by Lori Wick
“Megan.” Bracken’s voice was a caress. “Aunt Louisa is here to see you. Please wake up.”
Megan’s hand moved slightly on the counterpane, but she did not waken.
“Megan,” Louisa tried.
Still nothing. The two stood by her side a moment longer, and then Bracken led his aunt from Megan’s room to her small salon.
Louisa studied him as he closed the door, understanding his need to be near Megan without disturbing her, but when the job was done he did not speak. Louisa continued to watch as Bracken paced the room like a caged animal. It took some time for him to speak, and when he did, Louisa had to hide her astonishment.
“I need God, Lou. I need Him now.”
“What do you mean, Bracken?”
“I mean, I need His help, and I don’t know how to ask.”
Louisa took a deep breath and then slowly made her way to a chair. She took a minute to think and pray before asking Bracken to join her. He sat across from her, his desperate eyes pinned to her face.
“If you want God right now because you want Him to do something for you, then I am afraid I can’t help you.”
Bracken’s shoulders slumped. “Then you don’t think He can heal Megan?”
“Oh, Bracken,” Louisa spoke with a surety. “I know He can heal Megan, but it may not be His will to do so.”
Bracken frowned at her.
“Dear,” Louisa continued patiently, “God is not like some magical stone we can pull out of our pocket to use when we have a want or need. You can call out to God right now, and He will save you, but that does not guarantee that Megan will live.”
The large man’s hands clenched in pain. His eyes closed for an instant. When he spoke, Louisa heard the desperation.
“The thought of her dying destroys me, Louisa, but even if she lives, I don’t think it will fill this emptiness I feel inside. I want to be changed—I want to be a better man—but I continue to make the same mistakes over and over.”
Louisa smiled gently. “The changes God makes are very real, my dear nephew, but you will still sin again and again. However, the hopelessness will be gone. For every sin there is forgiveness, and fellowship so sweet that I cannot find the words to describe it to you.
“But, Bracken,” Louisa warned him again. “I mean it when I say there are no guarantees. You must come to God His way, through His Son, Jesus Christ. You cannot come with the intention of bargaining on your own terms.”
Louisa had never seen Bracken’s eyes so impassioned as he looked at her, his upper cheeks were flushed with the intensity of it. She had prayed for just this time every day since she’d understood her own need, but never did she dream that she herself would be involved.
“Show me the way,” Bracken pleaded with a low voice. Louisa did so with joy. She explained the way of salvation to her nephew and then asked if he wanted to be alone. To her surprise, he wanted her there and he wanted to pray out loud.
Tears poured down Louisa’s face as she listened to Bracken’s confession. The words were humble, but she heard the confidence in his voice as he prayed, knowing he was being heard. When he raised his head, he did not smile, but his broad chest lifted in a great sigh of relief. Neither one could speak, and for just a short time they sat in silence.
“I’d best return to Megan,” Bracken said at last.
He stood to go, but paused. “Louisa, is it wrong to ask God to heal Megan?”
“No, Bracken, as long as you are ready for His answer, yes or no.”
Bracken nodded. He started away again, but paused once more. This time he returned and pulled Louisa from her chair. He gave her a hug so tender that her tears began again.
“As I sat by Megan’s bed I literally begged God to spare Megan so she could tell me of Him. Then He sent you. I do not know if this is a sign that I shall lose my wife, but you are here, and for that I thank you, Louisa.”
Bracken did leave then, but his aunt couldn’t follow. She sank back down in her chair and had a long cry. She cried with joy over Bracken’s conversion and also petitioned God on Megan’s behalf.
Thirty-Eight
ANOTHER WEEK PASSED BEFORE MEGAN opened her eyes, but by that time the entire castle was aware of the change in Bracken. He had never been a cruel lord, but the serenity that now surrounded him was unmistakable to all who had contact with him.
Bracken had known the most amazing peace since his conversion. He had not even entreated God concerning Megan’s recovery, but prayed, “Thy will be done; Thy will be done,” each and every time he knew anxiety over her condition.
Just minutes before Megan awoke and called his name, the physician had finished checking her. He had been most thorough in his examination, and upon leaving he’d given Bracken a very hopeful report. The young duke’s heart was near to bursting as he sat back beside the bed and watched Megan stir.
“Bracken?”
“Yes, Megan.” He tried to keep his voice quiet, but hearing the sound of hers made this a chore.
“Is Marigold really dead, Bracken, or did I merely dream it?”
“She is dead, Megan; I am sorry.”
Megan nodded weakly. “I feared so. I have long prayed for her, but Marigold never had love for anyone other than herself. How are my parents?”
“I believe they are doing well. They were here to see you.”
This news caused Megan to try to lift her head. “They were here? Who saw to their comfort?”
“Louisa.”
“Louisa was here?”
“She is still here and longs to see you.”
Megan managed a weak smile, and Bracken beamed at her.
“There is something different about you, Bracken, or do my eyes deceive me?”
“No, Megan,” he told her warmly. “There has been a change.”
“Then you have forgiven me about the baby?”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
Megan now stared at the canopy above her, her eyes sad. “I dreamt of the baby often, Bracken. I heard you speak to me, and I wanted to wake and talk with you, but I knew as soon as I left my dreams that my baby would be gone.”
“No, Megan, the babe is not gone. He lives strong within you.”
Megan turned to look at him, hurt etching her every feature. “Oh, Bracken, do not tease me so. My heart can’t take it.”
Bracken bent over her, his face now so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. He had not planned to tell her this just yet, but her dreams had left him little choice.
“I would never be so cruel, Megan. I tell you true. You have lost some blood, but our babe is made of sterner stuff.” Tears filled Bracken’s eyes before he finished. “You will still be a mother before Christmas.”
Megan could only stare at him, her mouth opening and closing with no sounds issuing forth.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I feared it would overly excite you.”
“Oh, Bracken, are you certain?”
“Yes, my love.” With that he drew the covers back. When Megan’s torso was uncovered, Bracken smoothed the fabric of her nightgown and took both of Megan’s small hands and gently laid them on her stomach.
“In time, Megan you will know for yourself. The babe moves strong within you even now, but he’s too tiny to make his presence known. I feared I would lose you, but God has other plans. He has given me both my wife and my son.”
“Oh, Bracken.” Megan searched his eyes and saw the truth within the peaceful depths. “Please hold me.”
Bracken moved to do so but murmured, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t. I just need to touch you.”
She felt bruised as Bracken’s arms surrounded her and lifted her to his chest, but Megan had never known anything so sweet. She managed to put her arms around his neck and lay content for several minutes.
“I am so tired,” she admitted at last. Bracken placed her back against the pillows.
“Mayhap you should sleep for a time.�
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“I don’t think I have much choice,” Megan murmured sleepily and her lids grew heavy.
“Bracken,” she managed before slipping away. “Does my mother know of the baby?”
“No. No one save the doctor.”
“Send word to her, Bracken. She has lost Marigold. Maybe knowing of this child will help the pain.”
She couldn’t say more, but Bracken sat beside her for a long time after she slept. Barely able to talk, but still thinking of others—this was his godly wife. This was a woman in whom God had worked. For the second time that day, Bracken cried. He had cried when he told Megan she was going to be a mother and again as he thought about what that meant for him. His father was dead many years now, but he finally had a heavenly Father to show him how to get the job done.
“I brought you some fabric, Megan,” Annora told her daughter. “You’ll need some new gowns once you start increasing.”
“Thank you, Mother. Was the trip very hot?”
“Dreadfully, but this news of your baby is more important.” Another week had passed. Megan was sitting up in bed, waiting patiently while Annora displayed the cloth. She beamed at her mother when she saw that all the colors were perfectly suited to her. Her mother, however, was wearing black these days, and Megan hurt with the reminder.
When Annora declared that her daughter had had enough company and began to gather the fabric in order to leave, Megan asked the question that had been on her heart since her parents had arrived.
“How are you, Mother?”
To Megan’s surprise, Annora sat back down and stared at her.
“I see her everywhere. I hear her voice in yours, and each time I think of her the memory mocks me. She was a fake, but I saw only what I wanted.”
“Oh, Mother.” Megan’s voice was compassionate. “Don’t torture yourself. It’s over.”
The older woman turned her face away. “When I think of the plans she had for you, I feel I almost hate her. You must feel the same way.”
“No, Mother, I don’t.”
Annora stared at her incredulously. “Megan, how can that be so? How can you be feeling anything but hatred toward your sister?”
“Because I always saw her for who she was. What she did was reprehensible, but Marigold had always treated me badly.”
“It was not the same for me.” Annora’s voice was sad.
Megan nodded, well aware of the blow her mother’s pride had taken concerning her oldest child. As Megan watched her, she saw Annora’s chin rise as though ready to do battle. Megan tensed, but it was not for her.
“I shall never forgive her,” the older woman stated, her voice now strong. “Dead or not, her evil acts will always live in my heart. I think in time you will feel the same.”
“No, Mother,” Megan told her gently. “It’s over for me and will remain so. I have forgiven Marigold just as God forgives me when I sin.”
Again Annora stared at her. “How can you even compare the two?” she asked. “What is it that causes you to treat the situation with such compassion?”
Megan tried to explain, but as soon as her voice became fervent in mentioning Christ’s saving blood and the fact that all people sin, her mother cut her off.
“I am upsetting you, Meg. I shall check on you later.”
“Don’t go, Mother,” Megan entreated her, but the other woman was now standing.
“Yes, Meg, it is time.” The older woman’s movements had become very agitated.
“All right.” Megan’s hands were tied. “If you should decide you would like to discuss it, I will be here.”
Annora paused in her flight, her movements almost awkward. She came swiftly toward Megan and bent to kiss her temple. The older woman then left before Megan could say any more.
“She did not wish to speak of forgiveness, Bracken,” Megan spoke from her place in the courtyard as her parents rode away. “I tried several times, but she was closed to the subject.” Megan turned to look at her husband. “She will find no peace as long as she hates Marigold. I know this for a fact.”
Bracken’s arm went around her, and he navigated her back to the castle. “We will continue to pray. God willing, you will gain another chance to speak to her before her heart grows overly hard.”
“I could write to her. Maybe I should do that now.”
“I’d rather you rested now. Write your letter this afternoon.”
“Bracken?” Megan asked conversationally. “Do you plan to treat me as a child until the baby is born?”
“Am I treating you as a child?”
“Did you know, Bracken, ’tis rude to answer a question with a question?”
“Did I do that?”
Megan had to laugh, but she still agreed to go to her room and put her feet up for a time. Having been up and around for only a week, she was tired enough to fall asleep, but just as she was dropping off, the baby moved for the first time. Megan didn’t call for anyone or move from her bed, but thoughts of sleep were miles from her mind.
Autumn was upon them when Bracken watched an old woman shuffle across the inner bailey. Her head was uncovered, showing her very gray and wispy hair, but within seconds Bracken was back at the village standing at the old woman’s apple cart. He told himself it couldn’t be his wife, but he began to look for Megan anyway.
This wasn’t hard to do because someone, usually Arik, watched her constantly since the kidnapping, but Bracken heaved a great sigh of relief when he spotted her waddling her way from the kitchens. It was beginning to look as though she was going to be as wide as she was high. Bracken had not known many expectant women, but he was quite certain that Megan’s middle could win a prize.
The dresses Megan and Louisa had sewn just two months before were now being taxed to the limit, and the baby was not due for two months. Bracken felt pained when he thought of how far she had to go.
“Have you eaten something that disagreed with you, Bracken?” Megan wished to know as she neared.
“No,” he said honestly. “I was contemplating how much larger the baby would grow before December.”
Megan sighed, rubbed her stomach, and pulled a face. “I look horrible.”
“I didn’t say that, but you do look uncomfortable and your time is not yet near.”
“Which,” Megan stated emphatically, “is a kind way of saying I look awful.”
Her face was so humorous and adorable that Bracken laughed.
“Ah, Megan,” he said on a sigh. “I do love you so.”
Megan froze in her place. She stared at Bracken as though seeing him for the first time.
“Are you in pain?” he asked anxiously. “Should I send for Helga?”
“You told me you love me,” Megan said in a voice of wonder.
“Of course,” Bracken shrugged. “I say it often.”
“Nay, Bracken, you do not. This is the first.”
“I do say it, Megan; in a hundred different ways I say it. Every day I provide for your needs and see to your comfort. You have clothing, food, and loyal servants. I touch you with tenderness and respect, and when you cry my arms are waiting to hold you.
“I do say it, Megan,” he concluded. “You have not been listening.”
Megan stared at him. “I find no fault in your care of me, but a woman likes to hear the words.”
“It cannot make that much difference,” Bracken replied, trying to dismiss the subject, but her eyes were so full of yearning and hope that he had a hard time looking away from her.
“I am not good with words,” he tried to explain, but Megan gave him no quarter.
“I need to hear only three.”
Bracken glanced around swiftly and suddenly grabbed Megan’s arm and pulled her into a dim corner of the passageway. He took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes.
“I love you, Megan.”
The round redhead sighed with unbelievable pleasure. “And I love you, Bracken of Hawkings Crest,” she whispered.
He b
ent and kissed her, and Megan’s eyes closed in bliss. He was right, he did “tell” her everyday that his love was constant, but there was something very special in hearing the words.
The baby suddenly kicked between them, and Bracken’s hands immediately dropped to Megan’s stomach. He had felt the movements often, but the look of delight in his eyes never waned.
“Perhaps it will be sooner than we think,” Megan whispered. “I am so large that maybe my dates have been wrong.”
“Perhaps. We will pray for God’s timing and be patient.”
Megan loved it when Bracken spoke of God with such submission. When his arms came around her, she lay her head on his chest and sighed with contentment.
You have given me so much, heavenly Father—more than I ever dreamed. Please bless this child in my womb. Help us to show You to him.
Bracken’s thoughts were much the same, and for a time the world ceased to exist. Duke and duchess would have stood holding one another for quite some time, but there was a sudden commotion coming from the great hall. Several servants passed, and someone said the names Lady Joyce and Lord Stephen.
“Oh, Bracken.” Megan grabbed his arm in excitement.
The duke needed no other encouragement. He took Megan’s small hand in his, and they made their way out to the great hall to greet his family.
Thirty-Nine
“I WAS UPSTAIRS WITH MEGAN WHEN Vincent pursued Marigold. She ran through the castle and then out to the front steps. He never laid a hand on her. She fell down those high, stone steps and broke her neck.”
“She was so evil,” Giles commented softly, a frown knitting his young brow.
“Yes,” Joyce agreed, her heart going out to Bracken and Megan.
“What has happened to Roland Kirkpatrick?” Stephen wished to know.
“He is in the Tower awaiting his sentence. I do not believe things will go well for him.”
The family was gathered around the hearth in the war room, and for a moment they were silent. Bracken had been relaying the events of the past months. Megan had written concerning some of them, but Joyce was naturally interested in the details.