Emilie (The Cajun Series Book 1)

by Claire, Cherie

  Like so many times during the past week, Lorenz scanned the horizon for witnesses, then leaned down and delivered a deep kiss. And like all those times before, Emilie felt it in every inch of her body.

  This was becoming too familiar, she thought. They could never keep their hands off each other. Ever since that kiss in her room three nights before, they had found every chance to sneak a little privacy and engage in lovemaking. And usually, when the kisses started, so did other things. Emilie worried their self-control would fail them one day and they would cross a dangerous line.

  Lorenz moved a hand to Emilie’s bottom and pressed her tightly against him. She knew instantly how deep Lorenz’s desires were and was surprised to find herself equally aroused. So this was what all the fuss was about, Emilie thought. Perhaps marriage wasn’t such a bad idea.

  Suddenly, the cow bellowed, unhappy to have its milking interrupted. Emilie pulled back and gazed at the cows. “We shouldn’t have started something we couldn’t finish.”

  Lorenz smiled slyly. “I’d be happy to finish it.”

  “I was talking about the milking.” Emilie pushed him away and gave him a playful punch on the arm, just as she had a hundred times before as a child. This time, Lorenz caught her arm and pulled her close, delivering one last, satisfying kiss before he let her go. They moved away from each other then, the heat still lingering between them.

  “This wouldn’t have to end if we were married,” Lorenz reminded her.

  “You promised. You said you wouldn’t speak of it.”

  A silence followed, but Emilie knew it wouldn’t last long. “Damn it, Em, will you at least tell me why?”

  Emilie slid her stool into place and resumed milking. “No,” she stated firmly.

  “You are the most stubborn female I have ever met.”

  “I’m stubborn? I’m not the one who proposed marriage three times.”

  She shouldn’t have said it. It was insensitive and mean spirited. But like so many times before, the words took a life of their own, flying out of her mouth before she had time to think of the consequences. She started to apologize, but knew it was too late.

  “You’re right,” Lorenz answered, the hurt apparent in his voice. “I must be crazy to keep asking you.”

  Emilie continued milking, while an aching settled in her heart. She was so confused. She didn’t wish to speak of marriage, yet she didn’t want Lorenz to stop asking. She wasn’t ready to agree to matrimony, but she didn’t want to stop being close. The only thing Emilie knew for sure was that she wasn’t ready to agree to anything except continuing on to St. Gabriel and finding her father. Why couldn’t Lorenz leave well enough alone for now?

  “Lorenz, I didn’t mean to...”

  Emilie heard Lorenz rise, pulling a full bucket of milk with him. “Forget I asked,” he said as he picked up the basket of eggs and left the barn.

  A few more pulls and she would have it, Emilie thought as she glanced down at her near-filled bucket. She had to catch up with him, so she quickened the speed. As the last drops of milk emerged, Emilie grabbed the bucket and ran after Lorenz, catching up with him only a few steps from the house.

  “Wait,” she cried, breathless from the run. “Please don’t leave it this way.” Lorenz turned but his eyes stared at the horizon behind her. “All I’m asking for is a little time,” she implored him.

  Lorenz looked at her then, his anger still brewing inside him. “And all I’m asking for is a simple explanation.”

  “I don’t have a simple explanation.”

  Lorenz placed the bucket and basket at their feet and grabbed her shoulders. “It’s very clear. You either love me or you don’t. How hard is that to explain?”

  Emilie pulled away. “You promised.”

  Lorenz shook his head and sighed. “Yes, I promised,” he uttered through gritted teeth. “Until St. Gabriel.”

  Emilie hated to see him anguish, but she wasn’t going to give in. She needed time and that was that. Lorenz was a big boy, capable of delivering one small promise. Still, she hated to see him suffer. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  To her surprise, Lorenz smiled, but it wasn’t the reaction Emilie had hoped for. A darkness lingered in the depths of his eyes and his smile was too forced. “I’m sorry too,” he said coldly, sending a shiver through her. Then he picked up the buckets and headed into the house.

  The road to the Mayer store rolled on forever. Just when Lorenz thought the next curve would reveal the building, he was greeted with more fields along the road that followed the curving Mississippi River.

  When yet another farmhouse came in view, Lorenz began to hum J’ai Passé Devant Ta Porte, a song he learned in childhood. It was an appropriate tune for his dark mood, of a lover who laments that his sweetheart does not care, refusing to answer when he passes her door and wishes her goodnight.

  “Typical,” Lorenz muttered, his anger fueled by the fact that men had had difficulties dealing with women for centuries.

  One simple answer. All he had asked for was one simple answer.

  Lorenz kicked a pinecone lying across his path and sent the item flying. He was tired of Emilie’s game, tired of waiting, tired of the mystery of it all. He knew she cared for him — her kisses told him so! Why, then, wouldn’t she consent to marriage, to consummate a relationship they had shared since they were old enough to speak? Nothing made sense.

  The sun was beginning to set and Lorenz picked up his step. He had to make it to the store to exchange Anna’s bread for supplies and return home before dark. The store couldn’t be much farther. Anna said it was only a few leagues. But the sun was quickly setting and there was to be no moon that night.

  He knew Emilie would worry if he was late. She always worried. There wasn’t a time when Lorenz failed to make a meal or was detained that Emilie didn’t come rushing out the door to greet him and assure herself he was not harmed. How could a woman who cared that much and kissed that passionately not love him in return and wish to spend the rest of her life married to him?

  Lorenz pulled back his foot and sent another pinecone sailing through the air. He felt powerless and frustrated and wanted nothing more than to punch something and punch it hard.

  He thought of Colonel Winslow in the church that afternoon at Grand Pré. There was a prime target. Winslow, in his frivolous red uniform, had offered up a half-baked apology that what he was about to do was distasteful to his “make and temper,” as if that could alleviate the suffering he later inflicted on the Acadian town.

  Even thirteen years later, Lorenz remembered every detail of that fateful afternoon. The English soldiers had marched in and took positions at the door and windows while Winslow announced the royal order that all Acadian families were to be removed from the country. The men had argued feverously, then began to plead when the realization that they were trapped set in. For the first time in his life, Lorenz wanted to beat an English soldier senseless. Thirteen years later, he still did.

  The store finally appeared in the latest turn of the river, but Lorenz had not managed to walk off his anger. He was tired of being helpless, tired of living in exile, tired of obeying the commands of foreign governments. And he was tired of being rejected.

  When he entered the store and placed the warm loaves of bread on the counter, Lorenz failed to see the Spanish soldiers to his rear. When they startled him with questions, getting his attention by poking him in the side with a bayonet, Lorenz was all too happy to comply.

  “What do you mean he’s being detained?” Emilie asked. “Where is he?”

  Phillip pulled on his coat and grabbed his hat heading for the door. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. All the man said was Lorenz is being held at the store.”

  “Who said this? Where are you going?” Emilie felt the panic rise in her chest, threatening to cut off her air. Lorenz was in trouble. She knew it.

  “Our neighbor Pierre Bourgeois said the Spanish soldiers had detained Lorenz at the store,” Math
ias explained, pulling on his boots. “We’ll investigate and let you know.”

  “I’m going with you,” Emilie said, grabbing her own coat. There was no way she was going to be left behind.

  Mathias placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, mon amie. We’ll bring him back.”

  “Not without me,” she insisted. There was absolutely no way they were leaving without her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous child,” Anna said. “Let the men deal with the soldiers. You and I will wait together.”

  “I’m tired of waiting,” she practically shouted. She hadn’t meant to be rude to her new friend, but she had spent thirteen years waiting. She couldn’t be left behind. “You have to take me with you.”

  Phillip opened the door and paused on the threshold. “Nonsense, Emilie. You’ll only slow us down. Be a good girl and wait here. I’m sure everything is fine. We’ll be back with Lorenz before you know it.”

  Be a good girl? Emilie was livid. “I’ll follow you,” she warned him. “I’m going to the store whether you like it or not.”

  Mathias looked over to Phillip who was clearly shocked at Emilie’s behavior, but the kindly German seemed to be relenting. Phillip’s return glance reproached Mathias for giving in to her crazy demands.

  “I will follow you,” she repeated. “You can’t keep me here.”

  Phillip threw up his hands and headed out the door.

  “Come on,” Mathias said.

  Emilie didn’t wait to be asked twice. She bolted through the door, pulling on her coat in the process. “Be careful,” she heard Anna cry out as the three entered the dark, moonless night.

  “Stay close,” Phillip barked out to her, clearly upset that she was accompanying them. “You won’t do Lorenz any good by getting lost and having us hunt you down.”

  “Why is he being detained?” she asked them, rushing to keep up with their long strides. “What did he do?”

  “Pierre didn’t elaborate,” Mathias said quietly.

  The men said nothing more, causing Emilie’s imagination to run wild. The panic returned. What would she do if something happened to Lorenz? What if he was to be exiled, like the Spaniard at New Orleans had warned them? The Spanish more than likely knew that she and Lorenz had jumped ship; they knew of the Braud brothers flight. They could be preparing to send Lorenz into exile.

  The panic intensified. She should have expected as much from Lorenz. He was always walking the fence between safety and trouble. He was nearly arrested in Port Tobacco for theft from the English merchants, routinely reprimanded by the Jesuits who tried to teach him. He balked at most authority figures. Her mother had spent many a day convincing others of Lorenz’s worth when he was caught at crimes or talking back to adults. Things had gotten better as he matured, but Emilie knew there was a fire brewing inside him, a relentless anger waiting to emerge.

  She had refused him once again, delaying his questions on marriage. It was just the spark he needed.

  And that was precisely the problem. Why would she want to marry a man who would lose his temper so easily and likely lose his life in the process? Why would she wish to end up like her mother, alone in the world waiting?

  Damn him, she thought. How could he be so senseless?

  “Emilie?” Mathias called out, making sure she was keeping up.

  “I’m right here.” The panic had subsided, replaced by anger. If Lorenz wanted answers, she would give him some. As soon as they got him safely back home.

  Emilie nearly collided into the back of Mathias when the men halted. “Someone’s approaching,” Phillip said.

  For a moment, Emilie feared for her own safety. Spanish soldiers could easily arrest her as well. Her lack of forethought, much like Lorenz’s, might get her exiled.

  She felt Mathias’s hands on her arms making sure she was behind him. “Say nothing,” he whispered.

  “That sounds like Phillip Bellefontaine,” she heard Lorenz call out in the darkness.

  “Lorenz,” Phillip answered. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes,” Lorenz said, his voice now in their company.

  “Merde.” Emilie heard Phillip follow with a few more choice words as he slung his rifle on to his shoulder. “Damn it Lorenz, you gave us a scare.”

  Emilie might have been shocked at such vulgarity used in her presence, but her thoughts resembled Phillip’s. She was ready to give Lorenz her own doze of reproach when the men started back toward the house.

  “What happened?” Mathias asked, his voice taking on a stern tone Emilie had not witnessed before. “You had us all worried.”

  “It was nothing,” Lorenz said. “The Spaniards asked me some questions, wanted to know where I was from and where I was going. I didn’t like being interrogated and so I refused to answer. They weren’t too happy with me, naturally, but after our tempers cooled, we came to an understanding.”

  “Tempers?” Phillip asked. “How confrontational did this conversation get?”

  Lorenz laughed solemnly and Emilie’s heart quickened. She recognized that laugh; it was usually the one he delivered after being caught at a misdeed. “Let’s just say they look worse than I do?”

  Emilie nearly met with Mathias’s back for a second time. “Are you crazy? You are traveling illegally through this colony, one administered by these men, and you have the nerve to put your life and that of your financé’s into jeopardy?”

  “You don’t understand,” Lorenz began, the mirth in his tone long gone. “They were harassing me.”

  “I don’t care what they were doing to you,” Mathias continued. “They have the power to put you and Emilie in jail or expel you from the colony. They could jail myself and Anna for harboring you.”

  A silence lingered in the Louisiana darkness. Emilie wanted to view Lorenz’s face, to hope that he at last could understand the folly in his hasty actions, but all she could make out in the night were dark shapes hovering before her.

  “I’m sorry, Mathias,” Lorenz finally said. “I never meant to harm you or your wonderful wife. I will be forever grateful for your hospitality.

  “But,” he continued solemnly. “I am weary of colonial governments telling me what to do. I know you will never understand this, but I will never allow a soldier to force me to do anything ever again. I will die first.”

  A silence befell the group again, until Emilie heard Mathias sigh. “These soldiers are not your enemy. They are not the English, my friend. They have allowed you to settle into their land and given you food and tools to do so. Do not be hasty in your anger and cause harm to the wrong men.”

  Emilie felt Mathias leave her side and heard the men following. She could barely make out the road at her feet, but followed it, listening for the men’s voices to guide her.

  “Do the soldiers know who you are?” Phillip asked.

  “I used my father’s name,” Lorenz answered. “They are looking for Honoré and Alexis Braud, the brothers who went into hiding. They mentioned others, but didn’t give names.”

  “Then you must leave immediately,” Mathias said softly.

  Emilie knew Mathias hated sending them away; they had all become good friends in the three days spent at the Frédéric’s homestead. But if the soldiers were searching for them, it was best for all that they head north that night.

  “I’m sorry,” Lorenz repeated. “I never meant to cause harm to anyone.”

  “See that you don’t anymore,” Mathias said.

  The foursome neared the house and Emilie could make out the silhouettes of the men before her. When they reached the door and the light shining forth, Lorenz turned toward Mathias. “Please don’t tell Emilie about this. She worries so much about me.”

  Mathias placed a fatherly arm on Lorenz’s shoulder and squeezed, then opened the door to his home. “I won’t have to,” he said and entered the house.

  Phillip followed, sending Lorenz a scathing look as he passed. Lorenz paused at the threshold, afraid to turn around, knowing somehow
that she lingered at his back. When he finally sighed and gazed back toward Emilie, she gasped in horror. His right eye was badly bruised, turning a deep shade of purple and swollen shut. Blood had hardened about his nose, the result of a fist blow, she was sure. And there were cuts about his chin.

  “It’s not that bad,” he began, but Emilie didn’t let him finish. She gave his unharmed cheek a solid slap.

  “I’ll never marry you Lorenz Joseph Dugas,” she said, the tears pouring in torrents down her face. “Not if you’re the last Acadian man in Louisiana.”

  Emilie

  Chapter Seven

  “It won’t be much farther now,” Phillip said for the third time that morning. “I distinctly remember this bend in the river.”

  Lorenz felt the fire burn in his temple. Phillip had said the same thing about the last two curves in the Mississippi. He didn’t mind that the older Acadian’s memory was amiss, what he minded was Phillip’s insistence on small talk.

  “The sunny weather’s holding up nicely,” Phillip continued. “If we’re lucky, we should have a warm evening.”

  Lorenz didn’t want to be rude, especially after being the cause of the three of them fleeing in the middle of the night, following the river road north without the help of a moon. But he was dreadfully tired, his head throbbing from the injuries inflicted on him by the soldiers and the slap delivered by Emilie a painful remembrance. If Phillip Bellefontaine uttered another word, he would lose his mind for sure.

  “This has to be the last bend,” Phillip said. “I recognize the grove of oaks trees.”

  Lorenz gritted his teeth, stopped and turned back toward his companion. Since Emilie had refused to talk to Lorenz, she kept a good distance to the rear. The way he was feeling, he didn’t care what she did. Now if only Phillip would do the same.

  Phillip pulled the rifle from his shoulder and placed the butt on the ground, leaning into the barrel for support. From the look on his face, Lorenz knew Phillip got the message. “Just attempting to make conversation,” Phillip explained. “God knows I’m the only one trying.”