Out of the Ashes

by Tracie Peterson

  For twenty minutes her grandmother had worked to get her to open up. Enough was enough. “Of course, I saw his face, Grandmother! I couldn’t help looking at him every chance I had.” The tears she’d held in check since seeing Jean-Michel started in earnest now. “I know you mean well, but all these questions are just making it worse.”

  The older woman sat down on the chair. Her mouth dropped open and then shut.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out. But don’t you understand? Don’t you see? I’ve never stopped loving him. I am so ashamed. I was married and I was still in love with Jean-Michel. What does that say about me?”

  “It says that you should never have been parted from one another. Your husband . . . he knew you didn’t love him. He knew you didn’t wish to marry him and yet he imposed marriage upon you anyway.”

  “He imposed a great deal on me, but it doesn’t change the facts. It is my great shame and I will carry that to the grave.”

  Grandmother looked at her for a moment. “Did your husband know you loved another?”

  “Yes.” Katherine twisted her hands together. “I told him the first time we were left alone to discuss our engagement. I made it clear that I didn’t wish to marry him—that I was in love with another man. At first, he was ever so gentle and kind. He told me that arranged marriages often separated first loves, but that our love would soon blossom and surpass whatever it was that I thought I had with Jean-Michel. That was his game. He was a complete gentleman before we married. Afterward, however, he often berated me for the love I held for Jean-Michel.”

  “But he knew the truth. You kept nothing from him and therefore should bear no shame or guilt. You were ripped from the arms of the man you loved and forced into a most unholy union. That was never your choice. You honored your marriage vows and now you are released. You owe it to yourself to rekindle what you once had with Jean-Michel.”

  “But I can never marry again. Never! Not after what I went through with . . . him.”

  A knock at the door startled her and she put a hand to her forehead. It was all just too much to bear. She longed for a hot bath and bed.

  Grandmother rose and went over and opened the door. “Yes? . . . Thank you.” She closed the door. “There’s a note here for you.”

  Katherine took the envelope and recognized instantly the handwriting on the outside. Jean-Michel. She ran a hand over it. If only they could turn back time. But they couldn’t. She lifted the seal and pulled out the note.

  Katherine,

  I was hoping I could convince you to take a walk with me tomorrow. The wild flowers here are beautiful and I know you would enjoy them.

  It was lovely to see you again. I pray you are well.

  Jean-Michel

  “He’s asked me for a walk.”

  “How kind.” Grandmother stood and went toward the bathroom that divided their rooms. “I’ll give you some time to yourself. I’m really rather tired. I think I’ll turn in early. I love you, my dear.”

  “I love you too.” Katherine picked up a piece of stationery and a pen to write a reply. The daylight hours were so long now, she could never tell what time it was. But a glance at the clock informed her it was already 8:00 p.m.

  Staring out the window once again, she didn’t know what to say.

  There’d been a time that the words would have flowed and she wouldn’t have stopped until she’d written ten pages. But those days were gone. And even though she still loved him, she’d better take this opportunity to tell him the truth. If he still cared for her as Grandmother suggested, then it was better this way. She would be honest with him and he would have his disappointment and leave her for someone better suited to share his life. Yes, it was better this way—but better for whom, she couldn’t say.

  Jean-Michel,

  A walk would be nice. How about 1:00 p.m.?

  Katherine

  What would he think of her if he knew the whole truth? Would he believe the same things Randall did? It didn’t really matter anymore, because no matter how much she still loved him, her life was a pile of ashes. God may have forgiven her and made her new, but how could she ask forgiveness of Jean-Michel?

  Tomorrow she would have to find the words to tell him.

  13

  JUNE 9

  Collette walked along the river behind the hotel, wondering what would become of her. Oh, there was plenty of money for her future, and she’d love to go back to France, but now that Katherine had arrived, things were bound to change for her brother. Wouldn’t they?

  Her conversation outside the greenhouse with Cassidy that day came rushing back. Collette had never met such a loving, giving person. A complete stranger, yet she had taken the time to listen to Collette’s problems and offer encouragement.

  Was that how Christians acted all the time? Was that what Father wanted for her?

  Cassidy encouraged Collette to seek God as well. She’d also told her to concentrate on things that weren’t about . . . well, Collette.

  Think of others first. And not just of frivolous things, but of real needs.

  Collette had even dared to ask the question on her mind—how did one find happiness?

  The laughter of her new friend washed over her. “I don’t go looking for happiness. I live life. All the ups and downs, ins and outs. Appreciating each moment. Finding joy in all the little things.”

  Squeals and laughter came up behind her as a group of children ran past her toward the suspension bridge.

  Their joy made her want to run alongside them and giggle as well. But at nineteen, she supposed she should act her age.

  As far as she could tell, there were three boys and three girls. The two oldest boys seemed to enjoy teasing the oldest girl, who held the hand of the youngest girl. The little troop made their way across the bridge, and they stopped in the middle to look at the water on both sides.

  Then the two big boys spread out and started jumping up and down on either side of the four smaller children. The one older girl wrapped her arms around the smallest two, but that left the smaller boy on his own.

  What started out as laughter with the bouncing bridge soon became cries of terror.

  Collette dashed to the bridge and held on tight as the bridge bounced and swayed. “Intimidateurs absurdes . . .” Absurd bullies.

  She struggled to stay upright. Just wait until she got her hands on those boys for torturing the little ones.

  She was still several yards away when the small boy fell against the cables on one side of the bridge. No longer with sure footing, he screamed and flailed as the bridge swayed.

  The largest of the boys picked him up and put his feet on top of the main cable. “Oh, are you scared of the river, Davey?”

  “Stop it!” one of the girls cried out.

  Since the jumping had stopped, Collette could move quicker. As she reached the group she tried to look as stern as she could. “Stop this now! Put him down!”

  But instead of scaring the children into obedience, Collette’s words scared the tormentor—who had obviously been so intent on his teasing that he hadn’t seen her approach—and he let go of Davey.

  The boy fell from the bridge with a cry.

  Before she could think to do anything else, Collette jumped into the river after him.

  Frigid water rushed over her head. Where was the boy?

  “Help! Help me!” The cry reached her ears.

  She let the current of the river help her swim to the child, but when she reached him, his little body sank below the surface. With a swift kick of her feet, she propelled herself underwater and grabbed Davey’s jacket.

  They came to the surface sputtering and gasping.

  “Are you okay?” She looked into his glazed eyes.

  He nodded, his bottom lip quivering.

  “Bien. Now you help me by kicking your feet and we will get to shore, oui?”

  Another nod, but now the little tyke’s lips were turning blue.

  “Keep moving, Dav
ey. You can do it.”

  The shore seemed a mile away, but only because the current had taken them downriver. With a few last surges of energy, Collette had them up on the shore just as help arrived from the hotel staff.

  The sweet little boy looked into her face as someone wrapped a blanket around him. “Thank you, miss.” He closed his eyes and leaned on her shoulder.

  Collette was sure there was nothing sweeter in the world.

  Cassidy huffed and blew a strand of hair off her forehead.

  “Everything all right?” Mrs. Johnson made her way to Cassidy’s side.

  “I’m fine.” She sighed. “Let’s just say rolling out dough when your middle is growing by inches each day makes your arms a lot shorter. I can’t seem to reach quite as far. So then I have to waddle my way around the table to work at it from the other side.”

  Cook laughed.

  A deep voice came from behind Cassidy. “But it’s a very cute waddle.” Allan walked up beside her and kissed her on the cheek.

  She slipped her work towel off her shoulder to swat at him, but he moved.

  “Ah, and she also moves slower too.”

  Cassidy narrowed her eyes. “I would be careful of my words if I were you, Mr. Brennan.”

  Mrs. Johnson nodded heartily. “Very careful.” She pointed her wooden spoon at him. “Remember who feeds you.”

  He held up his hands in defeat. “I know when I’m licked.” He smiled and came close again. “How are you feeling?”

  Cassidy loved the sound of his voice. Especially when he was like this—so concerned about her and their baby. “I’m feeling quite good . . . oh!” The baby moved and she grabbed Allan’s hand and put it on her stomach. She’d been feeling the baby move for a few weeks now, and he hadn’t been able to feel it yet, but he expressed his desire over and over.

  His hand followed a trail across her waist. “Oh, my goodness! Does he do this all the time?” His eyes were wide in wonder.

  She laughed at him. One day he’d call the baby a “he” and the next he would say “she”—it didn’t matter to Cassidy, as long as the baby was healthy. “Yes, the baby moves a lot. Especially hearing Daddy’s voice.”

  “Hot diggety! That’s amazing.” He kissed her cheek again and ran toward the stairs. “I have to go tell the guys.”

  Cassidy glanced at Mrs. Johnson and they laughed together. The rest of the kitchen staff had gotten used to Mr. Brennan’s excitement about the baby.

  Only about three more months. Although if she kept expanding, she wouldn’t fit through the door anymore. And as much as she hated to admit it, she was feeling the exhaustion. Her feet and back ached much more than they ever had before. Even though she’d lost her temper at Allan and Mrs. Johnson early on for cautioning her, she was beginning to feel they were correct. She’d have to slow down soon.

  Mrs. Johnson came over and took the rolling pin from her. “Why don’t you let me finish that up? You go on upstairs and lie down for a bit.”

  Cassidy didn’t argue. She needed to get off her feet and soon.

  Heading up the back staircase, she took the steps slowly and untied her apron. A nap sounded really good about now. After that, she’d work on the list of baby names she and Allan had been compiling.

  Was it a boy or a girl? She wished she knew. It would be so much fun to be calling the babe by his or her name now. And it would be nice to plan. Pink for girl. Blue for boy.

  Cassidy shrugged and smiled to herself. She had plenty of time.

  Her shoe caught on something and Cassidy reached for the bannister. Unfortunately, her actions were too slow. She felt herself go backward in what seemed slow motion.

  Tumbling down the stairs, the only thing she could think of was the baby. With a scream that was sure to catch the attention of anyone within a mile radius, she wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to slow her descent before she plummeted all the way to the bottom.

  A bone-jarring thud told her she’d reached the floor as heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs. She was afraid to move.

  “Cassidy!” Her father’s voice made her open her eyes.

  “Cassidy!” Allan’s worried face was right behind her father.

  Her backside ached as well as her left side as she moved her leg. “I’m okay. Just thought the floor needed a hug.”

  Allan shook his head, “Oh, sweetheart, are you sure you’re all right?”

  She attempted to move, and everything hurt. “Maybe not.”

  Dad yelled down the hallway, “I need someone to go for the doctor!”

  More footsteps echoed around her, and she decided it was better to keep her eyes closed. Breathe deep. Calm down. Her arms were still wrapped around her middle, and when she felt the baby move, she let a sigh out and opened her eyes. “The baby . . . the baby just moved. I think we’re okay. Just maybe a bit bruised.”

  Her husband knelt in front of her and put his hands on either side of her face. “How far did you fall?”

  She looked up the stairs. “Almost the entire way. I was going upstairs to lie down.” Maybe he wouldn’t look so worried if he knew she was trying to take care of herself.

  “Do you think we can move you up there now?”

  She nodded.

  He wrapped his arms around her, but just as he was lifting, Thomas came bounding down the steps. “Help, we need help right away! Miss Collette jumped in the river to save the little Powell boy!”

  Dad looked at her.

  “Go. Allan’s with me, we’ll be fine.”

  Her father struggled with the decision to leave her—she could see it in his eyes—but she gave him a small smile. “Go.”

  As the crowd followed Thomas up the stairs, Allan reached down for her again. “Let’s get you up to bed and wait for the doctor to check and make sure you’re okay.”

  She nodded. Just rising up to stand hurt, and her head swam. And then . . .

  Oh no. She wasn’t sure about what she felt. But it scared her. Please God, no, it’s too soon!

  14

  JUNE 11

  Jean-Michel paced beside his sister’s bed, the thump of his cane growing louder with each pass.

  Dr. Reilly gave him a pointed look. “Mr. Langelier, your sister will be fine. I’ve already told you that. I think you can go rest in your room now.”

  “Non.” He shook his head. Collette couldn’t be abandoned. Besides, this doctor appeared quite young, so it was entirely possible he didn’t know what he was talking about.

  The doctor stood and approached him, successfully cutting off Jean-Michel’s path. “It’s not a suggestion, sir.”

  “I cannot leave her.”

  The doctor swiped his face. “Look, I just came back to check on her. The Powell boy is already up and running around again. Miss Langelier will be soon, I’m sure of it. She just needs a little more rest. There is no indication that anything else is wrong.”

  Movement from the bed caught his eye, and Jean-Michel leaned to see around the doctor.

  “Frère, I am fine.” Collette pushed herself up to a sitting position. “I just got a bit more chilled than little Davey.”

  The doctor went back over to her and put a hand to her forehead. “Mr. Langelier, she has no fever and no other symptoms. I simply wanted her to take it easy for a few days to ensure her health would return fully.”

  Collette smiled at her brother. “Truly. Go rest. Every time I open my eyes, you are here.” She looked at the doctor. “In fact, maybe after you rest, I’d like to go for a short walk if that is allowed?”

  “Most certainly. I would encourage it.” The doctor picked up his black bag. “And now, if you will excuse me, I’d like to check on Mrs. Brennan.” He exited the room.

  Jean-Michel went to Collette’s side and sat on the edge of the bed. “I was so concerned. . . . I didn’t know what would happen if I lost . . .”

  She patted his hand. “Don’t allow yourself those thoughts. I am fine, and more importantly, the Powell boy is fine.”r />
  “What made you think of jumping into the river?” He knew his tone was cross, but he couldn’t help the worry.

  “Someone had to save him! He would’ve drowned!”

  Jean-Michel saw his sister with new eyes. Not only had she done an unselfish and truly heroic act, but she seemed all grown up. It couldn’t have happened overnight. “I am proud of you, Collette.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Merci. But you know what? I think Father would be proud too. I’m beginning to see a hint of what he wanted for me. And I like how that feels. I’m sure I will still make poor decisions and disappoint, but it’s a start.” She brushed the tears away and smiled at him. “Now tell me, have you had a chance to speak with Katherine yet?”

  The question pierced his heart like a dagger. “Non. I wrote her a note when they first brought you back to the room and the doctor wasn’t sure how long it would take for you to recover.”

  “What exactly did you say to her in this note?”

  “That I wouldn’t be able to take our walk.”

  “That’s it?” She sat up straighter and made a face at him. A face he couldn’t decipher.

  “Well, I assumed that she’d heard what had happened. What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t going to leave you.”

  Collette sighed one of those sighs that he’d heard many times before. From several different women. Somehow, he felt a scolding would be forthcoming. Something along the lines of how men just didn’t understand. Didn’t he know better . . . etcetera.

  He waited.

  She took his hand and squeezed. “You must go write to her now. Then take a nap. You look horrible.”

  “Grandmother, I really need your assistance with this, please.” Katherine packed a small case.

  “My dear, I’m not really sure I understand why we need to leave right now. We just arrived in Curry—”

  “I can’t . . .” Tears choked her throat. How could she explain? She took a deep breath. “I can’t see him right now. I just can’t. I need time.”

  “I thought you were going to go on a walk with him?”