He returned to his empty, forlorn house, angry at Henry for surviving and angry at the rescuers for finding him, angry at Emily for choosing Henry over him. Andâ¦could it be that he was also angry at God? The thought caused him both revulsion and fascination. Was God actually real enough to Basil that he could feel anger towards Him?
He thumbed absently through his Bible, looking for some words of comfort, and tossed it back on the table. The language of his intended sermon came back to him: blessed are the pure in heart. He felt neither blessed nor pure in heart. How could he have prepared such a sermon while wishing for the death of another human being? Had he really wished for Henry's death?
He still had not slept when his housekeeper arrived early next morning to prepare his breakfast.
“Reverend, you got to take better care of yourself,” she implored. “I seen your light on 'til all hours last night. I dare say you was up saying your prayers, were you? You lie down now and have a nap of sleep. I'll come back a bit later and make you a bit o' dinner.”
“No, I'll be fine, Mrs. Anstey. I'll take care of myself today. You can come back tomorrow morning. How's that?”
“You're a good man, Reverend, a true servant of the Lord.”
He lay down again but he did not sleep. He thought of his conversation with Sadie. If anybody was pure in heart it was her. She knew that what he was trying to confide to her was wrong, but she gently left him the opportunity to correct himself. Perhaps, despite all his learning, there were things somebody like Sadie could teach him. And there were certainly things Emily's father could teach him.
He slowly came to the conclusion that he had to start over, not by running away as he had run to Twillingate to escape the pain of losing Madeline, but by facing his pain and growing from it. Perhaps the Twillingate that he despised was to be his salvation. He could not positively say that God had sent him here like He had sent Jonah to Ninevah, but no matter. Like Jonah, he had rained misery down on himself and like Jonah, he must redeem himself. He was going to learn how to serve God's people right here in Twillingate; he had served himself long enough. He would concentrate on his flock, and even put some effort into befriending them instead of worrying about finding a wife. He would leave that to God and if God had no wife for him, then so be it.
Word of the “miracle” travelled quickly around town. “I 'eard he was dead,” Elfreda Tizzard shouted next door to her daughter-in-law. “Wha's he after comin' alive?”
Emily, Wints and Jackie sat in the hospital waiting room. “Thanks for all you did, Wints. You were truly heroic,” said Emily.
“Happy to help. It's good to have that debt finally repaid.”
“Oh Wints, don't talk like that. You don't owe me anything.”
“Not anymore,” he grinned.
“I think you did the right thing by not shooting the bear. What a noble creature.”
“To tell you the truth, I was of two minds and still am. I've been wondering if I did the right thing because I'm sure things could get pretty hairy if he managed to find his way into some settlement.”
“If he does, I'm sure there will be no scarcity of men lining up for a shot at him.”
“I suppose Ches and his two will blab it all over the place that Wints got no stomach for shootin' anything.”
“The legend of the infamous Wints the pacifist grows,” she said with a warm smile. “Who knows where he'll strike next? Will your pig find emancipation from the smokehouse; will he put sweaters on newly sheared sheep to keep them warm?”
“A sweater on a sheep! Ha, that's a good one,” said Jackie and he went into a fit of laughter.
“Good to hear somebody laughing,” the doctor declared as he entered the room. “We could use more of that around here. Would you be Miss Osmond?”
“Yes!” she blurted, springing to her feet.
“I understand you've had quite an adventure.”
“We all have.” She quickly introduced her companions. “How's Henry's leg? Did you find gangrene? Will you have to cut it off?”
“I'm pleased to say that his leg will be fine,” he replied. “There's no permanent damage. It's broken, but recently enough that it could be set without complications. That frozen sealskin made a good splint when you moved him. I thought I had seen every possible benefit that seals could provide, but I guess there's always one more.
“Frankly, you got to him just in time. His body temperature was dangerously low. But he's strong and healthy so I'm expecting a full recovery. He has some frostbite but it will heal.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“He should be able to see visitors in the morning. By the way, I found this in his hand. It looked personal so I didn't read it but I saw your name at the bottom and assume it's yours. I thought I should give it to you.” He handed Emily a dirty, damp and crumpled piece of paper. She smoothed it out and, recognizing her own handwriting, she quickly balled it up and shoved it deep into her pocket.
Reassured that Henry was out of danger, the weary trio left the hospital. So tired she could barely walk, Emily insisted on doing one more thing before she went to bed. “Shall we go send that telegram, Jackie?”
“Yeah. I been thinkin' about what to say, but I might need some help to put it into words.”
Emily nodded with the satisfaction of a teacher who has just heard the correct answer being recited to her.
“Wait!” Jackie said with alarm. “It's Sunday, ain't it? The post office will be closed.”
“Ah, but you forget, sir, that this is Twillingate and we have a secret weapon in the person of Ada Osmond. She can convince anybody to do anything for her.”
“Like the post office manâeven if the post office is closed?”
“Precisely. My ever-diligent father should have already asked her to check with the postmaster. And, by the way, lest you think I didn't notice: ain't is not a word.”
At the post office, he dictated the first line: “Safe in Twillingate.”
“I would like to tell her I'm sorry,” he said shyly to Emily.
“I think that's a very good idea,” she concurred.
“How would I say that in a telegram?”
“What would you say if you were talking to her in person?”
“It's been a while since I said it but I'd probably just say, âMom, I'm sorry.”'
“I think that will do nicely. I'm sure it will mean a lot to your mother.”
Entirely happy with how this was working out, he turned to the postmaster and said, “So, it will say, âSafe in Twillingate Mom I'm sorry John.' Seven words; that's pretty good.” He grinned and looked at Emily.
“Why don't we add one more and make it an even eight words?” she suggested.
“Can we afford it?”
“Oh, I think so.”
“All right. What word?”
“Why don't you say, âLove John'?”
He blushed and shuffled his feet, “Sure. Okay.”
Emily arrived home from the hospital hungry and exhausted, just as Basil was beginning the evening service. At the table, wearing dungarees held up by suspenders over his long underwear, and heavy wool socks on his feet, sat her unassuming, unshaven, uncombed father, the hero of the day, wearily sipping a cup of tea.
“Toutons!” she cried, looking wide-eyed at the cakes of fried dough swimming in molasses on Jim's plate. “Don't tell me Mama made bread on Sunday. The earth is going to open up and swallow us all!”
“Hah! No, she made some last night to keep herself busy. You should know your mother better than that. Want one?”
“Before I do anything, Daddy, I have a big kiss for you.”
“I heard that bit of sarcasm by the way,” Ada's voice sounded from the pantry.
“Sarcasm? It was just me worried for my life. I mean, when the earth opens up exactly how deep will the hole be? Does it depend on the number of loaves you made?” She gave her mother a hug, nearly knocking the teapot out of her hand.
“Did you get the telegram sent okay?”
“We did. Thank you, Mama.”
“I can't imagine how his poor mother is going to feel when she gets it. My gosh, I couldn't stop crying when Wints dropped by with the news,” said Ada. “I said to your father when he come in the door, 'Tis a miracle is what it is.'”
Ada poured Emily a cup and one for herself, and brought a fruitcake to the table.
“When did you make that?”
“It was a long night last night with you two out of the house. Since I was up with the fire in, I thought I should do something useful.”
Emily cut a huge piece and picked it up with both hands. “Ooh, dark fruit cake. My favourite. Any rum in it?” she asked with an impish smile.
“Stop gettin' on with your foolishness.”
“The day she lets rum in this house,” Jim laughed, “the earth will open up for sure.”
Ada looked lovingly at her daughter, who was chattering away, waving her arms as she acted out the events that had led to the rescue. Joy and life had returned to the house.
“My, I wish Billy was here now,” Ada said longingly. “'Twould be so nice for us all to be together again.”
“Well, we'll just have to get him down here this summer. Maybe if he hears there's going to be a wedding, then he'll make the effort.”
Emily could have sworn her mother's ears twitched. “Whose wedding?” “We'll see,” she teased.
Under the dim lamp in her room she unrolled the little ball of paper the doctor had given her at the hospital and smoothed it out on her desk. He told her privately that he had had to pry Henry's hand open to get it from his grasp. She read it slowly, not unlike the way Henry had first read it under a lamp in a cold room three weeks earlier. She thought of all the unhappiness she had put him through. She wanted to blame Basil but she knew it was her doing and hers only; she vowed to make it up to Henry.
On Monday morning, as he drifted into consciousness, Henry's mind was racing with thoughts of how to ensure he and Jackie survived the day. The last thing he expected to hear was women's voices, and when his eyes opened to see two nurses smiling down at him, he thought he must be dreaming.
“Well, good morning, my son, how are you feeling?” the senior of the two said cheerily.
“Where am I?”
“You're in Twillingate hospital.”
It took him a moment to respond. “What, am I ashore?” he asked guardedly.
“You're ashore and you're definitely alive, so don't be telling me you think we're two angels sent to greet you,” said the younger one.
“There was a young fellow with me on the ice. Tall, talked like he was from St. John's.” He looked up, entreating them for the answer he desperately wanted to hear.
“He made it ashore a couple of days agoâstaying with a local family.”
“With an answer like that, how can you not be angels?” he smiled.
“It's good to see a bit of colour back in your cheeks,” the senior one added. “You were in one awful state when you came in here yesterday.”
Turning to her partner as though Henry was not present, she said, “You should have seen him when they brought him in yesterday. Straight from the sealin' grounds, with the same clothes on, I suppose, that he left with maybe a month before, covered in dried-up blood and greasy from the blubber. What a state he was in! Sure, 'twas all over his face, in his hair and even into his ears, although they look clean enough now.” She leaned down with a critical eye focused on his left ear.
“So, you're feeling all right this morning, are you?”
“Pretty sore and stiff, but glad to be in out of itâand glad to be alive, I may add. What's the story on my leg?”
“You'll be in a cast for several weeks, but it'll get better.”
“Broke, I guess, is it?”
“Yes. You rest now and we'll have some food sent in to you the once.”
When Emily arrived at the hospital and saw Henry literally shining after the nurses had scrubbed and shaved him, she was so overwhelmed with emotion that she was unable to speak. His eyes were closed, as he lay with his leg in a cast and propped on a couple of pillows. How could she have been so blind as to think that Basil could ever take his place? She slowly placed her big leather school bag on the floor, leaned down, and tenderly kissed his lips.
His arms came up around her and almost crushed her. “Emily! I was having a dream that I was dying and you were kissing me goodbye andâ”
“Henry, I'm so sorry. I was so foolish and self-centred, andâ”
“Shh,” he interrupted softly. “No sadness. No tears. There's been enough of that.” He held her face in his two hands and rubbed her tears away with his thumbs. “You're here! You have no idea how much I've longed to look into those big, brown eyes again.” She smiled happily. He gazed at her long eyelashes as he drew her face to his and they kissed again.
As she rested in Henry's arms, she asked tentatively, “Is your proposal still open?” Then, she rushed to add, “If it's not, I'll understand.”
“It's open for a lifetime⦔
A few minutes after Emily had left for school, Jackie was standing shyly at the foot of Henry's bed, not sure what to expect. He felt like running over and throwing his arms around Henry's neck and thanking him for being so patient and resourceful and putting up with him through so many trials.
Henry's eyes were closed. Should he wake him up? Maybe he should come back later; that would give him time to think of something to say. He shuffled his feet absently.
Henry's eyes popped open. “Jack, b'y! I'm some glad to see you! Come over, come over and sit on the bed here. You just missed Emily, the teacher I was telling you about. But I guess you met her, right?”
Jackie nodded and was quiet for a few moments, feeling a little awkward.