look like letters…I wonder why they weren’t sent by the post…” she murmured as she took out the top sheet and unfolded it. After only a glance at the writing, she refolded it and looked at Hester. “They’re for you.” Her eyes looked troubled.

  Hester stopped what she was doing. “For me?”

  “They’re addressed to you. I think they’re from Major Hawkes.”

  Hester’s heart began to thump. He’d written to her? But how had the letters…?

  “I know from your father the first men from the camp were due to arrive any day. Do you think one of the men delivered the letters here for him?” her mother asked, then immediately answered her own question with a nod. “I’m sure that must be the reason. That would explain, too, why they didn’t come by post.” She placed the letter back onto the pile in the parcel. “Why don’t you let me finish your pie and you go somewhere you can read these by yourself before your sisters get home from their visit to their cousins.”

  Hester was already heading toward the sink to wash her hands.

  She bent to give her mother a hug. “Thanks, Mama.”

  Her mother handed her the packet, and Hester took it and held it to herself as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

  It had been so long with no word from Gerrit that she’d wondered sometimes if she’d ever see him again. What would the long winter have done to him? Would he be ready to return to England without a backward glance at Maine? How had he survived the harsh world of the logging camp? Would he have news of Jamie?

  Hester’s mind whirled with questions as she climbed the stairs to her room. A late-afternoon sun warmed her rocker by the window. She sat down and took the first letter off the pile. Glancing at its date and seeing it was April, she unfolded the bottommost one of the pile. December twenty-third. She began with that one.

  Dearest Hester…

  Hours later, Hester looked up, tears long dried on her cheeks. She glanced past the chintz curtains framing her window to the fields and forest beyond. She felt as if she’d lived a couple of lifetimes since she’d begun to read Gerrit’s letters.

  There was so much she hadn’t known about the man she loved. And now he’d opened his heart to her and she discovered the pain and loneliness and overwhelming guilt he carried around inside him. Behind that teasing smile and that look of amusement in his blue eyes, lay a pain she had only had an inkling of. But most of all, she now knew he loved her. He loved her. She articulated the words in her mind as a revelation. She’d thought it so before, but now she was certain of it.

  She took out her handkerchief and blew her nose. Then she bowed her head. Thank you, Lord, for allowing me to see past the front he displays to everyone. Thank You for the privilege to love him and offer him the hope that is in You alone.

  Feeling a stronger urge than ever to pray for him, she sank to her knees at the rocker and laid her head on its seat, the bundle of letters still clutched in her hands. She lifted Gerrit’s name to the Almighty, pleading for his salvation.

  Only You can set him free! I pray for Your mercy and grace to envelop him. Let him feel Your loving arms wrapped around him…. Keep him safe….

  By the time Gerrit arrived in Bangor, the men were treating him like a hero. The name Lobster was no longer used in derision but in endearment. He realized that, for all their bantering, they held Mr. Leighton in high regard and would have dreaded the loss of his only son.

  When they reached Old Town, their arrival was filled with confusion as the logs had to be dammed into an area of the river called a boom. In the distance Gerrit saw Mr. Leighton on the quay.

  It took most of the day to sort the logs and put them into the booms. It was almost evening before they could take their bateaus the rest of the way downriver into Bangor. By that time, Mr. Leighton rode out in a skiff to meet Gerrit and Jamie.

  “Hi, Papa!” Jamie’s face beamed with pride. “I’m so glad to be home.” Before he could say anything more, his father indicated to him to join him aboard his boat. Once he stood with his father, Mr. Leighton took him in a strong embrace, which the boy eagerly returned.

  Gerrit averted his gaze, feeling a pang at the undisguised display of love between father and son. When he sensed their drawing apart, he turned back. Mr. Leighton was eyeing him. When he saw Gerrit’s attention on him, he held out his hand. Gerrit’s met his across the space between the two boats.

  Leighton pressed his hand firmly, bringing his other hand to cover Gerrit’s. “Welcome back.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you for saving my son.” Leighton’s eyes misted over, saying more than any words could, and Gerrit couldn’t speak. What would it feel like to have a son to love as this man did?

  “Come to the house when you get to Bangor,” Leighton told him. “Do you mind if I take Jamie from you?”

  “Not at all.” Gerrit managed a smile. He gave Jamie a salute and turned ba
ck to continue downstream. He could hear Jamie chattering away telling his father all about his adventures until Gerrit was too far away to hear more than the sound of the river.

  Gerrit allowed his thoughts now to turn to Hester. His heart beat in anticipation at the thought of seeing her again. He hardly dared think about it. Too many months had gone by. Months in which she had probably been in the company of the many young gentlemen and farmers that frequented the Leighton household.

  He brought a hand up to his heavy beard. He knew first of all he would have to stop by the boarding house and get a bath and shave.

  When he entered the tavern, he almost didn’t recognize the place. The taproom boomed with the sound of loggers’ voices, the tables echoed with the bang of tankards. He had to press through the crowd of smelly lumberers to make his way to the bar. Halfway there, Liza, the barmaid ran into him, her hands full with a couple of tankards in each one. As soon as she recognized him, her mouth split in a wide smile.

  “You’re back, major.”

  He couldn’t help returning the smile. At that moment he felt happy with all the world. “Here, let me help you with those,” he offered, taking the tankards from her. “Where do you want them?”

  She smiled in gratitude and pushed past him, her body pressing against his. “Follow me.”

  She led him to a table filled with bearded, unkempt lumberers, who yelled in glee when they saw their drinks. One of them took Liza on his knee. She laughed and slapped his hand.

  Gerrit set down the ale and turned away, eager to bathe and change. There was only one person he wanted to see.

  It took some time for him to get a few buckets of hot water to his room, but at last he was able to soak in a tub. Deciding he needed both a haircut and shave, he headed out for a barber’s.

  By the time he left the barber’s, he was feeling like a new man with his cleanly shaven cheeks. Every nerve ending in his body thrummed with impatience. All he wanted now was to look into Hester’s eyes and see if she still cared about him at all.

  He walked through the muddy streets of Bangor, the tension growing in him the closer he approached her house. The snow had melted, but few signs of spring were evident. The grass was still brown, the deciduous trees bare. A few crocus and snowdrops blossomed at the edges of the street.

  Gerrit was coming today! Hester sat at one of the front bedroom windows, watching for him. When her father had sent a boy up to the house to tell her the log drive had arrived in town, she had stationed herself by the panes of glass, her gaze unmoving, as she’d done each day for the past few days. Today, however, she knew her wait wouldn’t be in vain.

  He was coming! Her heart beat an erratic rhythm each time she thought the words. Her fingers tapped an impatient tattoo against the windowsill. She tried humming a hymn of praise but the lines of the verses got mixed up and she finally gave up.

  Lord, I thank You for bringing them home safely. She bowed her head for the dozenth time and uttered the same prayer, then quickly shot her head back up again, afraid she’d missed his arrival.

  Finally, as it was nearing supper time, she spotted a lone man walking up the dirt road. He turned into their long, lilac-edged drive.

  She didn’t wait any longer. She raced down the stairs and out the door, not bothering with a cloak. She kept running until she reached him and flung herself into his arms.

  After his first look of surprise and joy, she buried her head in his neck. To her delight, he swung her around in his strong arms. She clung onto him, as her feet lifted off the ground.

  They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms a long time, words unnecessary. She breathed in the fresh clean scent of him, felt the smooth skin of his cheeks, the soft hair at the nape of his neck. He was back. At long last, he was really there.

  “You’re finally home!” she cried. “The closer the time came, the slower each day seemed to be. I watched for you every afternoon this month.”

  He lowered her back onto the ground, though he didn’t let her go. “It was no faster for me, believe me, dearest Hester,” he said, as he looked at her warmly, his hand coming up to touch her hair as if he didn’t believe she was real.

  “I wasn’t sure…” he began.

  “About what?” she asked.

  “If you’d still…”

  She watched him swallow. “Be here?” she finished for him, her eyes searching his with a new knowledge of the man he was.

  “If you’d still want to…see me.”

  She remembered his outpourings of love in each letter, his anguish and utter loneliness, and her heart constricted at the doubt in his tone. “I counted each day. I’ve never wanted to see anyone more.” Her own hand reached up and drew out the chain she wore around her neck under her fichu. She smiled as she showed him his ring dangling from it.

  He looked at it in wonder, then at her and a slow smile graced his lips.

  “I kept it for you, as I promised I would.”

  “Thank you, Hester.” His hand came up and skimmed her face the way he had when he’d said goodbye to her in England. “Just hold on to it until I can replace it for you. I know it’s in safe hands.”

  She smiled at the implication of his words. “You’re not going away again are you?” she asked. “I know you love me.”

  A shadow passed over his blue eyes. “I’ve used so many words with so many women—words of love and fidelity, of not being able to live without them…so many promises I’d no intention of keeping.” He sighed, passing a hand over his eyes as if the recollection pained him. “I didn’t mean any of them.” He looked at her. “I’m afraid to use any words with you. All I know is I couldn’t have made it back without knowing you were here, waiting for me.

  “I need you…” His voice cracked, and she saw tears welling in his eyes. “I need you so much,” he whispered, his arms tightening around her as he buried his face in her hair.

  “You have me. I’m here.”

  “I need you more than life.” His eyelids closed and, as if unable to hold himself back, his face neared hers, and she held her breath waiting for his lips to join with hers.

  She had longed for and dreamed of this moment for so long that she wasn’t sure if it was really happening or if she was still dreaming it.

  When he kissed her this time, it was nothing like the soft brushing of his lips against hers the last time. This time it rocked her to her very toes. He kissed her like a thirsting man. There was no politeness or gentleness in the kiss, only hunger and want.

  Hester gave herself, sensing his need and praying that he would understand that it wasn’t she whom his spirit sought, but God’s spirit residing in her. Her mouth parted beneath his and she longed to give him all her love in that one expression.

  Finally, as if trusting that she wouldn’t run away from him, he softened his touch, raining featherlight kisses all along the edges of her mouth. She melted against him, her fingers caressing the hair at the nape of his neck. When they finally broke apart, he looked at her so tenderly she was afraid to breathe.

  “I missed you,” he said, repeating the words she’d once given him, his lips smiling as his fingers smoothed back her hair.

  “I hope I won’t have to say goodbye to you again,” she managed.

  “Your father didn’t seem too displeased at seeing me back.”

  “Come,” she said, her arm tugging his waist. “Everyone’s anxious to see you.” Together the two walked arm-in-arm the rest of the way up to the house.

  It was only later, when Jamie arrived home with his father, that she heard about Gerrit’s heroic rescue of her brother. She looked at Gerrit, not surprised by what she heard from Jamie, but grateful once again for their safe homecoming.

  Gerrit seemed more at peace than she’d ever seen him. She thanked God again for whatever He’d worked in his heart during the long winter months in the woods. When they said good night to each other on the front porch under the evening sky, Gerrit kissed her again, this time tenderly and gently.


  “I still have nothing to offer you but…my heart,” he said.

  Her fingers cupped his face. “That’s all I require.”

  “I don’t know what your father will say.” He sighed. “I told him when he first hired me that if I succeeded in proving myself to him, I wanted to ask for your hand in marriage.”

  She drew in her breath then slowly smiled. “I think you’ve done that and more.”

  “He told me this evening he wants to talk to me tomorrow. We’ll see.”

  “I’m sure he wants to thank you again for rescuing Jamie.”

  “I didn’t do anything any other man wouldn’t have done.” His eyelids flickered down. “If anyone is to thank, it’s God. When I thought I would drown alongside Jamie, He answered my prayer.” His voice sounded awed as if still disbelieving that it could have been so. “It was a miracle that I found Jamie under the water and was able to bring him back up. Then it…” his voice thickened “…it looked like there was no life left in him. Then he sputtered and began to cough and he came back to us.”

  “Oh Gerrit, God is so merciful. But He used you to rescue Jamie. You never have to doubt yourself again.”

  Instead of saying anything more, he kissed her before slowly drawing away. “I’d better get going. I’m not sure what awaits me tomorrow.”

  Hester stood on the porch until he’d reached the front gate. She waved a final goodbye as he disappeared into the night.

  Gerrit whistled on his walk back to the waterfront. The night was chilly but it felt balmy to him after the frigid temperatures during the winter months. He glanced up at the stars. The whole world felt wonderful to him at that moment.

  He drew in a deep breath of the fresh-scented air. For the first time in his memory, he felt hope of a new start. He’d done it. Hester’s father had thrown him into the lion’s den, and he’d emerged unscathed. He uttered a whoop of triumph to the darkness around him. He’d done it!