Tabitha (29 page)

The talk now centered on America.

“If them Yanks don’t toss their hats into this war soon, we
can start bidding the entire Continent
g’
morn’
in German,” one soldier in the wards snarled.

Tabitha heard similar sentiments expressed wherever she
went, and she wondered why her own country delayed. Would Congress and
President Wilson’s deliberations end in a declaration of war against Germany or
would America sit back and allow all Europe to be crushed under the Kaiser’s
boot?

What will become of England if the Germans win?
she
wondered. She had grown to love her coworkers and their country and feared for
them.

Mason’s frequent letters were brief and gave her little clue
as to how his pilots were faring, but Tabitha knew from the “rags” left in the
dining hall how badly things were going.

They met at a hotel in Colchester for Christmas. Tabitha
fell into Mason’s arms, drinking in his strength. “Oh, Mason! How I have missed
you.” When she pulled away to search his face, she saw the same shadows lurking
in his eyes that she saw everywhere: The shadows of fear and uncertainty. His
arms around her were as needy as hers about him.

~~**~~

The year 1916 ended, and no sooner had 1917 arrived than the
Germans resumed unrestricted U-boat attacks on American ships.

“Iffin that don’t light a fire under th’ bloody Yanks,
noffing will,” Tabitha heard an orderly predict.

Finally spring arrived, a bloodstained, horrifying spring.
When at last President Wilson called for war and the Congress agreed, Tabitha
heard not one voice in the hospital celebrate or applaud. She observed only
measured sighs of relief and glimmers of hope in otherwise war-ravaged faces.

Rose wrote her of the American military draft and the many
young men from Denver called up to fight.
We were worried that they would
call Billy up, but he is safe for the moment,
she wrote.
And we do not
take our joys for granted in these perilous times. We delight in Pastor and
Breona’s little one and in the hope that Joy and Mr. O’Dell will soon give me
another grandchild to fill these aching arms.

Tabitha’s tears were happy ones.
I long to see Breona as
a mother
, she admitted.
And Joy! Another child for Joy! O God, thank
you! And thank you for little Edmund . . . wherever he is, we
know you have not lost sight of him.

April arrived, and the British, in a coordinated offensive
with the French, launched an attack against the Germans at Arras, France.
Tabitha read the reports with a sinking heart: Even though the offensive was
considered successful, more than 300 RFC aircrew perished and
245 aircraft were lost
providing support to
the troops.

Mason wrote,
Twenty
of our pilots, young lads we had scarcely trained, died at Arras. They lasted
less than two days after leaving us
.
We led twelve of them to Christ
before they departed, God be praised.

Tabitha’s heart
was breaking—for her husband, for the young men and their families, for the
British nation, whose very heart was bleeding and broken.

O Lord! Use
me,
Tabitha prayed.
Use
me! Do not let me send our VADs to the front without you!

As uncomfortable and unprepared as she felt, Tabitha began
organizing afternoon and evening Bible studies for the VADs and led the studies
herself. Matron placed the weight of her office firmly behind Tabitha’s
efforts.

As word of the meetings got around, the study groups and
prayer times grew. VADs who worked nights flocked to the afternoon sessions
before they ate dinner and commenced their shifts; VADs who worked days ended
them with God’s word and prayer.

Not one VAD who attended was unmarked by the war: All had
either brother, cousin, or friend who had perished in the fighting. Two widowed
VADs had lost their sons.

Tabitha was wearing thin, but she was no more worn than
anyone else, so she pulled on her early memories of Palmer House and the
studies Rose had conducted each morning. Tabitha would open to a familiar
passage, read it aloud, and ask the Holy Spirit to fill her mouth—and he did.

The numbers attending the study groups grew. Tabitha, by
stepping out in faith, began to ask the women if they were ready to surrender
to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. “Not to a church, and not to a religion,” she
explained, “but to Jesus himself. Today you can choose to make him your Lord,
Master, and Savior. You can be free of your sins and guilt.”

Prayer sometimes lasted hours, and Tabitha was in over her
head, but she fell into her bed each night with the satisfied peace that only
living fully for God yields.

At the same time, Tabitha intensified her efforts to prepare
VADs to work in the field hospitals that operated scant miles from the front.
She now had a team of experienced VADs whom she utilized to accelerate the
training.

“Please,” she begged Matron, “please do not post the members
of my training team to the front. All our efforts will slow if you do.”

Matron nodded, and Sister Alistair sighed. The need was
great and they could not disregard the army’s demands for more nurses and
aides.

As fast as they could prepare them, newly trained VADs were
sent to support nursing sisters in the field hospitals and casualty clearing
stations. The clearing stations were often so close to the front that they
could hear and smell the battles raging—sometimes only on the other side of a
hill or just across a farmer’s blood-soaked fields.

Then news arrived of the deaths of some of their own: Sister
Ingram and three of her VADs, gone in a brutal instant, their clearing station
obliterated by errant mortar fire.

The young women scheduled to ship out next looked at each
other with fresh insight—and showed up to Bible study ready to give their
hearts to Christ.

Tabitha slipped away one sunny Saturday in May to meet
Mason. They would have only the one precious night together, but they first
took the bus to St. Martin’s where they would, for a few hours, forget the
agony they dealt with day upon day.

Mason sat on the floor and crowded children onto his lap.
Others leaned against his back and clung to his arms. Tabitha, her own lap and
arms full, read aloud from
Peter and Wendy
.

As she read about the boy, Peter Pan, who could fly, she
stole glances at Mason. He was laughing and surrounded by happy children.
Tabitha tried to capture the scene in her mind’s eye.

We can fly, Mason, my love,
she found herself
thinking.
You are my Peter, and I shall be your Wendy, and you shall teach
me to fly. Oh, if only we could fly to Neverland today!

~~~

“Nurse Hale, you are wanted in Matron’s office, please.” The
VAD delivered her message and scurried away.

Tabitha tidied her hair, checked her apron, and walked down
the two flights of stairs to the ground level. The June air kissed her face,
and she hummed as she walked the cobbled paths to Matron’s offices.

“Good morning, Miss Thompson,” she said cheerfully.

Miss Thompson’s eyes skittered away from her. “Good morning,
Nurse Hale. Please go right in.”

Tabitha blinked at the young woman as she went toward Matron
Stiles’ doors and let herself in. She closed the door behind her and turned.
“Good morning, Matron—Cliff! I mean, Mr. St. Alban, what are you—”

“I will leave you here, Nurse Hale,” Matron murmured. She
bit her lip, but her chin was quivering as she passed Tabitha.

Then she was alone with Cliff St Alban, her husband’s best
friend. He would not meet her inquiring eyes.

“Cliff?”

He reached for her arm as her legs buckled. “Sit here, Miss
Hale. Please. Sit.”

“Cliff? Is Mason all right? Please?”

He knelt on the floor beside her chair. “No, Miss Hale. I am
so sorry. He is gone.”

Later, Tabitha played Cliff’s words over and over in her
head. Even when she did not wish to hear them, his voice haunted her and his
words echoed in her mind.

“We always start our trainees in the two-seater trainer
planes. Three of us trainers and our trainees were in the air when German
planes dropped out of the clouds. They had never attacked our base before!
There were two of them, their ugly red crosses clearly marking them. I shouted
for my trainee to run for it, but I knew a
B.E
. could not outrun a
Fokker
—and
we had no guns.

“Mason was on the ground. He climbed into a fighter, one of
our newest models, and took off. The Germans had by then shot down one of our
trainers. The plane made it to the ground, but it cracked up on landing. The
trainer and his trainee ran from the wreckage, ran from the machine gun rounds
chasing them.

“One
Fokker
was on our tail, shooting at us. Mason
swung around behind the German and came up from underneath. He shot the tail off
that plane and then swung wide to find the second.

“We put down on the ground as soon as we could. The third
trainer got down all right, too. By then several of our pilots had taken off in
fighters.”

Cliff lifted his eyes to Tabitha’s. “These pilots are just
kids, Miss Hale, most of them as green as grass. Mason knew that. He drew the
German plane away and headed out to sea, following the coast. Our pilots
followed behind.

“They told me he flew like an Ace, diving, rolling, giving
back what that German dished out. He would have won, too—except two more German
planes dropped down on him. Then Mason, he hightailed it—far away from the
base, away from our pilots. I know it was to save them!

“Our boys followed, though, down the length of England, over
Norwich, and out over the sea, toward the coast of Belgium. They-they saw when
the Germans shot him down.”

The Germans shot him down.

The Germans shot him down.

The same five words played over and over in Tabitha’s mind.

“Did they . . . did your men find Mason?”

Cliff’s sorrowing eyes filled with tears. “No, Miss Hale. He
was still far out over the sea when his plane went down. Our boys saw it go
into the water.”

He looked away. “The Germans did not know our boys were
following. They brought their fighters up behind and below the Huns and blasted
them. Two of the three German planes went down in flames. The other crashed
into the water. They made the Germans pay for Mason, Miss Hale.”

Do I care?
Tabitha asked herself. She fingered the
gold band hanging about her neck.
No. It does not bring him back.

Cliff shook his head. “After, when our flyers circled
back . . . they found no trace of Mason or his plane.”

He swallowed hard. “Mason saved those young trainees and
their trainers, Miss Hale. He-he saved
me
. He made a tough
call . . . but he did what he felt he had to do.”

Sometimes in life we do not have the choice to be
careful, Tabitha. When sudden events demand our response, we must act and pray
we make the right call.

Tabitha shuddered.
I will never hear him speak again.
Never hear his voice.

Cliff extended an envelope. “I found . . .
this in his things. I-I did not know you and he, that you had gotten married.”

Tabitha glanced up. The envelope Cliff held out to her read,
Tabitha Carpenter
. In Mason’s handwriting.

“We kept our marriage a secret because of the rules of
nursing. So I could keep training the VADs here.”

Cliff nodded. “I-I wondered. I am glad you married him. He
loved you very much.”

With those words, Cliff ran out of steam. He looked away,
unsure of what to do or say next.

Tabitha had attended the deaths of many patients, had
delivered bad news many times. Without weeping.

She touched his arm. “Thank you, Cliff. Thank you for coming
in person to . . . tell me,” she whispered. Her experience and training
were all that kept her together.

When he at last excused himself, Tabitha fingered the
envelope.
Do I want to read it here? Do I want to read Mason’s last words to
me here?

She immediately answered herself.

No.

Tabitha left Matron’s office with eyes straight forward and
shoulders squared. She walked on stiff, wooden legs to the grove of willow
trees where Mason had taken her . . . a very long time ago it
seemed.

Within the shelter of the same willow where he had kissed
her, Tabitha collapsed onto the grass. She sobbed for a while, still numb and
unbelieving, before opening his letter.

Dearest Tabitha,

If you are reading this, then something very bad has
happened, something neither of us anticipated, but that God has known of since before
time began. Do not be afraid, Tabitha. If I am no longer with you, I am with
the Lord. I will wait for you here, in his Kingdom, until he also calls you to
himself.

I want you to know that I have provided for you, my
darling. The moment I returned to Catterick after our wedding and honeymoon, I
sent word to Banks and enclosed our marriage certificate. I also enclosed
written instructions to my attorney to rewrite my will.

You already know that I made provision for your parents
before I left for England. With the exception of a bequest to St. Martin’s and
for Banks’ and the other servants’ pensions, you are my sole heir, Tabitha.
Everything I own—my house, all that is in it, my car, my accounts—they are all
yours. You shall never want for anything.

I make only one request, or perhaps a suggestion if, some
day, you can bear it: Fill our home with children who need a mother’s heart. I
cannot be there with you, but that old mansion could be home to many a
brokenhearted child—and this war has left so many alone. If you think you can
do this, please know that I would approve.

My darling wife, you are the bravest woman I have ever
known. To survive what you survived and grow into the woman of God you have,
has made me the proudest of husbands.

I waited many long years for the woman of my dreams
before I met you, Tabitha.

You were worth waiting for.

With all my love,

Mason

Although she felt as though she were clawing her way through
a dense fog, Tabitha kept moving. One hazy, confused step after another, she
got up each morning. She taught, monitored, counseled, worked, and slept again.

It was clear to those who knew her that she had suffered a
great blow, but she refused to speak of it and refused to
pause . . . or even slow down to feel her own pain.

I am not the only one suffering in this war
, she told
herself.
I am but one of the far too many brokenhearted. I must do my duty
just as they are doing theirs
.

Mid-July a letter from the American Red Cross reached her.