Charles continued, his voice sounding hoarse in his ears, “Our mother’s will left what money she had of her own to you.”
Andrew’s head turned so swiftly it caused the horse to neigh and stomp. He patted the steed’s neck and muttered, “I knew nothing of this.”
“No, nor I, not until our father passed on. He said he had included the inheritance in the moneys he sent to you, so I was to consider the matter settled, if I so wished. Those were his words, and naturally I wished for nothing else. I had no intention of righting any wrong that might have been done to you.” The last words barely could pass the constriction in his chest and throat.
“Charles, I assure you, there is no need—”
“Hear me out. I beg you.” He took a deep breath. “You are not young anymore. And I will not leave this continent without knowing you have what is rightfully yours. I will not, do you hear me?”
“There is no need to shout, brother. I am right here beside you.”
“I will not hear of it,” Charles repeated more quietly. “You cannot be both a leatherworker and a pastor, not at your age. I realize you will not accept my money. So take what is yours by birth, by a legally binding will laying out our mother’s express wishes.”
Andrew reached over and gripped his brother’s arm. “I accept, and with an overfull heart. Thank you, dear brother.”
“But …” Charles shook his head in bewilderment. “Why now, when before you would not even let me discuss it?”
“Because before it was offered as a bribe. You wished to gain something from me. It was not a gift, as it is now.”
“True. That is true,” Charles nodded gravely.
“Charles, I wish you could see what changes the Lord is working in you.”
Charles looked up at a slender ribbon of blue framed by trees so tall they seemed almost able to touch the clouds. “I tell you, brother, all I see is the lack in me.”
“The Lord himself said,” Andrew continued, “it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter heaven. And yet you are making those steps and growing inwardly in truth and righteousness.”
“Only because I was broken upon the sea and the bayou and the trail,” Charles confessed quietly. He realized the wagon had slowed, and all were now watching and listening. “Only because I was brought face-to-face with just how hollow my existence has been.”
Nicole found it easier to remain behind her reserve and observe all the joyful activities from a safe distance.
The days in Halifax were nothing if not wondrous. Charles took for them the entire top floor of the city’s finest hotel. Nicole knew Andrew accepted the invitation because of her. He and Catherine wanted her to have an opportunity to see just exactly what it was that awaited her in England. Here it was on display, at least hints of what could be for her. The entire city seemed to gather to pay Charles homage. He refused invitations on a daily basis, brought by emissaries from merchants and government alike.
The ease Charles showed with Andrew was translated to a similar level of comfort with Guy Belleveau. When the two had met, despite their differing cultures and their nations having been enemies, there was a remarkable acceptance on both sides. Nicole tested it by confessing to her uncle Guy that she had told Charles of their need to get the treasure back to Vermilionville. Guy had not seemed to mind her sharing the village’s secret at all; in fact, he had seemed to accept both her admission and Charles’s own offer of help as a gift from God. The two men had spent much time together, speaking of both the situation here and the one in Louisiana. Guy eventually had accepted Charles’s loan of horses and wagon and set off for Minas.
One afternoon the governor himself had come to their hotel, arriving in a carriage more elaborate than anything Nicole had ever seen, drawn by four matched geldings and accompanied by three aides in long coats with velvet borders. She saw the uncertainty in Andrew’s face when Charles introduced them and drew his brother over to sit with the governor. Nicole remained at a distance, and she observed the familiarity with which Charles moved in the circle of power and influence. She was quickly picking up enough English to follow much of what was being said. She felt herself drawn by the allure of Charles’s world. She sensed something within herself, so new she could not name it. And she knew that it could be very easy to accept Charles’s offer and travel with him to England and wealth and fame. Very easy indeed.
Anne and Catherine were busy with plans for the coming marriage. Nicole had been included whenever she wished to join. She sensed Catherine’s desire to draw her closer still and felt she understood the older woman’s uncertainty and pain. She yearned to know her mother better, and her father, though the familiar titles rested uneasy on her heart, as though even thinking them in relation to two who were not Henri and Louise was somehow disrespectful to the memory of Henri and Louise.
Impossible choices. Whatever she did, it meant a loss. And this ultimate result of any decision she could make was far easier for her to see than possible rewards. What to do? Nicole sat in the hotel lobby’s far corner, sheltered by heavy drapes drawn back from the tall front windows, and watched Charles with the entourage of power and privilege. What to do?
A whisper of memory, a smiling bearded face above a stocky body, a seminarian who was both a stranger and a friend saying simply, Make the first choice. Yes. Choose rightly in the beginning, and all else would come clear.
Nicole closed her eyes, in the finest surroundings she had ever known, with people rushing about, and servants ready to leap at her call. And she prayed. I want only your will, my Lord. I want to please you. Please show me what your choice for me is. I do not know my way forward. Everything seems right, and everything seems wrong. What do you want me to do?
When she lifted her head, Catherine was standing before her, watching her with a smile. “Am I disturbing you?” she wondered.
“No, please join me,” she said, motioning to the chair beside her. “I was praying,” she added slowly.
“Oh,” Catherine said, “I’m so glad.”
Nicole could not return the warm smile, for the moment was too open and honest. “I don’t know what to do,” she murmured sorrowfully.
Catherine leaned toward her. “Nicole, sometimes the greatest moments of my life have been masked by impossible questions.”
“You may call me Elspeth if you wish. It’s all right. Really.”
“Elspeth.” Catherine’s smile wobbled a bit at the edges. “No, Andrew and I have discussed this. You should hold to the name that is yours by heritage. In my heart you will always be my Elspeth, but you are also the lovely Nicole, raised by Henri and Louise. As part of this legacy, I will call you by that name.”
Nicole stared at the woman, this stranger she felt impossibly close to, whose very presence was enough to make her want to burst into tears. She managed, “Thank you.”
Catherine reached for Nicole’s hand, then hesitated and let it fall back into her lap. “You and I have talked about our histories, about some similarities but mostly about the differences. Though there were times when I was sure I could not bear the loss of my own flesh and blood a single day longer, I have found life to be good. There have been so many blessings I wake up some nights fearing that I have let some slip. That I have not been thankful enough. That I have forgotten to cherish something to its fullest.”
The words opened a thousand doors, revealing not just a woman, but a heart and a soul. Nicole did not know why she felt such an urge to weep. But she would not allow herself to lose any of this moment in tears.
Catherine seemed unaware of the effect of her words. “Part of learning to count my blessings is accepting that many of them I would not have chosen if it had been left to me. I must first give up any attempt to compare what was with what might have been. By accepting God as my Shepherd, I must also accept the path He sets me upon—and the blessings from whatever circumstances of life.”
Nicole found herself unable to more than no
d. But she was sure Catherine did not see this, for sorrow was etched so deeply upon the woman’s features that it was unlikely she was noticing anything beyond her own inner thoughts.
There was a long moment of silence, punctuated by the noise and bustle in the hotel’s lobby. Finally Catherine said in a voice so quiet the words could easily have been lost entirely, “It also means that I must accept His will when it comes to those I love.”
Nicole wanted to protest, to say something comforting in the face of the obvious pain Catherine was feeling. But she could not speak. Catherine went on, speaking to the hands in her lap, “What I am trying to say, my dear, is that if you feel it is your destiny to go back to England with Charles, then know you shall travel with my blessing.” The final word quavered, and a single tear traced its way unnoticed down Catherine’s face. She repeated, more unsteadily still, “You will always be in my heart and my prayers, wherever you go.”
Nicole closed her eyes, desperate for answers she knew she could not find for herself. She felt as though her heart were crying out with a voice attempting to shake the heavens with its strength, Tell me what to do.
When Guy and his sons returned from Minas, they reported the good news that the long-hidden treasure had been found. Accompanied by Catherine, Emilie, Anne, Nicole, Charles, and Andrew, the adventurers went straight to the bank. Charles hefted one of the filthy sacks, brushed off as much dirt as he could, and carried it through the bank’s main lobby and up the stairs to the senior official’s office. Guy followed with the second one. The sacks had to be carried from underneath, for the burlap had rotted and the seams were splitting. Charles only noticed how dirty he had become when the banker’s aide protested as the sacks were deposited upon the table’s polished surface. The banker waved the aide outside and carefully used his letter opener to split the seams. The rest of the group crowded into the office, craning to see what the sacks held.
Together the three men separated the treasure into two piles. The larger by far was made up of plate, most of which was silver. The smaller was coinage drawn from a vast array of denominations and countries. There were gold Louis, sovereigns, ducats, even a few pesos from the most southern colonies. Charles watched Nicole’s uncle separate the coins and heard his murmurs of delight. The man had probably never seen so much money in one place before.
“My friend,” Charles said to Guy, speaking slow and careful French so the banker also might follow his words, “I am happy to say that it looks as though you have considerable wealth here.” Charles paused to look once more over the pile of money. “I cannot say for certain,” he continued, “but I would estimate you must have at least two hundred gold sovereigns’ worth of coinage alone.”
Charles began scooping up the coins and settling them into the astounded banker’s hands. Charles continued, “I would suggest you pack up the plates and return them to the people of Vermilionville to keep as part of their heritage. Would you not agree, sir?”
“M-most assuredly,” the banker stammered in broken French.
“Then you will have your people count this coinage and issue a draft forthwith,” Charles instructed. “I will add to this my own promise of assistance to Henri.”
“What promise was this, m’sieur?” Guy asked.
“A long story, one for another time.” He gave Nicole a deep look, one that only added to the tumult in her mind and heart. Then Charles instructed the banker, “Make it for one thousand sovereigns even, and a second draft for an additional fifty sovereigns to Guy Belleveau.” To the gasps of the gathered clan, Charles hastened to add, “I would be most deeply grateful if you would please accept this gift, m’sieur. I feel certain Henri would agree that part of the money owed to your clan should be used to help you settle here in Acadia.”
Charles waited as Guy stammered his astonished thanks, then continued in English, “I have been doing some thinking, and I have an announcement to make.”
He had the attention of everyone in the room as he walked over to take a place between Catherine and Anne. He directed his words to the younger of the two. “I have found passage upon a swift ship bound for England.”
“Must you go so soon, brother?” Andrew asked, his voice full of genuine regret.
“I must,” Charles said, touched deeply by Andrew’s care for him. “I have already been away far too long.”
“When do you depart?”
“In three days.” He pressed through the murmur of protest, saying to Anne, “I am deeply sorry to miss your coming wedding, my dear. But I have been giving thought to a suitable wedding present.”
“But the lovely carpets—and quilts. It is not necessary for you to do more.”
“Oh, but it is.” He paused long enough for Catherine to translate for those who spoke no English, then said, “My contract with Captain Dillon’s ship continues through the end of this sailing season. But because I have found this passage back to England, I no longer personally require its service. I would therefore like to order the captain south, with all possible dispatch.”
Anne’s hands flew to her mouth. Charles was rewarded with a second gasp from Catherine, and a third from Nicole when the words were translated and the realization dawned. He went on, “I will invite Henri and Louise to travel north. They will be required to spend the winter here. But if they wish to avail themselves of it, I will arrange for the earliest possible passage for them back to Vermilionville in the spring.”
Anne said nothing, and nothing was required. The look in her eyes was the finest expression of gratitude Charles could ever want.
Chapter 36
That night they celebrated with a rather boisterous meal in Cyril and Anne’s new house. Tables were borrowed from the doctor’s office, benches from the waiting area, plates and silverware from the hotel. There was much laughter and translations that got started and never finished and delightful horseplay among Guy’s younger children. Charles felt a deep contentment and sense of satisfaction as he sat and laughed and talked with these, his family and new friends. It was a gift, not just for the night but for all the departures and farewells to come.
As though in confirmation of that gift, Nicole chose to walk alongside him back to the hotel. Her first comment, when night and a few paces distanced them from the others, was, “You knew that if my parents came up from Vermilionville, I would have to stay.”
“I sensed that you were leaning in this direction already,” Charles responded quietly.
Candlelight from a passing window painted Nicole’s features with warm hues. “It must have been hard for you.”
“In truth,” Charles confessed, “I have seldom known anything to feel more right.”
The silence was as comfortable as the night breeze, and after a half dozen paces, Nicole asked, “May I take your arm, Uncle Charles?”
“I would be most honored.”
She slipped her arm through his and said, “Until you said you were sending for my parents, I did not know what I was to do. It seemed as though all I could see before me was what I would lose. Every choice was wrong.”
“Does that mean you were tempted by my offer?”
“Very.” Though the night was warm, he could feel her shiver. “So much so that it frightened me.”
“Perhaps,” Charles ventured, “it is possible for you to do both.”
“How—what do you mean?”
“Stay the winter here with your families,” he said carefully. “Then you could come join me in England in the spring.”
He dared not look at her for fear he had been too bold. Finally she replied, “I will think on this. And pray about it.”
And once again Charles felt a sense of reward, a true and lasting rightness. “I can ask,” he replied, “for nothing more.”
The comfort of the crackling fire warmed more than the body as Nicole sat sipping hot cider from a heavy mug. Anne had gone for a walk with her fiancé. Her wedding date had been postponed. They would wait for Henri and Louise, however long it mig
ht take them to make the journey. Cyril had not complained about the postponement, knowing how much the presence of her other parents would mean to his bride. But he told her with serious countenance that if God answered his prayers, there would never be a ship to make this journey in a shorter time.
Nicole thought how wonderful it was for Anne to be looking toward her wedding day. What if she had agreed to marry Jean Dupree? For the first time Nicole truly realized what a dreadful mistake that would have been. Only God had saved her from it, at a time when she really didn’t know Him.
Andrew had come into the sitting room of their hotel suite and was quietly watching Nicole. He asked through Catherine, “Are you weary?”
Nicole hid a yawn behind her hand. But at the same time that her body was urging her toward bed, she felt strangely refreshed. Perhaps it was because the inner struggle was over. Because she had stopped trying to figure everything out on her own. “Yes, I’m tired. But Mama must be more so.”
“I am exhausted, I will admit,” Catherine acknowledged from the other side of the fireplace. The warm glow in her eyes was more than reflection from the coals. “I don’t think it was the journey itself as much as all the excitement since our arrival. I’ve never had so many things happen in such short order. So much coming and going.”
She stopped to translate for her husband, who said, “I do hope Charles’s return journey will go more smoothly than the voyage over.” Andrew hesitated, then asked gently, “Might we ask if you have reached any decision?”
Nicole dropped her gaze and looked down at the cider swirling about the bottom of her cup.
“You are leaning toward his offer?” asked Catherine in a small voice.
Nicole looked over at Catherine for a long moment, then said, “I am.” She had to admit it. She was leaning in that direction—unless God clearly gave her reason to change her course. “But not until the spring, so that I can be here to greet Louise and Henri and join in Anne’s wedding.”
The Sacred Shore Page 23
