The Artist's Healer - Regina Scott Page 0,22
he’s all right now.”
“For which I will be forever grateful.”
He didn’t pull away, but his gaze had gone to the distance, as if he saw Ethan even now, on a bed from which he might never rise.
“Small wonder you do not want him to become a soldier,” she said, “traveling far from you.”
His gaze speared back to her. “It isn’t the distance that concerns me. My father was an Army surgeon. He took me and my mother with him as he served in India and the American colonies. When he deemed me old enough, he had me assist in his work. I know the dangers soldiers face—disease and injury and battery. I still see their faces in my dreams. You will forgive me if I hope my son doesn’t have to endure any of that.”
Was pain contagious? She felt as if his pierced her heart. “Certainly, sir,” she agreed. “I pray my brother, who is serving in India now, doesn’t have to endure any of that either. But I am thankful for his courage and valor as well as the courage and valor of those who serve with him. I can only hope the Grace-by-the-Sea militia can attain such heights.”
He cocked his head as if studying the men, who were heading down into the village. “They have much to learn.”
“As do we all,” Abigail assured him.
They were nearly at the spa. Jess and most of the others had already entered, as had Eva, Mrs. Tully, and Doctor Owens. Mrs. Rand was clinging to Lord Featherstone’s arm as if she would never let go. Abigail knew the feeling.
She tugged Linus to a halt. “Before you go in, I must repeat my request to attend Jesslyn’s wedding. You can see I’m fine.”
He gazed down at her, and Abigail gave him her best smile, hoping she looked the picture of health. “I’ll think on the matter and let you know this evening.”
He could not know how hard it was to maintain her smile as he took his leave of her.
She caught up with her mother and Ethan as they were coming out of Mr. Ellison’s bakery with a plump cinnamon bun to share and accompanied them back to the house. Ethan chatted with her mother, face open and eager, and she could only be glad he’d recovered from his father’s outburst.
Still, he had no sooner finished his treat before he was back at his drawings.
“He needs more to occupy his time,” Abigail told her mother, who was gathering her embroidery things. “At his age, he should be out playing pirates or chasing butterflies on the Downs.”
“He is nine, dear,” her mother said with a fond look his way. “Many boys his age are off at school. And you heard his father: he has no desire to have Ethan anywhere near any sort of weapon, very likely even the wooden swords Gideon used.”
“It wasn’t just Gideon,” Abigail reminded her. “Jess and I used them whenever we could steal them away from him.”
Her mother sniffed. “I remember. I still have them.”
Abigail grinned. “Go find them. Ethan and I can have a go.”
It took more than she’d expected to convince her mother to allow her the use of the old toy swords and then even more time to convince Ethan it was perfectly fine to try them. They had no yard at the shop, but the tide was out, so she took him down to the shore. A few of the fishermen were darning their nets. They smiled as Abigail passed, sword up and at the ready.
“Been a few years now, Miss Abby,” one called.
“Far too long,” Abigail assured him.
Her mother followed, a blanket and bandages up in her arms, as if she fully expected casualties.
“We’re not going to strike each other,” Abigail told her and Ethan as they made their way out onto the pebbled shore. “We’re merely going to practice the forms. Now, then, young sir, stand like so.” Mindful of her injured arm, she clasped the hilt with her left hand and turned her body sideways.
Across from her, Ethan took up a similar stance, sword in his right hand.
“You see how you present a smaller target this way?” Abigail asked. “Now, bring up the blade like so.”
“It’s actually wood,” he reminded her, but he brought up the sword at the angle she’d used.
“True,” Abigail allowed. “And very good stance, by the way. Now, attempt to strike me, between the shoulders and the hips, if you please.”
Ethan’s blade dipped with his frown. “But you