Page 54 of Only By Grace
“I think not,” she said firmly, thrusting the letter closer. “You have never been a coward, Ronan.”
He sighed and took the letter from her, his fingers hesitating on the seal. “You deserve to be happy,” she said softly. “Whatever you think your past has made you, it also made you the man you are now. That does not mean you must sacrifice the one you love as a penance.”
Ronan’s gaze drifted to the pastures, where the horses grazed in peace. “I have already told her to find someone else worthy.”
His mother tilted her head, her brow arching in mild challenge. “Did you decide this for her, or did you deign to ask her what she wanted?”
“’Tis not so simple, Mother.”
“Is it not?”
Ronan opened his mouth to reply but found no words. The unspoken answer hung between them. He could not answer that.
Changing approach, she said, “Will you join us for church today?”
“Us?”
“Your father wishes to attend services. Since it has been years since he felt like going, I thought perhaps you and I could also make the effort.”
Ronan frowned, caught by surprise. “I had forgotten it was Sunday.”
“Well, remember now. If your father wishes to leave the castle, we should rejoice.”
His mother turned and left him to the letter.
Reluctantly, he opened it and read.
My dearest Mama,
I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits, and to reassure you I am recovering well. The journey here was uneventful. The Channel holds little beauty to the Irish Sea, though I will admit the cliffs in Sussex rival our own. England has its own charm, though it is very different from the beauty of Donnellan.
Now that I am safely ensconced in Westwood House, London, I can admit to buoying spirits and the wisdom of healing in a new place. London is bustling with a liveliness that is almost dizzying, and the people are as varied as they are fascinating. It is never quiet here. I am slowly beginning to feel at ease, and my hosts are everything that is good. Your absence is keenly felt, though I have been fortunate to find new friendships here that make the days brighter.
Miss Joy Whitford has been a constant delight. She is, without doubt, the most lively and enchanting person I have ever met. She possesses a spirit that refuses to be dimmed, a quality that I find both inspiring and infectious. She has taken it upon herself to befriend me, and I must confess I have rarely laughed so freely. Whether it is some unintentional mischief or the antics of her kittens, there is always something to draw a smile.
Yet, even in the midst of such liveliness, not all are happy. Miss Grace carries a sadness that she cannot hide from those who care for her. They are concerned about her. Even I find her changed from our brief acquaintance at Donnellan. She isas kind and thoughtful as ever, but her smiles are few, and her laughter seems to belong more to memory than to the present. I wish I could lighten her heart as Joy has lightened mine, but I find myself at a loss. There are moments when I catch her gazing out of the window, or she sits in the gardens alone. I wonder what thoughts keep her so. It is clear that she is struggling with some sorrow, though she does not speak of it. Forgive me if this is impertinent, but please tell Ronan I think perhaps she misses him.
I wish to be of what comfort I can, though I know I cannot replace what she feels she has lost. Joy and I have often sought to include her in our little amusements, but I suspect she finds more solace in solitude than in our chatter. Still, I hope that, in time, her spirits will lift. I wish to help her as she helped me, though I suspect I remind her of who she longs for.
Please give my love to all at home, and be reassured I am well. Though I am far away, my heart remains with you, and I think of you often and do wish you could share this with me.
Your ever loving daughter,
Maeve
The chapel was ancient,its stone walls warmed by shafts of sunlight streaming through the high, arched windows. Ronan sat beside his mother and father, feeling an unusual weight in the simplicity of the moment while reflecting on Maeve’s words about Grace. Could it be she mourned for him as he did for her? His father, though still frail, sat upright with a strength Ronan had not seen in years. The sight brought a pang of something—pride, perhaps, or hope.
After the hymns were sung, the vicar took to the pulpit, his measured gaze sweeping over the congregation before hebegan. “I wish to speak on something we often overlook,” he announced, his voice calm but commanding. “Grace.”
Ronan’s breath stilled in his chest. The word struck him like a physical blow, and though he knew it was irrational, he felt as though every eye in the room had turned to him. The vicar continued, oblivious to Ronan’s inner turmoil.
“Not everyone will agree with me,” the vicar said, “but the more I learn of the Scriptures, and from His Holy Word in the New Testament writings, the more I believe it to be the truth. Works and deeds are an outward manifestation of our love, but nothing we do ourselves will save us. It is only by grace.”
Ronan could not stop the words echoing over and over in his mind and heart.Only by Grace.
“Grace can be hard to accept,” the vicar went on. “We judge ourselves unworthy and feel we must be perfect, but this is not what the Scriptures tell us is necessary.”
He paused, then quoted with quiet reverence, “For it is written in the second book of Corinthians:And He said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for My strength is made perfect in weakness.So, brethren, forgive yourself and accept His grace, for God will forgive you.”
