“It’s not the land,” she said again, snuggling in against him. “The land is beautiful. God created every part of this”—she waved a hand out over the scene before them—“and pronounced it good. It still is good. It still bears His mark. His touch. I can sense it whenever I watch the waves, or hear the call of the gulls, or feel the breeze touch my cheek. I can feel it whenever I am here. And I will take this feeling—this morning’s solace—with me wherever God leads me. And if He should ever decide to bring me back—us back—then I will accept this … this very spot, as a special gift from Him.”
Gordon stirred with the consciousness that the bed beside him was empty. Nicole should have been there getting much-needed rest after the emotional turmoil of the day. Was she ill? Had Andrew taken a bad turn in the night? Grandfather Price?
He pushed himself up on one elbow and let his eyes seek out the darkened room. She was there. At the open window, staring out into the emptiness of the night.
“Is something wrong?” he asked quietly. “Are you all right?”
She half turned to him. Even in the semidarkness he could sense it was neither pain nor anxiety that had taken her from bed.
“No, it’s fine,” she replied in a whispery voice. “In fact, I have never felt better. Never.”
He could see her outline more clearly now and saw that her hand moved to rest on the spot where her unborn baby lay. He pushed back the covers and left the bed to join her.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she whispered as he gathered her close. One arm lifted to encircle his neck. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too full of … of peace.” She laughed softly. In the light from the full moon that was bright enough to cast shadows in the garden, Gordon could see her wrinkle her nose playfully. “That sounds silly, doesn’t it? But it’s true. I am just so … so full of thankfulness and … and love and peace that I couldn’t sleep. I felt I needed to be up, enjoying God’s world. His blessings. Oh, Gordon …” Her arm tightened about his neck. “I have been so blessed. I am so blessed. Do you know, the thing that bothered me most when I discovered I was English instead of French was that I couldn’t really claim kinship to my mother Louise. And here we are—related. I can’t believe it. And our baby—he or she—can also claim that heritage. Oh, I know, not directly. He will not have French blood flowing through his little veins, but he will have French kinfolk. I can teach him French for a perfectly legitimate reason.”
She stopped for a moment and brushed back the curtain with her free hand. “But it’s more than that. In a way, I think of all of this as a promise. A blending of two cultures. Perhaps we can help to show the world that it does work. Show others that man canlive with respect for those of another nation. That hate and war and pain do not need to be. Oh, I pray that for my son—our son. And I see him as a place to start. We can teach him that, Gordon. To love his neighbor, no matter who that neighbor might be. To seek for peace. And perhaps he can share it with others and it can just grow and grow until there is no longer hate and strife in our world. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”
“Wonderful indeed.” He brushed back her long hair and placed a kiss on her brow. “And you sound rather sure about a son,” he teased.
She smiled. “Or a daughter,” she said with a lift of her chin. “A promise,” Nicole said after a moment. “Love is a promise of all good things, and the circle of love just keeps growing larger if we allow it. But we—you and I and all of the others— we need to nurture it, like a garden, and tend it with care.”
“And keep out the weeds,” mused Gordon, taking up her analogy as he rubbed his chin against the softness of her hair.
“Keep out the weeds,” she echoed. “Weeds of bitterness and envy and hatred and greed.”
“And water it with prayer,” Gordon added.
“Yes, that is the secret we must never forget.”
They turned to the window together and looked out across the garden. A rabbit eased out of the shadows to nibble on a remaining turnip leaf. The breeze stirred the heads of the fall asters until they nodded to one another as though in silent conversation. In the serenity of the soft flush of moonlight, the world looked whole. At peace. And in spite of the unrest, the conflict of the world beyond, the future before them held nothing but promise.
The Beloved Land Page 26
