The Thorn Bearer

by Pepper Basham

  Frustration brewed to the top of Sam’s self-control. London trips when men were dying in a hospital ten miles away? He turned the full fire of his gaze on Catherine. “You are a strong, smart woman. You have the opportunity to serve these men who are defending your home. Can’t you spare an afternoon? A few days?”

  Catherine rested her chin on her knuckles and stared at him. “You actually think I could be useful?”

  “Of course I do. Prove it to yourself, if nothing else.”

  Her brow furrowed and she continued to stare at him. Did his words penetrate through her façade to her heart? Surely she had a conscience beneath all the playacting. The failure of her plan had taken its toll with her own dark eyes and pale complexion. He’d known her a long time, seen her way of easing people, her quick mind. Couldn’t she put it toward the benefit for others than herself?

  “Let Dr. Ross know I will come two afternoons a week.” Catherine turned to her papers. “And I’ll write to our aunt that I will delay my visit for a few weeks, until the rush of this offensive dies down.”

  Sam decided to hold his tongue and not elaborate on the fact that from all accounts, the Somme was far from over, let alone the war. At least she’d agreed. His faith in her buoyed back a little. “I’ll be happy to let him know. I’m sure both he and your sister will be appreciative.”

  Mrs. Dougall waved a hand in the air. “She has no place in a hospital with dying soldiers.”

  “We can find a place for her away from the worst of it, if necessary.” He focused on Catherine. “You are strong, Catherine. One of the strongest, most determined people I know.” And she’d do anything to get what she wanted, so maybe if she focused her energy on helping others, miracles might follow.

  “Strong?” Her laugh hollowed and she pressed her hand to her stomach. “At present, I don’t feel well. I’m going to my room.”

  Sam followed her into the hall. “Thank you for agreeing to come.”

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll use my feminine wiles to make poor influences?” she challenged him with a raised brow. “Lead good men astray?”

  He took her arm and stopped her from stomping away. “You are much more than those rumors, and you have the chance to prove it now. To stand up and be the person I know you are.”

  “If you had such faith in me, you would never have abandoned me.”

  “You called off the engagement, Catherine – and then you tried to use our friendship to attract another man.” Her glare ignited his frustration even more. “Why do you feel this need to make these wrong choices? I’ve seen compassion and determination in you. Goodness. You aren’t desperate. You can choose to be honest - To be as good and dedicated as—”

  “As my perfect sister?” Her blue eyes narrowed with a dangerous glint, her palm pressing more tightly into her stomach. “My wholesome, sweet, innocent sister?”

  “This isn’t about Ashleigh.”

  “Oh, I think it’s been about Ashleigh a long time.” She stepped closer, gaze fastened on his. “When did she start moving her way into your heart? Last month? Last year?”

  He shook his head and walked around her toward the door. “I’m not going to satisfy your question with an answer. There are wounded soldiers and hardworking nurses who need extra help.” He turned, pointing a finger in frustration. “I don’t know what it is between you and Ashleigh, but it seems you’re the only one holding this secret grudge.”

  “Me?” Her hand flew to her throat in mock shock. “Oh, not only me, my dear Sam. Ashleigh’s good with secrets too. Very good, in fact. I wouldn’t wonder if she’s a far better pretender than I am.”

  A sliver of fear slid from her words to his heart. Hadn’t Ashleigh said something about keeping secrets? “There’s no need to turn this into a way to slander your sister.” He raised his palms and backed away. “I thought you might be the type of person who would agree to help for the right reasons. I was wrong.”

  Anger lit her expression, but her smile slithered into place. “Oh, you’re wrong about much more than you think. Did I hope to marry Drew Cavanaugh? Yes, I did, and to my eternal regret, I used your affections and lied about our relationship to spark his jealousy. There, I’ve admitted my flaws.” Her smile grew, a hidden message striking at his confidence. “Now why don’t you get my sister to admit hers? To tell you of her little indiscretions which shoved her fiancé into the arms of another woman?”

  “I knew you were desperate to win Drew’s attention, but I didn’t think you were mean spirited too.” He turned toward the door, wearier from this conversation than he’d been after a night of Michael’s nightmares. He’d been foolish to come.

  “Aren’t you even a little curious why Michael left her?”

  “Obvious.” Sam kept walking. “He had a son.”

  “And he’d slept with Ashleigh.”

  Her declaration stopped him in the doorway. He fisted his palms at his sides and slowly turned. “Why hate her enough to start this lie?”

  Catherine laughed. “Lie? Why don’t you ask her? She’s not the innocent puritan you’ve placed up on a pedestal. Evidently their affair eventually turned him into the arms of his previous romance. Ashleigh was a disappointment of some sort. Why didn’t he merely tell Ashleigh about Stephen, knowing my dear sister’s affinity for children?”

  “Maybe he was ashamed of his actions.”

  Catherine clicked her tongue in mock comfort. “You know Michael. So confident and self-assured. He could have swayed her with his charm to get her to forgive him.” Her grin returned, dark and much too happy for the conversation. “I heard her confession. Maybe Michael was just like you.” She stepped close and pulled at his jacket, her gaze examining him with a hint of triumph. “He thought Ashleigh would be different than the others, but to his dismay--” She offered a mock pout. “--she was like the worst of us. Desperate for love. If you doubt me, ask her.”

  Sam couldn’t imagine the bitterness which would force Catherine to such a ridiculous accusation. It was beyond comprehension, even if a question stirred between the lines. Not Ashleigh. “I wouldn’t disrespect her with the attempt.” Sam opened the front door.

  “Haven’t you wondered at her secret? The thing that keeps her cautious. The one fear to wake her up at night. It all finally made sense. Who knows how long she’s grieved over her choices, knowing it would ruin her?”

  Ruin her? Past conversations with Ashleigh rushed into the light.

  “I can see the truth eating away at her like a cancer.”

  Her words on the Lusitania struck him in the heart and opened the door for more doubt. Cancer? The only way to fix it is to place it in the past. Isn’t that what she’d said? Some things can’t be fixed.

  No, he wouldn’t fall into Catherine’s trap. Right now Ashleigh needed him. In two days, he’d be on his way to Liverpool to board the Saxonia for his trip home.

  “Good-bye, Catherine. I hope after you think about how you can serve others, you’ll reconsider volunteering your time at the hospital. Good men could use your kindness, assuming you still have some to offer.”

  Her eye grew wide and he cringed at the hurt which followed her shock. She’d played enough games with him, but to turn this into a slanderous tale to hurt Ashleigh was beyond a game, it was malicious. He cringed. And to think if he’d married Catherine his life would have resembled an emotional yoyo. Thank God for rescue!

  He sat back in the car as Marsh started back to the village. An adjustment to his jacket reminded him of the letter in his pocket. He pulled it out and grinned – a missive from his father. Good thing it arrived today instead of tomorrow, since he’d have been gone from Edensbury by the evening for his journey back to the States.

  He flipped over the envelope, his father’s familiar handwriting almost as comforting as the man himself. A few lines down at Sam’s breath hooked tight in his chest. He sat ramrod straight.

  Your mother arrived three weeks after you left. Three weeks? Which meant she’d been in the
States for a month and a half. Why hadn’t his father told him? She was concerned for your safety after hearing the news of the ship. Concerned? She’d never been concerned about him. If she had been, she wouldn’t have left him for a piece of scum from her past. She is a changed woman, Sam. Pray before you come. Pray diligently that God will open your heart to forgive her. For my sake, as much as hers. His sake? Why would he want Sam’s forgiveness for his mother’s abandonment? She has become the woman I’d always prayed she’d become. Time and pain have made us both better than we ever could have been before our separation.

  A nail of heat bolted into his chest. His father wanted to reconcile with her. He as much as wrote it. Impossible. Was there no woman in the world who wasn’t out to manipulate her way into a man’s heart? His hopes clung to Ashleigh. At least there was one. No matter what Catherine said.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Ashleigh,” Michael repeated for the third time in as many minutes. His pale green eyes stayed red-rimmed from his easy tears, but at least each day saw fewer and fewer of them. It would take years for her to get accustomed to this humble, gentle man who used to flaunt his pride like a British flag.

  She’d finally managed to get him up in a chair for an hour, a good sign of healing. “I think it’s certainly sufficient for one morning.” She teased a grin out of him. “You should have most of your strength back in your right hand within a few weeks.”

  “Then I can start helping out more around here.” He scanned the room. “Sam’s told me a little about some of the needs.”

  “We will be grateful for the help.” She slipped back his shirt collar and checked the cut he had from collar bone to shoulder. A slice of a bullet? Or a piece of debris? “This is healing nicely, but I’m afraid it will leave a scar.”

  “No matter.” His gaze focused on hers again, intense and earnest. “You look tired. Are you getting any rest?”

  She rocked back on her heels, the change in him unnerving at times. Past experience hadn’t prepared her for his tenderness or interest, not to mention the fact she still marveled at his survival. She didn’t even know him. Not this Michael. “Perhaps once the influx of wounded passes I can rest, but right now it isn’t an option. I’ve even had to postpone the arrival of new children to the orphanage because I have no time to help Kara.”

  His dimpled grin peeked forward, a reminder of the Michael she once knew. “She seems capable enough.”

  Ashleigh pushed against the arm of his chair and stood. “Without a doubt, but she is still human – and she isn’t a carpenter, though she’s tried a few times.”

  “Whatever you need, all you have to do is ask.” He grabbed her hand. “I can’t take back the horrible way I’ve treated you. I can never repay your compassion to me.” A gentle squeeze punctuated his words. “But you saved my son; you’ve taken care of me and forgiven me. I will do anything I can to help you.”

  She paused her reply, resting her hand in his. Was the poor man trying to earn the forgiveness she’d already given? Did the burn of unforgiveness really appear as unrelenting at the look in his eyes? She didn’t want the ache of bitterness toward him in her heart anymore, for him or her.

  Ashleigh knelt back down and stared up at him. “Michael, you don’t have to keep trying to earn my forgiveness.”

  His eyes grew watery again, but his smile remained intact. “I’m not. I’m thankful you forgave me and I want to give something back, not earn anything.” He shrugged. “The family who helped me after the Lusitania reminded me of what Sam’s father used to say to me when I mess up with him. When you realize you’ve been forgiven of much,” His gaze grew more intense. “your natural response is to love much.”

  Abide with me. The call surfaced from deep inside, like when Michael first requested her forgiveness. God’s voice, a ceaseless call to release her pain and anger about her past to him. But how could she? If she forgave her father, wouldn’t it be like condoning what he did? She’d held on to her hate so long, if she let go of it, what would take its place?

  He watched her, almost as if he knew her thoughts. She shuddered and pulled her hand free, drawing in a breath and averting her gaze to the gauze on his forehead. “Let me see to your wound here and then I must return to the hospital.”

  He placed his head back against the chair as she leaned over him, his eyes closed, which was good. Any more piercing looks might very well have had her in tears. The request quaked through her spirit, springing open doors of questions. Forgiving Michael was one thing. Forgiving her father was…impossible.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Sam peered into the room to see Ashleigh’s fingers smoothing back Michael’s hair. Her nearness to him, and the way he watched her, shot blinding pain and banged open the floodgates of doubt Catherine stirred. Surely Catherine was wrong. She had to be.

  The thought drilled an ache in his chest. If Ashleigh had given herself to Michael while they were engaged, the knowledge of it would shock his opinion of her, of course. Then keeping it a secret?

  He pressed his palm into the doorframe. Deception? Like Catherine and his mother? Oh, the news of his mother’s presence in Millington raked over his nerves like a saw on wood. He already wanted to hit something – and protect his father from the effects of a false woman. He stared at Ashleigh, her care evident from the gentleness in her touch against Michael’s skin.

  False woman?

  An ugly fire burned up through his chest, tainted with the smoke of jealousy. If Michael had never returned…

  The thought pierced his conscience with the pain of a hot iron. How could he even wish that?

  Her face stayed only a few inches from Michael’s while working closely with the bandages on his chest. He could probably smell the scent of violets on her skin. Did she smile at Michael the way she did with him? Did she still feel attraction? Would their intimate experiences together draw them back to each other in ways with which Sam couldn’t compete?

  And shouldn’t have to. His chin tightened. He loosened his shoulders and sighed. Catherine’s accusations were fraught with questions and lies. His gaze zoomed back in on the couple by the window. Her gentle smile, his blatant adoration, and Sam’s stomach knotted all over again.

  Michael saw him first, his grin spreading wide with welcome. “Was your trip to Roth Hall successful, friend?”

  Friend? Yes, he was renewing his friendship, not trying to find another reason to fan suspicion. “A little. I secured two afternoons a week from her.”

  Ashleigh’s brow crinkled. “You talked to Catherine about helping here?”

  He forced himself to keep his mind focused on her face, but his thoughts spun in worry. Did she freely give herself to Michael or did he take what he wanted from her? The secret she harbored on the Lusitania certainly haunted her. Was she sorry? Did she enjoy being with Michael, gasping to his kisses?

  Sam clenched the thoughts to a stop and hoped he smiled. “It took some convincing, but I think she means it.”

  Ashleigh tilted her head with her grin. “Did you have to resort to blackmail, jealousy, or charm?”

  “Come on, Ashleigh, you don’t think Sam has that much charm, do you?” Michael laughed, and then grabbed at his side to brace the movement against his fractured ribs.

  Ashleigh’s gaze never left Sam’s, and the light in her eyes brightened with affection. “I’m certain he does.”

  Catherine had to be wrong. Maybe he could let the doubt go. Pretend Catherine never said anything. Close the thoughts away with a myriad of other memories from his mother. His blood ran cold. His mother. The woman who thought she would woo her way back into his father’s life. Ashleigh wasn’t like her. She truly cared for him. He could see it in her eyes, but what if, over time, her connection with Michael overrode her feelings for him? If she went back to her first love because of the draw of that physical connection?

  “Are you well, Sam?” Ashleigh stepped forward, studying his face from forehead to chin. “You seem concerned.”
<
br />   Her honest perusal gave no hint of anything but care. How could he even suggest Catherine’s words to her? “Conversations with your sister have a tendency to be challenging.”

  “No doubt.” Michael closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the headrest of the chair. “I’m exhausted just thinking about it.”

  Ashleigh knew him too well to take the bait of distraction. “Would you help me bring lunch in for Stephen? Kara had to go shop for more supplies.”

  He looked beyond Ashleigh to Michael, searching the room for a reason to stay behind, but she caught him. She nudged him as she passed on her way to the door. “I could use your assistance, Mr. Miller.”

  “Of course.” He braced himself as he followed her into the hall.

  She’d pick it out of him with the pain and prodding of an operation, no doubt. He rubbed his hands against his thighs to quell the sweating. What could he say or do? Her past may have been in the past, but it impacted her future – their future. He cast a look back over his shoulder where Michael rested. He’d take care of her much better now – and she loved Stephen like he was her own already.

  Blast! He didn’t want to even consider it.

  She led him into the small dining room nestled at the farthest end of the hall from the bedrooms and listening ears. Yes, she knew something was wrong. Smart and beautiful.

  Closing the door behind him, she turned, crossed her arms, and stared up at him. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Maybe he could get out of it, or distract her? “I received a letter from Father before I came here. It’s about my mother.”

  She stepped forward, her palm on his arm to comfort. “Is your father all right?”

  Sam ran his palms down her arms, relaxing his tense face. “He’s fine, for now.” His smile tightened at the thought of his mother. “My mother arrived in Millington about six weeks ago.”