Wronged (Book 1)

by Sylvia McDaniel

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the last two days, Louis had done nothing but think about his reactions to Marian facing the strikers. The last time sheer terror struck him like that was at Anne’s death. The feelings caught him completely off guard and he’d spent days analyzing them.

  At first Marian had been a thorn in his side, an easy target to help rid himself of Cuvier Shipping. First she’d been an adversary and then she’d become his lover and now... God, now he feared the feelings that gripped him with such power. After more years than he wanted to remember, he now cared about a woman.

  The thought scared him and warmed him at the same time. He’d been trying to convince Marian to marry him because he wanted control of the business, but now his reasons for wanting her were so much more than the business. Yet if she found out about him arranging the sale of Cuvier Shipping, she would hate him.

  The buyer for the business was ready to conclude the deal. They were waiting for the final signatures and the sale would be complete. Yet he hesitated, knowing how much this business meant to Marian and her children, and how much she meant to him.

  If she found out, she would never forgive him. Yet for the last two days he had struggled, knowing he should tell her, should be honest and give her the choice of what she wanted to do. He felt torn between his own selfish desires and Marian. He’d dreamed so long of owning his own business, yet he wanted Marian too.

  For the last two days he had gone over and over in his head how he could have both Marian and the mill, yet every time he’d found no solution. The buyer was waiting for the final papers to be signed and Louis knew he couldn’t keep him in limbo much longer. Sooner or later she would have to be told and her signature acquired.

  Time was running out on Louis. Very soon Marian would want nothing to do with him, unless somehow he convinced her to marry him. They were getting along, she’d even kissed him back in the office after the strike. Maybe now was the time to ask her to marry him again. Maybe this time she’d say yes and he could rush her to the altar.

  Louis picked up his hat and pushed it onto his head. He left his small apartment in the French Quarter and walked down the street to the livery stable where his buggy was kept. In a matter of moments they hitched his horse and brought the buggy to him.

  As he passed down Bourbon Street, past the bars and the restaurants, he realized he couldn’t wait to see Marian. He slapped the reins against the horse’s back, picking up speed. In just a few minutes Louis turned into the Garden district where Marian lived.

  A young boy walked along the roadway, carrying a small suitcase. As he passed the child, Louis recognized Philip, Marian’s son. He pulled the buggy over to the side of the road, tethered the reins of the horse, and hurried to catch up to the boy.

  What did he need a suitcase for? Especially this late in the evening and alone?

  Finally, he sauntered up beside the boy. “Hello there.”

  “Hi,” Philip said sullenly. “I’m not going back.”

  “Where are you off to?” Louis asked, ignoring his remark.

  The boy frowned at him suspiciously.

  “France. To live with my Papa’s family,” he said, his eyes dark with unshed tears.

  With all the change and turmoil in the young boy’s life recently, Louis realized he was running. Marian probably knew nothing of the child’s whereabouts.

  “France is very nice, I hear. You’ve got a long trip ahead of you. And your Mother gave you enough money for your ticket, did she?”

  The boy glanced up at him his eyes widening and Louis knew he hadn’t even thought of how he would pay for his passage.

  “No, but I’ll work my way across,” the boy replied. “Or maybe I’ll stow away.”

  Louis fought to keep a straight face, knowing that to the child his pain was serious and he felt compelled to help Marian’s son.

  “I wouldn’t stow away. If you get caught, they’ll toss you overboard.” Louis pulled out his money clip and peeled several small bills off. “Here, take this. It’s a little money to get you started.”

  “Thanks,” Philip said pocketing the bills. “You’re not going to try to take me back?”

  Louis shook his head. No, he wouldn’t force the boy to go back, just help him to reach the conclusion that it would be best to return home. And he wasn’t going to leave here without him.

  “A man’s got to follow his dream,” Louis replied.

  “Yeah,” the boy said, not as certain as before.

  “Your Mother will be upset about your leaving.”

  Philip shrugged.

  “She and Renee will miss you.”

  He shrugged again, not saying a word, his young face drawing together as if he were in pain.

  Louis remembered the fight Philip had gotten into at school and doubted the children made his life any easier now. Adjusting to his father’s death and the news surrounding Jean’s demise couldn’t be easy for the child.

  They continued down the street, the suitcase banging against Philip’s legs.

  “It must be hard to lose your father. You met my father, the old goat is still around and I’m glad.” Louis observed the boy carefully, and said, casually, “But yours is gone and I’m sorry about that. Other kids often don’t understand what it’s like to lose a parent. Especially a father.”

  The boy kept walking and nodded his head. Louis thought he saw him wipe away a tear in the fading sunlight.

  “Kids don’t talk about your father and mother the way they do mine,” said Philip. “Everyone laughs and says he married all those women. They call them the Cuvier Widows. I don’t believe my friends. My papa wouldn’t do that.” Philip glanced up at Louis, his green eyes accusing. “They’re also talking about you.”

  “Me?” Louis asked stunned. “What are they saying about me?”

  Philip’s child’s face drew together in a scowl. “They’re talking about you and my mother.”

  Maybe he and Marian hadn’t kept their romance such a secret after all. “You know your mother and I work together for the business now.”

  “Yes, I know. Most mothers don’t work. They stay at home,” Philip said, his eyes dark and accusing, like the kid wanted to cry but refused.

  “Not all mothers. Your mother is determined not to let your father’s death interfere in your welfare, so she went to work in your father’s business. She’s really trying to look out for you, Philip.” Louis watched the child consider his words carefully.

  “But what’s she doing with you?”

  Halting on the street, Louis looked at the child who awaited his response. “I don’t know what the kids are saying about your mother and me. I’ll admit that I think your mother is a beautiful woman. I’ll also admit that in the last month our business partnership has changed. I like your mother, Philip.”

  “So you two have been kissing?”

  His question startled Louis.

  “Did someone tell you they saw us kissing?”

  “Well, were you?”

  Louis thought for a moment wondering what to tell the kid and then decided to be honest “Yes, I’ve kissed your mother and I’ll kiss her again if I get a chance.”

  The boy considered this for a moment and then frowned up at Louis. “So you like her now?”

  “Very much,” Louis told the boy honestly.

  The boy nodded his head and then suddenly became cheerful. “Do you think I should go to France?”

  Louis felt a sense of calm overcome him and he smiled at Philip. “Yes, I think you should go to France, someday, when you’re older.”

  A small smile of relief lit Philip’s face. “Would you take me home?”

  “I’d be happy to take you home,” Louis said.

  It took them about ten minutes to get to the house on Josephine Street. Purple and orange rays streaked across the sky, bathing the home in a warm glow as they pulled up front.

  “I wonder if she found my note?” Philip asked.

  “We’ll find ou
t together,” Louis said smiling at the boy trying to ease his discomfiture.

  “She’s probably going to be mad,” the boy said climbing down from the buggy.

  “Maybe not,” Louis said. “Let’s go see.”

  He carried Philip’s small suitcase up the sidewalk to the door. Philip opened the front door and stepped inside, and Louis followed him.

  “Mother?” he called.

  Claire came round the corner, her eyes wide with gratitude. “Is that you, Philip Cuvier?”

  “Yes, Aunt Claire. Where’s Mother?”

  She glanced at Louis standing in the entryway holding Philip’s suitcase, and then returned her attention to the boy.

  Claire dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, hugging his small body to hers.

  “Thank God, you’re all right. Your mother has gone to the police station to ask for their help in locating you.”

  “Oh!” he said dejectedly. “I guess she found my note.”

  “Yes, sir, she sure did.” She glanced up at Louis. “Did you find him?”

  “We sort of found one another,” Louis said.

  “Philip, you worried your mother terribly,” Claire scolded.

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Go upstairs, young man, and wait for your mother. She should be home soon.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He hung his head and started toward the stairs. He turned back and glanced at Louis. “Thank you, Mr. Fournet. Let’s play baseball soon.”

  “It’s a deal, Philip. Get some sleep.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Louis watched the boy disappear up the stairs, his heart going out to the child. He needed love and support, not to be made to feel guilty for running from the scandal of his father. He waited a moment longer to make sure that Philip was out of hearing and then turned his full attention on Claire.

  “Don’t be too hard on the boy. He ran to get away from the scandal of his father. The kids are teasing him about it and he needs the adults in his life to understand. Tell Marian I brought him home.”

  He walked out the door, not giving Claire a chance to respond.