Love is my Destiny Page 19

  “You’re mad,” he screamed as he hit her again and again. His eyes were livid and she was terrified of his new- found action. “You wouldn’t struggle for HIM, would you?” he teased with sarcasm. “Oh! No ... You wouldn’t struggle for him, but I’ll let you see what I can do.” Steven gasped for breath in his anger and Laura fled from the room.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  ROSE stood in her little kitchen and looked apprehensively at Fern.

  “Are you all right, my love? ... Are you well, my darling?” she enquired tenderly, looking deeply into his eyes and Fern nodded, with gentle surprise that she should ask so suddenly about his health until slowly she produced something from her apron pocket.

  “I was doing the washing, Fern,” she said softly as she held his handkerchief in her hand; the one that Fern had hoped she would not have seen, but Rose had seen it ... She saw the tell-tale blood with its bright red hue and she was worried. Fern could see the strain on her face, but he had wanted to play down his own problem until Peter was out of danger and then he had intended to do something about himself.

  “Don’t worry, Rose. It’s a small thing, I do assure you. Just a nosebleed, that’s all ... I’m fine and I’ll see the doctor soon if it persists. I promise,” he assured her and tried to appease as he retired from Rose’s kitchen, leaving her with a heavy heart and strode off to the hospital, hoping that the visitors would not be so numerous as they had been the day before. He had not realised that a priest would have so many friends and it was difficult to talk to him in a crowd.

  “Hello, Peter,” he called out as he found Peter sitting up in bed and looking very much better.

  “Hello, Fern. I hope you are O.K?”

  Fern sat down beside the bed, glad that they were alone together. He wanted to touch Peter’s hand and in that moment he realized that such an act would be ludicrous and it seemed like a dream to him as he remembered the incident on the mountain when he had told the priest that he loved him. Now, in the light of day and when disaster had passed, he still held his priest-friend in awe; this priest who looked so clean and handsome ... so untouchable in his hospital bed, but he was sure that every nurse in the hospital wanted to be with him as he and Peter spoke simultaneously ...

  “Sorry, Fern, what did you want to say?”

  “Nothing much really, just hello,” he said shyly and Peter grinned.

  “Well tell me about ‘nothing much really’ since you’ve already said ‘Hello’,” Peter replied perkily, but Fern did not know what he wanted to say. He was happy just to be there.

  “It’s nice to see you getting on so well, Peter,” he said at length.

  “Thanks entirely to you my good friend, I would not be here if you hadn’t acted as you did,” he replied and Fern coloured at his remark.

  “It was Jonty who did most of the work,”

  Peter leaned across the bed and took Fern’s hand.

  “I know, but thank you all the same,” he said briefly and he spoke with deliberation where the eyes understood everything that had to be said before his face clouded over. “Hi ... What happened to my rosary?

  I’ve only got the crucifix and a few beads.”

  Fern explained that he had kept the crucifix. He was afraid if Peter was dying, he would want to have one, but of course, he did not say anything to Peter about death, or of dying. He thought that every priest should have a crucifix and Peter lay back ... Of all the considerations and kindness shown to him throughout his vocational life and especially through his college years, nothing compared to the thoughtfulness of Fernando Zambrano.

  “Rose and Tom want to know what they can bring you when they visit; they told me to be sure to ask you that.”

  “They can bring YOU along every time.”

  Peter laughed and so did Fern, but the priest was serious, if likewise embarrassed that he should feel the way he did, but he was not to know that Fern was also embarrassed for the same reasons as he took his crucifix and gave it to Fern.

  “Would you like to have it?” It would please me if you would.”

  ***

  Fern returned home that evening with his treasured gift tucked deeply in his pocket. He had never owned a crucifix before and certainly not anything at all that had belonged to a Catholic priest. He was proud and happy and Rose met him as he came through the door.

  “There is someone here to see you, Fern,” she said and Fern, shaken from his euphoria, could not imagine whom the visitor could be until his face dropped when he saw the doctor sitting in the lounge and Rose looking so apologetic, but Fern understood as he followed the doctor up to his bedroom.

  “When did you first discover this bleeding, Fern, and how did it happen?”

  The doctor spoke quietly but with anxiety in his enquiry and Fern explained about the incident on the mountain and how he had felt very cold. He had wanted to cough and had this tightness in his chest that would not allow him to cough easily.

  “Did you have pain, at all?”

  “Not a very severe pain, doctor, but I was freezing ... It just made me hold my breath and then when I did cough I used my handkerchief and well ... you know the rest.”

  “Is this the first time that this has happened?”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  “Why did you not say something at the time, when you were at the hospital for instance?” The doctor persisted in his enquiry and Fern paused ... He wished he had not been asked that question.

  “I didn’t have time to think of it,” Fern replied, “I had to get the priest to hospital quickly as he was unconscious. The doctors there examined us both and they said I was fine. I hadn’t seen the handkerchief at this time, not until the following morning actually.”

  “Take off your shirt, Fern will you, please?”

  Fern looked at the doctor in surprise, as he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it over his shoulders and the doctor made an examination of Fern’s chest and throat making some notes on a small paper pad.

  “I want you to spit into this.”

  He gave Fern a small bottle and as Fern did as the doctor requested, he was further embarrassed to find that the bottle contained a specimen of saliva that was bright red and frothy. Fern stared at the doctor, as he took the sample and put it into his pocket without comment.

  Rose was waiting downstairs and had by this time, been joined by Tom, who was annoyed that he had not heard anything of this happening before, but he was glad that Rose had called the doctor ... and Fern stayed in his room to examine his gift from Peter, whilst the doctor went downstairs to talk to Rose and Tom.

  ***

  Fern was frightened as he walked away from the waterfall and he knew he would have to acknowledge his fear this time. He had shown the handkerchief to Rose and it was the same as the first, but he was more concerned about the inconvenience to Rose in washing the thing than he was about his own feelings… On the other hand, Rose was more concerned as to what she would tell her husband, as she wrapped the handkerchief in a little plastic bag to give to the doctor.

  Chapter Thirty

  PETER WAS DUE TO LEAVE THE HOSPITAL on the weekend that Fern was to be admitted, as his X-ray showed some trouble in the lungs and he was to have a complete rest for at least six months. The Glasgow concert would have to be cancelled, as also the recording sessions in London and Peter arrived home as Fern was leaving. He had wondered why he had not received any visits from the boy in the last few days but he had concluded that he was busy rehearsing for the concert, however when Miss Harrison told him of Fern’s illness, he was very grieved. The housekeeper made some tea and they sat down together.

  “He will be all right, Father.”

  Miss Harrison tried to reassure, but Peter was worried beyond her concern. He prayed that Fern would be well soon and he felt so much guilt at having been the cause of the y
oung man’s illness.

  “If I hadn’t fallen on the mountain ... If I had been able to get down by myself, If, If, If. All the ‘ifs’ were dragged out, but to no avail.

  His utterances were a nonsense ill-befitting a man, let alone a priest and he knew this to be true in his heart, but Peter was sadder than he had ever been for a long time and any justification would have been acceptable to him. He limped around the library thinking all the time about Fern and hoping that he was not in pain, but his thoughts would not let him rest and he went into the chapel to pray, where the candle lit church threw shadows in every direction as he knelt at the altar.

  He had no support as he knelt there and with his arms outstretched in the air, he asked God to forgive his selfishness and to give health back to his friend.

  The hours passed and still he knelt there. Miss Harrison interrupted the vigil to announce that supper was ready and Peter crossed himself and kissed the altar, but he ate little that evening and retired early to bed, resuming his prayers at his bedside before he went to sleep.

  His rest was in snatches and he had to notify the Bishops as he was unable to attend to the people who came to the presbytery for help. He heard time and time again the voice of Fern as he sang to him on the mountain and when he eventually did fall into sleep, he knew again the deep warmth of that night on the cold and bleak precipice. Love melted the snow around him and the virgin kiss of a young boy gave him back his life.

  ***

  Fern read the get-well cards that were by his bed. He was tired and wanted to sleep but the never-ending routine of the hospital chores would not allow him that luxury. More X-rays were taken and he was diagnosed as having tuberculosis of the lungs. He was not concerned primarily about the prognosis, but his young mind puzzled about life and death and would this pulmonary T.B mean more than he realised or even wanted to realise. He had heard so many tales before and all the reassurances of the doctors only made him more anxious.

  “Will I be able to continue singing?” he asked himself, but nurse Ritchie interrupted his thoughts when she came to tidy his bed. The hospital thrived on tidy beds and the meticulous removal of crumbs.

  “You have a visitor,” she said cheerily as she helped herself to one of his chocolates and cocked her head cheekily to one side. Fern raised himself painfully in his bed and his chest burned.

  “Shona, Shona, what are you doing here. I thought you were in London.”

  “I’ve come to see you” she breezed, trying not to let Fern see her anguish, “Daddy told me you were in hospital and I asked for a few days off to come and see you.”

  “Will that interfere with your studies? Why did they let you come away when I’m not a relative ... or anything like that?” he asked anxiously and Shona wanted to cry, but she put on a brave face.

  “I said you were my brother ... that’s what,” she answered, “and at the moment I am studying a very handsome brother who needs me here to ward off all the lovely nurses who are being driven wild,” she laughed but her gaiety was shallow. Fern was pleased to see her but he was afraid that she might misinterpret his affections and he did not want to hurt Shona any more than he had already done. She took his hand and squeezed his fingers, but at that moment, Staff- nurse Ritchie passed the bed and her mouth tightened as she observed the scene.

  “You will ask if you want anything, Fern, won’t you?” she said as she glared at Shona, but Shona did not notice anything or anyone but Fern and nurse Ritchie left the ward, with a backward glance over her shoulder. “And don’t get too tired,” she emphasized as she went into the duty room. Shona glanced up at the ceiling and rolled her eyes.

  “It is nice to see you again Fern, but I would have preferred you not to have been in a hospital bed when we next met. Life is strange, isn’t it?” Shona was truly pleased to see Fern again so soon, and she was happy under any circumstances to be with him. Her heart was light with pleasure but there was a shadow there, which caused her much concern.

  She loved Fern and she knew it and the more she saw of him, the more she was convinced that she could never marry Andrew, or anyone else for that matter. Fern was Fern. He was unique ... and she loved him.

  Shona abandoned herself to the delight of the moment, forsaking all thoughts of the future, just to gaze at her ‘love’. She wanted to kiss him and to tell him all sorts of lovely nothings’ that lovers share with so much importance. She knew she could not do that, but she could not understand why. She would have remained with him all day and all night, if she could. However, the time came when she had to go and she felt she had said or done nothing of value in that beautiful period of just being with him and of having the happiness of knowing that at least IN THAT TIME, he was hers, and hers alone. This was her escape to happiness and she leaned forward, hesitantly, to embrace him and he welcomed her, but as she made to kiss him at that moment, he stopped her.

  “It’s my lungs, Shona, be careful for yourself,” he said, but she ignored his plea as she gently touched his lips with hers and in that lingering moment Shona was ecstatic. This simple chaste kiss was more than she ever knew could make her heart pound with excitement and desire. She kissed his ear, allowing her tongue to play there and Fern giggled.

  “You’re tickling me, Shona.”

  “You are beautiful,” she whispered, “I love you, my darling. I’ll come again to visit you soon ... Good-bye.”

  ***

  Peter hobbled into the ward and frowned as he spoke.

  “Don’t look too close at this old man whose come to see you” he said, as he placed his walking stick against the foot of the patient’s bed.

  “Thanks for coming to see me Peter, but you should take more rest with your ankle otherwise it will take longer to heal.”

  Peter felt touched at Fern’s concern. He had so much to say to the boy, but the right words wouldn’t come. He knew the effect this young man now had upon his life, but he was in awe of his own vulnerability. He could not believe or understand the thoughts that were going through his head. So many mixed feelings but all tied up with the fact that this young man had saved his life and he reflected on the usefulness of his own life at that moment. He was only a priest; one of a great multitude of priests. Why should he be so favoured? Had he died on the mountain, someone else would have taken his place, almost immediately, just as the priest who now took over his parish until he was well enough again to continue his ministry. He felt so small and so inconspicuous, in comparison to the young boy who lay in a hospital bed, who had all his life ahead of him, and with such a brilliant career. There was no logic or understanding to the ways of the Almighty, he thought and he was ashamed that his mind was so overrun with love and confusion as Fern reached out to touch his hand.

  “Shouldn’t I be getting a blessing or something?” he asked and Peter came round from his introspection.

  “You should be getting a thick ear,” he replied and Fern laughed.

  “Yes please, if you wish, but a little later if you don’t mind. Shona has just kissed it and I want to leave it as it is for a little while.”

  Peter took Fern’s fingers in his hand and pressed them individually, rolling his forefinger around the boy’s nails.

  “Thanks again, Fern. I wish Shona and you could get together . . . I mean really get together.”

  “For what…?”

  Fern looked seriously into Peter’s eyes and he welcomed again, the life that he saw there.

  “You know what,” Peter replied . . . “Thanks. Many, many thanks, but Shona is a very beautiful, lovely girl with a sweet personality. You could do a lot worse you know and not at all better”

  Fern tweaked the priest’s nose and lay back in his bed as he shook his head at the proposal that the priest had suggested to him He had difficulty in moving forward, which he did in spasms, but he did not want Peter to see his dilemma and Peter moved
nearer to him. “Yes,” he replied. “You are right Peter . . . Shona is a lovely girl and I love her, but I don’t think that is enough to be fair to her. She is far too good for me anyway. You must know that.”

  Peter smiled and shook his head. “When you come out of hospital, how would you like to come with me to Italy?” he enquired.

  “What?”

  “I’m allowed a holiday this year and I thought I might take it in Italy and perhaps look up some of my relations and who knows, you might grab yourself a singing tutor.”

  Fern’s heart responded with joy at this invitation. A holiday with Peter would be wonderful, in Italy, or anywhere ... He wanted to scream for joy, when he suddenly remembered the concert that was arranged for him by Tom and which, now because of the drastic circumstances, had to be cancelled. He was also cruelly reminded that he may not be able to sing again for a very long time.

  “REST ... NO SINGING.” That was what the doctor ordered and Fern was suddenly overcome with sadness. Everything was so near and yet so far.

  “I’d love that Peter,” he said as a wry smile crept over his lips and Peter begun to elaborate on the beauties of Italy and of the lakes and mountains where so many things had happened and of the many sights they could see when they were there. He spoke of his relatives, even though he knew very little about them, but he would look them up and he was sure they would assist him to explore the best of the Italian countryside.