Gift from the Sea Read Free Page A

while in our care.” She paused for a moment and then added, “Am I making myself clear, Maggie?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” It had been weeks since Maggie had seen her mother so strong, so in command of the situation. On the one hand, it was a welcome change. On the other, there was a German seaman under their roof and it was naive to think that the milk of human kindness might be enough to defend them.
    After Dr. Williams gave Maggie the medications she would need to administer for the pain and more detailed instructions for tending to the man, he promised to return the following morning at first light. He shook hands with Gabe and Sean, nodded to the women and left. Once he was gone, Maggie’s mother took charge.
    “Sarah, if you would see to some clear broth now—our guest has to have nourishment.”
    Sarah nodded and Sean followed her to the kitchen.
    “I’m going to sit with him,” Gabe said, and Lucie touched his cheek gently before he started up the stairs.
    Maggie waited until she was sure her father was gone and then said, “Mama?”
    Mama turned, her expression softened by her moment with her husband. But when she saw Maggie’s face, she frowned. “What is it?”
    “I can’t do this.”
    “Do what?”
    “Mama, he’s German.”
    “And I’m Irish and you’re American. Oh, Maggie, you have always been the first to stand alongside anyone in need. When others on the island shunned the Schulers even before America became involved in this horrible war, it was you who called on them, brought them back to church and made clear to all that these were Americans who happened to have a German surname.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “And isn’t that the very reason why you became a nurse? So that you could help others?”
    “I know, but—”
    “Now this young man comes to us and you want us to turn our backs? He’s a child of God.”
    Maggie swallowed hard as she stared at her mother. “You speak of him as if you know him. We know nothing about him except that he is German—not American with German ancestors like the Schulers. What if he’s a spy? What if even now his commander is sitting out there under the sea, waiting for some signal?”
    Mama blinked and then released a sigh of pure exasperation. “I simply do not understand what has happened to your sense of charity.”
    The war happened, Maggie thought, but her mother was as aware of that as she was. Sarah returned from the kitchen bearing a tray with a bowl of steaming broth, a spoon and a linen napkin. She started for the stairs.
    “Maggie will take that, Sarah,” Mama said, her eyes never leaving her daughter’s.
    The challenge was clear. Without a word Maggie accepted the tray and climbed the stairs. The door to roomthree was slightly open, and she could hear her father’s low voice repeating two words.
    “Stefan Witte,” he said several times, then added, “Can you hear me, son?”
    “Do you think he can understand you?” Maggie said as she set the tray on the bedside table. She busied herself with stirring the broth and then unfolding the napkin, refusing to look at the man on the bed.
    “Perhaps not, but keep talking to him,” Papa instructed. “He’s moving around more now, and Doc says that’s a good sign. If we can get him through tonight and tomorrow, Tom says he just might have a chance.”
    A chance for what? To spend the rest of his days in a military prison? To face a firing squad? Maggie thought as she spread the napkin over the man’s chest, keeping her eyes glued to his fingers resting on extra pillows, their tips as white as the snow outside. Her parents had indeed gotten him out of the wet clothes, and he was dressed in her father’s pajamas, the covers tucked tightly across his chest. The bed also had been changed, and Maggie noticed a pile of dirty linens in the corner near the door with the man’s now lifeless diving suit flopped over the top like some rag doll.
    “I’ll take these down so they can be washed and