A Refuge at Highland Hall (5 page)

“Please, Alex, sit down.” His mother reached out her hand. “I'm sure Roger didn't mean to upset you.” His mother's face had gone deathly pale. Clearly, everything Tremont knew about Alex's father had come directly from her, and guilty pain filled her eyes.

Alex clenched his jaw and lowered himself into the chair. He must stay calm for his sister's and his mother's sake.

“Of course. Your mother is right. I meant no offense.” Tremont took off his hat and laid it on the end table, then sat in a chair across from Alex. “What brings you to London?”

Alex forced his voice to remain calm. “I've been in town for a few weeks, recovering from an injury. I thought I should visit before I return to my base.”

His mother shifted in her chair. “What kind of injury?”

“Just a broken collarbone and dislocated shoulder, but the doctor says I'm fine now. He released me to finish my training.”

Her expression turned wary. “How did it happen?”

He'd hoped to avoid disclosing those details, but there didn't seem any way around it. “I had a bit of a rough landing. Nothing to worry about.”

Tremont laughed. “See, that's what I mean.”

“Roger, please.”

Tremont lifted his hand. “I'm sorry. It's just so typical. I could've told you how he was injured, even before he admitted it.”

Alex clenched his hands and glared at the vile man.

“The boy's as wild and reckless as his father. I'll be surprised if he doesn't kill himself before he—”

Alex sprang from his chair. “This was a mistake. I shouldn't have come.” He strode across the room and nearly collided with the housekeeper as she walked through the doorway with the tea tray.

The teacups clattered together, and Alex reached out to steady her.

“I'm sorry, sir.” She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“No, it was my fault. I apologize.”

The housekeeper stepped around him and placed the tray on the low table in front of the sofa.

“Thank you, Mrs. Peterson.” His mother's low voice sounded strained. “That will be all.”

“Very good, ma'am.” She nodded to his mother and turned to go, sending him a questioning look as she passed.

Alex grabbed his duffel bag, ready to follow her out.

His mother stood and clasped her hands. “Alex, please, won't you at least stay for tea?”

“No. I think it's best if I leave now.” He turned away and walked out of the parlor.

“Alex, wait.” Lindy caught up to him just as he reached the front door. “I'm so sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the open parlor door.

“It's all right. It's not your fault.” He kept his voice low, hoping to keep the conversation between just the two of them.

She sent him a sad smile. “I'm glad you came. I've wondered how you were and when we might see you again.”

“It seems you're the only one.” He couldn't prevent bitterness from tingeing his words.

Lindy reached for his arm. “You must forgive Mother. Life has not been easy for her.”

He glanced around at the fine house, doubts stirring his anger again.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “My stepfather is difficult most days, and painfully unpleasant others.”

Alex stilled, his stomach tensing. He searched his sister's face, and a shocking question formed in his mind. “He hasn't hurt you, has he?”

“No, he's never lifted a hand toward me…or Mother, as far as I know.”

Alex glared toward the parlor. “He better not, or he will have to answer to me.”

A smile lit Lindy's eyes for just a moment, then quickly faded. “I'm afraid he uses other methods to get his way.”

“What do you mean?”

“He trades in cutting remarks and a volatile temper. But I've learned to shield my heart from him.” She reached for his hand, then waited until Alex met her gaze. “He's not my father, and he never will be.”

Their father's image rose in his mind's eye. Alex's throat tightened, and he nodded as the silent bond between them tightened.

“I know you and Mother haven't been close, but it might help if you would write.”

Alex pulled back. “I do write, maybe not as often as I should, but at least three or four times in the last year.”

Lindy cocked her head. “Really? She told me she hasn't heard from you for several years.”

Alex glanced toward the parlor. How was that possible? He had mailed most of his letters from distant ports, but his grandmother had received his letters and responded. What had happened to the letters he had written to his mother? Had Tremont confiscated them? Or had his mother lied to Lindy and simply refused to answer Alex?

He shook off those questions. He might never know the truth, but that wouldn't stop him from staying in touch with his sister. “I don't know what happened to my letters, but I promise you, I have written.”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “I believe you.”

He glanced toward the door. “I should go.”

Still, she held on to his hand.

“I'll write to you, Lindy, but it might be best if I send the letters through a friend. Then there's no chance anyone will keep them from you.”

“Yes, of course.” She hurried to the table in the corner, pulled open the drawer, and took out a small card and pencil. “I'll give you Elizabeth Hamilton's address.” She quickly jotted it on the card and handed it to Alex. “I'm sure she'll receive mail for me.”

He slipped the card into his jacket pocket and studied his sister's face, memorizing her features. Would this be the last time he saw her this side of heaven? He reached for her hand again. “Take care, Lindy. Say a prayer for me.”

“I will. I promise.” She stood on tiptoe and placed a feather-light kiss on his cheek. “Stay safe, Alex.”

His throat tightened so much that he could not reply. So he nodded to her, turned, and walked out the door.

The clock in the entrance hall chimed seven as Penny hurried down the stairs. She didn't want to be late for dinner. Jon and Kate liked her to set a good example for the children, and she truly wanted to, but more often than not, she got caught up reading a novel and lost track of time.

A strand of her hair fell and waved before her eyes. Ah, what a bother! She pulled out a pin, tucked the strand back in place, and poked the pin in again.

Just as she reached the bottom step, the front doorbell rang.

Who could that be? They weren't expecting guests this evening, but the unexpected often happened at her sister's home. Whoever was at the door, Jon and Kate would probably welcome them in and invite them to stay for dinner. She crossed to the front door and pulled it open.

Lieutenant Alex Goodwin stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the fading evening light. He looked quite handsome wearing his visor cap and double-breasted uniform jacket with gold buttons.

A ripple of pleasure flowed through her. “Lieutenant Goodwin, hello.”

He smiled. “Good evening…and it's Alex, remember?”

“Yes, of course, Alex. Please, come in.” She stepped back and pulled the door open wider.

“Thank you.” He walked inside carrying a military duffel bag. “I was hoping I might speak to Jon. Is he at home?”

“Yes, he is.” She glanced at the duffel bag, questions stirring in her heart.

Jon walked out of the dining room, followed by Kate. “Alex, welcome! It's good to see you.” He reached out and shook Alex's hand. “We're just sitting down for dinner. Won't you join us?”

Alex's face turned ruddy. “I'm sorry. I know your invitation was for Sunday.”

“We're glad to have you any day, aren't we, Kate?”

Kate smiled. “Of course. Please stay for dinner.”

Alex hesitated a moment. “All right. Thank you.”

“Let me take your bag.” Jon reached for Alex's duffel, placed it by the foot of the staircase, then led Alex into the dining room.

Penny and Kate exchanged smiles and followed the men in. The children stood behind their chairs at the long table, waiting for prayer and the invitation to be seated. Mrs. Murdock and Lydia stood beside the buffet, ready to help serve the meal. All eyes turned toward Alex as he entered the room.

“Children, I'd like to introduce Lieutenant Alex Goodwin. He'll be joining us for dinner this evening.”

Alex lifted his hand and glanced around the table. “Hello, everyone.”

A chorus of greetings rose from the children. Mrs. Murdock lifted her eyebrows and glanced at Lydia. An extra guest wasn't unusual, but Penny supposed Mrs. Murdock wondered if the meal would stretch to feed one more. The government had urged thrift and great care in preparing meals to avoid waste, in the hope they would not have to enforce rationing. Mrs. Murdock usually calculated the servings very carefully. Penny decided that she would take a smaller amount to make sure there was enough for Alex.

“Please take this seat.” Kate motioned toward the empty chair at the end of the table.

Six-year-old Susan's brow creased. “But that's Jesus's place.”

Alex's steps stalled, and he shot a questioning look at Kate.

“It's all right.” Kate sent Alex a reassuring glance, then turned to Susan. “We set that extra place to remind us Jesus is the unseen guest at every meal, but I know He'd be happy to offer it to Lieutenant Goodwin this evening.”

“Yes, I'm sure He would.” Jon moved to stand behind his place in the center on the right side, across from Kate. The seven children would be seated between the adults, alternating boys and girls to help keep order at mealtime.

Alex stood behind his chair at the end of the table. Penny slipped into her place between Susan and Tom. They all looked toward Jon.

“Let's close our eyes and bow our heads for prayer.” Jon waited while everyone settled and bowed their heads. “Father, thank You for this day and all You have given us. We are grateful for our home, our friends, our family, and the food You have provided. Please guide our conversation and keep us mindful of Your love and presence. In Christ's name, we pray. Amen.” Jon looked up. “You may be seated.”

The children pulled out their chairs, then took their seats amid shuffling and bits of conversation.

Mrs. Murdock and Lydia carried serving dishes around the table, helping the children but allowing the adults to serve themselves. Soon the simple meal of potatoes, carrots, peas, roasted chicken, and bread filled everyone's plates.

Jon placed his napkin on his lap. “So, Alex, how is your shoulder feeling?”

“Thanks to the excellent staff at St. George's, I'd say I'm almost as good as new.” He moved his arm, demonstrating the range of motion.

“I'm glad to hear it.”

“I'm sorry I wasn't the best patient. Some men might like to put their feet up to relax, but I'm eager to get back to my training.”

Jon chuckled. “Yes, you never did like to sit still.”

“That's true. I've always loved being on the move, especially outdoors.”

Penny turned to Alex. “Did you develop your love for the outdoors when you lived in India?”

“Yes, I suppose I did. My father had quite a sense of adventure, and he often took me along when he went hunting or when he scouted out the route for a new railway.”

“That sounds so exciting.” Penny set down her fork. “How long did you live in India?”

“I was born there and stayed until I was thirteen.”

“Did your family return to England then?” Penny asked.

Jon shot Penny a warning glance, but she caught it too late.

Alex's expression faltered. “When I was eleven, my mother left India and returned to England. My parents divorced. I stayed with my father for the next two years, but after he passed away, I was sent back to London to live with…my grandparents.”

She'd done it again. Put the poor man in an awkward place. Would she never learn to hold her tongue? “I'm sorry.”

“It's all right. It was a long time ago.” Alex glanced away, but not before she saw the ruddy tint of his face and the sheen in his eyes.

Penny shifted in her seat. “Is your mother still in London?”

“Yes, but she remarried. I don't see her often.” He looked down at his plate, obviously uncomfortable.

Oh, she was just making it worse and worse. She pressed her lips together, determined not to say anything else about his family. It was obviously a painful topic for him.

“Children, I think you'll be interested to know Lieutenant Goodwin is training to be a pilot. Very soon he'll be flying for the Royal Naval Air Service.” Kate's smile looked a bit forced, but at least her sister had steered the conversation to safer ground.

Fifteen-year-old Donald leaned forward, eyes wide. “A real pilot?”

“Yes.” The lines in Alex's forehead eased.

“Did you fly airplanes in India?” Though Tom was only twelve and the youngest of the three boys, he was not about to be left out of the conversation.

Alex grinned, his good humor returning. “No, airplanes are not common in India, and they've only been flown in England for the last five years.”

That set off a round of questions, which Alex answered with good cheer. The boys seemed especially impressed.

“Will you be bombing the Germans?” Jack asked, his expression eager.

“The RNAS focuses on defense. We try to stop German airplanes and Zeppelins before they cross the Channel.”

Donald's eyes lit up. “I'd blast those Huns to kingdom come if I were a pilot!”

Jon cleared his throat. “Donald, we do what's necessary to defend our country, but we don't rejoice over our enemy's destruction.”

“Aww.” Donald crossed his arms and sat back with a huff.

Alex sent Jon a questioning glance.

Jon said, “I believe it's important for the children to understand what's happening in the war, but balancing our response to it is a constant topic in my prayers and in my conversations with others who have a like-minded faith.”