Lovers in Enemy Territory (18 page)

CHAPTER NINE

By late afternoon the sun's rays were low and slanting, bathing the sky in shades of pink and gold. Catherine had long since returned to the house. After telephoning the Holy Mother that she would be arriving at Castle Combe on the eleven-thirty p.m. train, she packed the few essentials she'd brought with her in her satchel. Jens had agreed to drive her to the station. There was only one thing left to do now.

She left her room, carefully watching to be sure no one was around. Then she hurried down the corridor and knocked on Michael's bedroom door. "Michael," she called out quietly. She knew he was there. She'd heard him running up the stairs earlier. Jeffrey opened the door. Her strength almost failed her. He stared at the satchel in her hand. "I want to talk to Michael for just a moment."

"Come in." She moved inside and he closed the door. "I had a long talk with him this afternoon," Jeffrey whispered. "He knows you are going away tomorrow." Catherine shivered ... then saw Michael in the corner. He was busy sketching with charcoals and did not stop what he was doing.

"Michael, darling?" she spoke, her voice breaking, "do you understand why I have to go back?"

"Yes," he was still busy drawing. "Daddy says I can come and visit you whenever I want." The charcoal dropped on the floor. He looked over at her. "Sister?" he cried out and ran across the room, hugging her tightly. She picked him up and kissed him.

"Peter and Brock will be very happy to see you when you come."

He wiped his eyes. "I'm drawing a picture for Peter."

"Good, darling." The tears welled up in her eyes. "He’ll like that, I'm sure."

"Daddy says I can go with you when he drives you back tomorrow."

She bit her lip. "Michael, I'm afraid there’s been a change of plan. That’s why I've come in to see you now." The boy looked perplexed.

"What change?" Jeffrey demanded. The idea of her leaving was unthinkable to him still.

She swallowed hard. "I'm leaving Norwood in a few minutes. Jens is driving me to the station. It’s all arranged," she stated as calmly as she could.

"No, Catherine," Jeffrey started to protest. He’d planned to have some time with her driving back. He hadn't begun to tell her everything that was on his mind.

She put up her hand as the Holy Mother would do when an audience was over. The gesture was intimidating. "It has to be this way. Don't you understand?" she pleaded with him. "Jeffrey," she whispered so Michael couldn’t hear. "Give me time. Let me work this out in my own way!"

“Then this is really it.”

"Yes."

"At least let me thank you one last time for what you've done for Michael. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have him now."

"Yes you would, Jeffrey. Perhaps for a time after his mother died you felt Michael had deserted you. You couldn't see the love he had for you. But little boys have feelings for their mothers. I've seen it over and over at the convent.

“When they’re frightened or worried about their parents, they inevitably cry out, ‘is my London still there? Is my mummy all right?' It isn't their father they call for, even if they think he’s the most wonderful person alive, and make no mistake," she spoke with conviction, "Michael idolizes you.

“At the time though, he was suffering the shock of losing her. It had nothing to do with you. Once he overcame his grief, he was there, loving you more than ever. You never lost him."

"Thanks to you." He looked at her with too much tenderness. "Catherine, come back to us.”

"Michael," she caught him up to her again. "Come and see me soon?" she rubbed his cheek. He nodded his golden head. "We won't say goodbye, will me?" Suddenly Jeffrey had his arms around both of them, hugging them. "I'll never say goodbye, my darling.”

Catherine handed Michael to his father. Then she fled from his arms and the room, only stopping long enough to take her satchel in hand. She ran down the stairs and out the front door, almost colliding with Philip.

"Mr. Norwood," she greeted him out of breath. She looked about for the car. Jens was still in the garage.

"Where are you going?" She seemed to be in great distress. Her usually rosy complexion was white as alabaster.

"I'm going back to the convent."

Philip's eyes narrowed and he put down his briefcase. “I thought you weren't leaving till the end of the week.'

"There’s been a change in plans."

He peered more closely at her. "Are you all right, Sister? Forgive me for asking; but you look as if you don't feel well."

"I'm not ill."

"Is Jeff going to drive you?" He knew something was wrong.

"No," she answered too abruptly. "Jens is driving me to the station. I'm taking the train back to Castle Combe. It’s better this way, easier for Michael."

"Then allow me to drive you back. It's the least I can do after the way you put this family back together again. I don't have to tell you what your coming has meant to ... to all of us. You're a remarkable woman, Sister.” His eyes grew misty. "I shall never forget you."

"Thank you, Mr. Norwood," she murmured, overwhelmed. "But I've already made my arrangements. Please say goodbye to your wife for me. I haven't seen her recently. She went to a great deal of trouble for me and I’m very grateful."

"I'll convey the message, Sister, but it may be some time before I see her. You see, she’s left me.”

"Left you?" Catherine's eyes opened wide.

He nodded. "That's why she’s in town today consulting her solicitor."

Catherine's heart went out to him. "I'm so sorry! How dreadful for you."

"No," he answered abstractly. "Things haven’t been right between us for a long time. Several years in fact. In the beginning, I excused our differences on the grounds that we were newlyweds. Then I began to think it was because of the differences in our nationalities.”

"She isn't English?" Catherine questioned.

"Elinore was born in Germany. Her parents emigrated to South Africa when she was in her teens. I met her just after she moved to London. She was a secretary for one of my colleagues when we became acquainted."

Now Catherine began to understand what Michael had meant about the way Elinore spoke sometimes. It explained a lot of things.

"Sister, I don't know why I am telling you all this."

"It's all right, Mr. Norwood."

"I suppose I need someone to talk to and Jeff has enough on his mind right now."

"Does your brother know?" she asked quietly.

"No. I'll have to tell him tonight. He'll realize something’s wrong when she doesn't return. She's gone back to our house in Ipswich. Oddly enough your being here has had something to do with it."

"What?" her face had turned ashen.

"I think the only reason she stayed as long as she did was because of Michael, but when you came she realized how much the boy loved and needed you. Elinore and I haven't had children. I think she wanted Michael to fill that need, but Michael has never taken to her.

“Seeing Michael so happy with you must have been the deciding factor. You're as much his mother as Connie ever was." Catherine bowed her head. "Sister, I haven't told you this to upset you. I'm sorry. Please don't misunderstand. It was the best thing that could’ve happened. I'm grateful if your coming brought things to a head. When a marriage disintegrates, when one of the parties is no longer happy, the best thing is to dissolve it."

Catherine heard his words and felt as though someone had just walked over her grave. She shivered, but the moment passed.

"When we were first married, I thought I loved her. She was intelligent and rather challenging. I know now that she was never in love with me. There has been someone else all along I'm not saying she’s been unfaithful to me. I have no proof, but I suspect that all these years there’s been another man.”

Catherine clutched at the folds of her skirt. Somehow she knew it was Jeffrey. She’d seen the signs. If Philip knew, he wouldn’t say because he loved his brother too much. "What will you do?"

"What I've been doing for years. Working! But now I’ll be free to pursue a new life. Who knows.” He winked at her. “Maybe I'll find a real woman

someday, with a heart and soul."

Philip was a true gentleman like Jeffrey. It hurt her to think he had to go through such a traumatic experience and she wept inside for both men.

"Goodby, Mr. Norwood. God bless you." She got into the back seat of the car and he closed the door, then leaned through the open window.

"I hope not forever. I would like very much to see you again one day. Goodbye," he said with a sober face.

As the car pulled around the circular drive, she saw Jeffrey standing on the lawn. Michael was at his side. They waved

She felt like a drowning victim. Her whole life was passing before her eyes. She sank back against the seat, numbed almost to the point of unconsciousness.

*****

On the ninth day after Catherine's return to the convent, the Holy Mother went into the chapel to converse with her. They hadn’t communicated since her arrival because Catherine had gone immediately into retreat. The Holy Mother realized she wished to be left alone and felt it was wise for Catherine to have this time to meditate.

It didn’t surprise her when she received a phone call from Commander Norwood the day following Catherine's return, wanting to know how she was. The Holy Mother could tell him nothing. Every day after that, she continued to receive a phone call, and every day she had the same message to give him. Sister Catherine was still in seclusion.

The Mother Superior grew alarmed when Catherine still refused to see anyone after an entire week of fasting and prayer. It was an indication that Catherine was still struggling with a problem she couldn’t resolve. The Holy Mother knew what that problem was. She wouldn’t wait any longer before she confronted the Sister.

One look and it was apparent Catherine had been fasting. She was much too thin and gaunt. The Holy Mother was shocked when she beheld her condition. She pulled on the nun's sleeve. Catherine's head jerked around, her eyes sunken. There were no traces of the fresh vitality which had characterized her face a few short months ago. She seemed to have aged.

The holy woman bowed her head and made the sign of the cross. The test had been too difficult. This Sister was tortured by a new attachment. Here was a woman suffering for her beloved, just as the Commander was suffering. Yet the Holy Mother was touched by Catherine's devout faith. Despite this new experience of earthly love, she didn’t doubt for a moment Catherine's spiritual sincerity. This Sister was in a spiritual abyss. Something had to be done.

Catherine made the sign and her burning lips kissed the Holy Mother's hands. She looked closely at Catherine. The girl was ill. Catherine's shoulders shook and she found herself sobbing at the feet of her mentor.

"Holy Mother," she cried aloud in anguish. "What am I going to do?" Her head came to rest against the holy woman's skirt.

"Do you love Michael's father, my child?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Does he know of your love?"

"Yes.”

She cupped Catherine's chin in her hand and lifted it till their eyes met. "He’s expressed his love to you, hasn't he?"

"Yes," she whispered. "He’s asked me to leave the Community and marry him.."

The older woman closed her eyes and nodded. It was as she had thought. Tears pressed against her closed lids. "My child, we must talk. I've left you much too long, and you’re feverish. I want you to go to the infirmary. I’ll come to you there."

"Yes, Mother." But as Catherine rose to leave, she fainted at the Holy Mother's feet.

An hour later Catherine found herself on a cot in the infirmary. Sister Margaret had brought her broth and crackers. The Holy Mother had commanded that Catherine discontinue her fast. Catherine obeyed her orders without remonstration. She was in a state of despair in which nothing mattered. She’d been back at the convent for over a week, all of which time had been spent in retreat.

During this time she withdrew from the affairs of the Order for solitude, self-examination, prayer and amendment of life. She spoke to no one, not even the Holy Mother. How could she find words, when her mind was so confused? Many hours were spent in prostration before the altar.

For Catherine, the aromatic smoke of the incense ascending heavenward symbolized the path of her prayers to God. But the divine office held no comfort for her now. The psalms, chants and prayers did not increase her faith as they had done.

She selected scriptures which she'd always loved to read, but they gave no new insight into her dilemma. She turned frantically to the lives of the saints, and the works of preferred theological writers, praying she would find some earth-shaking passage which would set her soul on fire, and smother the flame of love that burned deeper and deeper in her soul for two mortals, but no such manifestation occurred.

After nine days she was no further on the road to recovery than at first. No amount of prayer or fasting could ease the conflict within. She loved God. That would never change. He was the Creator, the Giver of life. But she also loved a son of God and she couldn’t deny it. As each day passed, she couldn’t prevent thoughts of him from creeping into her prayers and studies.