Love’s Betrayal (21 page)

King George, what a fitting name.

With twilight fast approaching, Henry looked for a tool to keep distance between him and the dog. Oddly enough, the barn was well maintained and neat. Various tools hung on pegs or leaned against a wall according to size. He had expected the contents to be in disarray to match the old man's disposition. Snatching up a hoe, he headed for the door.

“Henry, do be careful.” Charity wrapped a spare blanket around her shoulders.

“I will, lass. No matter what ye hear, stay put. I have a feeling the dog and I might have a skirmish.” He grinned for her sake. “Pray the man's wife is friendlier than he.”

She nodded. Her obligatory smile soon faded when Delight moaned.

Without another word, Henry slid open the barn door. As expected, the dog approached him in a fury.

“King George, get out of me way.” Henry raised the hoe. “I aim to converse with those people, and the likes of ye will not stop me.”

The door of the house opened, and the old man stepped out, his hand grasping a musket.

“What are you doing with my hoe?”

Henry kept one eye on the dog and shouted back, “I'm protecting me self from your dog. I need to purchase warm food for the women and possibly something for fever.”

“I heard you before,” the old man said.

From behind him, a plump woman with snow-white hair pushed by the old man. “King George, get into the house this minute!”

Immediately the dog obeyed.

“The lady is ill?” she said, moving toward Henry. “And you need food and herbs for a fever?”

“Aye ma'am.”

“Rachel, you don't know what that woman has. Could be we might get sick and die,” the old man spat.

“I am already old and ready to meet my Maker, Horace, and I intend to help.” She neared Henry and smiled. “I'm Rachel Henderson. You bring those women inside. I have beef stew and medicine to help break the fever.”

Thanks be to God.

Henry refused to sleep that night. He sat by Delight's side near the fireplace just as she had done for him. Charity stretched out on the other side of Delight, finally succumbing to sleep. The Hendersons were hospitable after all, simply cautious about loyalists, although the dog's temperament could not be disguised. Mistress Henderson had brewed some feverfew tea, and Henry had helped Charity administer it. Now he waited and prayed.

Mistress Henderson declared herself a believer, but her husband had no use for God. Henry could not imagine the misery of people who did not know Jesus as their Savior. How wretched they must feel with the uncertainty of life. It was difficult enough to face sickness, death, and the struggle to survive during these war-torn days, but to have no hope must be the epitome of despair.

Delight's face tinted pink with the fever looked peaceful, but the color veiled her ill health. Her lips, normally a deep wine, were now purple. He bent and brushed a kiss across her forehead.

“Me sweet lady,” he whispered. “I pray the fever breaks tonight with God's healing. I want to see the light in your eyes, the sparkle that reminds me of heaven's gate. I love ye, Delight, with an affection I never thought possible.”

Henry continued to watch her, wiping her forehead with a cool, damp cloth and praying. She was strong and healthy. She could recover in a few days with rest and proper food. His mind wandered back to special moments with her. Even their initial quarreling reigned as cherished moments. A strong woman, his Delight. Psalm 37:4 rang through his mind, as it had done so many times before:
“Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”

Aye, I'm sure the Lord is pleased with ye. Always I see ye strive to serve Him. What a worthy mother ye will make someday. I pray He allows ye to be the mother of our children.

Shortly after midnight, Henry added another log to the fire and studied Delight's face. No longer did color tinge her cheeks and perspiration bead upon her forehead. Elated, he touched her cheek. Coolness met his fingertips.

“Praise God,” he whispered. He stared into her lovely features. “Charity, wake up. The fever's broken.”

Immediately Delight's sister sat upright and confirmed Henry's words. “It is a blessing,” she whispered, “a real blessing.”

Delight opened her eyes and glanced about, obviously confused by her whereabouts.

“We're in a farmhouse, lass,” he said. “How are ye feeling?”

She took a deep breath. “I was having the most beautiful dream, then voices woke me.” She attempted a smile. “I gather I've been ill.”

“Not for too long,” Henry reported. “But long enough to cause us a scare.”

“Forgive me.” She swallowed with difficulty. “My throat aches, and I have a horrible taste in my mouth.”

“The taste is the herbs,” Charity said. “And tea will help soothe the pain in your throat.”

Delight stared into Henry's face with a tender smile. “Someday I'll tell you about my dream. … For now, I'd like to sleep.”

Two days later, Henry, Charity, and Delight climbed into the wagon and said good-bye to Rachel and Horace Henderson. Henry wanted Delight to rest another day, but she insisted on traveling home.

“I can rest in the back of the wagon as easily as I can here.” Nothing could convince her otherwise, and she used her stubborn nature to its fullest.

Rachel hugged her tightly. “I pray you will be stronger than ever before.”

Delight felt tears well up in her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you have done.”

“It was a true blessing,” the old woman said. She leaned to whisper in Delight's ear. “Henry is a good man. You might consider marriage. He is quite devoted.”

Warmth spread through her. “I promise.”

The wagon wheels crunched into a fairly heavy coating of snow as the horses ambled down the road. The whitewashed countryside and ice-laden trees painted an air of serenity against the stark blue sky. If the weather stayed crisp and not bitter cold, they could very well be home before the next snowfall. Delight felt exhilarated, ignoring her weakened condition and a dull headache that plagued her like a pesky fly in the heat of August.

Gratefulness to be alive soared through her veins, or did her renewed spirit extend from her love for Henry? In any event, she was eager to resume their journey home. Yet in the same breath, she knew home also represented the growing nearness of Henry's departure. Sadness descended upon her. She refused to think of life without him. She would cling to the memory of her fevered dreams.

In them, she and Henry had a home of their own in a rolling countryside filled with green pastures and pastel wildflowers. The two walked through the fields hand in hand while in the distance children squealed with laughter and called to “Mama” and “Papa.” What a lovely, sweet dream. She and Henry, a part of God's divine plan.

“Horace shook me hand,” Henry said, glancing back at her with a smile wider than the Atlantic.

“Did he say any parting words?” Charity said.

“Only to stop for a visit if we were in this area again.”

Charity shook her head. “Delight, his treatment of us when we first arrived was appalling. And I thought King George would tear Henry to pieces.”

“Glad I slept through it, but I am so sorry you two were exposed to his bad manners and his monster dog on my account.”

“I'd do it again.” Henry lifted the reins and coaxed the horses a little faster down the road.

“Why is that?” Charity said in her familiar lilt.

Charity, will you ever cease wrapping every statement you utter around Henry and me?

He chuckled. “My good leg of course. I don't want to face Elijah and Mistress Butler's wrath.”

They shared a good bit of teasing all morning long. The weather warmed, and the snow melted. Deer bounded across the road, their grace and spirit reminding Delight of Mercy and Hope at play. She missed her sisters and wanted to be home. There was no doubt that only the push of God would cause her to endeavor a lengthy wagon journey again. She felt a burst of energy.

“I am strong enough to drive,” Delight said the second morning after leaving the Hendersons. With the provisions Rachel had given them, they'd had a filling breakfast and felt an eagerness to put miles behind them.

“I think not,” Henry said. “When ye drove before your illness, ye hit so many ruts I feared the gunpowder would explode.”

“I believe Charity drove then.”

Charity tossed her a knowing look. “You are mistaken, Delight. I remember how I attempted to sleep between the barrels and realized I had either broken all my bones or my body was permanently bruised.”

Delight did not recall their reporting the incidents quite the same way at the time, but it made for lively conversation. Anything to keep her mind diverted from the nearness of the moment when Henry would leave for the war. In the deep recesses of her mind, while she battled the fever, she thought he'd sat by her side and told her of his love. She sought to mention it to Charity and inquire as to the authenticity of her memory. The risk of appearing foolish always stopped her. During the time of the fever, she had experienced difficulty differentiating between her dreams and what truly happened, although her sister would not make light of it at all.

“Nevertheless, I'm so tired of this wagon. Can I please ride on the bench for a while?”

Charity wiggled her shoulders, and Delight knew she had conjured the perfect reply. “Henry, do you mind if I drive?” She whirled around to her sister. “Do forgive me, I misunderstood. You must want to ride beside Henry, not me.”

When we are home again, I will not be revengeful,
Delight thought,
but I will find ways to torment you out of love.
“Charity, you plague me worse than a nest of angry bees.”

“I learned well from my older sister. Henry, I do hope you don't mind. Delight wants to be near you for a change of landscape.”

Most assuredly you speak the truth, but Charity, please, you do not have to inform him of the matter.

Henry brought the horses to a halt. He helped Charity into the wagon bed and extended his assistance to Delight. As soon as his fingers touched hers and grasped her hand, she caught the familiar tenderness in his gaze and the smile he offered only to her. Suddenly the first and then the second time he kissed her danced across her mind, leaving her weak in the knees and trembling to the touch.

“Aye, lass, ye are still not well. I feel ye trembling.” His hands seized her waist and lifted her to the wagon bench.

“Nonsense, I am quite strong.”

Once they were on the road again, she did note her spirit felt exhilarated at sitting next to him.

“Do you think we could discuss a few important matters?” he said.

How can we with Charity straining to hear every whisper?
She stole a glance and saw he peered down the road as if concentrating on every melting flake of snow. “Of course. Before you begin, I am most grateful for your kind care during my illness.”

“Ye are most welcome, lass. Charity's and your safekeeping had been entrusted to me, and I gave me word to your parents.”

Did his voice crack or was it her imagination? “What are the pressing matters you speak of?”

He sighed. “I believe you already know.” He glanced at Charity, and she slid to the back of the wagon and allowed her feet to dangle over the side.

Thank you, sister. This may be our only opportunity to … to converse about private matters.
Delight clasped her hands in an effort to hide her nervousness. “Continue, Henry.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw his chest and shoulders rise with a deep breath. “I've thought about this at great length.” His gaze swung to her. “Do … do ye have affections for me that are strong enough to last … until the Lord calls us home?”

T
he illumination in Henry's eyes must have marveled the gates of heaven. Delight had dreamed, even seen a glimpse of that special radiance, but this brilliance far surpassed her deepest wishes.