“I’ll pray with you, Miss Dougall.”
She forced air through her tight throat. “Here?”
“God is everywhere, even here.” His brow sent a question only she could answer. “Especially here.”
If the intensity in his gaze, the hope in his smile, hadn’t boasted such confidence, she would have rolled her eyes at the simplicity of his claim. Every social corner of her world would label her a whore, or at the very least refuse to allow her entrance into their homes.
But here? Now? Dr. Ross offered the promise of something new, something drawing her forward as if a string tugged at the cords of her soul.
What did she have to lose? She shrugged one shoulder and placed a palm to her hip, hiding in the ruse of the familiar. “Fine. What do I do?”
“We pray to our Father in Heaven.”
She cringed and drew back. “Father? I don’t have the best opinion of any father’s love at present.”
Dr. Ross tilted his head, examining her again with those piercing eyes. “Very well, what if you saw him as a…” A hint of red splotched his cheeks. “Lover?”
Catherine laughed. Behind Dr. Ross’s pristine demeanor, he was crazy. Well, at least it made him more approachable. “God as my lover?”
“He pursues you as His bride, even though you continually give yourself to others.” Dr. Ross recovered from his embarrassment with a step forward. “He knows your wounds. He sees your hunger for gentleness and complete acceptance, your longing to be seen as beautiful and treasured, and He can give you what your soul aches to possess.”
Catherine could hardly catch her breath, every word resonating to her core. She tempered her shaky voice with a defiant edge. “And what is that?”
“Love.” He whispered the word, but it blasted through her disbelief. “Love beyond every mistake or longing. Love to comfort your darkest bruises and deepest scars. He knows about them all, has seen every choice you’ve made, and He gave His life to love you forever and passionately.”
His chest shook with the same shallow breaths as hers. Did he feel the warmth of the room? The presence of something…or Someone pressing on all sides, even inside of her?
He extended his hand, expecting her to take it. Holding her hand could brand him as flawed as she was. Her fingers flexed.
He sighed and lowered himself to his knees in front of her. “Shall we pray?”
She stared at the senseless doctor who spoke of God as a lover and knelt before her in her dying sister’s bedchamber. No doubt, he was crazy – but certainly crazy had never been in finer company. After a moment’s hesitation, Catherine followed suit, dropping to her knees. Dr. Ross lowered his head and closed his eyes. Catherine glanced up at her sister’s sleeping, pale face, and then followed his lead. Ashleigh’s labored breathing filled the silence and stung deeper, another knife to Catherine’s pride. If Ashleigh died, without knowing the depths of her regret…
“Dear God, we come to You as broken children in need of Your love.”
Broken? Yes, but she was much more than broken. She was deceptive, angry, ruined.
“Our choices have separated us from You. Our pride shunned You, holding to our own strength to help us succeed, but we have failed. We come to You powerless and in utter need of Your grace. I pray for Catherine.” His voice gentled her name, like a caress. “Be the lover of her soul.”
Lover of her soul? Her soul, as wretched and marred as it was? She didn’t even like herself, how could God?
A sob broke free, unexpected and soft warmth encircled her hand. David Ross. He squeezed her fingers and another sob shook her body. The sweet idiot kept breaking social convention. She tried to pull her hand free of his, but he pinched tighter. Poor man was going to ruin his reputation.
“Capture her with Your love. Break through her misconceptions and rescue her from her lostness.”
She stopped struggling and listened. Lostness? Her heart quivered. Yes, she was lost. She’d been lost a long time, struggling in a world which taunted liquid happiness and paper dreams. She’d thrown away her future to a man who cared more for immediate pleasure than her heart, wrecked her past on a lie she’d been determined to justify, destroyed her present…
Her breath hitched and shuddered out. No, not her present. Could God really find her in this quiet moment by her sister’s deathbed? Did He truly want her? Would He sincerely love her?
She pinched her eyes tight, and forced words on a shaky breath of hope. “Rescue me?”
Her whisper broke into the silence like a brushstroke of pale light, but crashed through her soul with the force of a cymbal. She had nothing to lose. Why not offer it all and see if David and Ashleigh were right? “Forgive me if You can. What little I have is Yours, if…if You want it.”
A wave of warmth flowed from her head down the length of her body and finally pooled in her chest. The weight in her heart loosed and her breathing came easier, lighter. Something…no, Someone embraced her soul.
You are Mine.
The words kissed over her spirit, healing and restoring.
I love you anyway.
Tears coursed a heated path down her cheeks. Anyway? Despite it all? Could her body contain the warmth of this love?
I love you always.
“I believe.”
Time mixed with tears. She was loved completely? Whole? Found? She released a breath she felt she’d been holding her whole life. When she finally opened her eyes, David cradled her in his arms. Catherine had been in plenty of men’s arms, but not men like him – and never with a sense of belonging like this. A new heat coursed up her neck and planted firmly on her cheeks. She pushed away, gesturing to his damp, wrinkled shirt.
“I’m afraid I may have ruined your fine shirt.”
He followed her gaze and stood, bringing her with him. “I think your soul might be worth the cost of my shirt.”
It took her a few seconds to recognize he’d broken with his usual seriousness and she smiled. “I don’t know if I would gamble on that notion, Dr. Ross. You might very well lose.” She stepped away from him and swept her fingers over her wet cheeks.
His gaze sobered, the clinical-side of this quiet complex man taking control of his expression again. “I only bet on a certainty, and what has happened here, Catherine Dougall, is certain. A miracle.”
Miracle? Did miracles burn up your soul and replace it with a lighter one as a rule? No wonder they were fairly infrequent. If they didn’t heal people, they probably killed them from the inside out. Catherine glanced back at her sister. “Well, I hope I haven’t used up my only one, because if anyone deserves a miracle, it’s my sister.”
“Then I suggest you take your newfound faith and put it to good use.” His gaze pulled from hers and fastened on Ashleigh. “She’ll need every prayer we can give her.”
Chapter Thirty
“Welcome back.”
Ashleigh unglued her eyelids and tried to bring the shadowy world into focus. Her limbs hung heavy against her sides, as heavy as her weighed-down eyelids.
“Is she waking?”
The woman sounded like Catherine.
“It’s a good sign that her fever has broken.” The male voice reminded her of Dr. Ross.
“Oh thank you, God.”
No, that couldn’t be Catherine. Thanking God? Certainly not in her sister’s vocabulary.
She tried to talk, but her throat burned out the words before she started. Dry and sore.
“Try this.” The deeper voice soothed close. Yes, Dr. Ross.
Something cool touched her lips. She received the liquid and almost smiled at the smooth balm it left as it coated her raw throat. Green eyes came into focus.
“Dr. Ross?”
“Happy to see those eyes, Nurse Dougall.” Everything processed slowly – sights, sounds. “You had us worried for a while.”
Ashleigh tried to clear her throat. “Worrying is a sin,” she whispered.
Dr. Ross chuckled. “I think you are going to be ju
st fine.”
An audible sigh drew Ashleigh’s attention to the shadow at David’s right. Catherine emerged at his shoulder, cloth in hand, the faintest hint of a smile on her face. A nice smile. Ashleigh blinked her into clearer view and the smile grew a few degrees.
“And you accuse me of using extravagant means to gain attention?”
The gentle humor in her sister’s gaze softened the edges of her face, in fact, there seemed to be a general softening of her entire countenance.
“Next time you can take the stage.” Ashleigh forced her words above a whisper, a scratchy whisper. “Or in this case, the sick bed.”
Catherine wiped the cloth across Ashleigh’s forehead and cocked a brow. “I think I’m due time out of the spotlight for a while. Too much attention isn’t healthy for what matters most.”
Yes, there was a distinct difference in her sister.
“How long have I been unconscious?”
David wrapped his hand around her wrist, and Ashleigh mentally counted her pulse along with him. The rhythm of her heart beat in her throbbing temple.
“Two days,” he said and released her hand.
“Three, if you include the day you kept trying to save me and Michael from drowning on the Lusitania.” Catherine’s grin hitched wider. “And if you’d had the strength to get out of bed, you would have chased poor Mother out of the room in search of a lifeboat.”
David even quirked a smile. “You were somewhat delusional from your fever.”
“Somewhat?” Catherine pinched her lips together to hold in her grin.
A fresh wave of heat coursed up into Ashleigh’s cheeks but ended with a rasped laugh. “Well at least my near-death experience provided some humor.”
Catherine’s gaze sobered and she placed a hand to Ashleigh’s arm. “I’ll find humor elsewhere in the future, Ashleigh.” Her words softened to a whisper as she slid her hand away. “I never want to see you like that again.”
Their gazes locked and a long-denied emotional connection hovered into existence. A lifetime of change happened in a span of three days? It had to be God’s work.
“I’m going to let the others know you are awake.” David bowed his head and backed toward the door. “Unless you don’t feel up to somewhat exuberant visitors?”
Ashleigh pressed herself to a sitting position and her vision spun a few times. She pressed a hand to her head. “Of course.”
“Good heavens, Ashleigh, saying ‘no’ is not a sin.” Catherine shook her head and shot David a warning look. “I think you should take the long way to the drawing room, Dr. Ross. Perhaps by way of the garden.” She returned her pointed stare to Ashleigh. “To give my sister time to prepare for all of Mother’s hysterics.”
Ashleigh relaxed back into the pillows as David exited the room. “You sound like an overly concerned sister.”
Catherine’s brows drew tight, but her eyes sparkled. “Perhaps you are still a bit delusional?”
They shared a smile and then Catherine’s expression grew serious. “I’m sorry for so many things I haven’t the time to mention them all, even if Dr. Ross takes three turns around the garden.”
Ashleigh placed her hand over Catherine’s and breathed a long sigh. For so long the pain of the past separated them, and for the first time the possibility of a healthy relationship edged into view. Those old wounds didn’t seem as important as they once did.
God gave her yet another opportunity to practice forgiveness. First Michael, now Catherine. It came a little easier this time, perhaps from practice. “I forgive you, Catherine.”
Tears glistened in her sister’s indigo eyes. “I’ll try to make it up to you, but I’m certain I’ll manage it poorly.”
Ashleigh laughed. The same saucy temper simmered beneath the calmer surface. She would make a good nurse. “What if we start new from today?”
Catherine nodded, lips pinched. “Can we make it a fresh start from tomorrow?” She shrugged and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Because after I tell you the trouble I’ve brought on myself, you might want to reconsider.”
Ashleigh smiled. “Catherine, after all I’ve had happen to me over the course of my life, I doubt there are too many things you could have done to change my mind.”
Catherine reached into her apron and pulled out a bulging envelope which she placed on Ashleigh’s lap. “Here is all that’s left. I took it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The money meant for your orphanage. Each and every note Grandmama sent, Marsh brought to me and I took half to keep for my own plans. I thought it was another example of how someone else in our family loved you more, so I…I stole it.”
Ashleigh touched the envelope and flipped through the paper. Tens of pounds waited to be counted.
“I’m sorry, Ashleigh. I’m thankful for God’s forgiveness, but I…I need yours too.” Ashleigh lifted her eyes to Catherine’s, her regret as clear as the tears on her cheeks. “There is at least a hundred and fifty pounds there. I had already spent some, but will pay it back to you.”
A tickle started in Ashleigh’s stomach, rose up to her chest, and finally came out in raspy laughter. Catherine’s wide-eyed expression responded she thought Ashleigh might still be a bit delusional.
“It’s perfect timing, Catherine. Perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you realize how desperately we need the money now more than ever? If we’d had this before the Zeppelin attack, it would have already been spent on something else, but now it’s vital to us keeping our patients at Roth Hall.”
“What?”
“We lost most of our surgical equipment in the attack, but Lady Cavanaugh won’t provide funds for new equipment for the soldiers housed here.” Ashleigh’s laugh came again. “Now we can purchase our own.” She looked up to the ceiling and welcomed the joyful tears. “God took another broken thing and brought something beautiful from it.”
Catherine’s ebony brows almost met her hairline. “Are you certain you’re not still delusional?”
Ashleigh closed her eyes and smiled, a sweet, sleepy peace stilling over her. “It’s been a long journey for the both of us, Catherine, but I believe I’m beginning to understand.”
“Please, enlighten me.”
Ashleigh squinted through her lashes at her sister’s smirk. “Stealing and lying are wrong, of course, but don’t you see? God can take all of the wrongs and somehow make them right. Even those wrongs we do to ourselves.” She sighed and squeezed Catherine’s hand. “And somehow God’s taken all of the wrongfulness between the two of us and worked it into something right.”
Catherine’s hand went to her stomach, a slight hint to Ashleigh of a secret unspoken. “Turning our wrong to something right,” she whispered. “There have been a lot of wounds along the way, Ashleigh. Me to you. Michael. Father.”
“We’ll still suffer the natural consequences of our own choices, and the wrong choices of others, but we’re not lost. God gives us opportunity to see His healing and grace.”
Catherine’s expression turned thoughtful. “I think you just described the meaning of second chances.”
Ashleigh’s smile matched her sister’s. “And hope.”
Tears glimmered in the lantern-light’s reflection of Catherine’s eyes. “I’ll embrace a love like that any day, any moment.”
Ashleigh sighed and left her tired eyes drift closed. “I think we already have, Catherine.”
Michael kept a friendly hold on Ashleigh’s arm as she climbed the stairs back to her room after dinner. His glances and attention confirmed his hopes of renewing their relationship as soon as Ashleigh gave him the regard, but her heart wouldn’t turn.
“It’s been four weeks, Ashleigh, and no news. Do you think…maybe? We could talk about…possibilities?”
Ashleigh came to the landing at the top of the stairs and turned to him. “I’m sorry, Michael, but it doesn’t work so easily. I can’t make my heart fall in love with you any mo
re than I can make my tongue enjoy the taste of turnips.”
“So you’re comparing me to turnips?” His grin did little to cover the hurt in his eyes.
“Michael.”
His palm lifted to stop her. “I don’t want to take Sam’s place, Ash. I want you to be open to the possibility he might not accept the truth with grace.” He slid his hand down her arm. “You want a family? I can give you that. Your past wasn’t your fault – and Sam will realize it too, eventually, but it’s a difficult image from which to recover.”
A cringe pulled her back from his hold.
He sighed. “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, immediate regret deepening the lines in his forehead. “I really don’t want to hurt you any more than I already have.” His hands cradled her shoulders. “I’m trying to make things right, here. Make up for my stupidity. I can give you what you’ve always wanted.”
“By marrying me?” She rested in his hold, his intentions hazing clear. “Dear Michael, you’re forgiven. You don’t have to try and prove anything to me.”
He searched her face, eyes wide. “I can help you. You don’t have to be—”
“No, I won’t be alone.” She cupped his cheek. “I care about you and adore Stephen, but you’d be marrying me for the wrong reasons – as wrong as they were a year ago.”
His brow wrinkled into a tighter bunch and he opened his mouth.
She lifted a finger to stop him. “And so would I.” She dropped her hand to his shoulder. “Marriage built on friendship is one thing. Marriage built on regret is another.”
His gaze softened into acceptance. “I want you to be free of the hurt in your past. I thought maybe marriage and a family would help do that.”
The thought settled into her heart like the fit of a glove. Free from her past? For years it controlled her, waited in the folds of her sleep. It curbed her choices and inflated her self-doubt. It fogged her vision of love and marred her choices with the poison of bitterness. She held on to her anger with a life-grip, when it only produced the fumes of death.
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