A Finer End

‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
    Her smile was tremulous. ‘There’s nothing exactly wrong. It’s just that I’m pregnant.’
    ‘Pregnant?’
    ‘It is a fairly common occurrence, you know, if you do the sort of things we’ve done.’
    ‘But — how long?’
    ‘Eight to ten weeks, the doctor thinks. I should have told you sooner. Only I wasn’t sure... and I didn’t know how you would feel... or quite how I felt.’
    ‘The baby — is it going to be okay?’
    ‘There’s a bit of placental tearing, but it’s not too severe. I’ll have to see a specialist, and the doctor says I may have to take it a bit easier than I’m accustomed to. No more climbing mountains in the rain, or delivering babies, for a while.’
    Gemma, pregnant? With his child? Kincaid shook his head, trying to take in the wonder of it. But what had she meant when she’d said she wasn’t sure how she felt about it? ‘Gemma — your job. I know how much it means to you. How will you—?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said pensively. ‘But tonight, when I thought I would lose this baby, I realized what mattered to me most.’
    Unable to speak, Kincaid took her hand in both of his.
     
    On the threshold of Faith’s hospital room, Winnie hesitated. Kincaid had told her that Faith adamantly refused to press charges against Andrew, leaving the police powerless to prosecute him for his assault on her. Yet if her brother felt any gratitude, he had not expressed it — in fact, he’d refused to talk to her about Faith at all. He remained silent and unresponsive during her visits.
    The doctors told her his physical recovery might be slow; Winnie suspected his emotional recovery would be even more difficult — if it were possible at all. But she must hope, and she had to begin by setting things right with Faith.
    Taking a breath, she pushed open the door and went in. Faith greeted her with a smile, and Winnie gave silent thanks for the entry of this remarkable girl into her life.
    When she had duly admired little Bridget, she asked, ‘Your parents — how did it go?’
    ‘Okay. They thought Bridget was gorgeous, didn’t they, sweetheart?’ Faith cooed to the baby at her breast. ‘But I can’t go back. I don’t know how we’ll manage, Bridget and I, but I know I don’t fit in that life any more. Winnie— When I found out you were Andrew’s sister, I was afraid you’d guess somehow about the baby, and I had promised no one would ever know—’
    ‘It’s all right, Faith. We have to think about the future now, and I have a proposal for you. I could use some help in the Vicarage. And even when Jack moves in—’
    Faith’s face lit up. ‘You’re getting married?’
    ‘As soon as we can arrange it,’ Winnie admitted. ‘But even then, there will be plenty of room in the Vicarage, draughty old pile that it is, until you get on your feet. And we are, after all, family—’
    ‘Andrew. He wouldn’t — I mean I couldn’t—’
    ‘Of course you can. Andrew has no say over who lives in my home.’
    ‘But-’
    ‘My brother owes you a debt he can never hope to repay. But he can begin by providing support for little Bridget, and by getting used to the idea that we are all going to have to get on together.’
     
    Faith slept after Winnie’s visit, deeply and dreamlessly, and when she woke she knew what she was going to do. Garnet’s legacy should not be allowed to vanish. She, Faith, with Winnie’s help, could carry it on. She would learn to make tiles.
    She was still mulling over the details of her plan when Nick knocked. He fussed over her and Bridget, but she sensed an awkwardness in his manner, and an unfamiliar chasm between them.
    ‘Nick, what is it?’
    He hesitated, then met her eyes. ‘I’ve come to say goodbye.’
    ‘What do you mean, goodbye? I’ll be going home tomorrow, to Jack’s, that is. And then Winnie’s asked me to come and stay with her at the Vicarage.’
    ‘I know,’ Nick replied. ‘She told me. But I’m leaving Glastonbury. I have to go back to Northumberland, Faith, and take care of some things.’
    Faith stared at him. She suddenly realized that she’d foolishly assumed Nick would always be there, as constant as the sun and the moon.
    ‘But... you’ll come back, right?’ she asked, making an effort to keep her voice steady.
    ‘I don’t know yet. But if I can get things sorted out, I think I may try to get into theological college. I thought — I thought that no one who had screwed up as