Lovers in Enemy Territory (13 page)

"Michael," Jeffrey warned, "your aunt has everything arranged. Come on, tiger. Let's go up to your room.” He lifted Michael up over his head, iggyback style. The two started up the stairs.

"Sister?" Michael called out. "We'll show you the way. Just follow us."

Catherine turned to Elinore. "Thank you for getting a room ready for me. I hope it didn't put you to too much trouble. I’d planned on returning to Castle Combe today, but Michael's father felt one more week with the boy was advisable."

The gray eyes glittered. "It's no trouble, Sister, but I should imagine you are greatly missed at the convent. Jeff tells me there are several hundred children you take care of."

"Yes.” Catherine felt hostility from Michael's aunt and could not account for it. She started up the stairs, puzzled, but the two ahead of her were having so much fun, she gave no more thought to the cool welcome she'd received. Jeffrey had never seemed so relaxed and carefree.

"Watch your head now," he warned the boy as they entered his room.

"Daddy, bring me in for a landing."

"All right," his father said and headed for the four poster bed, lowering his head so Michael could jump off his shoulders and dive into the middle of the counterpane. When Catherine saw the little boy go flying, she cried out in alarm and hurried to his side.

"Are you all right?" she asked as he rolled over, but his shriek of laughter answered her question. Out of habit, she hugged him to her. She had to remember that men roughhoused. Her father had played with her like that when she was little, come to think of it. She'd almost forgotten. Lately, too many memories supposedly locked safely away in the past, seemed to come back to her, unbidden. She let him go.

Michael sat up. "Sister, what's the matter?" His eyes were large, and he was just as sensitive to her changes of mood as was his observant father.

"Nothing, Michael."

"How come you stopped smiling?"

"Did I?"

"I think Sister is tired and should have a chance to see her room. And you, young man, are to change your clothes and get right into bed. This afternoon, after your nap, we'll go down to the stable and say hello to Toby. What do you say to that?"

"I love you, Daddy."

Jeffrey tousled his shiny locks. "I kind of love you, too." His voice was husky. "I'll be right back, now, and I want to find you in bed."

"Okay." Michael pretended to pout, but Catherine knew the bed would feel good to him.

"Your room is around this corner, Sister. There’s a sitting room with a telephone. I'm sure you'll find the bed more comfortable than that cot." He opened the door and let her pass through.

"I'm sure I’ll be most comfortable. Thank you." She walked into the room, but did not hear the door close. She turned. He was looking at her in such a strange way. "Is there something wrong?" she inquired.

"No. I was just about to say that Michael and I would deem it an honor if you would accompany us to the stable. Shall we say two o'clock?"

"Perhaps you should be alone with Michael this afternoon. This is his first day home from hospital and you've taken this time to be with your son. He needs to spend as much time as possible with you alone."

"Do you honestly think he would step outside this house for one instant without you?"

She clasped her hands. "Very well, but the boy is progressing so beautifully that I think it’s time he stopped depending on me. The longer I stay away from the convent, the harder it will become...for Michael." She bit her lip. "I must return shortly. "

Jeffrey stiffened. "I'm aware of that, Sister. We went over that whole business yesterday." There was an edge in his tone. "But may we worry about it on another day? As you said yourself, it’s his first day home," and after another long pause, he quietly shut the door.

Catherine stood frozen to the spot. She felt weary, but it wasn't of a physical nature. She was alarmed over the way he had spoken to her just now. He seemed to resent any mention of her return to the convent. Perhaps she hadn't given it enough time.

Michael was just barely out of hospital, and she couldn't forget the way he scrambled from the front seat and into her arms on the drive back home because she mentioned that she'd have to leave him soon. Nor could she erase from her memory the way Jeffrey spoke to her in the car after Michael was upset.

"You're not going to leave us, are you, Sister." He'd said it more like a demand and she groaned inside. What was it going to be like when she really had to say goodbye?

Catherine sank down on the edge of the bed. Maybe in a few days, when Michael had adjusted to life at home with his father, she could begin to talk about leaving, but her relationship with him had undergone a change. He’d seemed like a stranger to her just now. It confused her because he’d always been so gentle, almost painfully tender. She'd seen inside the man during those crucial hours in the hospital. Possibly it was a side no one else had ever seen, nor

would again.

She knew he was an active man with tremendous responsibilities in the Coastal Command. He'd faced many dangers. His whole life was an adventure. For the first time she could see the cool aloofness which probably manifested itself when he was out in the world.

Yet it didn't seem like him to be so cold. Was he still insecure about the boy? Michael seemed so normal and happy, she couldn’t imagine that his world would ever crumble again. He worshipped his father. But could she really be sure he was emotionally well? There didn't seem to be any answers.

Things could not go on much longer this way. She was losing her perspective. Was she losing her vocation as well? Michael was more a part of her life than ever, as was his father. Should she call the Holy Mother? But it was something she could not discuss over the telephone. She prayed again, but as she knelt, she trembled. The words wouldn’t come.

She cried out and sobbed aloud as she realized that the reason she could not ask God for help in weaning Michael and his father away from her was because there was a part of her which didn’t want to let them go. "Blessed Savior," she wept and lay prostrate on the bed, finally giving in to welcome sleep.

At that very moment, many kilometers away, the Holy Mother was kneeling in prayer before the altar of her private chapel petitioning God on Sister Catherine's behalf. She prayed the girl was finding peace and direction, but a dark, heavy sensation weighed the old woman down and she grew alarmed. Catherine was in trouble. She could feel it.

"Sister?" Michael called out, rapping on the door. "Are you ready?"

Catherine had barely had time to freshen herself after her sleep. It was time to go look at the horses. Elinore was chatting with Jeffrey as Michael led Catherine out the front doors. She was wearing a brown riding habit and it suited her. Jeffrey had also changed into sport clothes.

"I've brought Sister," Michael shouted. "Now we can go." Elinore glanced fleetingly at Catherine, without warmth, before linking her arm through Jeffrey's. The two of them walked with their heads close together as they discussed matters which had nothing to do with Catherine. She watched the casual way Elinore looked up at Michael's father, the ease with which she hung on his arm, almost possessively, Catherine thought. But these matters were none of her affair. Still, for the first time she felt like an outsider and chastised herself for such an unworthy reaction.

The grounds were extensive. They walked across the lawn, past the west wing of the house and followed a path down to the stables at the bottom of a hill. The familiar odor of horses, hay and manure wafted past her nostrils, conjuring up memories of her early childhood in Belgium when she visited her grandparents.

She hadn't grown up doing the things little girls were supposed to do like playing with tea sets and dolls. Her interests had always paralleled those of her brothers and she was generally in competition with them when they went riding. Now the smell filled her with nostalgia.

Michael ran ahead and opened the stable door. She could hear him running about. After a moment, a gelding and a pony trotted out into the paddock, Michael following after. "Guess which one is mine, Sister?"

Jeffrey broke into a hearty laugh which was contagious. Catherine couldn't refrain from smiling broadly.

"Toby," the boy called out, "have you missed me?" The pony stood still, but swished his tail back and forth. His eyes blinked in acknowledgement. "Daddy, I think he knows me!"

"I wouldn't be at all surprised, son." Jeffrey walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll have the horses saddled. We can ride as far as Longview. That shouldn't tire you." Jeffrey went into the barn.

Michael turned to Catherine. "Will you ride with us, please?"

"I can't Michael, I'm sorry. But I’d like to watch you. If I were on a horse, then I wouldn't be able to see you to best advantage would I?"

He frowned. "I guess not.”

"Come on, Michael," Elinore interjected. "Sister will be here when you get back. Come inside with me. I have a surprise for you.” She took his hand firmly, leading him into the stable.

Jeffrey emerged, throwing a saddle on the gelding's back as if it were weightless. He worked quickly, tightening the girth, adjusting the stirrups. He was watching Catherine out of the corner of his eye. She looked wistful. It occurred to him this must be hard for her, constantly being exposed to the world she had given up in preference for the religious life.

He sensed her unrest and was savagely glad. He knew she loved Michael

more than life itself. He was counting on that love to make it difficult, if not impossible, for her to go back to the convent. If he had to, he would exert even more pressure to force her to stay on.

Elinore reappeared with Michael at her side. They were carrying a new leather saddle which gleamed in the sun. Jeffrey saddled the pony, picked up Michael and seated him. Elinore mounted her horse and the two started to move away. Elinore was an expert equestrian.

Catherine’s gaze strayed to Jeffrey. He stood there eyeing his son with fatherly pride, his hands on his hips. There was something about his stance, his natural male grace. Michael was calling to her, but she was oblivious to all except the man before her. Jeffrey turned and caught her staring at him.

“Look at me!” Michael shouted. Catherine focused her gaze on the boy.

“You never told me you could ride so well. I’m very impressed.”

Elinore pulled in the reins. “Jeff, Michael and I will walk the horses until you catch up.” Michael waved to Catherine and they were off.

“I’ll be right with you,” Jeff called out, his eyes still fastened on Catherine before he went back in the barn.

Catherine chose this moment to go back to the house, but Jefrey called to her. “There are things I must do, Commander.”

This was one time when he couldn’t ask her to join him, much as he wanted to. What else could he expect? “Of course,” he muttered, then mounted. He walked his horse for a moment, then pressed him into a gallop. They moved like lightning the horse and rider one.

For a moment Catherine couldn’t catch her breath, for she saw herself suddenly at his side, racing her mount madly up that grassy hill, the wind in her long hair, riding harder and faster till horse and rider were spent. She groaned and turned abruptly from the scene.

Jeffrey raced to catch up with the others, but the outing had lost its appeal because Catherine wasn’t there. It didn't seem right without her. He'd grown accustomed to her company.

Elinore and Michael were waiting as he reined in near the top of the hill. He couldn't resist the urge to turn around for one last glimpse, but she wasn't in sight. A terrible emptiness stole through him. He spurred his horse on to the summit, his thoughts in turmoil.

Catherine went back to her room and remained for the afternoon. She wanted to meditate, but her soul was anything but peaceful. She heard the telephone ring. A moment later there was a knock on the door. Jens, the man servant, wanted to know if Sister Catherine would take a call from Castle Combe.

She reached eagerly for the receiver in her room. "Yes?"

"Sister, it's Mother Angela. I called the hospital and they gave me this number. I felt you might be in some trouble. How are you, my child?"

Catherine wondered how she knew. "Holy Mother,” her voice caught. “I’m well."

"Something’s wrong. Is there anything I can do?"

"Pray for me, Mother. For all of us.”

"Isn't the child improving?"

"Oh, yes! He's wonderful. I think another week, possibly two, and he will be completely recovered."

"Sister, will it be difficult for you to leave Norwood and the child?"

Catherine was shaking violently. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know."

"Perhaps you have been there long enough, Sister."

"Michael just left hospital this morning, Holy Mother. I’d planned to leave for Castle Combe today, but his father insisted that I stay another week. Michael isn't completely well. I too question the wisdom of a separation just yet, . but it is very complicated.”

"Yes, I understand." The Mother Superior could read between the lines. "I’ve given this matter serious thought. Under the circumstances, you might propose to Commander Norwood that Michael be allowed to make occasional visits to the convent during this year, to help him to adjust gradually to the separation. In that way, he would know you were not lost to him completely."