The Better Angels: Hearts Touched by Fire, Book 4

by Gina Danna

  Ada couldn’t help but laugh. She’d guess the woman was close to her age and had a tinge darker skin than the bulk of the other servants from Francois’s house she’d seen. Plus the girl’s eyes were light brown. She also seemed a bit standoffish, but then again, Ada had whizzed into Bellefountaine, proceeded to jump in helping with the outbreak while arguing deeply with Francois, so with that and her Yankee accent, she noticed several acting cool towards her. That was until they realized she could help them.

  She grabbed a cup and took a drink of water, her thinking returning to her intended. Since their fight, she’d been pulled away, rarely being at Bellefountaine for longer than sleep, and even that wasn’t long enough. Francois always nodded to her, arranged for her supper to be delivered to her bedroom and had breakfast ready in the morning. He drove her to the farms and quarters, got her whatever supplies she needed. But they rarely talked outside the immediate need of her work and the patients. It was like they were skating on a pond with a thin layer of ice, both acting in unison for fear anything more would crack the surface and they’d be swallowed.

  Even now, he brought her a fresh canteen of water, as if he knew she needed to slake her thirst.

  “You look exhausted,” he commented. “How are you feeling?”

  She gave him a partial smile. “I’m doing fine. I think several are on the road to recovery. Hideous disease, burning from the inside out.”

  He nodded. “Thank you for being here to help.”

  His soft comment touched her deeply. “I truly appreciate that.”

  The warmth in his eyes and his handsome appearance, still a little rugged with whiskers struggling to show but debonair still, made her heart pang, tugging to making her realize love for him whispered inside her. At night, exhausted from working continuously on her patients, her dreams whipped up the distinct memories of making love to him. She swore he kissed her when she slept, but woke to find absolutely no evidence he was there, and her heart wept.

  But the swirl of romance instantly dissipated when she went to breakfast and saw the light-colored children with blue eyes that showed the depravity of his life. Again, her emotions chilled as she began to build a wall around her heart, to keep from being hurt again—which worked, until he helped and his smile made it crumble.

  She realized he was staring at her and she refocused as he opened his mouth to say something when the sound of pounding hooves grew louder and louder.

  “Doc Ada! Doc Ada!” the rider yelled as the horse skidded to a halt.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Francois grabbed the reins, leaning on the cane as he fought to stop the horses. “Isaac, is Mama sick again?”

  The boy jumped off the horse, yanking the hat off his head as he went to Ada. “Miss Cerisa is bellowin’!”

  Ada frowned then she opened her eyes wide. “The baby is coming.”

  “Now?” Francois asked.

  “Yessum,” Isaac sputtered out. “Aunt Fanny sent me, sayin’ its time. Miss Cerisa is callin’ for ya.” The kid wrangled the hat in his hands. “She’s in pain, bad.”

  Ada nodded. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

  Isaac gave a bob of his head and jumped back on the horse, riding away.

  Ada turned to Francois. “Time to go.”

  Francois went to get the carriage as Ada inhaled. She’d been avoiding any conversation on marriage and children with him, considering their argument. And while the arrival of a baby was exciting, it also brought her back to her engagement. What if he brought up the subject of marriage again?

  And worse. She was late. What if she carried his baby now? She swallowed hard.

  Chapter 44

  “When Grant arrived, we began to see things move. We felt that everything came from a plan.”

  —Union Officer with the Army of the Cumberland, after the battle of Chickamauga, 1863

  Pierce paced, his speed increasing on every moan he heard coming from the bed where his wife lay. She was in labor and with every contraction, she withered in painful bouts, contorting in positions he didn’t think possible, considering the bulge of her pregnancy.

  “Where’s Mama?” she spat out. “Get me Mama!”

  “Miss Cerisa, your mama is still sick with fever. She can’t come,” Fanny told her, wiping Cerisa’s brows with a damp rag.

  Cerisa didn’t seem to hear her. Drowning in her own perspiration, she shook her head. “No, no! Pierce!”

  Fear snaked down his side. “Yes, my love.”

  “Push on me, help this child come!”

  He frowned. “You know I won’t do that.” He shot a questioning glance at the servant, who replied with a small but sharp negative shake.

  “I thought we sent for Francois’s doc.” If the woman really was a doctor, she could fix this, he swore.

  “I sent Isaac. Miss Marie knows this too well, better than me, but she’s still weak from the fever.”

  “I’m not blaming you or anyone,” he snarled before he realized his tone was laced with anger.

  “Miss Cerisa, Doc Ada be here real soon. She’ll help you.”

  Cerisa laughed. “That abolitionist will probably love to see me in pain, being a planter and all.”

  Pierce took her hand. It was clammy, but he ignored that. “No doctor would deny helping you. Wait.”

  That made her laugh harder. “Oh, yes, I can wait.” She crumpled in pain, her fingers wrapping around his so badly, he feared they break as her grip was so strong. “Can’t you see? I can wait.”

  Pierce prayed to God this child came. He was beginning to inwardly swear they’d be no more babies when he heard the noise of boots in the hallway and sighed.

  “We’re here!”

  Pierce nodded. “Great. You brought the doc, right?”

  “Yankee humor escapes me,” Francois muttered right as his intended barged into the room.

  Ada stormed into the room, ignoring both men and reached the bed within seconds. She touched Cerisa’s head and then took her hand, feeling for her pulse. “Hi, Mrs. Duval. Here you’ve got a child wishing to come into the world right now.”

  The woman looked relieved. “Yes. Wanting to come pretty bad. Or maybe I want her to.”

  Ada grinned, heading to wash her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the girl until she’d washed the dirt and grime from the road and helping fever patients. With a glance at Fanny, she said, “Did you bring any cloths?”

  “Oh, yes ma’am. Right over here, next to the bucket of water Eisha brought.”

  “Good. You helped with these before?”

  Fanny shook her head. “No. Sorry. The sight of blood makes me sick.”

  That made Ada smile. “Yes, it does take some getting used to. But I may need your help. How is Mrs. Fontaine doing?”

  “Last I saw, she was sleeping.”

  “Best thing for her.” She wiped her hands and looked at the two men standing to the side, both looking a little befuddled. She’d help them on that. “Gentlemen, I need you to leave.”

  “No! I will not leave my wife—” Duval started when she cut him off.

  “General Duval, yes you will. She is in good hands.” She nodded to Francois. “He’ll fill you in on how that is. Now, scoot!”

  Duval growled, but kissed his wife’s forehead and left, his boots clipping down the hall in quick time, a sound she hadn’t heard in a while, with Francois’s quick, gaited step not far behind.

  “Ouch!”

  She inhaled deep. “Fanny, how long has this been going on?”

  “Water broke about mid-morning, I reckon.”

  Too long ago, as far as Ada could tell. Cerisa’s energy was waning and that could be dangerous in this heat and with fever too close. She racked her brains, trying to recall something that might help this child come when the memory gushed into her sigh. She smiled. “Fanny, go put some blankets out on the floor. And fetch that water and cloth closer.”

  “Yessum.”

  She went to the bedside and maneuvered her arms undern
eath Cerisa’s back. The girl had drifted to sleep after the last contraction but the next would wake her. Ada nudged her upright, instantly startling Cerisa.

  “What are you doing?” she grumbled, before her face contorted again, hit with another labor pain.

  “Come on, push!”

  “Push into what? My baby can’t breath coming out with me sitting on the bed!”

  Ada liked to hear her fiery manner. It’d bring her back to full strength, perfect for what was to come. “You’re right. Fanny, please assist me. Now, on the count of three.” She looked at Fanny, who was on the other side of Cerisa. “One, two, three!”

  They managed to get the girl upright and walked her to the nest of blankets on the floor.

  “You want me to lay there?” Her voice was incredulous.

  Ada shifted herself in front of Cerisa. “No. What I want you to do is squat and push with all your might!”

  The cocktail tasted marvelous, Francois decided, but Duval would have none of it. Francois shrugged and went to pour another, deciding he deserved the break as his ankle was sore, his emotions drained and life as he knew it was gone.

  “Perhaps when it is your turn, you’ll understand,” Duval stated.

  Francois stopped halfway through his pour. “My turn?”

  “Yes. When you wed Ada.”

  When he married Ada….truth was, he wasn’t sure if that’d ever happen. After their heated argument, they’d operated on neutral grounds. She saw the area’s sick and he helped her in travel, anything she required, trying to be resourceful and quiet, hoping to win her back that way. Memories of that night, when his past exploded into full color for her, replayed over and over in his mind, constantly reminding him of a time that was horrific to an anti-slavery advocate. But time and the war had changed him. He no longer was comfortable with what he did, though he still cared for the offspring he made, despite the outcome. Now, he viewed the dark man more as an equal, having fought with the few, seen the ones in the Union hospital work and even the freemen here, like old Charlie Bloom, who worked as hard as the whites to live and fight. He couldn’t correct the damage done, but he could strive to not repeat it, nor to support it. But would Ada believe him?

  “Yes, well, that day may never come,” he finally vocalized, then downed the second drink in one gulp.

  Duval snorted. “You should’ve explained the situation before you arrived.”

  “Yes, I was told that by LaJoyce.”

  Duval stared hard at him his eyes narrowed. “Considering what I heard and how you handle yourself, I was somewhat surprised you appeared with a white lady on your arm. Could’ve sworn your penchant was for ebony.”

  That made him shift. He waggled his tight lips, considering that notion in his head. “Yes, I see why you’d say that. I have enjoyed the pleasures of those ladies. But Ada…” He smiled. “She managed to grab my attention in more ways than one.” In too many ways, he remembered. Now, those may only be memories. Damn!

  Duval went and poured himself a drink, downed it and slammed the glass down. “You fought with the Tigers?”

  Francois frowned. He knew he did.

  “I just wish I could trust you,” he muttered, before he returned to his pacing.

  Francois’s frown remained. What the hell was that about?

  “Come on, Cerisa, push!”

  Cerisa bit her lip, her face turning red as she squatted above the blanket beneath her and forced a push.

  Ada was on the floor, near her, waiting. She thought she could see the crown of the baby’s head. If she’d only push harder.

  And it happened. Cerisa screamed as the child slipped out and onto the bundle of material. Ada reached for the infant, pulling him aside and taking the knife she’d placed on the side of the blanket and cut the cord still connecting them right before Cerisa stumbled. Fanny raced in to get the new mother as Ada stood with the baby all still covered in afterbirth. She spanked the child, trying to get him to clear his breathing with a good squall and the babe answered her with one, making Ada grin. She took the baby to the washbasin to clean her up as Fanny helped the exhausted Cerisa to bed.

  “Mother, your new darling baby boy.” She handed the swaddled infant to her mother.

  Cerisa looked drained but Ada could see her color return as she looked at her child. Fanny picked up the bloody rags with a nod to Ada, which she took as the mother was cleaned.

  “He’s so beautiful,” Cerisa cooed as she cradled her baby. His blue eye stared in wonder at the woman holding him. It was the perfect scene, Ada thought. One she could replicate with Francois…she cut the thought off.

  “Yes, he is.” Ada brought her a cup of water to sip from. “Now, we need you to rest so you can get on your feet. That baby will need you.”

  Yet Cerisa had the child at her bosom, nursing. “Perhaps you and my brother will have one soon.”

  Ada swallowed. Right as she started to think it might be very soon, her womb clutched and she doubled in pain.

  “Are you all right?” Cerisa asked, worry showing in her eyes. “You’ve been too busy with the sick. You need to rest, too.”

  “I’m fine.” She grimaced, barely able to ignore the pang of sadness as the monthly cramps took control.

  “Have you and my brother made up?”

  She spun. “Of course!”

  But the question didn’t leave Cerisa’s brow. “He should have told you before. I’m sorry.”

  That unnerved her that his sister apologized for his transgressions. She started to pick up her medical supplies. “It’s not your worry.”

  “But it is.” She turned the child to her other breast, cradling him closely. “My family is a very old one, patriarch of the parish, so we’re pretty well known. My brother might have added to the sins of my family, but, strangely enough, he’s always cared for our slaves. In many ways, he’s kept in contact long after they’ve left.”

  Memories of his half-sister, the mulatto in New York, Jaquita, appeared in Ada’s mind. He did seem to care for her. “Regardless, it was a surprise to see.”

  Cerisa rolled her lips in. “Our oldest brother, Jack, didn’t participate. Instead, he ran away to West Point and is an officer in the Union Army now. For a while, he was stationed here, in charge of the occupation. He freed our slaves and gave them the opportunity to leave, or stay, and the monetary backing for either. A good portion stayed.”

  Ada nodded as she listened, but the other worry about him kept into her thoughts. “And who is Emma?”

  “Jack’s wife. She’s a Virginian. He wooed her across the South. They got separated for a bit, and she believed he was dead when she got here, pregnant with his child. Francois offered to marry her and make all well. I think, from what I heard as I wasn’t here, he fell in love with her. But Jack appeared, all well and good and determined to get his Emma back. Emma loved Jack, so for them, all was good. But Francois couldn’t handle it and left to join the war.”

  “He didn’t go to fight to keep slavery?”

  Cerise laughed and kissed her child on his head before she answered. “No. He went to run away from seeing her every day and knowing he couldn’t have her.”

  Ada sat back, varying her thoughts and emotions from confused to ecstatic to angry. After their fight, they’d been together yet they hadn’t talked outside mundane things. It’d been like walking on eggshells barefoot. But the other memory now exploded in her head.

  “And who is that girl?”

  Cerisa frowned, though Ada saw the flicker in her eyes. “What girl?”

  “The one he carries a portrait of? In his coat?”

  Cerisa closed her eyes. “He never told you? No, apparently not. That is Emma.”

  “Excuse me?” Ada’s cheeks inflamed, she could feel the heat.

  “Francois thought he loved her, so he went to war to forget her but must’ve taken the portrait.” She smiled. “And then he met you!”

  Ada started tapping her foot. “I’m supposed to believe that? Tha
t he’s over her? She’s married to his brother!”

  “Yes, it was a bit black, you could say.” She leaned forward, wincing from the childbirth, but looked at her tightly. “He came back, thrilled to have you with him. He does love you. And it’s way more than with Emma. I see it in his eyes and the way he acts. Maybe, you might consider giving him a second chance?” Cerisa eyed her. “Heaven knows, we could use your help around here and I think you could badger him into seeing how things could be. Would you consider that?”

  Ada drummed her fingers softly over her leather medical bag. She loved him and having his child did sound beautiful. But how could she forgive him for all he’s done?

  Chapter 45

  “The edge of the conflict swayed to and fro with wild whirlpools and eddies. At times I saw around me more of the enemy than my own men; gaps opening, swallowing, closing again; squads of stalwart men who had cut their way through us, disappearing as if translated. All around, a strange, mingled roar.”

  —Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, 20th Maine, Gettysburg, July 1863

  3 days later

  * * *

  The house had finally settled to near normal. Francois breathed in the clean river air and sighed. The baby was healthy, Cerisa recovered to a nice rosy, new-mother glow, his own mother was now well and Ada was buzzing around, taking care of the three. It was his own heart that beat with a skip when he saw her, hoping she’d give him a glance, one that he could view as time for him and he’d scoop her away, to beg for his case, but alas, she still skirted him. Would it never end?

  It was a lovely afternoon, a day he could almost think there was no war as Pierce wore civilian clothes and no gunfire was heard. His ankle was less bothersome so the cane was in use less and less each day. As the birds chirped outside the parlor window, he swore he’d find a way to talk to her and try to sweep her off her feet…

  Instead, his mother called the family to come to the parlor for tea. He could never refuse her.