The Thorn Healer

by Pepper D. Basham

  “Maybe I like your kind of poetry best?”

  With an exasperated sigh, she began.

  August,

  I have no flowery words to compare to your beautiful letter. Though I’m certain I appear to have many things to say, and much too quickly, when it comes to expressing my heart, I am incapable of finding words eloquent or powerful enough to capture the depths of my emotions. Your words, your touch, leave me incoherent but alive. Wordless but rich with feeling.

  She refused to look up and gauge his reaction. In her years of nursing, she’d never known such vulnerability. Her hand shook the paper, but his came to wrap around the one she’d placed on the bed, enveloping her fear as much as her fingers.

  “Your words seem perfect to me.”

  “You’re hopelessly prejudiced.”

  “And thus I shall remain, for when you love someone, you ought to see them through such a veil, yes?”

  Her shaking hand stilled and her breathing calmed. His love soothed with beautiful devotion.

  Life is a constant journey of learning, if we let it educate us—and somehow, through the years, I had closed my head to the instruction of my heart. Your patient pursuit, gentleness, and endearing humor slid beneath the barrier of my hardened will and nurtured hope. I’d lost hope, you see. I’d allowed pain and bitterness to eclipse the knowledge of all I’d been given. I numbed my pain with unforgiveness, but you? You didn’t allow me to remain paralyzed by my fears. You would not, despite my rejection and cold return. You shone like sun on a wintry world, and reminded it of coming spring.

  Her voice faltered, the intensity pressing in on her chest and tears stealing her voice. He leaned to kiss her lips and then slipped the pages from her hands, dodging Faith’s curious fingers.

  I’d known love from my family—a mother’s devotion, a father’s fierce protection, and brother’s camaraderie—but you? You touched my soul with fire. That is the only way I can write it. An immense warmth and light burst within my cold world at your kiss, your powerful care. I am wordless, awestruck, and filled with gratitude for God’s goodness—a realization I’d refused to see for much too long.

  I don’t know how God will navigate this convoluted present and uncertain future of ours, but I trust His love and your heart.

  Your Mause.

  His pale eyes glistened with tears and he handed Faith back to her. Carefully, wordlessly, he folded the letter and placed it in his shirt pocket. He pressed his palm over it and captured her gaze with such intensity, she couldn’t look away. “Here is where it will stay, my Mause. Your words near my heart.”

  She stood, her smile tucked within her embarrassment as she backed toward the door. “I will go and see about dinner.” Her hand rested on the doorknob and she turned back to him, his smile following her the entire way. “And August?”

  “Yes, Mause?”

  “I’ll marry you.”

  ***

  August stood, balancing himself against the armoire. Ever since Jess’ declaration, he’d anticipated her return, but Mrs. Carter had brought dinner and during the next hour, the house fell into a quiet slumber. Except for him. Despite the weakness, he’d surged to life. She’d agreed to marry him. Surely his muddled mind had not mistaken it.

  He pressed his palm against the letter over his chest, evidence that she’d been more than a dream. Then she must have said she’d marry him. He had to find her and certainly kiss her—if he could stand long enough to search through the house. Dinner helped restore some of his energy from his loss of blood, but as soon as he stood, the world spun. He dropped down into a chair and waited for the room to right itself before beginning again.

  The hallway opened to three more doors. One was closed and two others stood slightly ajar. He approached the first and pushed it wider. The afternoon light fell over Jess’ bed and to the cradle beside it. He crept closer and watched Faith sleep, the gentle rise and fall of her chest following the whisper of her breath.

  He would be a father. He covered his smile, as if it made a noise, and then backed to the door, his grin spreading with the thought. His daughter. Low voices came from the other doorway. He edged closer and peeked into the shadowed room, one lantern lighting the small space. Cliff lay in the bed, pale and motionless, but with eyes wide and staring toward his companion. Anna.

  She held his hand, stroking his fingers. August shouldn’t listen to their quiet words, but he felt a particular responsibility to the outcome of this little story. He rested his weary body against the doorframe, relieved at Cliff’s wakefulness. A good sign. A prayer answered.

  “You don’t have to speak. I know you must be tired.” Anna kept her voice low and gentle. “I’m only glad to have been here to see you wake.”

  “August?”

  “He is well. You were the only one injured by the attack.”

  Cliff sighed.

  “I should go tell the others you are awake. They will want to know.”

  “No.” Came his weak response. “Not yet.”

  Silence followed his words as Anna relaxed back into her chair.

  “August was right. I should tell you.”

  August smiled and pushed away from the door just as Cliff’s long awaited next words released into existence.

  “I’m in love with you, Anna.”

  After years of hurt and sad endings, he and his sister finally found their own happy ending. August sighed out a prayer and made careful progress down the stairs.

  As he reached the bottom, the front door opened and in walked Dr. Carter with Commander Ames on his heels. August attempted to straighten to attention for the commander, but tilted back against the wall for support.

  “As you can see, Commander, it is as I told you. He’s unfit for travel after the procedure.”

  Jess walked into the room in time to come to August’s aid. She slid her arms around his waist. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “Trying to find you,” he whispered.

  Her face took on a rosy glow and if they’d been alone, he’d have worked to make it a shade brighter. Her grip tightened around him as she moved with him to a chair. “Clearly, our stubborn patient decided to go against our better judgment, Commander, and leave his bed. He’s still recovering.”

  She pinned him with her most warning glare. He barely held back the urge to kiss her directly on her frown.

  “How long do you think it will be before he can return to the camp? Besides the important service he provides as an interpreter and medical assistant, the camp is under quarantine and he belongs there.”

  “Commander, I do not expect August will be able to return to the camp for at least three days.”

  Three days? That seemed extreme, even with his minimal medical experience. He’d only participated in a transfusion and was without injury or wound. He suspected the recovery to be less than twenty-four hours, not three days.

  “His immune system is low from the procedure, and sending him into such a volatile situation without a healthy capacity to fight is practically killing him.”

  Grandfather shot him a glance with an impish tilt to his moustache. What was he playing at? And the sudden realization had August nearly jumping from the chair to embrace the man. He was stalling. Giving Jess and August time together before the move to Oglethorpe.

  Jess looked between them, attempting to sort out the secret exchange. She stood near him, her hands braided behind her back, so he carefully wove his among them, out of sight of their guest. Her body stiffened, her profile tilting in his direction but not turning, and then her lips tugged ever so slightly upward.

  “Is Mr. Reinhold well enough to answer questions, then?”

  “Yes, sir.” August replied, reluctantly slipping his hand from hers and sitting taller in the chair.

  “Please, have a seat here, Commander.” Dr. Ross offered one of the dining chairs and the man took his seat, never looking quite at ease in any situation.

  “I would like a complete accounting of the
events last night, even the slightest detail.”

  August responded, explaining everything to the best of his ability—the two men, the struggle, and what details he could make out of the assailants. Ames listened with great intent, and as August described the two men, he leaned forward, his hands folded before him and his head bent low.

  “I believe we found one of the men this morning, based on your description of his clothing and features.”

  “Where did you find him? At the train depot?”

  Ames looked up, grim. “In the river.”

  August groaned. Would the man who nearly killed Cliff get away with the murders of the camp, Cliff’s attempted murder, and this? “The river?”

  “Someone strangled him and then left him at the river’s edge.”

  Jess gasped. “Why?”

  Ames attention shifted back to August. “We can only assume his accomplice thought he was a liability.”

  Dr. Carter stepped forward. “Did anyone identify him, Commander?”

  “Yes, a few of the local guards. Goes by the name of Davis.”

  August looked to Jess and back to Ames.

  “You know him?” the commander stated more than asked.

  “His family have lived in this town for generations,” Dr. Carter added.

  “And he was known for his anti-German sentiments,” Jess said. “He’d recently returned from the Front, wounded, after losing his brother over in France.”

  “Do you know of anyone else who might have partnered with him?”

  “Yes, I think I do,” Jessica slid down into a chair beside August. She blamed herself. He could see that by her worried brow.

  “We could not know,” August said, pulling her attention toward him. “Mr. Little acted his part with expert skill. I should not be surprised if he’d played it before.”

  “Indeed,” Ames interjected. “We have evidence to believe this was not the first attack of its kind on these particular men. In fact, three similar situations have happened over the past year—and to German internees alone.”

  “We’ve been targeted?”

  “It’s war, son. Everyone’s a target in some way or other.”

  “What similarities did you find? What information?” Dr. Carter asked.

  “Anonymous letters to frame the internees, small ‘accidents’ which were later discovered to be planned, and then two other incidences of typhoid fever from contamination of a water supply. Once while the internees were housed in New York, and another aboard a train.”

  “And any leads? Suspects?”

  “We have one, but we’ve never been able to catch him. One disgruntled soldier who’d lost brothers in the war at the hands of Germans. An Englishman, I think.”

  “An Englishman?” Jessica’s hand pressed to her stomach. “In any of these details, these witness accounts, did they mention him missing a hand?”

  Ames brows rose, the answer evident before he even spoke. “Yes, as a matter of fact, they did.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jasper Little had disappeared. She and Grandpa accompanied Ames to the Inn where Birdie confirmed Mr. Little checked out first thing in the morning and left on the 8:30 train. It was all wrong—unfair. Could he get away with all of this evil with no consequences?

  “You can’t do anything about it, girl.” Grandpa pulled the car up to the farmhouse.

  Jess slammed her fist into her lap, fury and regret a twisted knife. “But... but I should have done something. Known somehow.”

  “You heard the commander. This was not Mr. Little’s first attempt. He’d practiced his plan well enough to know what to do. He fooled all of us, Jess.”

  “But I should have known, don’t you see, Grandpa?”

  “How? How could you have known?”

  “I’ve been fooled before. Shouldn’t I know better the second time?”

  Grandpa gave her shoulders a little shake. “Oh, girl, this world is steeped in evil. You’ve been in war. You’ve seen and experienced it enough to realize war comes with many faces. You can’t see or prevent them all.” His hold gentled with his expression. “And sometimes, there’s nothing you can do but release it to God’s judgment.”

  And again, the same sermon. Same theme. Same struggle to trust.

  “Jess, you’ve been through more hardships in your young life than most women will ever know. You’ve seen the worst of humankind, watched the corruption eat away at the good and destroy the noble. Our power here is limited, but God is not, and neither is his plan. All of these things, we have to trust to His care or we’ll go mad.”

  All things....

  She kicked against releasing the anger. “But we should do something.”

  “Yes, we should. We fight for the right when we can. We uphold the truth. We show grace and mercy and strive for justice, but when we’ve done all we can do, we trust.”

  “And trust is the most difficult things to do.”

  Her grandfather offered an understanding smile. “We seek control and want our definition of justice. We’re like young children trying to tell the doctor how to perform surgery on the brain, furious if the doctor doesn’t listen to us.”

  She sighed. “What can I do?”

  “You can go inside that house and enjoy these next two days you have with August.”

  She searched her grandfather’s face, realization dawning. “You planned that? You gave Commander Ames those days so I could... so we could...”

  “I don’t know what time you’ve got, Jess, but I know he loves you. Let go of these time stealers, the frustrations you can’t change, and hold to the sweet things, the choices that do make a difference.”

  Jess heard the children’s laughter as she exited the car. It rose from the back. She glanced over at her grandfather, his grin urging her to investigate. She took her time, praying through her steps, struggling with the guilt eating away at this sweet opportunity to spend time with August.

  Would she always come to God with the same mantra? The same struggles?

  “Help me trust you.”

  I love you with an everlasting love.

  And the sweet reminder stirred her heart alive again. The cross. The sacrifice. She rounded the corner of the house and smiled. August sat in the grass, Jude to his left, Sylvie on his right, and Faith in his arms. God’s touch. His fingerprints marked August’s love. She walked toward him, toward the truth that trust required sacrifice and risk. God completed the risks and the sacrifices, and her job was only to believe Him... to have faith.

  Change the things she could. Trust God with the things she couldn’t.

  Perhaps Granny could stitch that on a pillow.

  ***

  August caught her after supper and tugged her out onto the porch, sweeping her into a kiss before she had a chance to speak one word. Of course, catching her by surprise gave him the added pleasure of hearing her sharp intake of breath and then feel her body melt into him.

  “You’re going to ruin my virtuous reputation, Mr. Reinhold.” But she made no attempt to retreat. In fact, she nuzzled closer for another kiss.

  “I know an immediate remedy for this predicament, Miss Ross. In fact, you’ve already agreed to it.”

  Her smile spread against his lips. “You certainly are persistent.”

  “It’s served me well.”

  She chuckled, her hold on him tightening. “Me too, my dear alien.”

  “You said you would marry me and then you left the room.”

  “What else did you need me to do?”

  He slid his palm over her cheek and back into her hair, keeping her close enough to kiss at will. “Shout it to the house? We should tell your grandparents, and Cliff. And the children.”

  Anna already knew. Sisters deserved special secrets as a rule.

  “August.” Her palmed against his chest stilled his movements. “We can share the news with my grandparents and Cliff, but... I’d rather not tell Jude just yet.”

  He searched her face, shadow
ed by the night sky and porch roof. “You doubt me?”

  “No.” Her fingers slid against his cheek to his hairline. “No, how could I ever doubt you?”

  Then he understood. “You are afraid he will be hurt.”

  “He cares about you so much. We don’t know how much longer the war will continue. What if we raise his hopes only to have you gone for a long time... or something happens to keep you away indefinitely?”

  “I wonder if you are not speaking more for yourself than for Jude.” He pressed his lips to one cheek. “I love you.” He kissed the other cheek and she sighed. “I love you still.” His lips met hers, gently, slowly. “I love you forever. Jude will have you to help him be strong, even if we all must wait on time.”

  She braced his face between her palms. “Then let’s tell them tonight so we can celebrate tomorrow.”

  Before he returned to camp, behind the fence, and then... only God knew. “Here is my promise.”

  He fished for the ring Anna gave him earlier in the day. Their mother’s ring. Her favorite. A simple pearl. Perfect for his bride.

  His bride.

  He felt for her fourth finger and slipped the ring into place. “I cannot see the future. I do not know how long we will be apart, but I can promise you this. My love will remain constant, no matter where I am or where you are. When you look at this ring, remember, and rest in my love for you.”

  ***

  Two days sounded like an eternity but drained like a sieve. Jess spent almost every waking moment with August, bringing the children along for walks to the chapel and a picnic by the river, and then she stole a few private interludes with him in the hallway or on the porch, wherever they could find them.

  He remained constant, pulling at her smile more than anyone she’d known. He held an infectious optimism and steady faith, reminding her of truths she’d forgotten. And her fears of sharing news of the engagement with Jude turned to laughter at the boy’s excitement, even as they attempted to explain the fluid future.

  Jude’s response was beautifully simple. “It’s about time.”