Chapter 7 #2
How did one talk about the most vulnerable parts of one’s life?
Peter was accustomed to running from these types of conversations.
He’d build fortifications as high as the sky and arm himself with a practiced, silent, uncaring air if only to convince himself that the war in his mind was simply that—in his mind.
But something about being around Ana seemed to bring all these dangerous, conflicted feelings to the surface.
He could not ignore them as he used to. And if Ana was to thrive in this marriage, he supposed he should probably share the defenses of his mind with her.
Peter started them on a slow march through the gardens, Ana’s arm laced through his.
Years of drills and training had cemented into him a minimalistic routine that did not exactly translate well to life at home.
However, the precision, discipline, and restraint he had gained would benefit him somewhat.
Moving about always seemed to clear his mind.
At the mere motion of walking, he found that the memories that he had fought to hold captive began to loosen their hold on his tongue.
“You said the armada was a place of order. You joined the army for this?” Ana asked.
“More or less.” The day Peter enlisted in the army flashed before his eyes.
Oh, how his hand had trembled as he signed his name on the papers, just as it had trembled as he wrote a note to his mother that he had left behind on his bed.
He had prayed so desperately that she would forgive him for enlisting without consulting her first. He had, essentially, run away.
But he found he could not abide his father’s company any longer.
If Mother would not leave, then he would.
And he would return when he was strong enough to protect her from her husband.
But she had not allowed him to remain in that grueling role of foot soldier for long. Their position in society and her assistance had elevated him much more quickly than any of the men who surrounded him.
“Mother purchased my commission to be an officer after I spent a year in the army. Four years I have served as a captain since then. And I would not allow her to purchase a commission that was higher yet. I was content with my lot. But my peers were not.”
That having been acknowledged, his subsequent rise to the position of captain could only be attributed to his strict efforts, bravery, and ungrudging obedience. Such things had become a rarity, particularly during the siege.
“It gave my fellow soldiers great reason to treat me with contempt. They did not know I was the second son of an earl, but they did know I was a gentleman and, as a result, treated me with great disrespect. What an irony, I know. However, the officer position did provide me with additional safety, which was Mother’s intention.
It is likely because of my position that I survived San Sebastián.
Hundreds of our men were killed. And that was before the burnings. ”
“I am most agradecida you are safe. I do not know what I would do without you there.”
“But only God knows how undeserving I am of such responsibility. What did it matter at all if I could not keep my men from performing such unspeakable things?” Peter pounded a fist against his leg, trying in some way to ease the agonizing regret that he could not shake from his mind.
“But you rescued me, Pedro. And mi bebé. Is that not enough?”
No. “Yes, of course. I am immensely grateful for you. For you both.”
In reality, Peter didn’t know if it—or anything—would ever feel enough to redeem him from the weight of it all.
Yes, he was eternally grateful to God that he had stumbled upon her and managed to get her out of Spain.
Every day, he woke in a panic after seeing her bloodied face and hearing her pained cry in her dreams. If it had been one of his men to touch her, he would have killed the man himself.
And if Peter felt so strongly, how must the fathers and husbands feel who had seen their wives and daughters suffer in the most horrifying of ways?
That was the weight that threatened to crush him each day.
They had left behind so many shattered souls and broken families, and the British army had no intentions of taking any sort of responsibility for it.
Fury burned through him at the injustice.
The beautiful woman at his side was a constant reminder of the undeserving cruelty so many had suffered at the hands of British soldiers.
It was not right. And Peter felt an insatiable urge to fight back against the injustice, just as he had desired to fight back against his father.
But how could he do so without putting their future at risk?
“I try very much to discover how to live a life of faith, not a life of fear,” Ana said.
“I have muchas problemas still and much to change. But I want to believe God will bless us to have a life of faith, as it say in la Biblia . . . ‘Porque no nos ha dado Dios espíritu de cobardía, sino de poder, de amor, y de dominio propio.’”
“Ah, yes, Second Timothy, is it not?” Peter repeated in English, “‘For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’”
Peter did not have a large Spanish vocabulary, but he had memorized some Bible verses during his time in Spain, as there had only been a Spanish pastor in camp.
And this was one that he knew by heart. How often the words had flowed through his mind as his body was tensing against enemy fire, or as his mind was fighting an onslaught of dangerous memories.
It had brought him peace, even if he hadn’t understood it completely.
“Precisamente. We need to have the faith in God to find this spirit. The spirit of power and love. And that will bring us the peace of a mind . . . how you say?”
“A sound mind.”
“Yes, a sound mind. I know God promises this to us.”
Slowly, the tension that pinned Peter’s shoulders upward started to melt away.
“If I might speak candidly, I do not understand many things of God. But I have a great desire to understand. I want to be healed by this faith and power, as you say.”
“I want this too.” Tears glazed Ana’s eyes, and Peter glimpsed the pain that was still very real there. She needed healing as much as he did, and he could not forget it. God would have to mend her heart and protect her in ways that Peter would never be able to. They would seek Him together.
“I am grateful to have such a wise and faithful wife at my side. Gracias, Ana.”
Ana’s hand slid down his arm until her fingers laced through his. He squeezed her hand and pulled her closer to his side. He was truly most fortunate to be married to such a woman.