Winter Is Past (22 page)

After an initial hesitation, he could feel Althea kissing him back. Finally her own hands came up and wrapped themselves around his neck. He hugged her closer, wanting to feel her very heartbeat.

After some time, he looked at her again. She opened her eyes at the same moment. He could see the dazed wonderment gradually turn back to reason. He knew, as each second ticked by, thoughts and fears over the consequences of their kiss began to destroy the enchantment. How he wanted to hold her closer and turn back time, but he knew it was impossible.

His voice came out thick and unnatural. “I knew once I tasted of you, I would never recover.”

Althea began pushing away first. He sighed, expelling the air in one swift gust, and offered no resistance as she stepped back.

She touched a hand to her lips and closed her eyes an instant. “I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me,” she whispered.

He reached out and touched her hand lightly. “Don't be sorry. That's as absurd as saying you're sorry Rebecca is ill.”

She opened her eyes and met his gaze warily, confusion warring with self-reproach.

He removed his hand, and it almost hurt him physically to break the connection with her, but he knew the moment of madness was over. He shifted back and leaned against the bedside table. He smiled sadly, his gaze never leaving hers.

“You and I come from different worlds, Althea.”

When she said nothing, he rubbed a hand over his jaw, wishing—wishing—“No matter how much I've tried to erase my past, it's there. It's who I am. A Jew. A Hebrew. An
Ephraimite.
” He infused the word with all the British contempt he'd heard all the years of his life.

 

Althea swallowed, her heart breaking at the pain she knew he masked, or thought he'd conquered. There was only One who could take that pain away. What could she say to him? Cry out that she didn't care about his background? That she'd go anywhere with him? Face anything with him—Hadn't she already faced the loss of all things pertaining to her old life? But there was One whom she couldn't forsake, her Savior, and his, if Simon would only let Him into his heart.

As if reading her mind, Simon smiled again, the smile bittersweet this time. “But that wouldn't matter to Althea, would it? What does she care where I come from? No, what probably concerns her more is who I am now and where I'm headed. My place in Parliament and in society is of no import, is it? For after all, what does Althea care about worldly things? No, she would probably rejoice if I turned my back on everything I've struggled to attain over the last decade of my life.”

His eyes narrowed, his tone assuming its habitual mockery. “You wouldn't like to reenter that world that treated you so cruelly, would you? You wouldn't want a husband who would be continuously in society. You couldn't abide the thought of mingling with the London ton and hosting countless dinner parties for them, could you?

“You'd prefer I forget Parliament, forget a brilliant career, give up all my dreams and live in obscurity, my life dedicated to some lost cause somewhere. Wouldn't that be more to your devout tastes? Wouldn't it, Miss Breton?” His scornful tone ended in one of frustration.

She shook her head in protest, still unable to speak a word.

“Until I take up this cross you're always harping on, giving up everything else, you won't be satisfied, will you? Always insisting this is about the same God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. It would make you happy, wouldn't it, if I ‘converted'?” He made the word sound like a profanity. “Then we would all be one big happy family—Jew and Gentile.”

She continued to shake her head at his accusations. Her cheeks felt hot. She took another step away from him and almost tripped over the chair behind her. She groped for its arm and stepped away even farther, needing to get away from him.

“You don't understand! You see so much, you care so much and yet you are still so—so blind!” Her voice, which had started as a pained whisper, rose. “You are right. I don't care about ‘worldly' things if that means caring what the world thinks. I would go anywhere, face anything with you—be it a life of abject poverty or complete obscurity—or—or—” she sputtered trying to get the words out, hardly realizing what she was about to say “—or a life as the prime minister's wife. Whether it was scraping together our last farthings, or planning the most elaborate dinner parties to sit and smile and endure however many set-downs I must for the sake of your career, I would do it
gladly!
I would face both your family and mine!

“But I would do
none
of this if it meant forsaking my God, and
yours!
Not even for you, Simon.” She ran towards the door, horrified at the enormity of what she'd done tonight.

At the door to the sitting room she stopped, her knuckles gripping the handle behind her. For a long moment, they both looked at each other, the expanse between them like an ocean.

Finally she turned and wrenched the door open, feeling her heart ripping in pain as she did so, and ignoring his final “Althea!” as she closed the door behind her.

 

That night Althea paced her room, her heart in turmoil. She never dreamed Simon could feel anything even remotely touching what she felt for him, but tonight the veil had been ripped aside, showing her a man of strong passions held in powerful check. For that she must be thankful, because she had realized tonight how weak she was. She herself had not dared acknowledge the depth of her own feelings for her employer.

But she could no longer deceive herself. She might have fooled herself over the past few weeks that theirs was but an intellec
tual parley. If anything, she'd felt nothing but impatience and mockery from him the more she'd held her ground.

But tonight he'd shocked her. She'd shocked herself. There had been nothing intellectual or rational about their encounter. His touch had paralyzed her, and she'd been astounded at the depth of her own passion. If he hadn't let her go, could she have gone? She didn't have the answer to that. She had only the evidence of her own response to him, her soul drinking in every soft word he spoke as her body yearned for his touch.

She realized her weeks of denying all such feelings, rather than diminishing them, had only served to intensify them. She fell upon her bed, crying for forgiveness for any secret thoughts she had harbored for Simon. She pleaded with God.
What would You have me do? Why do You want me here? Simon is no closer to accepting You than my father is!

Your Word says not to be unequally yoked with unbelievers. I have kept Your command. I have kept myself apart. What would You have of me here? Your Word promises I will not be tempted above what I am able to bear.

The thought came to her of the apostle Peter when the Lord had given him the vision of all the unclean animals being lowered to him on a sheet, and commanded, Rise and eat.

You wanted to show Peter something, which he didn't understand immediately. What are You trying to show me in this household? I know You cannot wish me to give myself to Simon, not in his present spiritual condition, but what is it then that You would have me do! Show me, Lord, for I am weak, I am ignorant. I don't know what to do!

She fell asleep at last, in her clothes, her face tear-streaked, knowing nothing but that somehow the Lord would sustain her through this test.

A
lthea needn't have concerned herself with things in the short run. When she rose the next morning, late and disoriented, Simon had left her a note by her breakfast plate. It was brief and to the point. Its short contents left her relieved, vexed and deeply hurt. In it, he apologized in the most formal tones for having expressed himself the evening before most inappropriately. He was deeply remorseful. He begged her to erase the incident completely from her memory, and she could be assured it would never occur again as long as she was in his employ.

He remained her obedient servant,
Simon Aguilar.

She swallowed, felt the tears well up in her eyes, and wiped them away angrily. Her eyes were painfully tender; she thought she'd cried all the tears she could possibly produce. How horribly sentimental she was becoming of late. What had gotten into her?

She washed her face with cold water, then went up to Rebecca's room. Of course she was relieved with the tone and contents of the message. The Lord had made her a way of escape;
He had heard her pleas of the night before. She needn't be concerned over Simon's attentions anymore.

Her face flamed at the recollection of the things she'd said to him. She'd practically thrown herself at his feet and declared her love for him, telling him that she'd be willing to go with him anywhere.

The Lord's voice told her not to be ashamed of her love for Simon.

Love.
The word came as a revelation. She whispered it to herself. All those pent-up feelings that had erupted the night before had been nothing more, nothing less, than love.

For so long she had shunned any hint of attraction to a man. That man so long ago in her past had insinuated she was nothing but the lecherous, wanton product of her mother's illicit liaison with her father. The shame when he'd exposed her origins in all their lurid details, quite different from her father's whitewashed version, had crippled her. When the man had violated her, Althea had reasoned in a horrible, twisted way that she deserved it.

Althea put her fist up to her mouth, remembering the horror when he'd lifted her skirts and thrust himself into her again and again on that sofa in some long-forgotten house in Mayfair, while people in the other rooms danced and ate and played cards.

Now she thought with wonder over her body's reaction to Simon the night before. She had felt no dread or fear when he'd touched her. He'd touched her so gently that when his lips had at last parted hers, she'd longed for the fusion of their two bodies. The revelation stunned her, and her mind went immediately to God's covenant of marriage: “…and they twain shall be one flesh.”

For the first time in her life Althea began to question whether she had really allowed the Lord to set her completely free. Or had she refused all thoughts of marriage to any man, out of fear of the marital act?

Her mind began to wonder if it was love her mother had felt for her father. Had her mother experienced the desperate longing for her father that Althea was feeling for Simon?

Had her mother succumbed and fallen in sin out of love or lust? She would never know.

Althea turned from her silent meditations at the window, asking God for His grace in the coming days. She knew she must bury her love for Simon and fix her attention on Rebecca.

She renewed her prayers for Rebecca, declaring all the promises for healing and wholeness in God's word for those who believed. She knew that she herself could not leave Rebecca's side until she saw her well and whole again.

 

One afternoon Simon stopped on impulse at his parents' residence.

The house was quiet, with only a silent maid dusting and polishing. Simon found his mother in her sitting room doing needlework. She gazed in delighted surprise when he poked his head in the door.

Speaking to him in Ladino, she stood. “Simon! What a pleasant surprise! What are you doing here at this time of day?”

He kissed her on the cheek. “I had a meeting nearby and thought I would visit my mother. Do I need an appointment?” he teased.

She swatted him on the arm. “Don't talk such nonsense. Would that I saw all my children every day.”

“Sit, Mama. I don't want to interrupt your work.” He glanced down, not really knowing why he had come by. To hide his embarrassment, he asked after his brothers and sisters.

His mother patted the seat beside her. “They are all fine, knock on wood. Tirzah is looking lovelier each day. You know she and Solomon are already expecting a little one early in the year?” Her mother smiled in satisfaction.

He nodded. Yes, his sister seemed to be blooming more and more each day.

She shook her head. “I worry about your brother Nathan. I don't think he's happy at the bank.” She fingered the edge of her embroidery hoop. “Is there nothing you can say to him? I know
David is set in his ways, a lot like your father, but he only means it for good.”

Simon said nothing. How was he expected to fix his brother's life when he couldn't even manage his own? What would his mother say if she had an inkling of his affairs?

“How is everything at home? Rebecca? I was just by to see her yesterday.” Mrs. Aguilar clucked her tongue, shaking her head. “So thin. Are you sure she's eating enough?”

Simon's mouth twisted in a smile. It was not worth arguing against his mother's belief that all ills could be cured if one ingested enough food.

“How is your work coming,
hijo?
” she asked, peering at him. “Your
abba
tries to explain to me the difficulties you face. Everyone arguing. Why can't they all agree on what is best for the country?”

Simon chuckled. “Then, perhaps, all those of us in Parliament would be out of work.”

He crossed his legs and fingered the material of his pantaloons. “What do you think of Miss Breton, Rebecca's nurse?” he asked abruptly, then regretted the question as soon as it was out.

His mother looked at him from her deep-set black eyes. “Miss Breton? A nice enough woman. She is a godsend for Rebecca. Rebecca thinks the world of her. Why do you ask,
hijo?
”

Simon shifted. In for a penny, in for a pound. “What if your son was contemplating marriage to someone of her sort?” he ended lamely. God, what was he thinking in even voicing such a thought?

His mother's mouth dropped open and a look of fear entered her eyes. Her mouth moved silently a few times as if she were trying to speak but couldn't enunciate the words. “Simon, you're not—” she finally managed to say. “Oh, Simon, she—” His mother stared at him in anguish. “She is a good woman, a lady, I can see, but, Simon, she's a Gentile, a nurse. Her beliefs—” Her voice implored him.

Simon looked at her silently, not having expected any different reaction. Finally he said, “What if you knew absolutely—without a doubt—that her God and yours is one and the same?”

The fright in her eyes deepened, but as the two continued looking at each other, he could see hope warring with the fear. Her fingers came up to her mouth.

Finally she said, “It would give me great peace.”

 

Midsummer came and went. The city became hot, Mayfair deserted of most families who were off to the country. Simon returned to his routine but avoided Althea as much as she him. His manner when they did meet was formal, causing Althea to long for the old mockery and impatience. He spent every hour not at Rebecca's bedside closeted in the library, and from Giles she knew he was working at a feverish pace to complete his book. Parliament had recessed, but Simon still spent the evenings out, after spending the early part with Rebecca.

He had hired a night nurse, whom his older sister, Simcha, had sent over, and told Althea in no uncertain terms that he didn't want her sitting up until all hours with Rebecca.

Rebecca's family came at intervals to sit with the child. Althea's polite greetings grew to a few pleasantries, until gradually she began to form an acquaintanceship with Simon's sisters and mother. His mother seemed to take particular pains to draw her out.

One day Mrs. Aguilar reached over and patted Althea's hand, saying, “I just want my children to be happy.”

With the hiring of the night nurse, Mrs. Higgs, Althea had a little more time to resume her work with the kitchen staff. She enjoyed this work for the added benefit that it kept her below stairs, further removed from any contact with Simon. She fretted over Cook, who had had a few relapses during the time Althea had been more occupied with Rebecca. Harry and even Giles now joined the Sunday morning Bible study. She had begun to talk with those at the mission about beginning a chapel service somewhere in Simon's neighborhood.

One Sunday morning in late July, Dot did not attend the Bible study.

“Oh, she's ailing, miss,” explained Martha.

“That's too bad. I shall go up and see her later. Let us lift her up in our prayers this morning.”

After the study, Althea went up to the attic rooms. Dot lay sleeping, but roused at the sound of Althea.

“Don't know what's wrong with me. Sore throat and 'eadache.”

Althea bent down to feel her forehead. “Oh, dear, you have a fever.”

“Went to visit my mum last week and all the young 'uns was sick. Must o' caught it from them. I was holding 'em and tendin' to 'em.”

Althea went to fetch her some hot tea with lemon. “Here, drink this. Let's swaddle your neck, even though I know it's beastly hot up here. I shall call the doctor later if you show no improvement. On no account are you to come downstairs. Try to sleep.”

Althea didn't want to disturb Simon. The few times they had come into contact he seemed to look right through her. Instead she instructed Giles to tell the master. She sent Mrs. Coates to tend to Dot, wanting as little contact with her as possible, for fear of contracting anything that could be passed on to Rebecca.

Rebecca greeted her happily when she came to sit with her later in the afternoon.

“
Abba
brought me this new book. Aren't the pictures pretty?”

“Oh, yes, they are indeed.” Althea took the book from her and leafed through it. She read her a few pages, then set it down when the tea tray was brought up. They drank their tea and chatted a while.

“You know what I wish, Althea?”

“What, dear?”

“That I could hear you playing the pianoforte again.”

“Why, of course you may. I'll just get Harry to carry you down, and I'll play for you.”

They arranged this, and Althea played for her until Rebecca tired.

Later that evening, Simon came up to visit with his daughter. He said a brief good evening to Althea as he usually did, although he hardly met her eyes.

“Good evening,” she replied, giving no hint by her tone or demeanor that his words affected her at all. For all she demonstrated, they had never had any encounter but the briefest between employer and employee. “I shall be down in the kitchen if you require anything.” She had begun sitting with the servants on Sunday evenings. They would sing some songs and read a few Scriptures, and she would tell them some of the testimonies of things she'd seen in her years of ministry. They listened wide-eyed when she spoke of the miracles of deliverance and healing she'd seen firsthand.

A few days later, she heard a knock on her bedroom door. It was still early evening. She had just put down her Bible to prepare for bed.

“Yes, who is it?”

“Simon.”

She hurried to the door, wondering what was the matter. He usually only dealt with Mrs. Higgs, the night nurse, in the evenings when he came in.

She opened the door. “Is something the matter?”

“Forgive me for disturbing you. It's Rebecca. She seems feverish. Can you come for a moment?”

Her heart sinking at the news, Althea hurried after him.

“Mrs. Higgs hasn't arrived yet,” he said over his shoulder. “Besides, I trust your opinion over hers.” They had reached Rebecca's bedside. “What do you think? Should I call a physician?”

Althea leaned over Rebecca and felt her forehead. “Yes, she seems hot. Are you feeling poorly, darling?” she asked, smiling at the girl to hide her own fear.

“Uh-huh.”

Althea asked her a few more questions as she examined her, her concern growing. “Perhaps we should call Mr. Russell,” she said, mentioning the young surgeon from the mission.

“I doubt even his devotion would bring him across town at this hour,” he answered shortly. “I shall send for Dr. Roseberry. He's much closer on Harley Street.”

Althea looked at him sharply. It wasn't like him to behave so capriciously where his daughter was concerned, but all she said was “Very well,” and she turned her attention back to Rebecca. After Simon left the room, Althea rang for Mrs. Coates.

“Yes, miss, you called for me?”

“Yes, how has Dot been?”

“She was quite poorly for a few days, but now she's on the mend. I'm afraid, though, Martha has come down with it.”

“Oh, no.” Althea thought a moment. “Has Martha brought up any food for Rebecca in the past few days?”

“Oh, dear, I suppose so. It's usually Daisy or Dot, but with Dot sick, Martha has been helping bring up Rebecca's tray. Is something amiss? Did one of them forget to bring something? I'm always after them for something—”

“No, no, nothing like that. It is just that Rebecca is feverish, and I was wondering, since I knew Dot had been ill….” She heard her own voice trail off, not wanting to formulate what was in her thoughts.

“Oh, no! Don't tell me. Poor mite.” As she spoke, she approached Rebecca's bed and bent over her. “Oh, my, yes, she's contracted it for sure, poor thing. Now, don't you fret, Becca, we'll get you feeling better. Let me just bring you up a nice hot toddy. Your throat pains you?”

Simon came back up as Mrs. Coates was leaving. Althea went to get some lavender water. When she returned, she found Simon seated beside Rebecca, her hand in his. Althea stooped over and placed the cool compress upon Rebecca's forehead.