Joy said, “I suggest you announce publicly that you and Rose are posting the banns to be married. And on the Sunday following you preach a sermon based on the Saviour’s words, “Let he among you who is without sin, cast the first stone.”
Tom’s thin face brightened. “I’ll do as you say! I vow I will!”
And he did. On her way out of church after the sermon Joy was accosted by the Senior Elder. His granite face was grim as he asked, “As a respectable married woman what do you think of our clergyman’s actions?”
She told him, “As a respectable married woman I have no opinion. But as a friend of Rose and the Reverend Mellor, I think it a good match. I’m in favor of it!”
The old man gasped and hobbled away leaning heavily on his walking stick. John, who had overheard the exchange, laughed and said, “You handled that very well.”
“I told him what I thought. Rose will make the Reverend Tom a good wife. I hope no one spoils the match.”
No one did. Early in April of 1848, the Reverend Tom Mellor and Rose Stewart became man and wife. Among those in the wedding party were Jock and Heather.
Late April had a week so mild and placid the villagers vowed the weather was changing. During the winter John had not made regular visits to the islands. Now, with the warm weather, he decided to make a week long trip from island to island. Joy and Heather were skilled enough to look after minor illnesses during his absence.
Joy even debated going with him, but felt it unfair to leave Heather alone. She saw John down to the longboat and said goodbye to him. The sun was shining and there was a slight wind as they stood together on the wharf. Two fishermen, who were accompanying him on the week long journey, were in the boat waiting.
John smiled at her, and took her by the hands. “Mind you, take good care of my patients while I’m away.”
“We’ll do our best,” she said. “Just so long as there is no real emergency.”
“We’ll hope there are none,” he said. “It’s past the season for pneumonia and the men are out of the woods.”
“Be careful!”
“The weather has never been better. It will be like a holiday for me.”
She gazed at the waves of the gray Loch, and said with a small frown, “I never trust that Loch. It has claimed so many.”
“Such dark thoughts do not become you, dear Joy,” he said. “I should have expected your years here would have made you immune to such fears.”
“Not where you are concerned,” she said.
He kissed her. “Bless you!” he said, and then descended the ladder to the longboat.
She remained on the wharf, watching him. She waved, and from the distance he waved back. She stayed there until the craft was just a small speck bobbing on the rough water. Then she turned, and thoughtfully made her way back to the cottage.
Jock Monroe came by that night. Heather was remaining with her while the doctor was away. Jock put aside his crutches and raised himself into a chair at the living room table.
He asked, “Any troublesome patients?”
Heather and Joy sat down near him. Joy said, “A young lad came in with a nasty axe cut in his foot. His father carried him for almost a mile.”
“You patched him up?” Jock queried.
Heather nodded. “I did it. The lad will heal quickly as long as he keeps off the foot.”
Jock chuckled. “I never worry about my feet! You could call me careless. But I know they’re safely buried out back.”
Heather reproved him. “Jock, that is a poor sort of joke!”
“Sorry,” he said with good nature.
Joy got up and went to the window. “Is it my imagination or is the wind rising?”
“It was beginning to blow when I came here,” Jock said.
Joy looked worriedly into the darkness. “It’s getting worse. I can tell by the trees! And it’s raining!”
Heather gave her husband a worried glance. “And you did not wear your rubber cape!”
“I’ll not get much wetting. I haven’t that far to go,” he said.
Joy turned to them worriedly. “We might be in for a heavy storm after all the nice weather. I wonder where John is tonight.”
Heather looked uneasy. “Surely safe on one of the islands.”
Jock nodded. “Sitting by the fireplace in some fisherman’s warm house. The islanders like John. He’ll be well treated.”
“I hope so,” Joy said, returning to her chair.
The big man stared at her. “Do you know this is the first time I’ve known you to worry aloud about the doctor.”
She managed a wan smile. “I’m being silly. Fix us some tea, Heather. We’ll all be better for it.”
They had the tea but she was still uneasy. When Jock was leaving she saw him to the door. She gazed into the face of the crippled man and said, “I know it’s selfish and wrong, Jock. But I’m terribly worried about John.”
Jock frowned. “He’ll be safe,” he said. But there was a lack of conviction in his tone.
She lay awake a long while. The storm raged and she pictured John caught somewhere in the rough water in his longboat. She tried to tell herself she was upsetting her nerves needlessly, since John would be wiser than to venture on the Loch in such a night.
Heather claimed she woke around three in the morning and heard Joy screaming. She ran in to her. Joy was sitting up in bed, gazing fearfully into the shadows.
“Are you ill, ma’am?” Heather asked.
“No,” she said, shocked by her weakness. “I had a bad dream: I saw John in the water, trying to claw his way through a tall wave. Then he sank and was lost to sight. I woke up screaming.”
Heather stood by the bed and said worriedly, “It is natural for you to be concerned.”
“Not to this extent,” she apologized. “Forgive me for waking you.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Can we talk for a little, Heather?”
“Of course,” Heather said. “We can sit by the fireplace in the living room. I’ll stir up the fire.”
“Thank you, Heather,” she said. And she rose and put on a robe. The two women sat by the fireplace and talked quietly, trying to ignore the storm lashing against the windows, and the occasional quivering of the cottage.
Heather smiled. “When I was a wee bairn I was terrified of the storms. I always ran to my mother’s bed.”
Joy said, “My mother was not the sort you ran to. A cold, aloof woman. She still is. But I had a kindly old governess who comforted me when I was afraid.”
“You had such a different background from the rest of us,” she said.
“Not a better one but different,” Joy agreed.
“I grew up a girl with four brothers,” Heather said. “I felt myself plain and ugly because little attention was paid to me. Not until I met you and the doctor did I begin to have any confidence in myself.”
“You’ve become attractive and capable,” she told the other woman. “Had you been born with my advantages you’d be a fine society lady in London now. Probably doing work among the poor like my friend, Nancy. But your work here is just as valuable.”
Heather stared at her in wonder. “When you and the doctor came the village changed. You made it a better place to live.”
“We came here almost by chance.”
Heather said, “Until Jock, I had only one lad court me. A fisher lad. His family moved away and I never saw him again.”
She said, “I fell in love with a reckless man about town. My parents warned me against him and I wouldn’t listen. Later I found out how right they were.”
“Did you love him truly?”
“I thought it was love. But I felt nothing for him compared to what I feel for John.”
Heather smiled, “My love for Jock is my whole life.”
“And you have made him happy.”
“I hope so. I’m glad you gave me the courage to offer myself to him that night. He was my first lover, and if Heaven is good, I will have no other.”
“It all seems so long ago,” Joy said.
“Where were you married, ma’am?” Heather asked.
“In Birmingham of all places! A hasty affair. I have worn this wedding band ever since.”
“You are so right for each other,” Heather said. “All the village agree on that.”
They went on talking until the first gray of dawn appeared at the window. Then they went back to bed for a short sleep before the business of the day. The talk with Heather had quieted her nerves.
The storm raged on! It turned out to be a difficult day. There were no patients, and no one came near the cottage until Jock arrived in rain cape and hat at noon.
He said, “We’re paying for the spell of good weather. No one will be out with their nets today.”
“Or doing anything else,” Heather said.
Jock smiled. “I don’t mind the weather. I have a new book by Charles Dickens called
Oliver Twist.
I’ve just started, and it’s a proper yarn!”
“Yes,” Joy agreed. “I’ve read it, and
Nicholas Nickleby
as well. And I have his very latest,
Barnaby Rudge
, which I have not started yet. I’ll give you my copy of
Nicholas Nickleby
when you’ve finished reading the other book.”
“We ought to do a Dickens book for the reading group,” Heather suggested.
She said, “Yes. We could begin with
Oliver Twist.
The members would enjoy it.”
Heather said, “A good book can be read many times.”
“True,” Jock said, and brought out his pipe and began to fill it.
Joy sat by the fireplace. “I have a dear friend, Nancy Fox, who has met Mr. Dickens.”
“The world is not all that large,” Jock said, puffing on his pipe. “And with the new railways and great ships it is getting smaller all the while.”
Joy said, “So true. John is always saying that.”
“Aye,” Jock agreed. “The doctor is a wise man. I hope he is wise enough to stay wherever he is until the storm abates.”
“I hope so,” she said.
The storm eased with darkness. The wind lost its power, and the rain ended. By the next morning, the sun was shining again. With the good weather there came a trickle of patients with minor problems. They were kept busy. Joy forgot her fears for John, and began anticipating his return. She hoped the storm would not mean a delay in his coming back.
She was busy cleaning the office after the last patient of the afternoon when a burly fisherman appeared in the doorway. He had his storm hat in hand and wore high rubber boots. A shocked and pale Heather came to stand by him.
Joy suddenly felt faint. Then somehow she managed, “It is John, isn’t it?”
The big fisherman nodded. “I’m sorry, ma’am. He had an emergency call in the night. He tried to make the crossing from one island to another. The boat turned over and he and the two men with him were lost.”
“Lost!” she said in a whisper.
“I hope it’s a comfort, ma’am, that they recovered his body,” the fisherman went on. “They’ll be bringing it here directly.”
She recalled Heather rushing forward to take her in her arms and then she fainted. She went to her bed, and Heather and the Reverend Tom Mellor stood near her. The young minister took her hand in his. “We all loved him, Mrs. Hastings. Everyone of the villagers share your loss. His weary journey is over. He will be long rememberd.”
The young man’s earnest words brought a full realization of her aloneness. The floodgates of her sorrow let go, and she began to sob as never before in her life. Heather remained at her side to comfort her.
The next days were always to remain a blur in her mind. She stood by John’s coffin, and saw the look of repose on his lined face. Certainly he was at peace with his Maker! She sat in the crowded kirk for the funeral service, and heard many around her crying. Somehow she found the strength to walk to the cemetery, and see the wooden box lowered into the ground. Then she returned to the empty cottage. Throughout all, Heather remained with her.
After a week Joy had a widow woman come to take over as housekeeper. She and Heather somehow kept the medical practice operating. Those who had problems beyond their ability had to be sent thirty miles away to the nearest doctor. Joy could not forget that as she had stood on the wharf with John his last injunction had been for her to look after his people! His children, the villagers!
One evening she discussed this with Heather, saying, “I have written to Edinburgh and asked Dr. Marsh if he can send us a doctor. We will hope he will reply soon.”
“You have done all you can,” Heather assured her.
Word of John’s drowning had reached London, and she received letters in reply. Her mother was almost brutal as she wrote, “I’m sorry that man you’d been living with was drowned. But in a way it is a relief. Now you are no longer living in sin. I hope you and Sir George can at last rebuild your marriage.”
Joy cried angry tears and tore the letter up and threw the scraps in the fireplace. But her sister-in-law’s letter was long and warm in tone.
Hilda wrote, “One of my greatest regrets is that I will not ever know your John. James and I read of his tragic death and shed tears. I think even little Joy, so much like you, was also touched by the sad word. She crept up in my lap and huddled there like some forlorn animal. James and I would like you to come for a long visit. We have plenty of room and London would be good for you. Your mother predicts you will be returning to live with her at Berkeley Square, but I advise against it.
“Your mother continues to be a cold, selfish woman, who most enjoys making those around her miserable. You must not go to her at this time. You need warmth and friendship. I fear she will also send word of John’s death to Sir George, with the hope you two will come together again. I can’t bear to think of your returning to him. He is living in that brothel, and drinking and gambling to excess as always. People avoid him and he is rarely invited to the homes where he was welcome in the past. If and when you return to London you must avoid him at all costs. Keep us informed of your plans and know that we share your sorrow, Affectionately, Hilda.”
The third letter was from Nancy. Her friend said, “I cannot think why such a perfect marriage, and I have always felt it to be a marriage, should end so tragically. I think God controls our lives and yet he is so often cruel! I talked to Mr. Dickens about your plight, and he sends his sympathy and begs you to remember that only the passage of time can make such losses bearable.