Mercy straightened and took a deep breath. She wouldn’t ignore the hard news and the pain that came with it, as she would have done in the past. She had to make herself go through it.

“How did Dr. Bates find Patience?” She forced out the question even though it hurt to do so.

Joseph spoke quietly to the native woman, who understood a little bit of English. Then he rose and reached for Mercy’s hand, drawing her outside the shed and closing the door behind them. The pump at the center of the yard was dripping water into the muddy puddle at its base, and the grass was starting to turn yellow, but the area was deserted, giving them a moment of privacy.

“How did Dr. Bates find my sister?” Mercy repeated. She held her arms tightly to her chest to ward off the cold breeze, forcing herself to stay put even though she wanted to escape.

“Dr. Bates didn’t say how he found her,” Joseph answered, “only that she’s been living at the Shoreditch Dispensary since you left.”

Mercy stared at Joseph, taking in every sincere line etched into his forehead. “She’s living at the dispensary?”

“I’m sorry, Mercy,” Joseph continued. “I know how much you wanted her to come on the Robert Lowe, but she’s still too weak to travel. According to Dr. Bates, she probably won’t ever be strong enough to make the voyage here.”

Mercy couldn’t move as she tried to figure out what Dr. Bates had done. He’d likely gone to the workhouse himself not long after she’d left his office. And he’d done more than help Patience. He’d rescued her out of the bowels of hell and single-handedly saved her life.

A tender, sweet lump in her throat swelled as sudden tears spilled over.

Joseph pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“She’s alive, then?” Mercy whispered.

“Yes, she’s alive.”

Mercy buried her face against Joseph and wept. When she finally spent herself, she realized she was trembling—her arms, legs, and hands. Trembling from relief, from hearing that her sister had survived. Trembling because she was overcome with such gratitude for Dr. Bates, who cared enough to help one person at a time, one day at a time.

Joseph pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I can be ready for the wedding in a week,” she said and offered Joseph a tremulous smile.

He used the pad of his thumb to brush away her tears. “I shall understand if you’re not ready so soon—”

“I’m ready now, Joseph.” Aye, she was ready to spend the rest of her life with the man she loved.

“Are you certain?”

This time her smile broke free. “I’m right certain.” She’d never been more certain of anything in her life.

Author’s Note