A simple gold band—Sarah’s ring, the one she’d given to Mercy before she died, the ring Mercy had flung away in her effort to avoid the pain of the girl’s passing. He’d meant to return it to Mercy, had thought about it on several occasions, bringing it ashore with him for that very purpose. Somehow the ring must have slipped from his pocket when he’d changed or packed his clothes.

He held it up to the lantern light. The faded gold chided him. He’d told Mercy to allow herself to grieve and feel the pain of Sarah’s death, but now with his own loss, once again his first reaction was to run as far away from the pain as he could.

Slowly, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed. He stared at the spot on the floor where he’d knelt a few nights ago, when he’d cried out to God like Jonah and told God he’d stop running and do whatever He wanted of him.

How easy it was at the first sign of hardship to toss aside his resolve.

He twisted the ring, sliding his finger across the well-worn band. Things most definitely hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted with Mercy. But he’d done what he needed to and had faced his fears. He couldn’t forget that God was walking alongside him through the pain of the loss and rejection.

He didn’t blame Mercy for not wanting to get married. He might not understand her need for freedom, but he wanted her to be happy and build a new life here—hopefully with Patience. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to leave the opportunity for a fresh start, only to go back to the despair and desolation she’d left behind.

Maybe he couldn’t ask her to return to London. But nothing was stopping him anymore, was there? Nothing except himself.

Joseph sucked in a tight, aching breath and fought a stinging at the back of his eyes.

He knew what he needed to do. He needed to be faithful to the small part God was calling him to accomplish. And when he did that, God would give him just enough strength to complete the work. Wasn’t that what Dr. Bates had told him the day he assisted at Shoreditch?

It had taken crossing an ocean and running halfway around the world for him to finally understand where he belonged. And that he could no longer wait. It was time to return home to do the work God had called him to.

Joseph unbuckled the leather strap on his bag, retrieved a pen, his inkpot, and two sheets of paper. He laid the pieces side by side on the writing table. He had two letters to write and not much time to write them.

thirty-two