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“Did they get away?” Nathaniel asked.
“One of them did. I killed the other.”
Nathaniel’s hands flopped to his sides and his jaw dropped. “You did what?”
“I had to.” Thomas strained to keep the volume out of his voice. “He tried to kill me and may have even killed Eliza! What choice did I have?”
Nathaniel wagged his head and wiped his palm over his eyes. “I’m not blaming you. Anyone would have done the same, but you know what this means, don’t you? That man’s body will be found, and when it is, people will be looking for who did it.”
“I don’t care. My only concern is to keep Eliza and her sister safe, at any cost.”
“If you’re lucky,” Nathaniel continued, “the other man will simply move on and you can lay low to avoid the soldiers, just as you intended to do. But if he doesn’t, and he tells of this ordeal, you might have to stay in hiding much longer than you thought.”
With a groan, Thomas looked at the ceiling. Nathaniel was right, but at this moment that was the least of his concerns.
“I’ll return in the morning,” Nathaniel said, patting his arm.
Thomas moved his gaze to the dying woman in his bed. “Will she make it ‘til morning?”
Nathaniel whispered his answer. “Pray, Thomas. Just pray.”
Pain remained constant.
Eliza tried to move, tried to escape the agony, but something held her motionless. She wanted to cry out for help, but her mouth refused to move.
Where is Kitty? Is she all right?
The agony surged through her again—pulling, ripping, charging.
Then, she felt nothing. A sweet peaceful rest enveloped her.
Suddenly th
e war for life plunged upon her again. Then nothing.
Am I dying? Lord, I’m not ready to die!
Quiet commotion surrounded her, and she sensed a devoted presence always at her side. But nothing could calm the storm of misery that raged within her.
She burned, then shivered. Her muscles convulsed as if to crush her very bones.
She had to give up. How much longer could she fight a losing battle? Finally, her strength surrendered.
In a slow, easy motion, all her pain and worry evaporated into a beautiful calm. She opened her eyes and realized that every ounce of misery had gone from her body.
Next to her bed stood Father. He looked young and strong. Not like he had when she’d seen him in his last moments, so weak and thin. A radiating light surrounded him, and when he smiled, a peaceful warmth burned in her chest.
The longing for his nearness crashed upon her. She reached for him. He took her hand, the love in his eyes penetrating her from head to toe. Eliza started to get up, to be next to him, to embrace him, but he leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Your mother and I miss you, dearest. And Peter too. However, your time has not yet come.”
Eliza tried to speak, but the words she formed were silent. Peter? Peter missed her? Did that mean he’d forgiven her for what she’d done? She shook her head in confusion.
Father smiled. The tenderness from his gaze once again pierced her heart. “You are not responsible for Peter’s death. Do not deride yourself for decisions of the past. God called him home. It was his time. Now you must give God your pain. He will carry it.” He gripped her hand tighter. “Eliza, be wise. The choices you make for your future are paramount. God’s work for you is not finished, my dear. You have much yet to do.”
Again Eliza opened her mouth, ready to protest, to break loose a flurry of questions. What choices would she have to make? What work did God have for her to do?
Father kissed her fingers then released his hold and stood straighter, and it was then Eliza realized she could see straight through him. He smiled. “We will be with you, waiting for you, my sweet. We love you.”
