Nightingale (25 page)

“To act justly and love mercy and be servants of God.”

Peter just stared at him, even now remembered his father's quiet tone, the way he said it so simply, as if, of course, this answer should be evident.

“This is all God requires of us, Peter. This is our faithfulness in a world gone mad. How could I live with myself if I didn't help?”

Peter dragged a hand over his face. Hung his head.

He didn't expect his father's hands on his shoulders, the peace that stole through him, hot and solid in his touch. “May the God whom you continually serve deliver you.”

And you, Father.

Please, God.

He looked up now, remembering the words, staring at Esther's stars. May the God whom you continually serve deliver you.
God, where are You?

The stars did seem closer here in Roosevelt, as if he could pluck them, pocket them, and take them home with him.

No. He wanted to take Esther home with him.

She's marrying Linus on Friday night.
Caroline's tight words rounded on him.

What was he supposed to do about that?

“You're going to let her?”

What could he do—jump the snow fence?

The idea seemed to have fingers, to seize him.

Yes.

He could jump the fence. Find Esther.

He looked like an American. Acted like an American.

Was an American. He didn't belong here, a prisoner of war.

And Esther didn't belong with Linus.
The thought pressed into his sternum, tightened his chest. How could he stay here, let her walk into the arms of a man who cared nothing for her?

She couldn't marry Linus. Not a man like Linus.
Any
other man but Linus.

He stood, measuring the distance to the fence, a crazy swirl in his chest, buzzing through his body. Yes—

You make more trouble, we'll ship you off to Fort Robinson, and you can wait it out with your Nazi pals.

He watched the fence sway as if pushed by the balmy summer wind.

And, as he did, he felt it again. The hands. The presence of peace, flushing through him, turning him hot.

No, not hot. Warm.

Unafraid.

God loves you more than you can imagine.
He saw himself then,
holding her hand, seeing past her eyes to the broken Esther that thirsted for love.

But not his love.

He stared at the sky, drawing a breath, deep and full, without spiking pain in his chest for the first time in weeks.

A star lost its pinnings and he watched it arc across the sky, wink out into the night.
With you, I don't feel so lost.

Oh, Esther… She wasn't lost. She just wasn't yet found.

Let her be found in Me.

The words pulsed through him.
Let her be found in Me.

“What does that mean?” His voice rasped out, soft in the swell of night.

He traced her face in his memory, her soft smile upon him as he woke in the ward, the way she checked his wounds. Why would a woman like Esther marry Linus?

You're trying to earn your atonement.

He heard his own harsh tone and flinched. Saw her face, void of emotion, as she said,
God can't love a woman like me.

Oh.
Oh.

Esther was marrying Linus because she was trying to fit herself into God's love.

The truth rushed through him, full, fast, and took his breath away. And in the bitter silence behind it, he heard the words, again.

Let her be found in Me.

How, God?

Act justly and love mercy and be servants of God.

His father's voice seemed to embed the wind, the swirl of the stars. The smells of the silage rose to prick his nose.

It is our faithfulness in a world gone mad.

Act justly.

Love mercy.

He stared again at the snow fence, watched it wobble.

Stop her.

The sense of it pulsed inside him. Stop her. The thought rushed, hot, full through him, a surge of truth that nearly made him cry out. Stop her.

Except…

Well, they just couldn't catch him, could they? He'd find her, keep going, to Chicago. Yes. He could get them to Chicago, then he and Esther could vanish. He and Esther and Sadie.

He pressed his hand to his chest, solid against his racing heart.

Maybe this was why he'd bartered his freedom. Why God had sent him back to the land he loved.

The wind picked up again, and this time brushed against his skin, raising gooseflesh.

And certainly, then, God would set him free, right?

“Why didn't you leave? Just take Linus and run?” Esther stared at herself in the mirror—or what she thought might be herself—her blond hair in victory rolls, a blue pillbox hat, a netted veil over her face. The powder-blue suit with the skirting around the hem of the jacket, a pair of black pumps, the ones she'd worn on the train from New Jersey. Except for the scuffed shoes, she didn't recognize the woman with the sallow face and wouldn't look at the eyes that stared back.

Behind her, the sun had already set, the candles for the ceremony probably already flickering in the solarium. She stopped by on her way into the dressing room—aka, the nursing lounge—and saw that someone had engineered a pair of candelabras beside a small altar. Chairs lined up in rows, allowing for a small, almost ten-foot aisle for her to traverse. And a spray of hydrangeas, roses, verbena, all picked, probably, from the Hahns' garden, made the display seem homemade. Simple. Nothing special.

Nothing special.

“Why did you allow him to take Linus and turn you into the maid?”

Bertha sat on the chair, ignoring her, brushing Sadie's golden brown locks. Sadie played with her basket of white rose petals, cut from Mrs. Hahn's garden. She picked one up, let it drift to the ground. Another.

“Leave them in the basket, Sadie,” Esther said, crouching to pick them up. Bertha didn't look at her, even when Esther tried to meet her eyes.

“There you go,” she said to Sadie, turning her. “You'll be the prettiest one there.”

“No, Mama is the prettiest.” Sadie grinned up at her mother.

She didn't feel like the prettiest, but then again, she'd never been Hedy, had she?

Bertha stood up, straightened Esther's collar, fiddled with her netting. “I never had anywhere to go. And no one stood up to stop me. Besides, the judge was his father. A boy needs his father.”

Esther touched her wrist, met her eyes. “Thank you for standing up with me today.”

Bertha's eyes filled. “Linus was a good boy. He'll be a good man.”

Esther turned away, checked her appearance one more time in
the mirror. Held out her hand for Sadie. “It's time we get married, sweetums.”

“We getting married.”

Sadie skipped out of the room, holding her mother's hand. “We getting mar-
ried
.”

They walked down the corridor. When they reached Charlie's room, Esther handed Sadie to Bertha. “I'll be right there. I have one last stop to make.”

Bertha took Sadie while she ducked into Charlie's room.

He lay in darkness, disappearing, it seemed, more every day. She flipped on the light. Oh, someone hadn't shaved him for two days at least, a dark grizzle swathing his chin. But she didn't have time to do it now. Still, she adjusted his covers then sat on the side of his bed. His external wounds had healed, but something still trapped him in the shadowlands.

“Charlie. I won't be able to beat you at cards anymore. Not that you don't deserve it—I saw you cheating that last time, hiding the ace of diamonds up your sleeve.” She brushed his brown hair back. He needed a haircut too.

“But see, I'm getting married today, and I won't be coming in anymore—”

“Esther!”

She stilled, her hand on Charlie's face. No, it couldn't be—

“Esther.”

She turned. Peter, dressed in white surgical shirt, a pair of brown trousers, his blond hair slicked back, clean shaven, as if he'd recently scrubbed in.

“Peter?” Standing before her, something sweet and urgent in his
eyes? He even smelled good. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw you duck in here—I'm hoping I'm not too late.”

“Too late for—” She caught her breath, hating the rush of hope. “Oh, Peter—you can't. We can't.”

But she stared up at him, and with everything inside her she wanted to leap into those arms—and how thirsty had she become, that on the day of her wedding she longed for this other man? This honorable and kind man. This man who saw her and cared enough for her to—

“You broke out of camp. You escaped!”

“It was hardly a big event—the guards are playing poker at the guardhouse. I only had to wait until Bert did his rounds and then hop the fence.”

“Are you—what were you planning?”

Something twitched on his face with her question. “I… You're not marrying Linus.”

His words shook her. So bold, so sure—nothing of the desperation of the previous argument. He nearly decreed it, like a command.

One she wanted to obey.

“Listen—I know you think you're supposed to do this—but—he's not a good man, Esther. He doesn't love you.”

“I know that.”

“He loves Rosie.”

How—oh. Linus had told him the night he'd nearly died. “You knew this?”

“I knew he loved someone he left behind, at home. I thought she was you. I didn't figure out it was Rosie until Linus got into a fight in the solarium. Rosie calmed him down.”

“Linus got into a fight?”

“I have a feeling there are a lot of fights in front of Linus.” He ran
his hands down her arms, clasped her hands. “Just because you made this mistake—”

“It's more than a mistake. Linus is Sadie's father.”

“I can be her father.”

She blinked at that. Rebelled at how much, suddenly, she wanted it.

“We'll go to Chicago—or even Minneapolis. I went there, once, with my father—we can get lost there, I know it.

She could see it in his eyes—their life together. A house, children. He spoke without an accent—who would know?

She put her hand to her mouth. “What if they catch you?”

“They won't.” He gripped her arms, now the urgency. “We can do this—together. All I know is that you're not supposed to marry Linus and I'm here to stop you…”

She stared at him and expected a wildness around his eyes to accompany his words. But instead his hands slipped down to hers again, clutched them in his. “Jesus came to set you free from your mistakes, Esther. This is
not
how you earn His love—because you already have it. You don't have to keep living in the destruction of your sins. Come with me—”

“And Sadie?”

“Yes, of course—I saw her, with the golden curls? She's adorable, Esther.” His eyes searched hers.

And for a moment, she nearly said yes. Nearly gave in to his words.

Until she looked—really looked into his eyes. “You don't want to do this.”

“I do…” His face screwed up. “I do—of course I do. I—”

“You came here to stop me. But you don't really want to run away with me. You just wanted to stop me.”

His jaw tightened and he winced. “I think I love you, Esther—I want to love you. And I know I could spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. You put the next breath inside me, and it's because of that—it's because I could feel what tomorrow might be that I want to stop you. But more than that—I think God wants me to stop you.”

“Why would He want that?”

“Because you are precious to Him!”

She blinked at that, the words rolling over her, through her. Precious—

She dropped his hand, backed away from him. “I don't—I, uh—”

“Esther! What will it take for you to see how beautiful you are to Him? How much He loves you? You don't have to prove anything to Him.”

This. Right here. Staring at this man—he even wore white, and the way he held her with his eyes, so much truth in them.

Precious.

Beautiful.

“You don't need to become a woman who you think God wants, because you already are the woman He wants, the woman He loves. And you're not lost, because God has found you. And He wants you to discover the woman you can be—in His grace. In His forgiveness. In His love.”

He stepped closer to her, cupped his hand against her cheek. “You are not found by fitting yourself into what you think is the right place, but by letting God forgive you, letting Him mold you into the life He wants for you.”

Even as he said this, his voice changed, and the smallest of smiles tilted up his handsome face.

“You are only found when you have surrendered yourself into
God's hands and let His love transform you.”

She wanted that. She heard it in Peter's words, saw it on his face—that transformation, the woman she might be…someday.