Until the Dawn (44 page)

He wished for so much more for Sophie. She wept as she put on the ring, but there was too much to say and so little time. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me,” he rasped. “You made me so happy. I am so happy.”

“Please . . . Please rest, my dearest,” she urged.

He didn’t want to rest. He wanted to hold on to this moment forever, even the pain and the heat, for it came along with the joy of knowing he loved and was loved in return. He felt grace showering down on him, a peace unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

Sophie knelt on the floor beside him, clutching his hands between her own. “God is with you, Quentin, no matter what happens. You know that, don’t you? Sometimes there are things science can’t explain, you understand that, right?” she asked.

He smiled and tried to respond, but there was no more breath left. Dearest, sweetest Sophie . . . all he could do was nod, but he understood. He felt the blessings of grace and knew her words were true.

It was enough. More than enough. For the first time in his life, he was truly and completely happy. Happiness wasn’t the absence of pain, it was the joy of life, and in these final moments, he had found it. After decades of cynicism and doubt, love and forgiveness surrounded him. He deserved none of it, but he savored the blessing of peace and quiet joy. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. With the last of his strength, he squeezed Sophie’s hand.

Joy blinded him. He surrendered.

24

T
HE
DOCTOR
FROM
T
ARRYTOWN
arrived at noon the following day. Quentin had not roused since slipping into insensibility last night, and Sophie prayed his oblivion would last through the amputation.

When the doctor saw Quentin’s blackened leg and noted the heat from the fever ravaging his body, he drew Sophie aside. “It might be best to let him quietly slip away. The infection is already full-blown. He is not in pain now, and the trauma of an amputation is unlikely to save him. It will only make his final hours worse.”

Sophie looked at the others in the room. Nickolaas, Mr. Gilroy, Ratface—all of them had known Quentin for decades, but now she was his wife and was the only one who could make this decision.

“Fight,” she said softly. “Quentin is no coward. He’s been battling this injury for years and wouldn’t want to give up without a fight.” If she doubted her decision, it was banished by the nod of approval from Nickolaas.

She stayed beside Quentin through the entire operation, holding his hand and ready to help should the doctor need any
assistance. Quentin did not rouse, for which she was thankful. She kept her eyes averted but could hear the rasp of the bone saw and the grunting of the doctor as he carried out the strenuous task. She heard and smelled burning flesh as the wound was cauterized. Mr. Gilroy passed bandages over and carried away bowls of water. In twenty minutes, it was all over.

“It’s in God’s hands now,” the doctor said as he pulled the sheet over the stump of Quentin’s amputated limb.

She bowed her head and prayed.

Everything hurt too much to move, but Quentin was used to pain. He kept his eyes closed, trying to assess what was going on in his body. He remembered the tourniquet, but had they actually amputated his leg?

He shifted his thigh. Everything hurt, but . . . he drew a breath and tried to focus. Most of his leg seemed to be gone.

Had he married Sophie last night, or had that been a dream? Light flooded his sight as he cracked his eyes open. She was sitting beside his bed, a book open on her lap. A huge diamond glittered on her left hand. A smile curved his mouth, and a lightness lifted his spirit. He hadn’t dreamt it.

“Where did the ring come from?” he croaked.

Sophie startled so quickly the book fell off her lap, splatting open on the floor. “You’re awake!”

And alive, apparently. Thank you, God.

The last thing he remembered was a blinding, brilliant sense of comfort. The something—or someone—he’d been sensing these past weeks had surrounded him, and he could no longer doubt. He’d been blessed with a new life, a better life.

He tried to sit up, but the pain splitting his head made him think better of it. The void where his leg used to be was so odd. It made his whole body feel unbalanced and strange.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty awful,” he managed to say. He glanced down at her ring. “But happy. Where did the ring come from?”

“It was in one of the old jewelry boxes.” She covered the ring with her other hand and twisted it with nervous fingers. “Pieter noticed it in one of the portraits downstairs. The grim-faced lady with the white wig and huge dress? She is wearing it in her portrait.”

“I suppose my recovery means you are missing out on a chance to be a rich widow.”

She slanted a glance that tried to be scolding. “I don’t mind.”

It seemed she didn’t. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her face was pale and drawn, but she looked him directly in the eye and smiled.

He had been desperate for the marriage in order to secure a reliable guardian for Pieter. But now it appeared he was going to survive. He had awakened from plenty of surgeries over the years, and this was no worse than the others. It was actually a good deal better. The right thing to do would be to offer Sophie an annulment. Given the circumstances, it shouldn’t be too difficult to procure. With an army of attorneys at his command, it could probably be slammed through the legal system within a month. He didn’t want a reluctant wife. Never again. He loved Sophie too much to keep her locked in a marriage she had been pressured into by a dying man.

“I’m thirsty,” he said, trying to delay the inevitable conversation for a few more moments. She brought him a cup of cool water and he drank, not realizing how parched he’d been until he drained the cup and asked for another.

Sophie was so solicitous, bringing him water and straightening the sheets around him. He’d been an invalid for years and had always resented the intrusion into his privacy, but that wasn’t the case with Sophie. Her presence felt right and natural,
as though she welcomed the chance to tend him, rather than doing it out of a sense of duty.

“I don’t imagine it was the sort of wedding any girl dreams about,” he hedged.

She laughed a little at that. “You should have seen the wedding dress I had lined up for my marriage to Marten. It was full of ruffles and had gaudy crystal beads sewn all over it.”

He was tempted to groan. Did he really want to hear this?

“But I was proud of my wedding dress when I married you,” she continued. “It had grass stains from our argument in the meadow and blood from tending you at the house. It was no glamorous wedding dress, but I am proud of it, stains and all.”

She said it in good spirits, but she deserved so much more than a hasty marriage entered into amid a flood of panic and a sense of obligation. He rested the cup on his abdomen and schooled a blank expression onto his face.

“An annulment shouldn’t be too difficult to obtain,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the cup, rotating it in his fingers.
Please no
, he silently begged. For the first time in his life, it felt as if all the stars were aligning, and he wanted Sophie by his side forever. She had guided him into an entirely new world of faith and hope. It wouldn’t be the same without her.

“I don’t want an annulment.”

The relief that washed through him made him dizzy. His gaze shot to hers, and what he saw made his heart swell. She was radiant, smiling at him with a strong, clear sense of purpose in her gaze. No trace of reluctance or regret. She wanted to be his wife.

“Why?” he managed to choke out.

“Because I love you. You believed in me when no one else did. You followed me on a journey I knew you didn’t want to take. You truly know me. You know I’m not perfect—”

“You’re perfect for me.”

“And that’s why we should stay married. I love you. I love Pieter. And the three of us belong together. I don’t know if you will ever walk again, but we have taken the vows of holy matrimony, in all its joys and heartache. I’m looking forward to our time together, and I don’t want an annulment.”

She leaned over to kiss him again, and everything felt right. She continued fussing over him for the rest of the afternoon, bringing him cool drinks and straightening the linens. When there were no chores left, she sat beside him and read from a book on her lap, her other hand clasped in his.

Her voice was soothing, but he couldn’t pay attention to the words. He stared out the window at the lawn dappled with sunlight, the leaves swaying softly in the breeze. Had there ever been a more beautiful spot than the pristine acres surrounding Dierenpark? It was an alluring dream, a paradise, Eden itself. He wished with all his heart he could give it to her.

He squeezed her hand, and she stopped reading. “We can’t keep Dierenpark,” he said gently. “Not now that we know how it was built.”

Sophie’s face was beautiful as she smiled down at him with sad understanding. “I know,” she said, even though it looked as if she wanted to weep as she spoke the words. She had spent most of her life here, but this beautiful, shining gem wasn’t really theirs, and if they tried to pretend they didn’t know how it was obtained, they’d be little better than the first few generations of Vandermarks who hid the secret through greed and guilt.

“It will be hard on Pieter,” she said. “He loves it here. He thinks it is the Garden of Eden, but we will find another Eden, for they are everywhere.”

And he knew that it was true. Sometimes there were places where it was easier to feel closer to God, and this estate was one of them. But spiritual abundance could be found by anyone
willing to search for it, be it in the desert, the city, or an isolated estate on the Hudson River. He hadn’t understood that until his mind had been cleaned of the cynicism and doubt that made it so hard to appreciate the blessings surrounding him.

He had his wife and his son. They would find another Eden.

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