Page 19 of The Captain of Betrayal
A few days later, as the sun bravely tried to break through a ceiling of cloud, Polly found herself hovering by the church door at the end of Sunday Service. Usually when the Vicar ended his sermon, Polly was the first out of the arched doorway, her apron strings already half-tied in preparation for cooking Sunday dinner.
Today, however, she had loitered as the villagers traipsed by the affable, elderly Vicar, Albert Wilpole, and once that last of the stragglers had disappeared down the church lane, Polly had given a discreet cough.
"Oh, Miss Jenkins," the Vicar cried, as he turned to find Polly behind him. "How are you? Did you enjoy my sermon on the Cana Wedding?"
"I did," Polly replied, for the tale of how Christ turned water into wine was one of her favourites from the Bible. Though her mind instantly wondered if she would be able to turn a charred side of beef into something edible, if she didn't hurry back to the boarding house to help Emily with the dinner.
"I'm glad to hear it," the old man replied, his blue eyes twinkling under his bushy grey eyebrows. "Was there something else..?"
Her discomfort must have made it quite obvious that she had something she wished to discuss, though Polly reasoned that the Vicar was probably quite used to people accosting him to share their problems.
"I wanted to talk to you about forgiveness," she said, feeling a little foolish but determined to say her piece. "A person from my past has returned, seeking forgiveness for a betrayal that happened years ago--and I'm finding it difficult to grant it."
"Ah, this would be Captain Black?"
Lud, Polly scowled, there truly were no secrets in a small village. Her thoughts must have been written across her face, for the Vicar gave a chuckle that shook his whole frame.
"No one has told me about it, so don't fret," he said, placing a consoling arm on her elbow. "Nor am I omnipotent--I leave that up to my employer. I quite simply used the power of deduction, which is easily done in a town with a population of less than one hundred."
"Oh," Polly felt a little cheered at his words, for she did not wish to be the subject of the village's gossip-mongers. "Thank you Vicar, and, yes you're right. It is Captain Black that I'm having a devil of a time trying to forgive."
"What was it that he did, child?"
"He denied he knew me, when I needed him the most," Polly said simply; for on that day she had desperately needed James.
"Oh," to Polly's surprise the Vicar looked delighted at this statement.
"Forgive me, Miss Jenkins," he said with a rather self-conscious laugh. "It's just rarely am I asked for help with matters that run parallel to scripture. Do you know, yesterday one of our flock sought me out for help on improving his tillage yields? Tillage I know nothing about, but denial of the one we love..."
"Peter," Polly clicked her fingers, in a way that was most unladylike, but was the only reaction suited to the bolt of understanding she felt at his words.
"Indeed," the Vicar looked most pleased. "Three times he denied Christ at a time when Christ needed him most, and yet when he sought forgiveness, it was granted."
"I'm not Jesus though," Polly replied a little stupidly.
"Nor am I," the elderly man slapped his rather rotund belly, which was straining at the ties of his cassock. "Though despite that, I still strive to try to be just a little bit like him. What do you stand to lose if you forgive this Captain Black?"
Polly had no answer, for she knew that the only thing she would lose was the resentment she had held on to for so long.
"And what do you stand to gain?"
"Well, if nothing else, a good night's sleep," Polly replied with a snort, for she spent most nights tossing and turning, troubled by the thought of James Black in his cottage, mere minutes down the road.
"One can't put a price on a peaceful sleep," Mr Wilpole said with an encouraging smile. "And you can't hold on to anger forever; for in the end, it will destroy you and not the person it's directed toward. Has the Captain asked you to forgive him?"
"Yes," Polly nodded.
"Then forgive him lass," the Vicar stated simply. "It's always better to forgive, even where there is no apology offered."
Polly bit her lip, her mind clouded with thoughts and arguments against following Mr Wilpole's advice. Just as she was about to reply, the Vicar cast his eyes toward the boarding house and gave an alarmed cry.
"Is that smoke coming from your kitchen?" he asked, peering across the green.
"My beef," Polly called, lifting up her skirts and hurrying across the green, waving goodbye to the Vicar as she went. When she pushed her way into the kitchen she found Emily standing by the stove, tears streaming down her face and smoke bill.
"I've ruined everything," her sister said with a hiccough.
"Don't be silly," Polly placated her, "It's just a side of beef. Run down to the pier and see if you can pick up a sea-bass or two. I'll pop them on some leeks from the garden, and they'll be cooked within the hour."
