Without leaders, the rebels had dissipated. However, Will suspected anger, resentment, and unrest still festered like gaping wounds that needed mending. They would not easily heal, and yet the king appeared to have no intention of acting as the great physician—not now that the threat had been squelched.
Will would have to be wary for days to come and would not rush to bring his sons home. Even so, as more rebels were captured, he feared less for his life and estate.
A courier had brought a summons from the king only yesterday. Will had received the message with no great joy. His bravery in helping save the king would only garner him a more prestigious place on the next battlefield. Away from his kin. Away from his wife—if she lived. Whilst he would never dream of shirking duty to king and country, he would not relish leaving when the time came.
His wife.
Like a shooting star, Marian had shown up in the darkness of his life shining so brightly, helping him see the beauty around him he’d been missing, simple things like laughter and conversation and being together. She’d made him want to be a better man, a better husband, and even a better father. But it seemed that now, he was only glimpsing the faint streak of light she’d left behind, and even that was rapidly fading.
He kept pushing away the thought that Marian was likely dead by now. Ere riding away, he’d gone to her bedside and kissed her cheek. Her faint breath nigh his forehead had been lighter than the brush of a dried dandelion petal. He’d known then he didn’t have long to find a way to save her. But he’d instructed the servants to do everything they could to keep her alive.
He paused and wiped a sleeve across his forehead and surveyed the pit with nothing but roots and dirt to show for their work.
What if Christina had been wrong about the location of the wellspring? When he’d arrived, she’d led him to the depression where she and Marian had lain that day the rebels had entered Canterbury and wreaked destruction upon the priory and many other buildings. The very same day he’d wedded Marian.
The ancient ash that stood above him was another sign that marked the spot—although he knew not how. All he could do was pray the tree was right, that it was a sacred site, the site of the water that could heal Marian and bring her back to him.
At the fresh burst of panic winding through his gut, he jabbed his hoe harder and deeper. Will doubted he’d ever be able to stop. Perhaps he’d keep digging until he reached the bowels of hell, which was surely where he belonged for having failed not only Thomas, but now Marian.
~ 30 ~
“I’M DYING.” Marian managed a whisper through her tight throat.
“No!” Tears fell freely down Ellen’s cheeks. “No! I won’t let you.”
Back on the hospital bed the rental company hadn’t yet picked up, Marian was suffocating. Even with the oxygen tube as well as the medicines pumping through her IV, she was sinking and drowning, and nothing could pull her to the surface.
She struggled to keep her eyes open so she could look on Ellen’s face for what she knew would be the last time. Sorrow tinged every breath. She would miss her sister. Yet at the same time, Marian understood with a clarity she hadn’t before that even if she had survived, she wouldn’t have been able to return to her job and apartment and carry on with life the way she’d always known it.
Her trip into the past had altered her life forever. She no longer wanted to bury herself in work and research. And she didn’t want to be a self-sufficient woman who kept people at arm’s length because she was afraid of getting hurt.
Instead, living in the starkness of the Middle Ages had taught her there was something special about needing others and being needed in return. She’d learned it took courage to open her heart and allow people in. And it took the stripping away of everything she depended on to realize she didn’t need any of it to be happy.
She could see now the emptiness of the way she’d been living, like a paper doll flat and one-dimensional, simply flopping along and playing at life. That kind of existence hadn’t been real. In fact, she hadn’t really started living until she’d arrived in 1381, until she’d opened herself up to the possibility of having friendships, love, children, and a genuine faith in God again.
As it was, she was thankful she’d had the experience, even if it had been brief. She could go to the grave knowing she was at peace with life and God, as well as knowing she’d soon be reunited with her dad. The first thing she planned to do after hugging him was apologize for pushing him away and being insensitive to his heartache. Now after experiencing her own heartache, she could finally empathize with his.
Her biggest regret in the face of death was the pain she was causing to those she was leaving behind.
She held the strand of pearls that had been among her things at Chesterfield Park when she’d awoken from her coma. She’d never recovered the necklace from the prioress of St. Sepulchre. The phenomenon of the items existing in both eras puzzled her. When she’d posed her question to Harrison, he’d launched into another physics lesson about minuscule wavelets that disappear and reappear according to the laws of quantum mechanics, allowing for such anomalies.
“I want you to have these.” Marian pressed their mother’s pearls into Ellen’s hands.
Ellen glanced down and then recoiled. “You’ll wear the necklace again.”
“I don’t need it anymore.”
Ellen hesitated for another moment before taking the strand. “Oh Marian.” Her voice was laced with agony. “You and Dad never should have swallowed the water in those flasks. It was poison.”
Marian wanted to argue with Ellen and convince her otherwise, but she didn’t have the strength. The truth was, Marian needed another dose to survive, just as she’d suspected. As her 1381 body lay dying, she was experiencing the deterioration in the present. In order to live, she needed that second drink of holy water to heal and restore her.
Too bad she hadn’t figured out exactly how it all worked earlier, how to bridge the time gap safely. Not that it would have made much of a difference, because if she’d discovered more holy water, she would have insisted Ellen drink it—even if she’d had to pry the liquid through her sister’s lips.
When her heart attack had started earlier, she’d begged Harrison not to take her to the hospital. She wanted to die at home. Though Ellen had objected and claimed she’d be better off at the hospital, he’d understood and had called in the private staff again.
Now the physician and nurse stood on the opposite side of the bed studying the ECG, keeping tabs on the electrical activity of her heart, and watching the waves on the monitor.
At some point during all the examining, Harrison had disappeared, and she hadn’t seen him since. She wanted the chance to give him the location of the wellspring. She had to do it for Ellen’s sake, and pray that when he uncovered it, he’d never let it fall into the wrong hands.
“Where’s Harrison?” Marian could hardly get out the question.
“Looking for me?” He steered his wheelchair at top speed through the door. A coating of dust covered his suit coat, and wood shavings stuck to his dark hair.
Marian couldn’t find a breath to answer him. Instead, when he arrived at the side of the bed, she held out her hand. He took it in his, which was just as dusty and dirty as the rest of him.