should I?” She pulled the rocker closer and sat down. She rocked forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “Why should any of us believe a word you say?”
“Because we are on the same side,” he replied and was pleased to see that this statement had finally garnered a reaction other than suspicion and anger. Her eyes flashed with interest and surprise.
“You confuse me, Stefan Witte,” she admitted as she rocked back and folded her arms as if to create a barrier between them.
Stefan smiled. “Then we are—how do you say it? In the same boat?”
“How can you make light of this? You are in serious trouble and I am trying to understand you.”
“Why?”
Her eyes widened as if the question had not yet occurred to her. “I have no idea,” she said softly. “It just seems that perhaps it might be important.”
“It is more important than you could possibly imagine, Maggie.”
“That you were supposed to meet someone wearing a blue scarf and carrying an umbrella?”
He waved her question away impatiently. “That is but a small kernel of the whole.” He sighed, slumped back onto the pillows and glanced toward the window. Outside the snow had started again and the wind had picked up. “Perhaps God has changed His plan,” he muttered, more to himself than to her as he fingered the small gold cross at his throat.
Maggie abandoned the rocking chair and began pacing along the foot of the bed, her hands clasped behind her back. “You can’t honestly believe that you are on some sort of mission here.”
“We are all on God’s mission,” he replied, giving her his full attention once again. “Even you, Maggie Hunter.”
She paused in her pacing, but the look she gave him was filled with cynicism.
He seized the moment to press his advantage. “Mrs. Chadwick has mentioned that you think you no longer believe in God.”
“We are not discussing my faith, or lack thereof, here. We are not discussing faith at all. Your so-called mission is political. Please don’t put any other face on it.”
“But you have doubts? You ask why God could allow such a thing as this war?”
“Of course I do,” she snapped.
“Then you have faith,” he replied. “Because the only solution to doubt is faith.”
“That’s a ridiculous logic.”
Stefan smiled at her with something he knew Maggieread as pity. “In life we never know what a new day will bring and yet we go on. We believe that the sun will rise, that the fog will lift, that the flowers will conquer the snow. We believe that the storm will abate and calm waters will eventually carry us to port.” He shrugged. “Faith.”
Maggie frowned, then turned briskly to her duties. “So, besides being a spy, traitor and deserter, you are also a minister?”
“I am no traitor and no spy.” He ground out the words as if each were a bitter pill.
Maggie kept her back to him, but he knew that he had touched a nerve.
“If you think of doubt as questioning your faith, then perhaps you will see that I am correct,” he continued in the pleasant voice of a teacher. “And if events that challenge your beliefs have made you doubt—made you question what God could be thinking in allowing such things—then you have faith.”
“You are speaking in riddles.” But she turned to face him and moved a few steps closer to the bed. “I will grant you that I have wondered about…things that have happened recently.”
“The death of your intended,” Stefan said.
“That and other things,” she admitted.
“And you wonder why God allowed this good man to be taken from you at the very moment in both your lives when you were just beginning to find your way in this world?”
She raised her head and met his empathetic stare with a stony glare. “I see what you are trying here, Stefan Witte. Well, it won’t work—not with me. You may have hoodwinked others with your gold cross and your pretense at being a friend, but…”
Stefan sat forward, every muscle tensed
“Because we are on the same side,” he replied and was pleased to see that this statement had finally garnered a reaction other than suspicion and anger. Her eyes flashed with interest and surprise.
“You confuse me, Stefan Witte,” she admitted as she rocked back and folded her arms as if to create a barrier between them.
Stefan smiled. “Then we are—how do you say it? In the same boat?”
“How can you make light of this? You are in serious trouble and I am trying to understand you.”
“Why?”
Her eyes widened as if the question had not yet occurred to her. “I have no idea,” she said softly. “It just seems that perhaps it might be important.”
“It is more important than you could possibly imagine, Maggie.”
“That you were supposed to meet someone wearing a blue scarf and carrying an umbrella?”
He waved her question away impatiently. “That is but a small kernel of the whole.” He sighed, slumped back onto the pillows and glanced toward the window. Outside the snow had started again and the wind had picked up. “Perhaps God has changed His plan,” he muttered, more to himself than to her as he fingered the small gold cross at his throat.
Maggie abandoned the rocking chair and began pacing along the foot of the bed, her hands clasped behind her back. “You can’t honestly believe that you are on some sort of mission here.”
“We are all on God’s mission,” he replied, giving her his full attention once again. “Even you, Maggie Hunter.”
She paused in her pacing, but the look she gave him was filled with cynicism.
He seized the moment to press his advantage. “Mrs. Chadwick has mentioned that you think you no longer believe in God.”
“We are not discussing my faith, or lack thereof, here. We are not discussing faith at all. Your so-called mission is political. Please don’t put any other face on it.”
“But you have doubts? You ask why God could allow such a thing as this war?”
“Of course I do,” she snapped.
“Then you have faith,” he replied. “Because the only solution to doubt is faith.”
“That’s a ridiculous logic.”
Stefan smiled at her with something he knew Maggieread as pity. “In life we never know what a new day will bring and yet we go on. We believe that the sun will rise, that the fog will lift, that the flowers will conquer the snow. We believe that the storm will abate and calm waters will eventually carry us to port.” He shrugged. “Faith.”
Maggie frowned, then turned briskly to her duties. “So, besides being a spy, traitor and deserter, you are also a minister?”
“I am no traitor and no spy.” He ground out the words as if each were a bitter pill.
Maggie kept her back to him, but he knew that he had touched a nerve.
“If you think of doubt as questioning your faith, then perhaps you will see that I am correct,” he continued in the pleasant voice of a teacher. “And if events that challenge your beliefs have made you doubt—made you question what God could be thinking in allowing such things—then you have faith.”
“You are speaking in riddles.” But she turned to face him and moved a few steps closer to the bed. “I will grant you that I have wondered about…things that have happened recently.”
“The death of your intended,” Stefan said.
“That and other things,” she admitted.
“And you wonder why God allowed this good man to be taken from you at the very moment in both your lives when you were just beginning to find your way in this world?”
She raised her head and met his empathetic stare with a stony glare. “I see what you are trying here, Stefan Witte. Well, it won’t work—not with me. You may have hoodwinked others with your gold cross and your pretense at being a friend, but…”
Stefan sat forward, every muscle tensed
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