Gift from the Sea (16 page)

“What is that—odor?” Reverend McAllister’s nose puckered in disgust.

“Oh, so sorry. It’s a poultice for the patient’s throat.” She set the tray down on the small table near the rocker. “Shall I pour?”

As she had hoped, Reverend McAllister stood. “Perhaps I should take my tea in the parlor while you treat your patient.” He tucked his Bible under one arm.

“As you wish,” Maggie said, handing him the tray and trying not to let him see her relief. “But this will only take a moment.” She took the tea towel from the tray and unrolled it, sending the fumes from the poultice wafting under the minister’s nose.

Without a word he turned on his heel and fled the room.

“He’s gone,” Maggie whispered as she moved to the bedside.

Stefan burrowed deeper under the covers.

“Stop that,” Maggie ordered. “Either you endure this or pretend to sleep until he leaves. We are wasting valuable time here,” she reminded him.

Stefan peered at her over the edge of the quilt. “You enjoy this?”

With the efficiency of her training she wrapped the towel around his throat. “I’m perhaps a bit more used to unpleasant odors and procedures because of my nurse’s training. It’s a matter of weighing the options—sometimes the cure seems worse than the condition.”

“You
are
enjoying this,” he said with certainty.

“I’ll tell the minister he can return to your bedside,” she said with a smile.

In the parlor Reverend McAllister’s tea sat untouched as he fingered the pair of Stefan’s socks that Sarah had been darning and left with her basket near the fireplace. “Unusually heavy,” he commented. “I have never seen such wool, so fine and yet the stitch is quite dense.”

“Yes, Sarah is well known for her fine work,” Maggie said, taking the socks from him and rolling them. “Does Mrs. McAllister knit, Reverend?”

“Yes, a little.” He continued to stare at the socks as Maggie replaced them in Sarah’s basket under two pairs of Sean’s socks waiting for repair.

“Ah, Reverend McAllister,” Gabriel Hunter said as he crossed the room and took the minister’s hand between both of his. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

“I am not here on pleasure, Mr. Hunter. I have come to
minister to Mr.—” He paused and waited for Gabe to provide Stefan’s name.

“Steven Wit,” Maggie said, her voice rising in a tone that betrayed her desperation. “Reverend McAllister was kind enough to sit with him, although the patient was sleeping.”

“I prayed for him,” the minister amended. “It would be my hope that I might pray
with
him.” He turned his full attention to Gabe, stepping between Maggie and her father as he asked, “Is the patient still so ill? It has been some time since his confinement, has it not?”

“He’s improving,” Gabe replied calmly but cautiously. He gave the minister a gracious smile but said no more.

“Well, I shall look in on him once again if you don’t mind,” the minister said.

“Certainly, Reverend,” Maggie readily agreed and led the way from the parlor, ignoring her father’s look of astonishment. “I’ve applied the poultice and he’s resting comfortably,” she added.

McAllister hesitated. “Ah yes, the poultice.” He made a show of looking at his pocketwatch. “Well, if he is resting, perhaps I will come another day. I have other calls to make.”

Sean waited by the door with the minister’s coat and hat, and Maggie’s father walked with him out to his carriage.

“Dr. Williams has arranged for our patient to be transferred to the mainland on Tuesday,” Maggie heard him say. “But we will certainly let him know of your concern and your prayers. He’s a devout man and will appreciate your intercession on his behalf.”

“Your daughter,” Maggie heard the minister reply. “I have concerns, sir.”

“How so?”

“Her absence from regular church attendance has
caused talk, and Mrs. Pritchard tells me that she is spending an inordinate amount of time alone with Mr. Wit.”

“She is a nurse by profession,” Papa replied evenly.

“Still, the patient appears quite young, only a little older than your daughter, by my guess. I had thought him to be elderly.”

“What are you implying?”

There was a pause and Maggie strained to hear the minister’s response. “I am implying nothing. Your daughter is a single woman. Surely you and Mrs. Hunter can understand that—”

“What we understand, Reverend, is that our daughter has suffered a terrible loss, and in spite of that she has chosen to dedicate herself to the healing of others. She does not discriminate among her patients, for all are in need of her care. Please give our regards to Mrs. McAllister.”

Maggie smiled, imagining that Reverend McAllister had been rendered speechless by her father’s response. But her smile faded when Papa came back inside. “Sean, would you give me a moment alone with my daughter?”

Sean nodded and headed for his workshop.

“The minister has gone,” Maggie reminded her father when she saw his frown.

“Yes, but for how long? He has questions, Maggie, and he is unlikely to keep his concerns to himself. No doubt there will soon be a parade of concerned church women calling on your mother and me.”

“Well, let them. As you said, I am simply doing my job. If they have nothing better to do than to make something of that, then—”

Her father peered down at her. “But the question, Margaret Rose, is whether or not they have some cause for
concern. After all, you were relieved of your duty to this particular patient and yet you pleaded to come back. Why?”

Maggie lowered her gaze. “It’s—I am only trying to—”

“Mr. Hunter?”

Both Maggie and her father turned at the sound of Stefan’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, the foul-smelling poultice removed. Maggie saw her father take in the fact that Stefan was fully dressed except for shoes. “Well, now,” he said slowly. “What is this?”

“Please, may we sit together?” Stefan asked, indicating the doorway further along the hall that led to the parlor. “I have something to tell you.”

“I’ll make a fresh pot of tea,” Maggie said, but her father stopped her before she could escape to the kitchen.

“No tea is required, Margaret Rose. Come along.”

Stefan led the way, walking upright and normally except for a slight limp. Maggie watched her father following him and saw that he was surprised at the agility with which Stefan moved.

“You’ve made great strides, I see,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“I have and forgive me for keeping my recovery disguised before now. I needed the time to think through a strategy that might benefit us all.”

Papa’s response was a skeptical smile.

“You see, sir, I have not lied to you or the doctor. I jumped ship in order to make contact with someone here on Nantucket. Someone unknown to me. This person was to take me to certain officials with the power to act on this information.”

“What information?”

“It’s the Germans, Papa,” Maggie interrupted. “They are planning an enormous attack on the Allied forces.”

Both Stefan and Papa looked at her. Stefan sighed. If he had wanted to use caution in revealing what he knew, there was little point now. Papa laughed.

“I would remind you, Margaret Rose, that the bearer of this astonishing news is German. I would further remind you that you warned us repeatedly to use caution in what we believed about this man. Again I must ask you, what has changed your mind?”

“I believe him,” she said with a shrug. “Why would he lie?”

Clearly Papa could think of multiple answers to that question, but instead he turned his attention back to Stefan. “I’m listening.”

Stefan repeated the story he had told Maggie earlier that morning. “After the meeting in Munich I made contact with the resistance and gave them the news I had learned. They were able to get my orders changed. Suddenly the Supreme Army Command felt that I could be helpful in decoding communications to get past the American patrols.”

“And you did that very well, apparently.”

“As I have told you, not well enough to satisfy the captain. He decided Nantucket was too far from the mainland and planned to move farther south,” Stefan replied.

“And this contact that never materialized?”

“It was on the voyage over that a fellow seaman passed me word of meeting that person. I can tell you nothing more about that than you already know.”

Papa shook his head. “Surely you can see that you have no proof of any of this.”

To Maggie’s astonishment Stefan nodded. “Yes, sir, I can. And yet once when you barely knew me, you were willing to give me a chance. Surely you can see that even a man facing my fate would not be able to concoct such a tale.”

“He’s telling the truth, Papa. I know he is.”

Papa maintained his focus on Stefan. “Do you know the precise timing of this alleged offensive?”

“I know what was decided at that meeting—timing may have changed. Still, that is the one piece of information I cannot reveal for once I give up that I am just another prisoner of war, am I not?”

“I see your point.”

The two men fell silent, and Maggie thought if one or the other didn’t say something, she was going to scream. The tension in the room felt tangible. Finally Papa stood and began to pace the room, a good sign, Maggie thought, for she knew it meant that he was working through a plan.

Stefan glanced at Maggie but neither of them spoke.

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Papa said. “It would be best to maintain the appearance of normalcy. The family should attend services. The Chadwicks as well. Meanwhile you and I, Stefan Witte, will take the morning steamer to New Bedford. I know the authorities there well. You will not be mistreated, and perhaps we can persuade them to allow you to get a message to someone in the War Department in Washington.”

“But…” Maggie began, but her father silenced her with a look.

“It’s the best I can offer, Stefan. Anything more would raise questions of my loyalty and patriotism, endanger my family and probably destroy our livelihood.”

Stefan stood and faced Gabe. “Thank you, sir.”

The two men shook hands, and to Maggie they looked like two diplomats affirming a treaty. Her eyes welled and she was stunned to feel a single tear working its way down her cheek. “Surely there is something more to be done,” she protested.

“No,” Stefan said before her father could speak. “I have already placed you and your family at grave risk, Maggie.” He turned his attention back to Gabe. “I shall never forget the kindness you have shown me, sir. Please know that I am deeply grateful.”

“As my wife has often reminded me, you are a child of God and we are people of deep and abiding faith. Regardless of our political differences, we could not have done otherwise. I accept your gratitude on behalf of my household and Dr. Williams. And I assure you that we will hold you in our prayers as you go forward to whatever God may hold in store for you.”

No! Maggie cried silently. But deep in her heart she knew that her father was right. They had done everything they could. The idea that Stefan might simply remain with them and blend into the community was ludicrous and yet…

“Margaret Rose, I think you should go back to the inn now. Your patient has recovered. There is no more for you to do here.”

Maggie looked at Stefan but he turned away. “I…” Her voice broke and she fled the room.

M
aggie stumbled into the kitchen, her eyes and face wet with tears.

“Whatever has happened?” Mama said as she rushed to Maggie’s side.

Maggie gulped down her sobs but still could not speak. Instead she just kept shaking her head from side to side. Finally she formed a single word and the word was
Impossible.

“What’s impossible, darling?” Mama crooned as she wrapped Maggie in her embrace and rocked her from side to side. “Tell me what has happened.”

By sheer force of will, Maggie controlled her hysteria. “It’s Stefan, Mama. If Papa turns him over to the coast guard, then he’ll never be able to get his message to the proper authorities. Who will believe him?”

Mama looked surprised. “You doubted him from the beginning, and yet now you believe him?” She held Maggie a little away from her, and when at last Maggie lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s, Mama simply whispered, “I
see.” She led Maggie to a kitchen chair, then handed her a towel. “Wipe your tears away,” she said gently as she took the chair opposite her.

“No,” Maggie protested even as she scrubbed her face. “You don’t see. How can you? I don’t understand it myself.”

Mama smiled. “Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about two people who appear to be impossibly divided but find common ground. It’s perfectly understandable that you have come to care for a patient you have nursed back from the brink,” Mama said as she stroked Maggie’s disheveled hair away from her face.

“It’s worse than that,” Maggie whimpered.

“You have nursed him through some very difficult times and spent hours alone with him, hearing the terrible story of the loss of his sister and nephew. The two of you have built a bond that transcends your heritage. You are young people caught in a time of war and disaster. Of course, you have come to care for one another.”

“I am in love with him,” Maggie said softly.

Mama took a moment. “And does he return your feelings?”

Maggie pushed back the chair and began pacing the large kitchen. “What does that matter? Isn’t it enough that I have fallen in love with the enemy, that I have betrayed Michael’s love for me in the worst possible way?”

Mama stopped her in midstride, and this time the hands on her shoulders were strong and forceful. “Now, you listen to me, Margaret Rose Hunter. God has taken Michael from us. We don’t understand why, but we must move forward with our lives. God has work for you to do in your life—perhaps like me you will raise a beautiful, willful daughter. Or perhaps you will be blessed with many children—sons
and daughters—but the idea that you can never love again is preposterous.”

“But he is German,” Maggie whispered, as if perhaps Mama might have forgotten that little detail.

“Do you love him?”

“I—”

“Yes or no? Listen to your heart, Maggie, for that is the voice of God within you.”

“Yes,” Maggie admitted, the tears streaming again.

“Then listen to your heart and let God show you the way,” Mama said and once again pulled Maggie against her in an embrace that promised everything would be all right.

Later that evening the family was just finishing dinner when they heard the jingle of a harness and the creak of carriage wheels on the drive.

“Ah, perhaps at last you have some paying guests,” Jeanne joked, trying as always to lighten the somber mood that had hung over the entire meal.

Gabe went to the bay window that overlooked the porch and drive and lifted the lace curtain. “It’s Tom,” he said, then added with less enthusiasm, “along with Reverend McAllister and two others from the security watch committee, Gilbert Rowland and Police Chief Anderson.”

Maggie gave a little gasp but covered it with a cough as she looked pleadingly from her father to her mother.

“I’ll ask Sarah to bring more dessert,” Mama said calmly as she headed for the kitchen.

“We’ll be in the library,” Papa said. “Please excuse us,” he added with a nod toward Jeanne and Frederick.

“The police chief?” Jeanne whispered. “Sounds serious. Perhaps they have apprehended someone?” Her eyes were wide with what Maggie could only describe as panic.
But why would Jeanne care if someone had been arrested?

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Frederick said, but he seemed every bit as concerned as Jeanne was.

“It’s probably nothing.” Maggie felt compelled to assure them. “Perhaps a change in schedule, or perhaps one of the volunteers has taken ill and they need to ask Papa to cover the security watch of the beach.” She saw her mother take a tray into the library and knew that Sarah had been sent to the cottage to warn Sean—and Stefan.

The library doors slid open, and they all heard Dr. Williams’s booming voice. “As long as I’m here,” he said, “I may as well check on my patient.”

“I’m afraid I need to ask that you stay,” Chief Anderson replied as he stepped to the doors, waiting for Mama to exit the room before closing them.

“Has someone come ashore?” Jeanne asked when Maggie’s mother returned to the dining room and resumed eating her pie as if nothing unusual had occurred.

“Not that I am aware,” she replied. “Now please finish your dessert, everyone.”

They did as she asked. The clink of silver on china seemed to reverberate around the room, and the tension was palpable. Finally Jeanne dropped her fork onto her plate and pushed away from the table. “What can they be doing in there?”

Maggie’s mother studied her friend. “It doesn’t concern you,” she said at the same time that Frederick rose and placed his hand on Jeanne’s shoulder.

“Don’t,” he said softly.

She turned to him, her eyes wild. “But what if…”

Just then the pocket doors to the library slid open and
Maggie saw her father and Doctor Williams emerge with the police chief followed by the minister and Gilbert Rowland. “I’m sorry, Gabe,” the chief was saying. “I just don’t see any other way to put this rumor to rest.”

“You’re only doing your duty, Henry,” Gabe assured the man, then turned to the group that had gathered in the foyer. “Chief Anderson has asked to interview our patient. We’re going up to the cottage,” he explained. “We won’t be long.”

Maggie saw the look that passed between her parents, saw the love that fairly sparked in the gaze that connected them. She could think of only one thing—one person. Stefan. She had to do something, create some diversion.

“Papa,” she said moving forward and then fell to a heap at his feet.

As she had hoped, everyone rushed to her aid, but Papa got there first. He knelt beside her and lifted her in his arms so that his mouth was close to her ear.

“It will be all right,” he whispered. “Have faith, child.” Then he gently transferred her to her mother’s care. “She’s been working too hard, I expect.”

“Yes,” Mama agreed. “Go. She’ll be fine.”

“I’ll just stay to be sure,” the doctor added.

“We won’t be long, ma’am,” Maggie heard the chief say apologetically. “Sorry to have interrupted your dinner.”

As the men escorted Gabe from the inn, Sarah came rushing in from the kitchen. “He’s gone,” she whispered as she leaned in close as if to assist with Maggie.

Maggie’s eyes flew open. “How?” She hardly cared that Jeanne and Frederick were still hovering nearby.

“Through the window. He left this note.” She handed the note to Maggie, who read it quickly and then handed it to her mother.

“Is someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Jeanne asked in a voice that was anything but her usual girlish titter. Her tone demanded an explanation. “What has happened?”

Dr. Williams looked at Lucie and then Sarah. Lucie sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “Let’s all sit down,” she said.

“I’ll make fresh coffee,” Sarah volunteered.

It took less than fifteen minutes for Lucie and the doctor to tell Jeanne and Frederick the story of Stefan Witte’s stay at the inn. Throughout the telling of it Jeanne kept one fist jammed against her lips, as if at any moment she might cry out, and Frederick sat by her side, one arm around her shoulder. Through it all Maggie sat alone at the far end of the table, silent tears rolling down her cheeks unchecked.

He was out there somewhere in the cold. He would be hunted now by men whose panic at the idea of a German in their midst might make them rash. They would be armed, when Stefan was unarmed. They would label him desperate and dangerous. And she had no doubt that given the high fever pitch of the rhetoric she had often heard from the men of the island, they would not hesitate to shoot him on sight.

Please, God, help him.

The words came as naturally as breathing, and yet Maggie’s crying turned from silent tears to sobs that made the others turn to her.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Jeanne said, rushing to her side. “Don’t worry. He’ll be all right. He will be,” she said with such certainty that Maggie clung to it. Then the duchess turned to Lucie and Dr. Williams. “This man—this German—he was telling the truth. It was Frederick and I who were to meet him. We were to transport him to New York to meet the former ambassador to Austria-Hungary. He is a friend of ours and a close adviser to President Wilson.”

Maggie swallowed the last of her sobs and hiccuped. “Peace be with you?” she whispered, and Jeanne turned to her and smiled.

“And with you and all your countrymen,” she replied softly, her gaze never wavering. “We arrived a day late because of the freeze-up, but we went every day, even after the deadline had passed. We hoped that perhaps he would come. Now we understand why.”

“Because he was here,” Maggie said. “We must find him. He believes that all is lost, and if the others find him first…”

There was a commotion in the foyer, voices raised in anger and protest. “He harbored a German,” Gilbert Rowland was shouting. “I never thought I’d see the day that Gabriel Hunter would betray his country.”

“Gabe, I’m afraid I’ll have to hold you until we can get this all sorted out,” Chief Anderson said and Lucie rushed to her husband’s side. “You too, Doc,” he added. Then he shook his head sadly. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“We should have,” Gabe assured him. “I see that now.” He kissed Lucie and then got his hat and coat from the hall tree.

“I’ll organize a search for the German,” the minister volunteered.

“I’ll help,” Rowland added, and the two of them set off at a near run down the lane toward the church.

“Wait,” Jeanne protested, but the men had already headed off, determined in their individual missions and with no patience for further stalling.

As soon as the police chief had driven away with Gabe and the doctor, Frederick went into action. “We must find this German before the others do. Mrs. Chadwick, would you be so kind as to get our wraps from our rooms?”

Sarah nodded and hurried up the stairs. Lucie was getting her own coat when Frederick stopped her. “No, you should stay here. In case Gabe calls or there’s other news.”

“I’m going with you,” Maggie announced and was out the door before there could be any debate.

Outside they could hear the church bell pealing a pre-arranged signal that would have men and women hurry to the church to learn what emergency had arisen and how they could help. Together Maggie, Jeanne and Frederick ran down the path and around the side of the cottage. Maggie caught sight of lace curtains blowing in the open window of Stefan’s sickroom.

“There must be tracks,” Frederick called and ran to the window. But the evergreen branches had covered anything that might give them a clue as to the direction he had gone.

“Sarah says he had no coat,” Jeanne said.

Slippers, Maggie thought. He has no shoes, and Sean was wearing the boots she’d pointed out to him. If his toes freeze again, he might lose them. She quickened her steps.

They searched everywhere, starting with the barn in case he had taken refuge in the loft. But their search turned
up nothing, and as they surveyed the horizon—a black-and-white moonlit and shadow tableau of low shrubs and open land—they had to admit they had covered every possibility they could fathom.

Where are you? Maggie repeated the question in rhythm with the pounding of her heart. Just then they heard voices, and turning toward the sound, they saw the torches as dozens of men came up the lane from the direction of the church. Maggie’s heart seemed to stop midbeat. Did they intend to set fire to the inn? Was this their way of dealing with those who harbored the enemy—with traitors?

“No,” she cried and ran toward them, barely aware that Jeanne and Frederick were running to stop her. But she was faster and her love for Stefan gave wings to her feet. “You must listen,” she pleaded, coming to a stop before the minister, who was at the head of the pack of men.