its really pathetic how much reviews makes me happy. but make me feel pathetic anyways.

PART VII

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"God does what he promises . . . He gives us new strength for each day, but He won't take care of tomorrow until it comes. And we can't either."

Eagle's Wings; Snelling

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Nothing could have prepared Harm for what he saw. The once radiant Mac was now pale and unmoving. She seemed as if she would be carried away if a sudden gust of wind swept through the room. If a person could be transformed from what looked to be perfectly healthy to approaching death within a couple hours, Mac did a fine example of that.

Harm approached the bed and took a seat on a chair beside it. It wasn't until he saw all the tubes up close and her pale face that matched the sheets that he allowed the first tears to fall. And when they did, they cascaded down his cheeks like the snowflakes pouring down from the sky in their icy trance. The cold night sky looked in and saw a man sitting at the side of her bed pouring his tears out, a man that had held love, the purest kind of love, in his heart for too long. A man that had always repressed his hearts' tormenting rage and was now realizing it might be to late.

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Harm heard a knock on the door a few minutes later and wiped the remaining tears away.

The door opened and he was welcomed with the familiar sight of Kelly Marshall.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Rabb, but I wanted to give you these things. They were found with her when she came in." Kelly stepped forward and handed Harm Mac's purse and a small plastic bag. "If there's anything you need, just let me know." She had turned to leave but turned back around. "And I thought you'd like to know Dr. Atwood has lifted rules of visitor's hours for you."

Harm smiled, knowing she probably played a key role in persuading the doctor to do so. "Thank you Kelly."

The nurse smiled before exiting the room, shutting the door behind her softly, an extra prayer going heavenward for the man and woman in that room. She had a feeling God would greet in heaven not one, but two of his children, if that woman died, and she prayed that wouldn't happen.

Harm spent a few minutes staring at Mac and stroking her hand where there were no tubes. Suddenly remembering what Kelly had brought, he placed Mac's hand on the bed and reached for the small plastic bag.

It contained Mac's college ring, dog tags and watch. He opened the bag and poured the contents out onto his palm. He saw a sparkle of gold and sifted through the contents in search of it.

A stray tear fell when he pulled out the rose necklace he had given Mac for her birthday. It glistened in the soft light above Mac's bed as if whispering to Harm everything would be alright. It seemed it should be carried by someone who had all the hope in the world, hope that Harm didn't have.

He placed Mac's jewelry back into the plastic bag and then reached for her purse, preparing to stick it in there. He saw the copy of Jane Eyre and pulled it out, a sad smile cresting his face. She had been so enthralled with the novel . . . He flipped it open to her dog-eared page. He knew she would have been reading it at that moment, after their dinner. She would have wanted to finish the novel . . . and if Harm had anything to do about it, she would finish it.

"The din was on the causeway: a horse was coming; the windings of the lane yet hid it, but it approached." Harm's strong voice, a little smothered by sadness yet holding a familiar note of strength, sliced through the air, just loud enough for Mac to hear. He stopped and glanced up at her still pale face and gave a little shuddering hiccup. Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to be strong, strong for her, he continued reading. "I was just leaving the stile; yet as the path was narrow, I sat still to let it go by."

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I had not been walking for some time, with my rest on the edge of the road, and had become cold once again. It reminded me of days at my childhood boarding school, but nothing was that dreadfully cold.

I reached down to tie my shoelaces and begin jogging again, waiting for the jogger I heard coming to pass me on the narrow lane. He came into sight and I saw a golden form bound before him, some breed of dog, but I could not detect what. The jogger was a tall man with extremely long legs and was very well built, his speed a racing pace.

I had turned to go on my way when a loud sound attracted my attention and I turned back around. It appeared the man had slipped on a sheet of ice and was struggling to get up. The dog, unsure of how to help his master, approached me.

"Are you injured, sir?" I called out. I heard a few curse words exclaimed and his attempts to get up were so vigorous I didn't think he appeared injured.

I was in the mood for being helpful and approached him. The man had managed to find a bench to sit upon and was gingerly prodding his ankle.

"Just twisted my ankle. I'll be fine. I don't need your help."

"I can't leave you alone, sir, in this condition. It's getting dark." I protested.

The man stood up. "It is. You should be heading home." His voice was gruff and stern and normally I would have left if a stranger had told me he didn't want my assistance. But something compelled me to help this man.

"I was just out for a late jog, since I have been busy all day. I'm getting ready to circle back. I come from only a short distance away. From Thornfield Mansion."

The man didn't seem to care about this piece of information much. Or if he did, he did not show it. "And you live there?"

"Yes, sir. I'm the secretary to Mr. Rabb."

He nodded and grimaced again. "Have you seen this said Mr. Rabb?"

"No, sir. He travels a deal. I take care of affairs here while he is away."

"Well, then if you would kindly help me stand, I would appreciate it." He said, his tone still gruff and hard.

I assisted him and he placed a hand on my shoulder, leaning heavily on me. "Excuse me," he said, "necessity compels me to make you useful." He found a large stick suitable for a temporary crutch and began limping away. "Hurry home back to Thornfield Mansion. It grows late."

I nodded and watched the man continue down the trail. "Come, Jingo!" He called and the dog followed him.

I continued jogging down my trail and it was half an hour later when I reached Thornfield Mansion. I did not like entering its atmosphere again, it felt so confining. But I knew I must. I had no other options presented to me, and I was now at Thornnfield Mansion, Secretary to Mr. Rabb, a wealthy merchant whom I had never seen and who Mrs. Fairfax, the house keeper, spoke highly of.

I could hear the fire crackling in the fireplace in the drawing room and headed up to my room. I quickly showered and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt before heading back downstairs.

Something caught my eye as I passed my master's room, which was normally unoccupied. Now there was a fire blazing in front of a large four-post bed and a dog lay leisurely at its hearth. I paused, startled, for a moment, but on a hunch, I knelt and whispered, "Jingo." The dog snapped up its head and stared at me with its liquid brown eyes. I stood up and waved Mrs. Fairfax over as she was about to pass me in the hall.

"Mrs. Fairfax, could you please tell me whose dog this is?" I asked.

Mrs. Fairfax nodded. "It's the master's. He just came in this afternoon." She nodded to the basket of knitting she was carrying. "I just came up to get my knitting, to keep the master company. He's in the drawing room now, the doctor is looking at him."

"Did he have an accident?"

"Yes, he came back while you were out this afternoon and decided to take a jog just an hour or two ago. He had a nasty slip on the ice and twisted his ankle."

I nodded, realization dawning. I watched Mrs. Fairfax descend the stairs and headed back to her room, thinking all the while.