Free Gift from the Sea by Anna Schmidt

toward the cowbell that Sarah had left on his bedside table in case he needed her in the night. “Or shouldI make the trek through the snow?” He made an effort to sit on the side of the bed and place both feet on the floor. The pain that shot up his legs could not be disguised. He grimaced and bit his lip to keep from crying out.
    Maggie was at his side instantly, grasping his arm and easing him back onto the pillows. “Get back in bed. What on earth are you thinking?”
    “I must speak with your father,” he hissed through teeth gritted to hold back the cries of pain. “It is most urgent.”
    Maggie hesitated. “Very well. I can call the inn and see if he is available.”
    “Danke.”
     
    When her father arrived a few minutes later, Maggie crossed her arms and remained at her post near the foot of the bed. “Please,” Stefan said quietly, “may we speak in private?” He glanced over at Maggie and Gabe nodded.
    “Maggie? Give us a moment, dear.”
    Stefan saw resistance tense every muscle in her body. Surely she would not defy her father.
    “Maggie?”
    She glanced at her father and seemed about to say something, but then her gaze shifted to Stefan. And in her eyes Stefan saw the same boldness he had seen in a woman’s face only once before. Uma had looked at him with that same defiance. He saw now that Maggie Hunter had stayed because she was protecting her father. It was ludicrous, of course, but she, like Uma, would do whatever it took to safeguard the people she loved. He had the passing thought that such loyalty must surely extend to her community—her country—as did his. Was it possible that this woman, so small and yet so outwardly strong, also possessed theinner courage that would be required in one who must stand against the masses?
    She was watching him now, her eyes fiery as usual. She cast him a look of warning and left the room.
     
    In the time her father spent with the German behind the closed door, Maggie made a fresh pot of tea and cut vegetables for the stew Sarah would serve at noon. Dr. Williams had prescribed a more substantial diet for the man—lamb stew with vegetables, bread, cheese. “Now that he’s apparently out of danger, he needs to rebuild his strength if we’re to get him on his feet again,” Doc had announced that morning. “Maggie, you should try getting him to stand next to the bed starting tomorrow and by the end of the week perhaps a few steps.”
    “Yes, Doctor,” Maggie had replied.
    She glanced toward the closed door. She had expected her father’s stay to be a short one, but he’d been in there now for well over half an hour.
    Finally the knob turned and her father emerged, his expression unreadable.
    “Is everything all right?” she asked as she held his overcoat for him.
    “What? Yes, fine.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “I’ll send Sarah down so you and the duchess can be on your way.”
    But before stepping off the porch, he turned. “Maggie, stop by my study before you leave. I have an errand for you to run as long as you’re going to town, all right?”
    Maggie searched his expression to see if there could possibly be any connection between this errand and whatever had transpired with the German. But her father was already headed back toward the inn. She stood for amoment in the open doorway, trying to find some clue in the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head.
    The slightest ring of the cowbell interrupted her thoughts.
    “You rang?” she said with just enough sarcasm to let the man know she did not appreciate being summoned in this way.
    But he was collapsed back onto the pillows, his face contorted with pain, his cheeks flushed as perspiration dotted his furrowed brow. Maggie’s ingrained sense of compassion overcame every suspicion and doubt. At this moment this was her patient and he was in pain.
    “Where is the pain?” she asked, keeping her voice calm.
    “Legs,” he managed. “Feet.”
    Maggie reached for the bell and