Some of the smile slipped from his eyes, and sadness tugged the corners. "I wish you hadn't been forced to go through what you did. I wish I could have protected you from it."
She shook her head. “It wasn't always hard. I've grown so much through it. And I wouldn't have…" She broke off the words even as another tiny flutter tickled her insides. She wouldn't trade this little one for anything.
Jean-Jacques’s gaze slipped down—and yearning crept into his expression. He didn't say anything though. Was he thinking of the babe's father?
Her mind wandered to Raphael so many times when she thought of the little one. Would the babe have his eyes? That dark hair? She needed to speak of it with Jean-Jacques. They had to be able to communicate these hard things.
She swallowed and forced the words out. "Raphael wasn't always… Things weren't always hard. He was a good man at heart, especially before his father died. Before the drinking. I only wish things hadn't ended the way…”
There was one more thing she had to say, and she sent up a prayer for strength. “That’s why I can’t stand to be around anyone who’s overindulging in strong drink. I can’t even stand the smell of the stuff.”
His eyes turned sad. “I know what you mean. Those smells always remind me of my father. I’ve never had a desire to drink.” Relief washed through her, and he must have seen it on her face.
He leaned near and pressed a kiss to her brow, so gentle that the touch sent a wave of warmth through her. This man… Could he really be back in her life forever? How could he still love her so much? Lord, You are too good to me.
Jean-Jacques held her for long moments. But too soon, he pulled back, enough for her to see his face. "I think we have some things to decide, but first, I need an answer. Will you marry me?"
Joy sluiced through her, pouring onto her face in a smile. It would be fun to be coy, but the best she could manage was a giggle and, "I suppose so." Happiness pulsed too strongly within her.
"All right then." He pulled her closer, and his glance at her mouth was her only hint before his lips met hers.
Their power washed through her with a surge, and she returned the kiss.
But he stopped far too soon, pulling back with a glint of humor in his eyes that didn't quite match the longing there. "You can expect more of that to come, but we have details to work out first.”
A smile tickled her mouth again. She liked this new in-charge Jean-Jacques. She raised her brows as she waited for what he had to say next.
His expression grew serious, and worry formed a line across his brow. "I just need to know one more thing, Colette. Is there anything else you haven't told me? Any other secrets?"
Pain speared her. If she'd only been honest from the beginning. She'd known deep down she could trust him. Why had she been so stubborn? Maybe God sent him specifically to help her out of this debacle with Raphael's brothers.
The truth of that jolted her. It had to be God. How else would Jean-Jacques have come across her in all this vast mountain wilderness? And recognized her for who she was, despite the fact that she had been nearly covered up with men's clothing?
She could see the Lord’s hand so clearly now. If only she hadn't fought it before. I'm sorry, Father.
Jean-Jacques was still waiting for her answer, and she searched herself for anything she might have forgotten to tell him. Then she shook her head. “No more secrets."
A sigh seemed to escape from him, though she didn't actually hear it. How much had her holding back hurt him? Never again. She deepened her gaze. "I'm sorry. For not letting you in sooner."
His expression turned gentle, though his eyes still held a tinge of sadness. "No secrets for either of us. Not even tiny ones." He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to her fingers.
A thought slipped in, one that had needled her since he’d first showed up in their camp. Maybe this was the time to ask. "Tell me…"
His gaze lifted to hers again, and he held the look as he turned her hand over and pressed another kiss to the flesh of her palm.
The touch sent a skitter through her that made every thought flee her mind. She wouldn't be able to speak coherently with him doing that. But then he pressed her hand to his chest, and she forced herself to focus on his face and recall her question. "Why did you tell the men to call you French? Did you really mean it when you said that's what your friends call you? Why not Jean-Jacques?"
She'd always loved his name, the rolling cadence as it flowed from her tongue. She almost never shortened it, except for very rare occasions when a nickname felt right.
His gaze grew distant, as though he was sinking into a memory. His throat worked in a swallow.
Her chest tightened. She'd not meant to raise painful memories. But she wanted to know this part of him. To understand. To help, if she could.
His gaze moved past her when he finally spoke. "I told you my parents died. My father was drunk that night. It was about six months after you left, and I had sneaked out to our place at the creek. Missing you." He sent her a sad, wistful smile.
Then he looked away again. It seemed to be easier for him to tell if he wasn't looking at her. "I smelled the smoke first, then when I got to the edge of the trees, I saw the flames. It was too late to save them."
Pain built in her chest, rising up in her throat. So many awful things he'd experienced. She'd been blind to many of them, and not there for others.
His throat worked again. "After that, I had no reason to stay, so I went to find you." Again, he sent her a sad smile. "I couldn't find you at Fort York. People said your family hadn't stayed there long, that you'd gone farther west. I searched every fort and settlement I could find. Ended up joining on with a trapper named LeBeau so I could travel with a little more safety and enough food in my belly. Though he was a Frenchman, he had a rough temper. Eventually, I left him to join on with McCann. He found my name too much of a mouthful, so he started calling me French."
Finally, his gaze came back to hers, and his eyes had lost some of their sadness. “Maybe I should have been offended, but the name made me feel more connected to home. For some reason, it reminded me of those days back when we were together. I guess it made me remember who I was. Who I am." He shrugged. "Everyone started calling me that, and I let the name stick. I haven't been called Jean-Jacques for eight or nine years at least. Not until you." His thumb stroked across the back of her hand, sending another shiver through her. His eyes held hers with warmth that soaked all the way through her.
"So what will you go by now?"
He was quiet for a moment, and his thoughts were hard to read. "I think, maybe I'll stay with French…for my friends. And Jean-Jacques"—he lifted her hand from his chest and pressed another kiss to her fingers—"will be special for you, the one who knows me best."
The love burning within her for this man might overcome her. Emotion rose up with so much power, her chest ached, and her eyes burned.
Jean-Jacques drew her close again, holding her. And in his arms, she finally let herself rest.
French would be content to hold Colette like this for the rest of their days. And Lord willing, he would be able to do just that.
As much as he'd wanted this connection, it seemed hard to fathom they'd worked through all they had in these few hours together. She finally trusted him. He could see God's hand now, working together for their good, bringing them back together, then helping him find her twice more. Thank you, Lord. Even despite my resistance and distrust, You gave me my heart’s desire.
In a way, God had been doing with him as French had longed to do for Colette. No matter how many times he'd pushed God away, kept himself separate, locked his pain inside him, the Lord had been there. Waiting for him to open his heart, waiting for him to finally trust.
A new round of emotion rose up inside. I'm so sorry, Lord. I'm so sorry. There weren't words enough to describe the pain in his heart for what he'd caused the Father. What a relief to finally be reconnected with Him. What joy.
As the rain slowed to a trickle, then only steady drops falling at the edge of the cave, Colette's breathing grew even and deep in his arms. He cradled her like that, letting their new reality soak through him fully while she slept.
The sun revealed itself at last, and another quarter hour passed before Colette stirred in his arms. She straightened and stretched like a little girl. Like the girl he still loved.
When her sleep-hazed eyes finally settled on his face, and her mouth curved in a sweet smile, the joy in his chest nearly burst through him. He brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Sleep well?”
She nodded, then straightened, pulling out of his arms and settling on the stone beside him. Her attention turned to the cave opening and the dazzling sunlight outside. "The rain stopped."
"I've been thinking about what we should do next."
She snapped her attention to him, the smile slipping from her expression. Worry pressed across her brow. "What are you thinking?"
He moved his hand to take hers, weaving their fingers together. “First, what were your plans? Did you have a specific place you were intended to go?"
Her mouth pinched, and that line in her brow deepened. "Only far from here. I was going to start over again, this time with a completely new name."
A shiver slipped through him. He'd come so close to losing her forever. God had been on his side, leading him to her. No matter how much courage it took him to hand over the reins and submit to the Lord's leading, listening to His guidance was the only way this good could have come.
He brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. “I told you about the friends I’ve been riding with. They’re from all over—Adam and Joel traveled here from Spain, Caleb from Missouri. Beaver Tail is part Blackfoot, and his wife Susanna is from Boston. And Elan, Meksem, and Otskai are all Nez Perce. They’re expecting me to meet up with them in Otskai's village on the other side of the mountains."
He motioned toward the west. “They would love to take you in—take in both of us. Susanna is expecting a babe also, though I think she's farther along than you. And Otskai has a little son already. We’ll find a quiet place to settle, and Caleb's even an ordained reverend. He can marry us." He studied her face for any sign of hesitation.
The hesitation was there, with indecision clouding her eyes. “Would we be safe? Staying in one place like that? At one point, I’d thought to go back to Young Bear’s camp with him and the others. I had hoped to make a home there, that I might be able to hide among them. Become one of them. But that was before Hugh and Louis showed up. I'd hoped they wouldn't come this far, that they might have given up."
She planned to become an Indian? He almost smiled at the thought of her pale hair trying to hide in the midst of a black-haired camp. This woman possessed spunk, and she never ceased to amaze him. "I’m sure Young Bear and his people would welcome you and protect you. However, I don't think there's any place in the world you would be safer than among my friends. We take care of each other, and Beaver Tail and Meksem are both strong warriors. The others are more than capable too."
He tightened his fingers around hers, longing for her to feel that protection. "I think you’ll like them." The more he thought about it, the more right this felt. The band of brothers who'd started out two years ago had grown into a family who felt more like kin than any people he'd ever lived among. Having Colette by his side would make the group complete.
At last, she nodded—a tentative bob of her chin. "If you think it's the right choice." The weight of her trust settled over him anew.
He met her gaze with intensity. "I wouldn't take you there if I didn't know in my heart this was best. I feel a peace, God's leading, I think." Lord, don't let me get this wrong.
She nodded again. "I think so too."
He closed his eyes with the relief sweeping through him. Following God's will was hard—finding that right path. He'd have to pay close attention not to go astray.
He squeezed her hand again. “I need to go back to camp and get my things. I’ll thank Young Bear and the others, too, and let them know we're off. Anything you want me to pass along? To bring back for you? Your traps, I suppose. I'll bring all the furs Giselle can carry."
Her expression turned anxious as he spoke. "Are you sure you should? What if Hugh and Louis are there waiting for you? What if they follow you back here?"
He’d thought of that, but he would be careful. "I won't let them see me. Young Bear and the others will have taken care of them, I have no doubt. And I won't return here if I think there's even a chance of them following."
Her eyes widened as the anxiety seemed to shift into something else. "You don't think the braves would hurt them, do you? I don't want more bloodshed, not on my account."
She paused, and that line spread across her brow again. “I only want the baby to be safe. If it weren't for him or her, I would go back and settle things with them. Let them do whatever they think will bring justice for their brother's death. I didn't mean to hurt him, and I would tell them that, but it doesn't change the fact that I killed their brother. My husband." Her voice hitched on that last word, and it eased a bit of anger that sluiced through him every time he thought of her in that position, having to defend herself from the man who’d pledged to care for her.
She was so good, this woman he loved. Even with what she'd gone through, she didn't seem to hold bitterness—not toward God or the man who’d put her through so much.
And something in her words pressed him. Revenge came too easily as his first thought. Yet hadn't God said in the Scriptures that vengeance belonged to Him? Those words Jesus spoke to his disciples about forgiving had never felt comfortable, nor did they now. Somehow, Colette seemed to have mastered that virtue fully.
Could he let her face these two men who meant her harm? Did she really want to? Yet she'd been running—maybe this was only passing thought.
He forced himself to pray one of the hardest prayers he could imagine. What is Your will here, Lord?
He waited, watching Colette as indecision crossed her face. Her free hand crept to her belly. She'd said she would face the men if she didn't have the baby to protect.
Guide us, Lord. Take us on the path You want us to go. He'd just finished telling himself how, even though submitting to God's leading took all his courage, the Lord's plan truly was best. He'd not expected another testing so soon.
Colette's arm crept farther around her belly, as though trying to shield the wee one inside as much as she could. "I have to protect the baby." Her words came almost in a whisper. And she was right. Was this God's leading? He couldn't tell—his spirit didn't seem to be settling in one direction. But maybe Colette felt peace with this choice.
He nodded. "I won't let Hugh or Louis see me, and I won't come back until I'm sure I'm not followed. I need to get my horse, though, and enough supplies to travel across the mountains."
Though reluctance marked her features, Colette gave a slow nod. "Tell our friends thank-you for me."
He gave her hand a squeeze. He would say it from them both. From the bottom of his heart, he was grateful for this group of unlikely protectors God had led her to.
Chapter 25
As Colette watched Jean-Jacques go, she could barely sort through the churning of emotions inside her. The joy of a future with him still flowed through every part of her, but watching him go, knowing the danger he was headed toward.…
And what of Hugh and Louis? All this time, she'd been intent on running from them. Determined to keep from facing their retribution. But something in Jean-Jacques’s words made her picture what Hawk Wing and some of the other more hotheaded braves might do to them—all to ensure her protection.
The image had turned nausea in her belly. That wasn't what she wanted. They couldn't die on her account. They were only avenging their brother. Caring so much about family wasn't wrong, was it?
And Louis was so young. She could still see his face as he stared at Raphael's dead body. Louis had always b
een kind to her, like a little brother. For that matter, Hugh had been kind as well. Though his manners might be a bit rough, he'd treated her with respect.
Could she really stand by and let them be hurt—or worse—because of her? She had no idea what the braves would do to them. Maybe it depended on how much of a fight the two put up. They'd come this far, so they likely wouldn't turn away easily.
She had to do something. Had to intervene before their blood, too, would be counted toward her.
Lord, I'm so afraid. How will I protect the baby?
She forced herself to stand quietly. She'd run without thinking the night of Raphael's death.
And since then, she hadn't stopped running.
She'd raised her defenses so high, she'd not stopped to listen to the Lord's guiding. She'd not even recognized the gift of Jean-Jacques, whom He'd sent when she needed it most. Don't let me do that again now. Don't let me run ahead without following Your will.
She let her eyes drift shut as the sun beamed down on her. Like a kiss of warmth, the rays soaked through her, soothing her raw nerves, easing the tension in every limb. The peace that soaked through her could only come from the Father. So You would have me go back and face Raphael's brothers?
The sense of peace—of rightness—deepened.
Will You protect my baby? No audible voice sounded, not even a firm whisper in her spirit. Only that lingering certainty that she had to go back. The Lord wanted her to go back and face Hugh and Louis.
Could she place her child's life in His hands too? Even without having His word that the babe would be safe?
Though the nausea tried to rise again, the sensation didn't hold the same power as before.
At last, she opened her eyes and breathed in a deep, cleansing breath. She would go. And whatever came of it, she would leave in God's hands.
Faith in the Mountain Valley Page 18