When she came back to the kitchen, Emilie was busy setting the table for dinner with Paul-Emile and Victor. Angeline smiled at the scene. Of course she didn’t want to remarry. She wanted to keep living exactly the way they were living now. She wanted to raise her children with Emilie, share the house chores with her, as well as every moment of hardship and happiness. She wanted to go to the beach with her on Sundays, even in the bitter cold of January, when they just sat close together on the sleigh and gazed at the white sea in silence for a few minutes before turning the horses around to go back home.
Every moment with Emilie was precious and she didn’t want to lose any of them to marry a man she didn’t love. She didn’t want to share her bed with a man, be forced to have sexual intercourse with him. Not when her most tender, intimate thoughts were filled with Emilie. Not when her attraction to Emilie kept growing every day to the point where she’d prefer not being touched again to being touched by anyone else. But she didn’t know how she could avoid Father Roy’s will, how she could avoid God’s will.
Angeline went to the stove where Emilie had started to ladle soup into bowls and, holding Noelle in one arm, she caressed Emilie’s back with her free hand. Emilie turned to her and Angeline brought her hand to Emilie’s face, hoping Emilie could see in her eyes what she truly wanted more than anything. Emilie’s smile told her she did.
Emilie lay in Angeline’s bed wearing a simple white nightgown, her brain racing as she stared blankly at the ceiling. Since Noelle’s birth, Emilie had started sleeping in Angeline’s bed with her. It allowed her to help when Noelle needed something in the middle of the night. Angeline could feed her and then get some rest while Emilie rocked the baby back to sleep.
Emilie had hesitated when Angeline had first asked her to share her bed, but she’d figured she could smother her desires if it meant she was helping Angeline. Sleeping with Angeline was not always easy, especially when it was cold and Angeline snuggled against Emilie’s body in the middle of the night, seeking warmth, but Emilie was getting used to keeping her needs and emotions under control. She’d even thought she was pretty good at it until she’d lost her temper earlier at the possibility of Angeline marrying a man.
She’d foolishly hoped they could keep living as they had for the past four months, but deep down she knew that even if Angeline didn’t try to meet a man, the priest would eventually come around to remind her of her duty. It took her back to the day she’d heard her father defy Father Lavoie’s will, telling his wife he wouldn’t risk her life by having more children. She’d feared for her father that day, but now she wished she and Angeline were brave enough to stand up to Father Roy the same way her father had refused to listen to Father Lavoie.
Emilie turned to her side and propped herself up on her elbow, holding her head in her hand as she watched Angeline walk back and forth in front of the crib with Noelle in her arms, putting her to sleep. Like Emilie, she wore a white cotton nightgown, her curly brown hair falling to the middle of her back. Emilie never tired of looking at Angeline like this, in her most simple garments, made with such light fabric that Emilie could guess the curves of Angeline’s body as she moved across the room in the faint light of the oil lamp burning on the nightstand. She was so beautiful.
Emilie kept watching and became nervous when she saw Angeline finally carefully lay the baby in her crib. Angeline would certainly want to address the reaction she’d had earlier, and she didn’t quite know how to explain it without telling Angeline she wanted to be the only one sharing her bed for the rest of their lives.
Angeline climbed into bed but instead of killing the light as she usually did as soon as she got under the covers, she turned to face Emilie.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Emilie offered, hoping her quick apology would limit the conversation and especially Angeline’s questions.
Emilie was taken by surprise when Angeline, instead of reprimanding or interrogating her as she’d expected, took Emilie’s free hand and brought it to her lips to kiss it tenderly.
“Shh, I understand. I don’t want to get married, Emilie. I really don’t. You must believe me.” Angeline’s eyes welled up and Emilie let herself fall to her back so she could gather Angeline into her arms and let her cry against her shoulder. “I like our life the way it is,” she added between sobs.
Emilie’s heart swelled with joy. “So do I, Angeline. I don’t even think of Boston anymore. My place is here with you and the children. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”
Angeline’s sobs slowly subsided and she placed a hand on Emilie’s stomach as she sighed. Emilie felt the heat of the contact through her nightgown and focused to keep her breathing regular. She was only briefly relieved when Angeline removed her hand from her stomach. She used it to raise her upper body and move her face over Emilie’s, a smile on her lips. A smile on full lips that were just inches from hers. Emilie had to close her eyes to make sure her mouth wouldn’t decide on its own to close the gap.
“But Father Roy won’t let us keep living this way, Emilie. You know that.”
Emilie opened her eyes to help convey the seriousness of her message. “If this life of ours is what you really want, Angeline, trust me. We’ll find a way.”
“I do trust you, Emilie. And this life of ours is what I want more than anything,” Angeline whispered, her voice slightly breaking on the last words.
Emilie licked her dry lips and held her breath, wondering how long Angeline would hover over her mouth and how long she could keep herself from kissing her. She thought she imagined Angeline’s lips getting closer to hers until she unmistakably felt the pressure of Angeline’s mouth against hers. The kiss was brief and almost chaste but it was undeniably a kiss and Angeline had initiated it. Angeline pulled her mouth away but remained merely inches from Emilie’s face. Emilie could see the flame of the oil lamp dancing in Angeline’s eyes. She remained immobile, wondering what Angeline might do next.
“I want this too, Emilie,” Angeline murmured, brushing her lips against Emilie’s again.
“Are you sure?” Emilie asked, tempted to not wait for Angeline’s answer to unleash her long repressed hunger.
“Yes, Emilie. I want you to show me. What you did with Kate. How you touched her. I want you to make love to me.”
Emilie gasped. She didn’t need more convincing.
She rolled Angeline over until she was the one on top, but not necessarily in control. She felt Angeline’s hands roam through her short hair and enjoyed being pulled toward Angeline’s lips. She knew she wouldn’t be pushed away this time. Angeline wanted this. She’d asked for it, was demanding it with every move she made. There was nothing desperate in Emilie’s kiss this time. When she took hold of Angeline’s lips with her own, when she tasted her mouth with her tongue, every movement was purposeful, calm, assertive, and saying the same thing: this is what was meant to be, this is who we are.
Encouraged by Angeline’s moans and the way she dug her fingers into the tender skin at the back of her neck, Emilie kept kissing her as she skillfully unbuttoned the four buttons of Angeline’s nightgown. She tore her lips from Angeline’s and before she moved her mouth to the newly exposed flesh, she made eye contact with Angeline. Reassured by eyelids heavy with desire, the undeniable yearning she read in Angeline’s expression, she smiled her satisfaction and started kissing down Angeline’s neck, pushing the cotton of the unbuttoned nightgown until she could access the soft flesh of one breast.
When she took an erect nipple into her mouth, she felt tears run down her cheeks to Angeline’s breast. She’d wanted this for so long. She’d imagined the smell, the softness of Angeline’s skin so many times, it was difficult to register that it was really happening. Angeline’s nipple was really in her mouth, every flick of her tongue, brush of her lips and suction of her mouth making Angeline’s body squirm with pleasure.
“Oh, Emilie, this is so much better,” Angeline whispered through appreciative whimpers.
; “Better than what?” Emilie asked before bringing her face back over Angeline’s to hear the answer.
“Better than my dreams,” Angeline confessed.
“You dreamed about this?” Emilie inquired with a playful smile, holding the nipple that had been in her mouth just a moment before between her thumb and index finger. Angeline simply nodded, bashful.
“And did you dream about this?” Emilie let go of Angeline’s nipple and pushed the covers off their bodies to caress Angeline’s nude thighs just under her nightgown. Angeline nodded again and closed her eyes tight, trembling under Emilie’s touch.
“And what about this?” Emilie brought her hand higher under Angeline’s nightgown and pressed it against the cotton of her underwear between her legs. She felt wetness through Angeline’s drawers and Angeline cried out in surprise and elation. Emilie slid her hand into the waist of the drawers and went back to Angeline’s sensitive mound of flesh. She sprinkled Angeline’s neck and face with kisses as she maneuvered her fingers into Angeline’s sex and familiarized herself with all of her folds, depths and the small bud she knew would bring her so much gratification.
Soon she knew what made Angeline sigh, moan, and writhe under the touch of her hand and she felt Angeline’s pleasure build. She pressed her mouth hard against Angeline’s just before she reached climax, feeling every vibration of her moans through her mouth and ever tremor of her ecstasy through her hand.
“Oh, Angeline, you’re so lovely,” Emilie whispered tenderly as Angeline slowly came back down from the heights of her orgasm. “I love you.” She kissed Angeline again, this time more softly.
“I love you too,” Angeline answered in a breath.
Emilie held Angeline throughout that night, feeling the weight of Angeline’s head on her heart yet knowing that her heart had never been so light.
When Angeline woke up on her back with Emilie’s hand on her stomach and her warm breath on her neck, she felt exposed. And panicked. She looked down at Emilie’s hand and saw her own breast spilling out of her unbuttoned nightgown. She hurried to button up the garment and Emilie turned around in her sleep, freeing Angeline of any contact.
Angeline sighed with relief. She’d wanted Emilie’s touch last night. She thought they could be together in every way. Been certain she wanted it. Convinced that it was meant to happen and that being intimate with Emilie would confirm the nature of their relationship and most of all would make her happy.
So why was she feeling so dirty this morning? Why were Father Roy’s words swirling across her mind, reminding her of her purpose as a woman? Why did loving Emilie seem so selfish in the light of day? She needed time to think it through.
She sat up in bed but Emilie reached around her waist with her arms and she felt a soft kiss on her neck. The shivers that the kiss sent through her body, the same that had brought her nothing but pleasure the night before, made her entire body tense up.
Emilie must have felt it because she immediately let go of her and when Angeline got out of bed and turned around she saw Emilie sitting on her side of the bed, her chin on her bent knees and her arms tightly wrapped around her legs. Her position was defensive and her expression worried.
“Are you all right, Angeline? About what we did last night?” Her voice was small and hesitant. She seemed terrified. Angeline wanted to comfort her, but she needed to keep her distance even more.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, I see,” Emilie simply said, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“I think I just need to think about it, Emilie.”
“It wasn’t my idea, Angeline.”
She was right. Angeline had been the one initiating the kiss. She’d been the one asking Emilie to make love to her. “I know. I thought…” Her voice trailed off and Emilie waited patiently. She didn’t want to explain now. She couldn’t explain now. She just needed time to think it through, she kept repeating herself. “I just need some space to think about it, Emilie. Please understand.”
“Do you want me to go back to Boston?”
Emilie’s question heightened the level of panic that had already paralyzed Angeline. Despite her doubts and questions about what had happened last night, Angeline was still absolutely certain she wanted Emilie to stay with her and the children. “No,” she hurried to answer. “I don’t want you to go, Emilie. Not ever.”
At Emilie’s tentative smile, showing a hint of hope, Angeline quickly added, “But I think it might be a good idea for you to sleep upstairs tonight.” She turned around before she could see the effect her declaration had on Emilie’s expression and went to the crib where Noelle had just awakened.
Chapter Thirty-Three
February 1906
Emilie stirred the pea soup. She rarely cooked in Angeline’s kitchen. They agreed that Angeline was a better cook overall but Angeline had soon admitted that Joseph had been right. There was no pea soup as good as his mother’s and Emilie had years of practice to replicate the recipe to perfection. Besides, Emilie was making the famous soup today because they were expecting her friend, Renald. They would discuss books over lunch.
Emilie glanced at Angeline, who was busy picking up things around the house, and she smiled. Renald might have been a good friend to Emilie, but to Angeline he was still the town’s doctor and she was extremely nervous at the thought of welcoming him as a guest in her house. Angeline bent over to pick up the train Victor had left on the floor and Emilie turned back to her soup. If she stared at Angeline’s buttocks too long she knew memories of the passionate night they’d shared a few weeks ago would come back to her mind and she couldn’t let that happen.
Living under the same roof as Angeline without being able to touch her or kiss her had always been difficult, but since that night it had become pure torture. Now she knew what Angeline’s body looked like, the way her skin felt, tasted and smelled. She knew how Angeline reacted to her touch and she knew her most intimate scent, the scent of her arousal. Emilie thought she’d missed what she’d never had before, but now that she’d had everything she missed it even more, with every fiber of her being. If Angeline said something or moved in any way that brought her back to that night, Emilie was left with an instant dry mouth and a lump the size of a wool ball in her throat. Torture, there was no other word for it.
She’d thought about going back to Boston, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. There was a lot more at stake than her relationship with Angeline and her frustration. There were four little creatures, five if she counted the dog sitting by her side, who’d grown used to her presence and needed her in their life. And she needed them just as much.
“The doctor’s almost here, we saw his sleigh on the hill,” Paul announced as he ran into the house.
“All right, you go and bring your brother and sister back inside,” Angeline ordered and she busied herself straightening the Sunday dress she’d especially worn on a Saturday for Renald’s visit.
“You look lovely,” Emilie said in an attempt to reassure Angeline on her appearance. The dark blush that colored Angeline’s face made her smile. “It’s nothing more than lunch with a friend, you know. He’s not here as a doctor today.”
“I know,” Angeline said as she smiled for the first time that day. “Thank you for reminding me again.”
They stared at each other and Emilie noticed not for the first time how much the way they looked at each other had changed since that night she’d made love to Angeline. They’d always been able to understand what the other was saying through their eyes before. Now it seemed their eyes tried to communicate even more, but through a dense cloud of confusion that hadn’t been there before. Paul came back inside, followed by Victor and Marie-Ange, just as Noelle was making herself heard from the bedroom, waking up from her nap. “I’ll go check on her,” Angeline said.
“Perfect, and I’ll help the children become children again,” she said mockingly as she approached Paul, Victor and Marie-Ange, who’d already started—albeit with great
difficulty—peeling away the layers of snow-coated wool clothing they wore to play outside.
“All right, snowmen, tell me the truth. What have you done with my niece and nephews?” The children giggled and let Emilie help them remove the remaining layers of clothing. They were helping Emilie hang their wet clothes on hooks by the woodstove when Emilie heard a knock on the door.
Angeline, who had had time to come back from the bedroom with Noelle in her arms, got to the door before Emilie. “Father Roy?” she heard Angeline ask.
What in the hell was he doing here?
“What a surprise,” Angeline continued.
“What a surprise indeed,” Emilie added as she hurried to the door and stood ready to take the priest’s heavy overcoat.
“I thought we could continue the conversation we started last month, Angeline,” the priest announced. “I thought you’d be at the store,” he added to Emilie as he handed her his coat.
No such luck, Emilie thought before she answered the priest. “Theo didn’t need me today.”
“Will you stay for lunch, Father Roy?” Angeline asked politely.
“Of course, please join us. We’ll be ready to eat as soon as Doctor Michaud arrives,” Emilie added as she went to hang the priest’s coat on the hook that was the farthest from the stove. She didn’t want to keep the children’s clothes from drying and she honestly didn’t care whether Father Roy was forced to wear a cold coat to get back on his sleigh.
“Doctor Michaud?” the priest asked incredulously, as if a doctor didn’t belong in Angeline’s humble home.
“Yes, he’s a good friend of mine.” Emilie enjoyed the expression of shock in Father Roy’s pale, wrinkled face.
“In that case I’ll stay, thank you. It smells delicious in here.”
“Emilie made her mother’s famous pea soup. You will love it, Father.”
The priest squinted at Emilie as if he couldn’t believe she could cook. Fortunately Emilie heard another knock at the door before she could tell him that women who work and wear short hair can still, by some miracle unknown to men, manage to make a perfectly good pea soup.
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