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“I’ll be staying here tonight,” Samuel said. “Just in case we have any unexpected visitors. And don’t worry, Donaldson will be with us until after the ceremony. I won’t ravish you until then.”
The cold night air seemed to champion Thomas’s ca
use and the very trees around him whispered “God speed.”
Nathaniel had many good friends among his patients in town, one of whom had promised the use of his horses should the need ever arise. Thomas had never been more thankful for anything in his life. They could easily cover the sixty miles on horseback, saving themselves enormous amounts of time.
“Do we have everything we need?” Nathaniel asked as he tightened his saddle before mounting.
Thomas reined in his spirited animal and sat tall in his seat. He gripped the leather in his gloved hands and tried not to kick his horse until his friend was ready. “I believe so.”
Nathaniel mounted and brought his horse alongside Thomas’s. “Let’s ride.”
The strong stallions heaved and grunted as they galloped at full speed across the rock-solid ground. Thomas sped across the darkened path, not knowing how he would find Eliza, but believing that his Father in Heaven would lead him safely to her.
The vision replayed without end, Eliza’s cries echoing again and again. How could he have let her go? He kicked the animal once more, but the horse was already racing headlong into the night. The memory of Samuel’s prideful grin and possessive hold turned Thomas’s muscles to stone and he leaned into the wind as it whipped past his face.
When he found her, how would he bring her to safety? What if he were caught? That would only secure her wretched future . . .
The rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves faded as a familiar voice whispered past the drumming. Robert’s voice. The pursuit of your righteous desires is worth every sacrifice.
Squeezing the leather reins, Thomas held his jaw tight as the statement seemed to move the ground faster under the horse’s hooves. No doubt Robert was right beside him, ready to help him bring his daughter to safety—and to the home where she belonged.
Eliza twisted and squirmed under the heavy quilt. When the moon hit the top of the sky, she sat up and propped a plethora of pillows behind her back. Kitty slept beside her, snuggled in her usual curled position. Sighing, Eliza tucked the covers around her sister’s back. At least Kitty hadn’t asked too many questions, though Eliza had seen the worry behind her sister’s mask of acceptance. Kitty appeared happy to be home. That was all that mattered.
If only Eliza felt the same.
She pulled her knees to her chest as a squall of bittersweet memories buried her heart and endless tears tumbled down her face. Eliza could bear the pain no longer. She had to leave the room before her tears woke Kitty. She lit a tall candle, wrapped a familiar shawl around her shoulders, and emerged from the room.
Tip-toeing downstairs, she absorbed the comfort of the intimate surroundings in the parlor, inhaling the scents that reminded her of happier times. A slight glow emanated from the fireplace, casting a golden light about the room.
From behind, Father’s office beckoned her, as if it reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her near with invisible arms. She’d not dared go in since his death, knowing it would awaken precious and wrenching memories. But now, she could not hold back. She walked down the small, quiet hall until the large door towered in front of her. Her fingers twisted the cold handle and she pushed it open. The candle in her hand cast a haunting glow along the many rows of books that lined the walls. His desk, still covered with opened anatomy diagrams and papers, looked just as he’d left it.
She walked toward his large chair behind the desk, brushing her hand along the oak as she went, feeling closer to him than she had since his spiritual visit.
His thick medical journal lay open. She placed the candle on the scattered diagrams behind the book, turned to page one, and began to read.
She read of his treatments and the patients he’d cared for, his times of success and times of sorrow. Surprisingly, mixed among his medical records were notes about personal matters. Page after page she saw not only his day-to-day happenings as a father and a doctor, but how he’d felt about the politics in Boston—and how those feelings changed over time.
Eliza gripped the shawl tighter and scooted to the edged of the chair, savoring every precious word. Father, how did I not know this about you before? And yet, it was as if she knew it already. As the hours passed, the light of clear understanding illuminated her mind, and her throat thickened. She recognized things she could never have comprehended if not for her time spent with Thomas. What he had taught her, and what she was now reading—words written in Father’s own hand—fit together like the tiny pieces in a colorful mosaic.
Father kept all of this a secret, both for his protection as well as theirs. But he’d taught her all the things he believed, though she’d never recognized it.
“Always serve your King, Eliza.”
“You must remember you have but one King—you must honor and serve him.”
“Give your all to the King. He will protect and keep you.”
Her vision blurred. Father had loved both her and Kitty, of that she had no doubt. And now, she knew without question that Father had never truly kept them in complete darkness. She had simply not been able to see everything for lack of knowledge, for lack of understanding. If only Kitty could see it too.
Eliza’s heart swelled and cleansing tears streamed over her face. She continued to flip and skim, still reading, still learning, until she reached the last entry dated July 1, 1773.
My life is slipping away. It is not long now before I will once again see my beloved Mary, Peter, and rest in the arms of my Redeemer. I often wonder if I should confess my secrets to Eliza. Kitty shall not ever know—or if she does she must be older. She will not take it well. Eliza may be surprised, but I see a level spirit within her, and I feel it a sin not to disclose my activities to her knowledge.
How I wish I could have been alive long enough to see Eliza and Kitty wed and experience the joy their children will bring.
I have prayed many nights that Eliza will someday see the truth of Samuel—he is not the man for her. I have treasured Thomas Watson these many years now—I feel as if he is my son— and I hope that he and my dear daughter will meet. They are of the same cloth and I believe they would be very happy as husband and wife. But, I will leave such things in God’s hands.
