Catherine stared down at her cup but made no outward sign of distress. Nicole was thankful that there was no emotional protest. Perhaps her mother had known for some time that this was a likely eventuality.
“It is reasonable,” suggested Andrew. “A few short months ago I would have fought against it. But now—with the change in your uncle Charles, I have not the same fears.”
This time it was Catherine who nodded.
“Papa, have you ever considered going back?” Nicole asked suddenly. “I’m certain the estate is large enough for two, and Uncle Charles would gladly share now. You could be the local vicar if you wished and …”
Andrew held up a hand. “God has called me here,” he said simply. “To the colonies. If He ever wants me in a different place, I’m sure He will let me know.”
Catherine’s weak smile held a hint of relief. Nicole knew her roots here went deep.
“I am happy to accept the bequest from Charles. It will make things much easier for your mother,” Andrew continued. “And I confess that I will not miss the leatherwork. Especially in the dead of winter. And we do have a Georgetown cobbler now, so my hands are no longer needed.”
“I still have much praying to do,” Nicole reminded them. “As I said, I have not given Uncle Charles a firm yes.”
Andrew straightened from his place in the doorway. “We will all pray,” he assured her. “I think a good time to start is now.” He crossed the room to kneel on the floor between them, taking a hand of each in his own. Nicole looked at each face, feeling a calmness and a peace she had never felt before. Whatever happened in her future, she could depend on one certainty. With two sets of parents praying, she was sure God would show her the way.
Chapter 37
The morning of departure was one of billowing clouds and a strong wind from the land, as though heaven and earth were joined to hasten his sailing. Charles stood at dockside, surrounded by his family he had not even known a half year previous. And yet these were now unbelievably precious to him.
His brother stood before him, the wind blowing strands of graying hair from beneath the hat. Charles studied the silver threads and wondered with a pang in his heart if there were more permanent farewells to come. “Andrew,” he confessed, “I do not know if I have the strength for this.”
Catherine pushed past her husband and held Charles in a warm embrace. “Who ever would have thought this moment would so pierce my heart?”
He clenched his jaw against the pain of another separation. He said to Andrew over Catherine’s head, “Help me, brother.”
“It is hard to think of it just now,” Andrew said with a deep sigh, “but we must all remember that no parting is final within God’s family.”
The words were enough to unlock the band that had tightened around his chest. Charles took the day’s first easy breath and returned Catherine’s embrace. “I will miss you, dear sister,” he said as she stepped back.
Andrew motioned for the two young women to join them, and together they clustered upon the quayside. The wind whistled around them, the waves crashed against the stone wall, and gulls swooped and soared over the little group. Charles bowed his head with the others and listened as Andrew called for God’s blessing upon the journey and the homecoming. And when the words stopped, Charles found his own waiting and gave voice to his first spoken prayer. “Father, I see now more than ever my own weakness, my own needs. I ask for your blessing upon these good people, and upon me as well. Whatever it is that I should do, whatever it is that awaits me, help me to journey into the future as your servant.”
The hugs and the farewells were swift in joining and slow in ending. Nicole’s embrace was without words, but Charles did not need any. Whatever is right, he prayed silently as he released her.
Charles felt as though he and Andrew both were seeking to delay not only the departure but maybe time itself in the strength of that last clasping of arms and meeting of hearts.
Finally Charles climbed into the waiting skiff and stood amidships as the oarsmen made for the waiting vessel. The farewells and waves continued on until the calls grew fainter than the gulls. The last voice he heard clearly was that of his beloved brother. Andrew’s final words, lofted upon the wind, seemed to be borne from heaven itself.
“Go with God!”
The Sacred Shore Page 24