The Thorn Healer

by Pepper D. Basham

  Which seemed the consensus of everyone in the family, despite the fact she’d only met August a little over three months ago. Somehow, he’d claimed her heart long before she ever knew him, and all it took was his unswerving love to help her see she already belonged.

  She drove him back to town. The drive took much less time than usual, but August kept up a lively conversation for the duration, distracting her, caring for her in his way. How could she love someone with such ferocity so quickly? But wasn’t it like God? Once the heart roused, the once murky path cleared of uncertainty, love replaced doubt with a sweet abiding. She looked down at the beautiful pearl ring as she gripped the steering mechanism and smiled. She belonged to him, no matter where he was.

  She pulled over to the side of the road before entering town, before the curious onlookers stole their freedom of a lovers’ good-bye. He pulled her to him, kissing her until her hat tipped far too crooked to be fashionable and her lips tingled from the exertion. He kissed her to leave a memory, and she closed her eyes, storing the tactile tenderness of his caress deep in her heart for more barren days.

  “I will come back to visit tomorrow.” She slid her palm over his shirt as if smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, just to touch him. “Around lunch, after I help Grandpa at the clinic.”

  “I shall wait, though I am much less keen for it than I used to be.”

  She caught his collar in her fist and pulled him to her, capturing his chuckle with her mouth. “I don’t like waiting either.”

  He groaned and returned the kiss with sudden crescendo until they both drew back, a bit breathless. “One day, we will not have to practice patience so liberally.” He ran a hand over her cheek then snagged her fingers in his, placing her palm over his heart, the letter still firmly planted in his pocket. “You are with me, here.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckle at the place of her ring. “Always remember, Mause.”

  August 18, 1918

  Jessica,

  My dislike of fences has magnified throughout the week. They were a mild annoyance when I first arrived in Hot Springs, but when your grandfather gave me employment, they were merely the walls of my temporary abode. Now, I am trapped within them, a cage separating me from you. I miss you. Even though I see you each afternoon, the time is short and the wire keeps me from tasting your honeysuckle lips.

  But I must be content, for at least now I can see your beauty with my eyes and touch your hands. In the following weeks, our world will shift again. Commander Ames plans to begin transport of my sick comrades to U.S. General #12 in Asheville, a place once known as Kenilworth Inn. At which time he plans an immediate evacuation of the remaining men to Oglethorpe. I have requested to continue with the sick as long as possible to provide service, of course, but also to remain nearer to you and your family.

  Now, as this news settles into an expectation throughout the camp, I am wearied by my own self-interest. I must beg your apology, my Mause. Now, in the daylight of my decision, I realize the selfishness of my choice to pursue you. I have opened your generous heart to grief, for I feel its taunting in my spirit. I was blinded by the beauty of who you are, the promise of your resilient, faithful heart poured out on me, that I did not weigh the ramifications, for now we must be parted indefinitely. Had I not placed myself into your world, you would not grieve my loss now. Forgive me.

  I have no doubt my affections for you can withstand the separation. In fact, your letters and your love will provide sweet comfort to breach the distance. You, Jude, and Faith are my family now. Time will tell when that sentence becomes more than words on a page or feelings in my heart, but a physical place of belonging with you, every day.

  Forgive my selfishness, Mause.

  Your Alien

  Jessica slipped down the street beside the wooden fence surrounding the camp. The tall trees of the expansive grounds of the Mountain Park Hotel rose above the planks and shaded her from the late summer heat. Life moved into a quiet routine since the events involving Jasper Little. Death drums kept up a steady reminder of life’s brevity each morning as the newest deaths from inside the camp made the short trek from the camp to Oddsfellows for burial. Cliff continued to heal, slowly but steadily, spurred on, no doubt, by Anna’s loving presence showering him with attention—and, as Jessica caught this morning, a few kisses. Jude and Faith continued to provide her world with a richer hues of sweetness she never knew she wanted until God brought them into her life, and the ever-present unknown for August hung over the day, waiting to break through the clouds like an impending storm.

  August’s daily letters attempted to quell the longing his kisses couldn’t, but they both knew time grew ever shorter. And then what? Even if the war ended soon, as all accounts proclaimed, how long would it be before he was truly free to find her? How many more letters would replace flesh and blood? A tempest raged to life in her spirit, spinning worries to a fever pitch.

  She saw the Old Red Bridge, its steel structure one of the few bridges around to survive the devastation of the flood two years before, a solid structure in the middle of the storm. A surge of realization dawned through her spirit, drawing her feet to a stop—the dark red of the bridge, the immovable steel. Her hope in His love. Strong enough to withstand the storms, the ravages of time and pain.

  My hope is an anchor for your soul, firm and secure. Trust my love for you.

  She looked up into the waning afternoon blue, sunlight shimmering through lush green leaves. Light and warmth bathed her face, her soul, with a sense of gratitude, an awesome understanding penetrating her stubborn will with a renewed sense of grace. She gave into the pull, the hope, the trust, relishing this deep, abiding welcome of peace.

  Her palms turned upward. She closed her eyes as the gentlest breeze whispered like a touch of Heaven across her cheeks. You are mine.

  “I surrender.”

  She embraced the peace, breathing freedom for the first time in so very long. Her smile spread up to the sky. “I’ll need your reminder often, you know? To trust. To hope. I’m painfully stubborn.”

  “He’s not put off by your stubbornness.”

  She tucked her head with her smile, caught in prayer by one of the most endearing voices. She tilted her face toward the place where the board fence gave way to wire and met August’s welcome smile on the other side.

  “And neither am I, Mause.”

  She stepped toward him. “Do you eavesdrop on prayers often, my dear Alien?”

  “Do you pray in the middle of the street often?”

  She laughed and stepped into the haven of trees to meet him at the fence. “Only occasionally, when I’m on my way to meet a very special man.”

  “Who desperately needs your prayers.” His gaze roamed her face, cherishing her from chin to forehead. She braided her fingers through his against the cool metal.

  “Well, I have an excellent wager for you then.”

  His penetrating gaze lit. “I like your wagers. Each time you pray for both of us, I will kiss you?”

  She smiled up at him, wondering if he saw how much she cared for him. Was it reflected in her eyes as it was in his? Did her smile soften with tenderness too? “That would no doubt improve my prayer life.”

  She sobered, squeezing his fingers into a tighter hold. “August, your letter.”

  He sighed, looking away.

  “Please don’t apologize for loving me. Ever.” She waited until his attention swung back to her. “I don’t think you could have changed anything. My heart responded to yours from the first moment I met you. I fought it, as I do most everything, but I would not change a thing.” She drew in a breath, wrestling vast emotions into words. “August, I... I am... found in this love of yours.”

  He attempted to move closer but the fence blocked his approach. He growled. “But it would have been better for your heart if I’d remained a nameless face among the many here who admire you from afar.”

  She stood on tiptoe and peered over his shoulder into the Hotel�
�s lawn. “Oh, are there others behind the fence who admire me, Mr. Reinhold?”

  He lowered his hand to try and snatch her at the waist, but she dodged him.

  “Indeed.” His fingers finally came in contact with her dress and pulled her back against the fence. “And it’s very annoying to fight off an entire group of comrades each day.”

  Her laughter stilled at his sudden closeness and she slipped her hand through the wire to touch his face. “Well, there is only one you, and that is all I need.”

  He closed his eyes and snatched her fingers, running kisses over them. His brow crunched into worried lines and he pressed his lips into her palm. “They begin loading men tomorrow for Oglethorpe, Jessica.”

  The heat in the day cooled over her skin. “So soon?”

  “We knew it would be soon.”

  She nodded, grappling for the hope she’d just embraced. “And the sick?”

  “They will try to move them within the next two weeks.”

  “To Asheville?”

  “Yes.”

  “And will you go to Asheville?”

  He hesitated, rubbing his hand over her fingers. “I don’t know, but I am hopeful.”

  “Do you know when you will leave?”

  His frown pinched at her joy. “Nothing is certain. One day I will be here, and the next...”

  “You’ll be gone,” she finished on a whisper.

  “From this camp, Mause. Only from this camp.” He moved her hand to his heart again, reminding her. “But not from here. I will be with you every day. Right here.”

  ***

  “August, you are on the first train in the morning.” Cliff pressed a paper into August’s hand. “Orders from Ames.”

  “Cliff?” August took the paper and crammed it into this pocket before taking the man in his arms. “You are here?”

  Cliff leaned close, a twinkle in his eyes. “Only today and for a very particular reason.”

  “I am listening.”

  Cliff’s grin spread across his whole face. “I need your blessing.”

  And the joy from his friend’s expression found its way to August’s chest. “My blessing?”

  Cliff scanned the empty room and then focused back on August. “I want to marry your sister, and I’d like your blessing.”

  “You need to ask?”

  “No, not really, but I’d like to hear you say it anyway.”

  August covered Cliff’s shoulder with his palm, giving it a slight shake. “I am pleased to offer my blessing and joy. My only reservation is you did not secure a double wedding.”

  Cliff grin slid into a frown. “You know, I tried, August. I talked to Ruser and then Ames. Neither budged, though I thought I’d hit on Ruser’s romantic side with my plea.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, friend. You’re a German citizen in America. An enemy during a war. Until you’re free from those constraints, nothing can be done.”

  “I thank you for trying.”

  “You can thank me for more than that. Ames has given me permission to take you with me for two hours, as your guard. I couldn’t get more than two.”

  August stared, blinking. “I hadn’t hope for any.”

  “You have to be back by curfew.” Cliff’s grin returned, brighter. “But you’re going to walk your sister down the aisle before you leave Hot Springs.”

  ***

  His sister looked beautiful. Happier than he’d seen her in a very long time and clothed in a simple periwinkle gown of lace, she glided down the aisle of Carter’s chapel, holding his arm and smiling at her groom with a breathtaking radiance. Sylvie went before them, leaving a trail of white petals to guide their way, her little feet almost dancing with joy.

  August found Jessica standing at the front, Anna’s matron of honor. Her glorious hair crowned her head in intricate waves of gold, a pearl barrette pinning her wealth of locks in place and matching the ring on her finger. She almost stole the bride’s glory as she waited, framed by white roses and wearing a flowing, pale green frock. August released his sister to Cliff, then stepped to Cliff’s side as his best man, his gaze drawn back to the woman he wished to make his own.

  She shared a secret smile with him, holding his gaze as the vows passed. He couldn’t look away, didn’t wish to look away. It might have taken months of prayer and persistence to gain her heart, but once won, she held with a passionate, loyal grip. His bride. How long, oh Lord?

  The notice from Ames brought mixed news. He departed in the morning, but at least his request for Asheville had been approved. Oglethorpe loomed as an inevitable end, but not yet.

  The small company, all family, cheered as the bride and groom kissed. Sylvie ran to them and Cliff brought her up into his arms, turning to face the bystanders with a look of sheer delight. The scene gripped August with a mixture of pain and pleasure. His sister’s face glowed with adoration for August’s friend. It was a perfect pairing. A beautiful beginning.

  Jess met him at the altar, taking his arm as they followed the newlyweds down the aisle and out of the church.

  “One day, that song will play for us, August,” she whispered, keeping her eyes ahead.

  He tugged her closer to his side, covering her hand resting on his sleeve. “Do you promise, Mause?”

  Her golden brow edged up as she slit him a pixie smile. “I do, without a doubt. I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  August wiped a hand across his sweat-stained brow and moved to the next cot. Two weeks on the third floor of the U.S. General #12 kept him busier than he’d expected. The nurses complained of the influx of work left to them with so many of their colleagues shipped across the ocean to war, but there was no help for it. Everyone worked to exhaustion.

  August shared a closet room away from the sick with another assistant, an American named Thomas Lennox. The young man seemed nice enough, commenting how August spoke so well that he wouldn’t have guessed he was German. But there was no time to get to know Mr. Lennox, because they split shifts with the twenty-six men, and occasionally, were called to the lower floors to assist with the care of the soldiers.

  “What about those Red Sox, August?” Tom grinned as he passed, taking over the shift. He patted August on the shoulder. “Babe pitched like a dream.”

  August laughed, looking down to examine Tom’s shoes. “Red Sox? Babe?”

  Tom’s brow crowded with confusion. “You don’t know who the Red Sox are? Babe Ruth?” He enunciated the words with such passion, spit flew in the air.

  “No.”

  Tom released a massive sigh. “World Series? The Red Sox played the Chicago Cubs. Won their third series. Babe pitched twenty-nine scoreless innings. It’s all over the papers.”

  August patted his pocket. “I only read this type of paper, and my books.”

  Tom tossed a hand. “Aww, you and that girl of yours.”

  Yes, his girl. His beautiful, strong girl.

  “If you need help on your shift tonight, find me. A new shipment of wounded soldiers came in the last hour and Nurse Riley from downstairs said a few are in very poor condition. You’ll be busy.”

  “More soldiers? Where are we gonna put ‘em?” He shook his dark head, not waiting for an answer before he disappeared down the hall.

  August slid into the tiny room and collapsed onto his cot, tugging a coveted envelope from his pocket. Jessica’s familiar writing marked the page, her newest letter. He split the seal and reclined back onto the shallow pillow. Suddenly, the distance closed with the first sentence.

  September 10, 1918

  My dear Alien,

  Will you take a walk with me? Take my hand. Do you feel it? My palm rubs across the careworn lines of yours, sliding into a perfect fit as we find our step together. The sky is bluer today—an autumn blue—and the leaves have begun their wintry tilt of color. The trees crowd overhead, arching our path through the forest like a rainbow canopy, and the breeze wakes our faces with the tiny blush of cold.

  You tug me closer, warding off
the chill with your presence, and I laugh. Can you hear it? I hear yours. Deep, and filled with your effervescent joy. Yes, you are always with me, my dear August. I close my eyes, as I sit on the back steps of my grandparents’ home, and see us together, taking in the day with the leisure of a peaceful world and a beautiful life.

  The chapel waits, robed in fall roses and welcoming its newest bride and groom.

  Some days, I can march through the hours, longing for you but able to crowd my mind with daily duties enough to keep the yearning to a low ache, but then there are days when I need to see you. Feel you. Remember your touch.

  And on those days, in the quiet of the evening, you take me for a walk to the chapel and I see you as you last stood—dressed in your beige summer suit, pale blue bowtie, and hair admirably tamed into a stylish wave except for your rebel curl. My favorite. The strand of hair that portrays your true mischief, unrepressed by the rules of the camp or society. It falls over your forehead, a little secret to me of who you are and who I love.

  So today, as I long to hear your voice and kiss your lips, close your eyes and join me. Ease the longing of this moment, because one day, we will take this walk with our eyes open, and I want to know the way.

  I love you,

  Your Mause

  “I think you might have to postpone your trip to Asheville, girl.”

  Her grandfather entered the clinic, his gray brows a storm cloud. Amy looked up from her study of hearing aids and deaf education, a personal goal for the driven fifteen-year-old since she learned of Sylvie’s hearing aid.

  “What’s wrong?” Three weeks! August’s train left three weeks ago and oh, how she missed him. How much longer would she have to wait to see him again?

  Grandpa braced his hands upon the counter and breathed out a heavy sigh. “Pete Russell arrived home from the War last week, wounded in the leg. He told me Tuesday he wasn’t feeling well, so I traveled up to check on him this morning.” He groaned and ran a hand over his face, looking every bit of his sixty-nine years. “His whole family was dead.”

  “Dead?” Jess shook her head in an attempt to comprehend. “The whole family?”