Page 132 of A Winter By the Sea
At the thought, Emily bent and held her head in her hands.
“I am sorry,” Vi said. “Did I overstep?”
“No,” Emily groaned. “I came here because I knew you would tell me the truth. If only hearing it were not so painful.”
A few minutes later, Emily returned home and retreated into her bedchamber, relieved to find it empty. As she tossed her gloves into the chest in the corner, she spied her old diary. She pulled it out and sat on the bed with it. Opening the cover, she extracted Charles’s handkerchief and briefly skimmed the lovelorn words she had written as a girl of seventeen.I will love Charles Parker until the day I die!... I will marry him one day, ifit is the last thing I do.
She closed the book and ran a gentle finger over the monogrammed initials on fine linen while she thought and remembered and thought some more. Then, making a decision, she placed the handkerchief into her pocket.
Mr. Thomson did not return to Sea View until late afternoon. Emily was sitting alone reading in the parlour when he entered the room, his face drawn with concern.
Emily poured him a cup of tea and handed it to him without being asked. He certainly looked like he could use one.
“What’s wrong now?” she asked.
He grimaced, sipped the tea, then said, “I am worried about His Royal Highness. He is nearly delirious with fever and suffers from chest pain as well as vomiting. Dr. Wilson bled him again, which is supposed to reduce fever, but the duke seems only to worsen. Wilson has also applied blisters, and today plans to attempt cupping.”
Emily cringed at the thought of the painful procedure. Cupping involved making cuts on the skin and drawing blood from them using heated glass suction cups. They had once tried it on her father before his death, to no avail.
“Poor man,” Emily breathed. “And his poor wife, how she must share his suffering.”
“She does indeed,” he replied, “yet is tireless in nursing him. Dr. Wilson urges her to rest, but she will only leave his side to spend a few minutes with her daughter. She administers every dose of medicine to him personally.”
“That’s devotion.”
He nodded. “Devotion coupled with fear.”
Mr. Thomson rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I have been praying for him, but otherwise I feel so dashed useless.”
Emily felt convicted. She had not been praying for him as much as she ought and inwardly vowed to begin doing so. She said weakly, “I am sure they appreciate your prayers.”
She recalled her earlier musings over how prayer worked and longed to ask his views. He seemed like a man who would have given the subject deep thought. Perhaps now was not the best time for a theological discussion, yet she found herselfsaying, “I have been wondering about that lately. Why some prayers are answered and some are not.”
Again he nodded. “I have wondered as well.”
“What do you think?”
He paused to consider. “I am no expert, but I’d say there are several reasons God might choose not to grant our requests, or at least not immediately. Perhaps our motives are selfish, or we ask for things that would not be good for us or are outside God’s will.”
Emily scrunched up her nose. “So I should only pray for things I know to be God’s will?”
He shook his head. “We can’t always know. We do know God wants us to seek Him in prayer and through Scripture. So I think it’s all right to pray about whatever is in our hearts and then leave the outcome to Him.”
He paused, then added, “I also believe there are specific prayers we can know He will answer. Biblical promises like, If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us. Or, If we ask God for wisdom, He will give it generously.”
Emily looked up in surprise. “I heard a verse like that in church this morning. In fact, I have been praying for wisdom.”
She half expected him to ask what she needed wisdom for, but he did not.
The two sat for several moments, the silence broken only by the steady comfort of the mantel clock ticking away the time.
Then she asked, “Have you eaten? I would be happy to bring you something.”
“Thank you, but I am not hungry. I appreciate the tea, though.”
A few more minutes passed, then Emily spoke again. “Might I ask you something else ... in confidence?”
“More secret writing projects?”
