The boat quietly moved toward shore, but Emilie couldn’t wait. She jumped into the muddy waters, feeling her moccasins sink into the river’s bottom, then pushed herself through the waters toward the bank. Gabrielle met her halfway and the sisters hugged knee-deep in the river. Rose joined them, throwing her petite arms about Emilie but Gabrielle and Emilie had to grab her sleeves to keep her from succumbing to the river’s currents, which ran fast despite the proximity to shore.
The three laughed at the sight they made. Their arms wound about each other, tears streaming down their faces. Their skirts were soaking wet and Rose held on to their arms in a desperate attempt to remain standing. Emilie couldn’t stop hugging them. Two months had been a lifetime.
A voice shouted from the bank and Emilie looked up to see the group of spectators parting. She knew it was Maman so she let go of her sisters and moved toward shore. Just as her feet met solid ground, Marianne appeared, her hand over her mouth to hold back a sob.
“Maman,” Emilie said, the tears pouring forth, and they rushed into each other’s arms.
It didn’t matter that Emilie was now twenty-three and old enough to marry and begin a family of her own. She would never outgrow the comfort that only a mother could give. She buried her face into her mother’s shoulder and sobbed while Marianne placed a hand at her cheek and swayed in an effort to sooth her. “Don’t cry my darling,” Marianne said. “We’re together now.”
Something in her mother’s voice wasn’t right, Emilie thought. There was a trace of sadness perhaps, a catch to her voice. Instinct told her a piece of the puzzle was still missing.
Emilie pulled back and hastily wiped her eyes. “Father?” she asked, dreading the answer.
Marianne said nothing, simply placed a hand at Emilie’s cheek and stared back sympathetically. The despair that lingered in her mother’s eyes for thirteen long years had not been extinguished, despite the fact that they now stood at the spot where Papa was reported to be.
“He left for Maryland when he heard we were there.” Lorenz’s arms circled her shoulders and held her tight. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
Emilie’s eyes shot up to her mother’s for confirmation and Marianne nodded gravely. Emilie felt Rose’s hand on her forearm and heard Gabrielle whispering comfort while the tears poured down her sister’s face.
This couldn’t be happening. Not after they had traveled so far.
Just then Emilie remembered her dream, remembered her father walking away from them in the fields, moving further and further away.
Her knees went weak beneath her and Emilie felt Lorenz arms catch her before she sank to the ground. The pain was too much; she couldn’t weather the impact. The last thing Emilie witnessed before the darkness thankfully took her away was Lorenz’s dear face, streaked with tears.
“It will be all right,” she heard him say. Were those the same words she had offered him on the beach that horrid afternoon? She had meant it too. She believed they would find a better life, that they would escape the horrors inflicted on them by a greedy governor. But now all seemed lost.
As Lorenz’s face slowly faded away, Emilie doubted they would ever have a happy future.
Days passed since their arrival, but still Emilie refused to see Lorenz. She never rose from her bed and ate very little. Only Marianne could manage a word with her. Every day Gabrielle and Rose tried to be cheery, but by the fourth day they had given up the pretense.
“Why won’t she let me come in?” Lorenz asked Rose. “It’s not like her.”
“No, it’s odd that she isn’t following you everywhere.”
The last thought brought forth an emotion Lorenz would rather not set free, but it lodged itself in his throat. He rose and moved to the table to pour himself a mug of water. Gazing out the small window of the meager cabin, Lorenz watched Gabrielle and Bouclaire deep in conversation outside.
The captain insisted on leaving every morning but always found reasons to stall his departure. Lorenz was thankful for his presence. He liked the man, enjoyed his company. And helping him with his boat took his mind off Emilie and their troubles. Briefly.
“How did they meet?” Lorenz asked.
A sadness filled Rose’s sweet miniature face, and she bite her lower lip to fight off her own unwelcomed emotions. Lorenz slipped a lock of her hair behind an ear. “Rose, what is it?”
Rose inhaled and looked out the window. “It’s nothing,” she said, and Lorenz almost laughed at the lie. Dear Rose, so optimistic. And so transparent.
“It’s not like you to be sad,” Lorenz said. “Since it’s so rare, it’s also so obvious.” Rose braved a smile and Lorenz felt his chest constrict. “It isn’t Emilie?” he asked, fearing the worst. “Tell me it’s not...”
“No, it’s not Emilie.” Rose poured herself a mugful of water and took a long drink. “Emilie has received quite a shock, but I think she’ll be fine in time. She has a backbone of steel, you know.”
Lorenz winced. “She’s not as strong as you think.”
Rose pondered his words, then nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I suppose we have tried to be strong, but we’re all confused and frightened inside.”
This wasn’t the Rose he knew, not the child who had a smile for every occasion. “What has happened to you? Something has happened.”
Rose placed a hand over her mouth, but the gesture failed to keep the tears away. A lone traitor broke through and slid down her usually pert face. “I have met a man,” she whispered.
Lorenz placed an arm about her tiny shoulders. She was so small he often forgot she had grown to be a woman. But a man? He wasn’t ready to let men near his sisters. Especially when he knew what fires raged inside them. “Who? I’ll kill him.”
His words brought forth a laugh. “No you will not,” she said sternly but with a grin.
“Can I meet him at least?”
The sadness returned and Rose shook her head. “He’s gone west. He left Natchez without saying good-bye.”
Good riddance, Lorenz thought. That solved that problem. “Then perhaps it’s for the best.”
Rose stamped her foot and looked upon him angrily. “Why does everyone say that? How do you know what’s best for me?”
He had never seen her this way, never seen her raise her voice before. This man had influenced her greatly and he didn’t like it. “Who was this man?”
“Lorenz,” Bouclaire shouted. “I’m leaving. Walk me to my boat.”
Lorenz grabbed his coat. “We’ll talk later,” he said to Rose, but she stubbornly shook her head.
“No, we won’t.”
What was it with the Gallant women, he thought, that made it so easy for them to cut his heart in two. “Since when can’t you tell me everything?”
Whoever this man was, for some reason Rose guarded his identity. “Someday, I’ll tell you Lorenz. When I’m older and he’s only a memory. But for now, it’s best we not talk about it.”
Lorenz passed a hand on her delicate cheek. He adored his adopted sisters; he couldn’t bear to see them troubled. “You can tell me anything.” But her gaze told him she would not say more that day. “If you need me, I’m here. Anytime. Anywhere.”
Rose nodded and offered a faint smile. “Thank you Lorenz. I love you.”
He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too, pumpkin.”
“Lorenz!” Bouclaire shouted again. “The wind won’t last forever.”
“What’s the hurry?” he shouted back. “Little the wind does when you’re traveling downstream.” He gave Rose a squeeze, then passed Gabrielle at the threshold. “Please tell Emilie I was here. Again.”
Gabrielle took his hand. “Time,” she told him grimly. “Give her some time.”
“It’s what we’re good at, eh Gabrielle? Waiting is our middle name.” Lorenz hadn’t meant to be sarcastic, but he was tired of waiting, tired of the endless frustrations.
Lorenz didn’t know why he grabbed his coat for t
he weather was as warm as a Canadian summer. Another habit time would solve, he thought. A few years from now and he would be as used to the crazy weather as the natives.
“What’s that for?” Bouclaire asked, sporting a wide smile. “Expecting snow to fall?”
Lorenz threw the coat on to the house’s steps, another thing he would have to get used to. All of the houses were raised above ground in case of flooding, some so high chickens and hogs passed underneath. “Where I come from snow falls in April.”
Funny, he was beginning to sound like Emilie. If truth be told, he wished to be back in Grand Pré as well. They could catch a ship for Maryland, meet with Joseph and head north. It could be done.
“What are you thinking?” Bouclaire asked.
Lorenz shook his head, too weary to make sense of what he was thinking. “I don’t know anymore. Nothing seems real to me.”
“You’ve both had a shock. Emilie will pull through, you’ll see. You’ll marry and move on to your father-in-law’s land grant and wait for him there.”
That was Marianne’s plan. Find Joseph’s land grant given to him by the Spanish and wait until he returns.
If he returns.
“Opelousas or the Attakapas District.” Lorenz halted when they reached the water’s edge. “Somewhere else to travel, somewhere else to wait.”
Bouclaire roughly placed a hand on his shoulder, half to wake him from his misery and half to offer support. “Cheer up. It’s not bad out west. There’s a great swamp between here and there, but beyond that it’s prairie. Probably a lot like your home back in Canada. I’ve heard the Acadians there have made cattle raising a profitable business. Something to consider.”
“I don’t know anything about cattle.”
Bouclaire laughed. “And I knew nothing about sailing until I joined the navy.” He leaned in close and slapped Lorenz on the cheek. “You’ll learn.”
The sun had become so warm Bouclaire removed his shirt. It didn’t surprise Lorenz that the captain was tanned all the way to his waist. “I don’t recommend it unless your constitution allows it,” Bouclaire said when he noticed Lorenz staring. “You can get quite a sunburn in this weather.”
“What’s it like in the summer?”
This time, Bouclaire tilted his head back and let go a raucous laugh. “Now that’s something you Canadians will never get used to.”
Lorenz untied the bow line while Bouclaire worked at the stern. Holding on to the ropes, he waded into the water and boarded his small craft. Turning back toward Lorenz, he threw him a bottle wrapped in calico.
“For your wedding.”
Lorenz studied the bottle, appreciating the gesture. “I doubt there will be a wedding.”
“Nonsense. I know for a fact that woman loves you.”
“I know that, too, but that doesn’t mean she will say yes.”
Lorenz waded into the water to push the boat further out into the open waters and the currents that would quickly propel it downstream.
“You spent a lot of time alone with her these past two months, did you not?” Bouclaire asked him seriously.
Lorenz glanced up at the captain, wondering how much to divulge. “Yes.”
“It’s hard to remain control of your senses with a beautiful woman like Emilie,” Bouclaire said with a wink. “Especially when the two of you are in love and have been since childhood.”
Lorenz grabbed ahold of the boat ready to push it away from the bank, but he was too curious where Bouclaire’s line of questioning was heading to set it free. “And?”
Bouclaire sat at the stern and took control of the rudder. “And sometimes things happen.”
When Lorenz failed to move or acknowledge his point, Bouclaire sighed and leaned a lazy elbow on the side of the boat so they were eye to eye. “When these things happen between lovers, it’s best to confess them to a priest.”
Now Lorenz was thoroughly confused. “A priest?” The last thing he needed a priest interfering in their lives, forcing he and Emilie into a marriage...
Lorenz grinned broadly. Bouclaire was a smart man. “Yes,” Lorenz agreed. “A priest is exactly what I need.”
Father Broussard was one of the few men lucky enough to have room to breathe in the small houses constructed for the Acadians at St. Gabriel. Having no wife and no children allowed him the luxury of living a normal life underneath a roof. But when Lorenz stretched his long legs when the priest offered him a seat, the house became as confining as Marianne’s.
“What can I do for you son?” Father Broussard asked.
Now that he sat before the man, Lorenz questioned his motives. Never a religious man, Lorenz felt at once uncomfortable.
“You seem hesitant. Is there something on your mind that I can rest at ease?”
Lorenz loosened the collar at his neck that suddenly seemed suffocating. “I’m not a church-going man.”
To his surprise, Father Broussard laughed. “Can I get you some coffee?” He stood and moved into the kitchen. “I just made some.”
“Yes, thank you.” If sitting before a priest wasn’t nerve-raking enough, having the holy man serve him coffee was. “May I help?”
“Yes, you can.” Father Broussard arrived back in the living area with two steaming coffee cups. “You can start by telling me why you have come.”
Lorenz sat up straight and accepted his cup. He tried to avoid the eyes of the priest, but the man studied him intently. “I have been with a woman.”
“I see,” Father Broussard answered without emotion.
“I don’t consider it a sin,” Lorenz added defensively. “We love each other very much and I take complete responsibility for my actions.”
The priest took a sip from his coffee than placed it on the table beside them. “All right.”
Lorenz waited for the man to continue but he stared at him silently. For reasons only God could understand, Lorenz began to rattle on incessantly, just as he had to Phillip, Mathias and Bouclaire. “She loves me, I know she does. Emilie’s been crazy about me since we were children. But she’s worried about our future together. Worried I might not make the most ideal husband.”
“Will you?”
A passion lit up Lorenz’s face and his skin felt like fire. Even though his hasty trip to the Creole’s house still lingered in his mind, he firmly stated, “Yes!”
“Then what is the problem?”
Lorenz sighed and placed his coffee cup on the table and leaned toward the priest. “I’ve asked her several times and she keeps turning me down.”
The priest rubbed the back of his neck. “I can talk to her mother if you like. Drop a hint that young lovers alone in the wilderness might be vulnerable to temptation, that it’s a good reason to insist you two get married.”
That would do it, Lorenz thought. Marianne would insist they get married if she suspected what had happened. “Fine. Tell her I confessed if you like.”
The priest stared at him sternly. “That’s privileged information, my boy. I would never speak of a person’s confession.” He crossed his arms across his chest as he studied him further. “How long has it been since you’ve been in church?”
Lorenz leaned back in his chair and pulled his fingers through his hair, the fire returning to his brow. “No offense, Father, but I don’t believe in praying to a God that has forsaken us.”
Father Broussard uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, placing a hand on Lorenz’s knee. “It isn’t easy to comprehend God’s plan when bad things happen, Lorenz. But if you can’t believe in a future that includes love and peace, how can you expect Emilie to?”
He hadn’t thought of it that way. Yet how could a benevolent God allow thousands of innocent people to die?
“You know you look a lot like your mother.”
Lorenz’s eyes shot up. “You knew my mother?”
“Of course I did,” the priest said. “She had the loveliest voice in the choir.”
Lorenz felt ashamed he hadn’t remembered Father Bro
ussard. He was young and impetuous even then, avoiding church to play among the fields and apple orchards, much to his mother’s displeasure. What would Lisette Dugas think of him now? he wondered.
“She would be proud of you,” Father Broussard answered his unspoken question. “She would have loved to have sung at your wedding.”
Emotions rose inside him and Lorenz could only nod his head. Father Broussard squeezed his shoulder. “Things have not been easy for any of us,” he said softly. “But forsaking God is not the answer. Live in peace, Lorenz. Marry Emilie and live in peace.”
Again, Lorenz could only nod in agreement, wondering when priests had become so wise and thankful for the paternal guidance.
Emilie
Chapter Fifteen
Emilie heard voices outside the bedroom and peered through the door to find Father Broussard speaking in hush tones to Marianne. What now? she thought. First, a doctor from the Spanish fort wanted to bleed her and administer leeches, now the priest would probably want to say prayers over her bed. What she needed was peace, and nobody had the power to give her that.
She hated herself for wallowing in self-pity, for never leaving her bed. But her body had refused to cooperate. She literally could not rise in the morning, her mind numb from the trauma and her body exhausted from her travels.
Poor Lorenz. Always visiting, always waiting. What would she say to him now? What possible life could they make together?
She missed him. Missed him terribly. Missed his warm frame sleeping next to hers, his large, eager hands exploring every inch of her body, making her tingle at their touch. Missed his kisses. Missed his comforting hugs.
But he was one more problem to solve and her mind couldn’t cope with the load.
Emilie sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for Father Broussard to leave. She was ready to rise and face the world, but she dreaded seeing Lorenz again. What would she say to him?
Emilie (The Cajun Series Book 1) Page 20
