Come Back to Me by Jody Hedlund
~ 31 ~
“BROTHER.” Christina’s soft-spoken voice came from above Will where he stabbed the earth in an endless battle. “I have brought you and your servants something to quench your thirst.”
Will combed his hair out of his eyes to see Christina kneeling on the mound of dirt at the mouth of the trench, a leather jug in hand.
Her eyes were kind and compassionate, and her white veil and wimple always added to her serenity.
If only he could have just a scrap of her peace, he’d take it. But all he could think about was the life ebbing from his beautiful, vibrant wife.
Was he on an impossible mission? Would his time be better spent at her side during her last breaths?
“Let them drink first.” He gave a curt nod toward Thad digging behind him and then at Johnny above, tugging up another bucket of soil.
Christina handed the jug to Johnny, who collapsed wearily on the ground as he quenched his thirst. Thad leaned on the handle of his hoe, awaiting his turn.
Will didn’t break his digging and shoveling until Thad finished and thrust the jug at him. Only then did Will pause, drinking gratefully, letting the coolness of the well water wash away his doubts. He had to keep going, keep searching.
“Thank you.” He handed the container back to Christina.
She held her arms at her sides, refusing to take the water. “You can’t blame yourself again.”
Her simple statement was an anvil striking the perfect blow. He wanted to sink to his knees in despair. Instead he gripped the winding root of the ash tree to hold himself upright.
“You give of your love freely without holding anything back for yourself.” She leaned down and spoke softly so that only he was privy to her words. “In the end such love costs you much.”
Aye, it did indeed. He felt as though he’d had his soul ripped from his chest.
“Remember, the Almighty Father says, ‘There is a time for everything, a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot.’ You must do all you can to plant and sow and help the seeds grow. But you cannot blame yourself when God ordains that the harvest be reaped.”
Had God ordained the harvest be reaped with Marian? He prayed it was not so. His love for her pulsed through his blood, strong and deep and unstoppable. And he wanted many more years with her, to plant and sow that love in their relationship.
Christina pressed a hand to his cheek. “Do not hold yourself accountable for something only God can control.”
Christina knew he’d held himself accountable for Thomas’s death. Was he in danger of doing that again now with Marian?
He guzzled more water before passing the jug along to Thad. When the men finished drinking again, Will nodded his thanks to Christina. Her words had brought him a grain of comfort even if they hadn’t lessened the sharp ache in his chest at the prospect of losing Marian.
Even so, it was past time to release Thad and Johnny from the task at hand. He gave the two a nod. “You may go home. I shall finish the task alone.”
Neither Thad nor Johnny made a move to leave.
“I can no longer impose upon you.”
Thad swiped at the sweat on his forehead but then wrapped his fingers around his hoe. “I have no wish to go, sire.”
Will could admit he’d let his anger toward Thad fester, both for allowing Wat Tyler into Chesterfield Park and for permitting Marian stay behind instead of going to the Continent. But perhaps Thad had been justified on both scores. At the very least, once again, the man was proving his loyalty.
“I have no wish to leave either, milord.” Johnny sat back on his heels and watched Will solemnly.
Will swallowed hard past a sudden lump in his throat and hoped his eyes conveyed his loyalty to them in return.
Christina started to walk away but then stopped. “I wanted to give you this.” She fumbled through the slit in her habit for her pocket. “It may mean nothing, but as you were digging this afternoon, I pondered if perhaps it contains water from the original well Marian described.”
When she lifted it, Will’s knees weakened, and he nearly collapsed in the trench.
“’Tis a very old flask of holy water I found in the apothecary two days ago as I was organizing all the items that had been unearthed and overturned during the attack.”
Will scrambled up the dirt wall, his legs and arms hardly able to support him. Why hadn’t Christina come to him with it right away? She’d heard the news of his recovery from holy water and had asked him about it when he’d first arrived. But apparently she didn’t know she was holding an original St. Thomas ampulla. He likely wouldn’t have known either if not for Marian.
“From what I can surmise”—Christina shook the flask—“it has a scant amount in it, probably not enough to help even a wee babe. But mayhap you would like to take it anyway?”
When he reached the top, he dropped to his knees in front of Christina and held out his hands for the St. Thomas ampulla, identical to the ones he’d found in the vault. He didn’t know how much holy water Marian had given him to cure him of his wounds. But he had to try giving her the contents of the ampulla, even if it was only a drop. It was his last option.
Christina laid the ampulla in his outstretched hands. For a second, he closed his eyes to blink back a surge of relief. Then in an instant, he was on his feet and sprinting through the woods to the stables with nary a word of explanation, praying he made it to Marian ere it was too late.
* * *
Will flung open the bedchamber door, not caring that it slammed against the wall and startled the servants. His breathing was ragged, and his chest burned from the haste he’d made in returning to Chesterfield Park.
He strode into the room with thudding steps. He only made it halfway into the chamber before the downcast eyes and somberness of the servants halted him.
With a glance at Marian’s unmoving form, he froze. “Is she—?” He couldn’t make himself say the word.
The woman standing next to Marian bowed her head lower in acknowledgment of what Will had left unsaid.
“No.” Anger and fear rose to strangle him like a hangman’s noose. He fought against the choking hold. He hadn’t struggled so hard over the past three days to stop now.
He broke the icy bonds and crossed to the bed. He dropped to the edge beside her and uncorked the ampulla. With the tips of his trembling fingers, he touched her lips, feeling lingering warmth. Maybe she wasn’t gone yet. Maybe there was still hope.
“Lift Lady Marian’s head.” He beckoned briskly to the closest maidservant. The woman immediately did his bidding whilst Will placed the ampulla against Marian’s half-open mouth. He forced his hand to remain steady and then emptied the drops, making sure they went down her throat before allowing the maidservant to settle Marian in the bed.
“Come back to me, Marian. Come back.” He waited, staring at Marian’s pale face. He wasn’t sure what to expect, what to look for, but he prayed for some sign she would recover, that the holy water would heal her, that he hadn’t been too late.
Minutes passed and naught happened. Finally, defeat overpowered him, penetrating his chest and soul in one fell thrust. “Please.” His voice was strained as he spoke to the servants. “I need to be alone.”
Their shuffling footsteps crossed the room. At the click of the door shutting behind them, he dropped his head into his hands. Hot tears wet his palms. Mayhap he couldn’t blame himself for Marian’s death as Christina had admonished. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give way to the sorrow ravaging his insides.
He groped for her limp hand and brought it to his lips. “I have loved you, Marian, as I have loved no other.” He kissed her palm. “The time of loving you was too short. I would that I had a lifetime to show you my love of your body, soul, and mind. But I am a better man for having loved you at all.”
His whisper cracked. And he could do naught more than lay his head against her hand and let his tears anoint her. She would take them with her to her grave, along with his heart.