Shine Like the Dawn Page 3

  After that ill-fated trip to Scotland, Nate returned to Morningside and confronted his father and stepmother, demanding to know what had happened to Maggie and Violet. But they both claimed they knew nothing more about where the girls had gone.

  He looked back at Maggie. “So you live here now with your grandmother?” That thought lifted his spirits, but the feeling quickly deflated as he observed her cool, impassive expression. Why did she seem so distant? It was almost as if she thought he was somehow responsible for today’s pain and problems.

  The doctor pushed open the side door to the hospital and ushered them inside. It took a moment for Nate’s eyes to adjust from the bright sunlit street to the dim doctor’s office.

  “Bring her in here.” The doctor walked into the next room and motioned toward the examination table.

  Nate gently placed Violet on the table and stepped back. Maggie moved closer and took her sister’s hand. The little girl’s tears had slowed, and she looked around the room with a curious expression. Her eyes were blue but much lighter than Maggie’s smoky blue-gray eyes. Still, he could see the family resemblance in the shape of Violet’s nose and mouth.

  The doctor turned to him. “Thank you, Nathaniel. I appreciate your help.”

  Nate shot a questioning look at Maggie.

  For a brief moment he saw the uncertainty in her eyes, or was it hope that he would stay? She quickly masked her emotions and looked away.

  “I’ll wait in the office,” he said. “I’d like to hear how Violet is doing before I go.”

  “Very well.” The doctor turned back to his patient.

  Maggie’s gaze softened, but she shifted her focus to her sister.

  Nate walked into the adjoining office and crossed to the window. Leaning on the windowsill, he looked out at the street. Three children ran past, and a cart pulled by a strong bay drove on toward the center of the village.

  How long would it take the doctor to do his examination and discover the extent of Violet’s injuries? He glanced at his watch. It was just after four. There were still a few hours of daylight, plenty of time for him to find a horse and make his way to Morningside.

  But even if it took longer than expected, he wasn’t leaving until he knew Violet was going to be all right. Waiting for word from the doctor would ease his mind and give him a chance to show Maggie that, though they’d been separated for more than four years, she could still count on his help and friendship.

  Maggie gently brushed a tendril of light-brown hair off Violet’s forehead. For the last thirty minutes she’d stood by to comfort her sister as Dr. Hadley set Violet’s leg and then applied the plaster cast. “Rest easy, Violet. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  Her little sister’s eyes widened. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go to the shop. I’m sure Grandmother is anxious to hear how you’re doing.” Her grandmother’s arthritis made it difficult for her to walk a long distance, but she might try to come to the hospital if Maggie didn’t hurry home with some news soon. “I’ll collect a few things and then come back to stay with you.”

  Dr. Hadley wiped his hands on a towel. “We’ll watch over Violet. Take whatever time you need.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I should be no more than fifteen minutes.”

  Maggie glanced at Violet’s knee-to-foot plaster cast, and her throat tightened. She’d come very close to losing her little sister today, and that thought was almost more than she could bear. She swallowed hard and tried to push away her frightening line of thinking. For Violet’s sake she must not break down.

  She pulled in a calming breath. Violet would be all right. She had fractured her left leg and had a few cuts and bruises, but her injuries were not life-threatening. Still, the doctor wanted to keep her overnight at the hospital to allow the cast to dry and be sure there were no other complications. Maggie would stay with her.

  “Don’t worry, Maggie.” The doctor patted her arm. “Everything is going to be fine. We’ll keep a good eye on Violet until you return.”

  Maggie thanked him again, then crossed the room and pushed open the door. It swung wide, and she ran directly into Nate’s solid chest. She gasped and pulled back.

  “Sorry.” He reached out to steady her, and his touch sent a jolt up her arm. “How is Violet?”

  Maggie stepped back, shaken by the collision and her conflicting emotions. Nate had been her friend from the time she was twelve years old until she turned seventeen, but when she’d needed him most, he had failed her. She steeled her heart and turned away. “She’ll be fine.”

  “Maggie, wait.” He stepped into her path and looked down at her. His deep-brown eyes scrolled over her face, reflecting what looked like sincere concern, but she didn’t trust him or that look. “I’m sorry about Violet. I saw the motorcar race past. I shouted and tried to warn her, but it was too late.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Yes, too little, too late.” And she wasn’t the least bit sorry for the touch of bitterness in her voice.

  His dark brows dipped. “What is it? Why are you angry with me?”

  His questions stunned her for a moment. “Did you think I would forget the way you and your family treated Violet and me after our parents and sister died?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Really? You expect me to believe that?” She paced a few steps away, trying to control her churning emotions, then turned and faced him again. “My father treated you like a son. We welcomed you into our home and our hearts. How could you act as though we meant nothing to you?”

  He blinked and gave his head a slight shake. “I’m sorry, Maggie, but honestly, I have no idea why you’re upset with me.”

  The pain in her chest turned to fire, stirring her hot reply. “Where were you, Nate? Why did you disappear when we needed you most?” She opened her mouth to say more, but her throat swelled, making it impossible. She rushed past him and pushed open the door, blinking away hot tears.

  She had tried to let go of the hurt and disappointment, but it still tore at her heart. She’d trusted Nate, depended on him, believed he would stand up to his father and stepmother and take up their cause.

  But he hadn’t.

  “Maggie!”

  Ignoring his call, she strode down the street, determined not to look back. She couldn’t. Her heart was too sore.

  How could he say he didn’t know why she was upset? That couldn’t be true. He had been home at Morningside that summer. He must have been privy to his parents’ decisions after the boating accident.

  The painful memories came flooding back, and with them all the reasons she’d assigned for his failure to care for them in their time of need. He’d always longed for his father’s approval, and when it came time to choose between Maggie and his family, he’d closed his heart to her, bowed to his parents’ wishes, and stayed away from the funeral. Then he’d ignored her letters and pleas for help while she and Violet had been sent off to their great-aunt in Scotland who wanted nothing to do with them.

  She pulled in a calming breath, and a troubling thought pricked her heart. Nate appeared genuinely baffled by her accusations, and she’d never known him to be dishonest. Had she misjudged him? Could it be true that he’d not known how his family had treated them? Frowning, she turned and searched the street, but Nate was gone.

  Even if there was some explanation and he was unaware of his parents’ actions, why hadn’t he answered her letters—or at least tried to discover where they were and if they were all right? If he truly had been a caring friend, he would’ve done that much.

  But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d left her alone to face the darkest days of her life.

  Nate rode across the iron bridge leading to Morningside Manor as the sun sank behind the house and forested ridge beyond.

  His gaze dipped to the deep ravine and rugged hillsides below the bridge. The plants and trees had filled out and grown much taller since he’d left. No one would imagine that the land h
ad once been a rocky, deserted moor. But with good planning and hard work, Maggie’s father and his team of assistants had transformed the estate into beautiful gardens and glens, with two large lakes, several carriage drives, and myriad stone paths winding throughout.

  Lush ferns, creeping heather, and pink and purple rhododendrons covered the craggy hillsides now. Birds called from the tall evergreens, and the sound of rushing water rose from the rocky streambed below.

  Warmth spread through his chest as he took it all in. He’d had a hand in the creation of this beauty. For several years, he’d spent most of his summer holidays working alongside Daniel Lounsbury as he oversaw the landscaping projects. As time passed, Nate’s admiration for Daniel grew, and their friendship deepened. The older man often invited Nate to join his family on their rambles, fishing outings, and picnics. Nate loved those times, and he grew very fond of them all…especially Maggie.

  Their earlier meeting in the village flashed through his mind, and his happy memories dissolved like mist vanishing off the lake. Apparently four years was not long enough to ease the ache in her heart brought about by the accident and loss of her parents and sister.

  He clenched his jaw, questions throbbing through his mind.

  Why hadn’t his father and stepmother called him home from his cousin’s estate as soon as they’d learned about the boating accident? Instead, they’d waited almost a week before they told him about the terrible tragedy. He’d missed the funeral and his opportunity to console Maggie. That must be the reason she was still upset with him. She had no idea why he’d been absent.

  His parents’ callous response to the accident had dealt a terrible blow to his relationship with them. He’d left Morningside the next day and gone to Scotland, searching for Maggie. But he ran into a dead end there and returned home determined he would stay at Morningside only long enough to inform his father he was accepting a commission in the Navy. Then he would collect a few belongings and leave as soon as possible.

  Looking back, he wished he’d allowed his temper to cool and found a way to leave on better terms, but he couldn’t change the past. The only option was to make the most of the present.

  He urged his horse up the path and lifted his gaze to his family’s imposing manor house. Three stories high and built of sand-colored stone, it looked as though it clung to the cliffs. The house’s design was a bit of a jumble with all the wings and rooms that had been added over the years. The tall tower on the left and several of the upper sections across the front displayed dark timber in a crisscross design against a white background in the Tudor style.

  He passed the main arched entrance and rode on to the stable, leaving his horse there with a young groomsman. Then he made his way back toward the house. Stepping into the cool, dim entrance hall, he was surprised to see Jackson, the aging butler, shuffle toward him. He couldn’t believe the old man hadn’t retired by now.

  Jackson blinked. “Master Harcourt…is that you?”

  “Yes, Jackson, it’s good to see you.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Should I address you as Lieutenant Harcourt?”

  “No, please, just call me Nathaniel.”

  “Oh no, sir, I couldn’t address you by your Christian name.”

  “You may call me Mr. Harcourt, then.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Nate glanced toward the upper gallery. “Is my father upstairs?”

  “Yes, sir, in his bedroom. Mrs. Harcourt is with him, as well as Miss Clara.”

  “Thank you.” Nate strode past Jackson and mounted the carpeted steps.

  The house seemed unchanged, but what of his family? He’d had very little communication with them in the last four years, only a few letters from his father. His stepmother had never written—at least not until penning the letter he’d found waiting for him when he returned to London yesterday. In it she urged him to come home as soon as possible.

  Nate knocked at his father’s bedroom door, and a female voice invited him to enter. He opened the door and stepped in. The curtains were drawn, and the scent of beeswax and camphor hung in the air. A lamp on the bedside table and another on the fireplace mantel gave the only light in the dim room.

  His father lay in the center of his bed, his eyes closed, his pale, wrinkled face a dreadful shade of gray. A few strands of wispy white hair fanned out above his forehead.

  Nate’s steps stalled, and he swallowed. His father looked much worse than he’d expected. He shifted his gaze to his stepmother, Helen Harcourt. She sat on a straight-backed chair across the room, dressed in a high-necked black dress, as though she were already in mourning. His half sister, Clara, sat beside her, holding a book in her lap. They both looked up and met his gaze as he approached.

  His stepmother’s sharply drawn eyebrows arched. “Nathaniel, I hardly recognized you.”

  He nodded to them. “Hello, Helen. Clara.” He moved to his father’s bedside and searched his face. “How is he?”

  Helen rose and crossed to the other side of the bed. “Dr. Hadley was here this morning.”

  He looked up, and she gave her head a slight shake, obviously reluctant to say more, but the resignation in her gray-green eyes told the rest of the story.

  Nate nodded, trying to absorb the news. He bent over his father’s still form and took his hand. “Father, can you hear me?”

  The old man’s eyes slowly opened, and he looked up at Nate. “Is that you, son?” His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper.

  “Yes, sir.” Nate tightened his hold on his father’s hand.

  “I’m glad you’ve come.” His father squeezed back.

  “I would’ve been here sooner, but I only received Helen’s letter yesterday when I arrived in London.”

  Father’s watery gaze shifted to Helen. “I want to speak to Nathaniel—alone.”

  Her posture stiffened, and she sent Nate a cool glance. “Very well. Come along, Clara.”

  His half sister closed her book and slowly rose from her chair. She met Nate’s gaze as she passed, her eyes shadowed with sorrow. He watched them disappear out the door, then he turned back to his father.

  “Are you well, my boy?”

  “Yes, Father. I’m well.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” He started to chuckle, but it turned into a dry, wracking cough.

  Nate laid his hand on his father’s shoulder and waited for his cough to subside. “I’m sure with time and good care you’ll be feeling better.”

  “No, Dr. Hadley is a fine physician, but he doesn’t offer much hope for my recovery.”

  “Surely there is some treatment that would help your condition.”

  “We’ve tried, but I’ve only grown weaker, and now…”

  Nate started to protest, but his father lifted his hand. “I have some things I want to say, and I’ll rest easier knowing I’ve said them. Sit down, Nate.” He nodded to the chair beside the bed.

  Nate pulled the chair closer and took a seat. “I’ll be glad to listen to whatever you have to say, but I hope you’ll allow me to speak first.”

  “As you wish.”

  “My time in South Africa and my experiences in the war…made a deep impression on me.”

  Memories of the prisoner-of-war camps that held the wives and children of Boers, the Dutch farmers who had fought the British, rose in his mind. He’d never seen such devastation and terrible suffering. It had made him ashamed and desperate to do something to change the situation. But before he could, his own painful illness had struck him down and taken him to death’s door.

  How could he recount the lifesaving care he’d received from missionary doctor Alfred Thurston and the promises he’d made during his recovery?

  Life was too short, and family relationships were too important, to let the past destroy the possibility of healing and renewal. His wartime experiences had prompted his return, even before he’d received Helen’s letter.

  He focused on his father again. “I’m sorry for the way I left and for t
he distance it put between us. I was young and impulsive.”

  The deep lines around his father’s mouth softened. “It’s all right. I was young once, ready to take on the world and right every wrong. But look at me now.” His watery gaze drifted to the fireplace for a moment, then he looked back at Nate. “I owe you an apology, son. My actions toward you and many others have not always been…honorable.”

  Nate shook his head. “There’s no need to—”

  “Yes, there is a need. A man gains perspective at the end of his life. And looking back, I can see I invested too much time in my experiments and inventions and not enough with the family, and you in particular.”

  Nate’s throat tightened, and he took his father’s hand again.

  “There are many things I wish I had done differently,” Father said softly.

  “We all have regrets, but it’s never too late to set things right.”

  “It’s too late for me, but not for you.”

  Nate studied his father’s face, uncertain of what he meant.

  “Soon all of this will be yours.” His gaze traveled around the room, but Nate knew he was speaking of more than the house. “That will be a blessing, but also a great responsibility. I’m sorry I haven’t done more to prepare you for what’s to come.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on resting and recovering your strength.”

  Father tightened his grip on Nate’s hand, his gaze intense. “Listen to me, Nathaniel. I know my time is short, but I’m not afraid. I’ve made my peace with God.”

  Nate’s heartbeat quickened, and he studied his father’s face. Had his father experienced a spiritual awakening similar to what Nate had experienced in South Africa? Nothing would give Nate as much peace as knowing he and his father would be together again in heaven one day.

  “I need you to take care of some important matters for me,” his father continued.

  “Of course. Whatever you need.”