The Thorn Bearer

by Pepper Basham

  Ashleigh sponged down his wound, keeping her attention away from his face, but his sob brought her back to him.

  “Don’t deserve it.” He shook his head. “God shouldn’t give.” His watery gaze found hers and eradicated resolve. “Kindness from you. Not after all I’ve—”

  “I forgive you, Michael.” The words slipped out on a whisper, but he heard them. So did Sam. He was too close not to hear them.

  Her body tensed with the sudden recognition of what she’d done – what she’d said.

  “How?” He searched her face.

  Heat crawled up her neck and rested on her cheeks, but she couldn’t leave his gaze. “Because we all need second chances.” She glanced up at Sam, begging for him to listen and understand. “We all need forgiveness.”

  “Thank you.” Michael covered her hand with his good one. “Needed to make things right.” He rested his head back on the pillow. “Irish showed God’s love. To me.”

  “It’s an amazing story.” Sam stood, curiosity flicking from Michael’s face to Ashleigh’s. “And you have a great lot to live for, friend. You have Stephen.” Sam pressed a hand to his chest. “And you still have this family.” He looked back to Ashleigh. “We plan to help you heal.”

  “Exactly.” Ashleigh finished bandaging and skimmed the room.

  Some soldiers leaned against the wall for support, a few took up space on the floor near occupied beds. And there were more being ushered or carried inside the front doors as they spoke. She turned to Sam. “Perhaps we could move Michael upstairs and free up a bed. There’s no reason, with your help, we can’t treat him there.” She tried for a smile. “You might get your wish after all, Mr. Miller, and be Michael’s roommate for the next few days.”

  Sam’s smile outshone his curiosity. “I think I can handle it fine, Nurse Dougall.” He gently nudged Michael’s good shoulder. “And once you’re up on your feet, Ashleigh has some work we can do together. Like old times.”

  Ashleigh caught the frantic look in Jessica’s eyes as she passed the cot and gave Michael’s wounds another quick scan to ensure he was stable. “I am needed with other patients.” Ashleigh nodded to Michael. “Sam will find me if you need anything.”

  Tears seeped from beneath Michael’s closed eyes. “Already met my need.” His gaze opened to hers. “Thank you.”

  Ashleigh walked to help reset the broken bone of a soldier nearby, a strange, new lightness in her chest. A curious freedom accompanied her steps. She glanced back at Michael. Sam leaned close to hear him talking, and the feeling lightened even more. The heaviness of her anger, the edge of her hate, had disappeared with a single moment of forgiveness?

  Would it be true for others in her life? She stiffened.

  Forgiving Michael was one thing. Forgiving her father required surgical tools to dig at the center of her soul. His sin attached to her life from early childhood and spread like a cancer to her thoughts of love. How could she ever forgive him – even if she wanted to? It was impossible.

  Ashleigh walked upstairs long enough to grab a bite of dinner and check on Stephen. Another day of solid work, the onslaught of wounded left no time for anything but bandaging, cleaning, sewing, and…saying goodbye. Three deaths since the arrivals that morning, and if her instincts were correct, two more would follow soon. Traveling from the front to local hospitals proved to be the death of many, but remaining at the Casualty Clearing Stations kept the severely wounded in constant proximity to disease and danger.

  There were no easy answers or solutions. A majority of the men from the Somme Offensive were young, barely in their twenties. One wounded doctor didn’t even live beyond the threshold of the hospital door. David mentioned a possibility of over thirty thousand casualties on the first day.

  Her body ached to sit for a few minutes, even more than her stomach grumbled for food. Stephen’s giggle boosted her energy as she came to his door. She peeked inside to see Sam lying on the floor and Stephen sitting on his stomach, as if riding a horse. Sam tickled Stephen’s belly until he fell off and then climbed up again. The sight found residence in her hopes, encouraging a daydream of her own. A little house in the country, a baby in her arms, and Sam’s kiss.

  The thought of his kiss warmed her from her ankles up. His look and touch held a familiarity and depth which surged far beyond simple attraction, but brought her home. A good home. A place where people lived in safety and love.

  Sam sat up and saw her standing in the doorway.

  “Hi there, my sweet friend.”

  She leaned her head against the doorframe and stared at him. His grin tipped to lethal proportions and her heartbeat stuttered in reply. Love shone unhindered in those beautiful blue eyes, spotlighting on her. Her? It still seemed like a lovely dream. And now, with Michael’s return, even more of her life drifted into a sweet place of hope and possibilities. Ashleigh would have her future. Stephen would have his father.

  Sam loved her. Thoughts of their previous conversation crowded in on the gentle swell of peace. Could his prejudices about a woman’s misuse be applied to her? She had to tell him. Didn’t she?

  The truth had a frightening way of arriving when least expected – and she didn’t want that sort of surprise.

  He snatched Stephen up into his arms and walked over to her. “You’ve had a long day.”

  “And hard.” She smiled and ran a finger over Stephen’s cheek. “But good surprises too.”

  “Definitely. Michael should be moved today?” Sam cupped her cheek with his hand, trailing a thumb over her cheekbone. She closed her eyes, almost lulled to sleep by his touch while standing up.

  “Mmhmm. Fixed up the room at the end of the hall for you.”

  His strong arm came around her. She smiled and leaned against it, lemon a welcome scent from the morphine and blood combination of downstairs. Stephen’s excited chatter hummed away the echoes of moans and dying breaths crowding her head. Nursing school and the hospital in Asheville had given her solid experience, but nothing like the traumatic wounds of war.

  She pressed her head further into Sam’s shoulder and soaked in his warmth and strength. He knew her better than anyone besides Fanny and Grandmama. Surely, he would love her beyond a violation she had no power to control.

  “Will you have a chance to rest?” His words vibrated through his chest to her ear, drawing her closer. Oh, how she could revel in the feel of him, in his voice and scent.

  She kept her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, eyes closed. “I’m not certain. New patients keep arriving by the hour.”

  His arm tightened. “You can’t work if you can’t keep your eyes open.” He pulled back, searching her face. “And you have to be hungry.”

  She squinted up to him. “I am pretty hungry. Did Kara leave anything for me?”

  Sam steered her to a chair by the window and urged her to sit. “I’ll be right back.”

  The soft folds of the chair welcomed her with the magic of a pillow. “You don’t have to hurry.”

  “No trouble at all, my kissing friend.”

  Sam’s gentle voice sounded far away, but Ashleigh’s eyes wouldn’t open to ascertain the exact distance. Darkness closed in with the familiar scent of lemon nearby.

  Ashleigh’s pale face told the tale of her exhaustion. Just the small glimpse Sam took while visiting with Michael had his stomach in knots. Bloodied arms, scarred faces, missing limbs…and pain, or worse, vacant expressions where life seeped to a close. She’d barely sat down in the chair before deep breaths confirmed his suspicions. Asleep – already.

  She was stronger than he. Within her willowy frame beat a resilience and compassion great enough to individually treat every one of those patients, if her body could hold out. He snatched up Stephen from the floor before the toddler climbed into Ashleigh’s lap and headed into the hallway in search of Kara.

  It was a good thing they were moving Michael so he could get his first glimpse of Stephen since the sinking. And Sam could spend his last few d
ays trying to help Ashleigh prepare. He’d completed one bench for the children’s play yard and made a few repairs from water damage, but after a good assessment of the old building, there was so much more to do. He still needed to add a swing for the children and firm up the rock wall surrounding the yard.

  Ashleigh assured him Michael’s arm would heal, but his knee might leave him limping for the rest of his life. Limping was better than never walking again. With Michael’s past experience at his father’s furniture shop, he possessed a solid skill set and he’d always been more charismatic than Sam. A regular salesman.

  His stomach screwed tight for a second at the thought of Michael and Ashleigh being in such close proximity while he stayed across the ocean. It was a sensible choice. Michael couldn’t take care of Stephen on his own, and the boy already built a bond with Ashleigh, Kara, and Fanny. Michael could heal, work, and reestablish his relationship with his son.

  And Ashleigh would wait for Sam.

  Like he’d hoped Catherine would do.

  He firmed his chin and nodded. This was Ashleigh. Doubt seemed out of place when paired with her.

  He met Kara coming up the stairs with a tray in hand. Her gaze flickered to his and then back to the tray. “I saw her come past and thought she’d need something.”

  “Thank you, Kara.” His words crept out in a stiff reply. A part of him knew his reaction was stupid, laced with a shellac of bitterness, but a well-worn path of anger burned deeper. Years of whispers about his mother’s choices, teases from boys at school, and grim-locked expressions of adults whose conversations whispered of his father’s ignorance in marrying a fallen woman brought a barrage of mistrust. Once a fallen woman, always a fallen woman.

  Watching the brokenness of his father, hearing his sobs in the middle of the night when he didn’t think Sam heard him, solidified a promise to himself to find someone. He’d refused to write his mother a year ago when she began a correspondence with his father. Refused to hear his father’s gentle plea to forgive or questions of his mother’s reformation.

  Once a fallen woman…

  Kara stared at him, almost challenging him with an upturned tilt to her narrow chin. Her clear hazel eyes pricked his conscience, a barb of discomfort to his preconceptions. “She’ll listen to you, Mr. Miller. She needs to eat and rest.”

  Sam battled the softening around his heart. “I will make sure to do that.”

  “Then hand over the lad.” Kara raised her copper brow.

  Sam’s hold tightened on Stephen and he looked down at the food, Ashleigh’s pale face resurfaced in his thoughts.

  “You can’t hold both, Mr. Miller. You going to have to release one or the other.” The look in her eyes suggested she held a deeper meaning behind her words.

  Sam groaned and with obvious reluctance, he gave Stephen over to Kara and took the tray.

  “We’ll be in the extra room getting it prepared for you and your friend.” Kara nodded to him, but offered a brilliant smile to the boy.

  It transformed her face. Stephen put his little hands up to her face and gave her a resounding kiss on her cheek. She chuckled and kissed him back, walking with a little bounce to the room at the end of the hall.

  He looked away, his will weakening a little from the scene he’d witnessed. No. He couldn’t soften to a woman like Kara, because then he’d have to admit his mother could change. And that wasn’t possible. Betrayal’s familiar groove had a direct line to his heart.

  He slipped into the room where Ashleigh slept, leaving the door open to ward off impropriety. It was no hardship to watch her sleep. Even with her hair pinned back in her nurse’s cap and the dark shadows under her eyes, she looked beautiful. But she needed to eat. How long had it been? Breakfast, where she’d rushed through a muffin before she was called to surgery?

  Jess’ usual energy waned too, showing her wear from the ceaseless work. With only four or five nurses for hundreds of soldiers, they’d never find rest. Sam shifted the tray to one hand and knelt close, placing his palm over her hand. Her lashes, long and dark, fluttered open and her gaze locked with his. Warmth welled in his chest. His Ashleigh.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but I know you’re hungry.”

  She took in a deep breath and blinked open her eyes further, her smile soft and sleepy. His gaze dropped to her lips and his pulse drilled to a faster speed. Why had he worried about feeling attraction for her? It was a seamless expression when love was involved. The strong urge to protect her had him bringing the sandwich closer.

  “I don’t know how long before you have to go back.”

  She sat up straighter and looked at the sandwich. “Not long, but I’m so glad I get a chance to see you.” Her tired gaze flickered back to his. “I’ve missed you.”

  He wedged closer, setting the tray on her lap to free up his hands to cup her face. Her gentle smile welcomed him to take a taste…and not of the sandwich. The impact rippled all the way through his body. His fingers eased over her skin to palm the back of her neck, savoring delicacies in her warm lips and eager response. Her slight moan encouraged him along and her fingers threaded along his ear into his hair, bringing tingles to life on his scalp. She allowed him to lead, which unearthed a whole new trail of emotions. Keeping her safe, happy, and loving her until she gasped and smiled. Oh yes, he was ready for it all.

  He pulled back a few inches, her lips flushed from his kiss, and her dark eyes glowing. His thumb caressed her cheek and touched the corner of her drowsy smile. “Is help coming for you and Jessica? Some kind of relief?”

  She pressed her eyes closed for another second and took a piece of buttered bread. “There isn’t money to pay for help, but David has encouraged a few women from the village to volunteer their time. I think if we had women who would write letters for the men, or talk with them, or take down their names or make simple arrangements to prepare for surgery, it would relieve some of our responsibilities.” She took a bite and sighed as if the task was enormous.

  “Is there any other place to go for help?”

  Ashleigh raised a brow. “Anyone with a pulse and a willingness to work can serve. We can find something for them to do.” She shook her head and took a sip of tea. “And I only have Jessica for one more week before she returns to the States with her mother to…ease her passing.”

  Sam knelt back down and studied the ground. Surely there had to be a way to bring more workers. But what women did he know in the little town of Edensbury? Who could he recruit? Fanny? He drew in a cautious breath. Catherine?

  Ashleigh took a few more bites and stood. “Thank you, Sam.”

  “You haven’t rested enough. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

  She looked at the stopwatch in her pocket. “I have an amputation. Jessica managed the last one, now it’s my turn.” She set down the tray and reached up to touch his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  How could he complain when she was saving people’s lives? He slipped his arm around her waist and she shifted her weight into him, resting her hands against his arms. “Our stretcher bearers are going to move Michael up to the room tonight. Are you certain you don’t mind keeping a watch on him?”

  He kissed her long and sweet, until thoughts which required a golden ring on her fourth finger began to invade his mind. His grin tipped up at the thought.

  “Why do I suddenly have the feeling you are not thinking of sleeping in the same room with Michael Craven?” She grinned and moved her hand from his cheek to his hair.

  He snuck another kiss, drawing a sigh from her as they pulled apart. “My thoughts weren’t fit for sharing until…um…later.”

  “Later, is it?” She stood on tiptoe and gave him a gentle kiss. As she stepped back, out of his arms, her hand lingered in his. “Sam Miller, I’m looking forward to later.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Sam would never forget the look on Michael’s face when he saw his son again. Complete joy and gratitude. Stephen responded more cautiously, but within an hour he
’d crawled onto Michael’s lap to have a storybook read. After a lifetime of Michael at his neighbor, and almost a year of his absence, the tender moment began the journey of healing for their friendship. Michael wasn’t the same. Along with the wounds, there was a deep sense of humility and gentleness his friend had never possessed.

  Loss and pain carved new attitudes for people, and Michael’s transformation revealed change at the soul level. When he spoke of the family who nursed him to health, their faith and love to him, his eyes shone with hope. God’s hope. Michael’s life, his outlook, had changed. It urged more of Sam’s own contemplation.

  But Michael’s new peace didn’t steal his moans in the night. Ashleigh had warned Sam of Michael’s nightmares, probably similar to the ones they both understood. Coupled with his occasional moans of pain, it left Sam’s body weary by morning. But every sleepless minute was worth it to see his friend’s eyes light up when Kara brought Stephen back into the room after breakfast.

  He wasn’t too certain he had the energy for his morning task, though. He offered a quick prayer of help before he entered Roth Hall. Jackson greeted him with a letter in tow.

  “This arrived for you this morning, sir.”

  “Thank you, Jackson.” Sam tucked the envelope into his jacket pocket, focused on his goal at hand. Persuading Catherine to volunteer at the hospital. Perhaps he’d begun to place too much faith in miracles.

  He found her with her mother in the drawing room.

  Sam shortened the pleasantries to address the problem at hand – the need for more assistance at the hospital.

  “I’m not very good with sick people.” Catherine looked up from the writing desk, pages in hand. “Besides, our aunt has just invited me to London next week for a visit. It seems the Zeppelin raids have stolen most people from the city and she finds herself quite lonely.” Her grin turned playful. “Doesn’t that count as my war effort?”

  “I can’t believe you’d wish to visit her, lonely or not.” Mrs. Dougall scowled, book in her lap, but not one hint of interest in reading it since Sam’s arrival. “Zeppelin raids? Frightful.”