She looked at Marchand, hoping he would provide some kind of anchor. “This is the same Gabrielle you knew before?”
He looked at her askance. “Oui.”
Charlotte nodded. If Marchand could agree to supper, then she could as well. And she was curious about the woman’s relationship with her brother. It seemed . . . loving.
The four sat down to a supper of turtle soup and cornbread.
Charlotte had watched her brother move comfortably through the kitchen, setting bowls onto the table and assisting Gabrielle with the meal. Her curiosity was tinged with a hint of jealousy that made her feel petty.
Will said grace in French, and Gabrielle nodded, giving him a warm smile.
Charlotte felt too wound up to eat. She was confused, overjoyed, and worried all at once. She took a polite spoonful, wishing Gabrielle would just explain how Will came to be at her house. And maybe while she was at it, why she’d chosen another man over Marchand.
Gabrielle stared at her soup, pushing the bits of turtle meat around in the broth.
“C’est délicieux,” Charlotte said, remembering Marchand’s words when they’d eaten jambalaya. She hoped speaking would start the conversation.
“Merci, Charlie,” Gabrielle said in a soft voice. She set down her spoon and looked across the table at Charlotte. She smiled at Will, took a breath, and spoke to Marchand.
Marchand listened and nodded. “Charlie, Gabrielle wishes you to know she is very happy you have come. Will speaks often of his sister, and discovering zat you are alive is a miracle. She does not intend to keep your brother from you.” He paused. “However . . .”
“However what?” Charlie’s defenses rose.
The Cajun woman spoke again, and this time, she wept, hardly able to speak some of the words through her tears.
Will sniffled, brushing his sleeve over his eyes again.
Marchand’s expression was very serious. “Gabrielle has lived alone since her husband died eighteen years ago. She has no children and never remarried.” When he said the last bit, Marchand’s ears reddened. “She saw Will in New Orleans, his hands tied, as he was led to the slave auction. He was crying, he looked hungry and cold, his clothes were worn and dirty.” Marchand glanced at Will and swallowed. “She paid ze captor and brought him home.”
Gabrielle was sobbing now.
“Charlie,” Marchand continued. “Gabrielle loves Will. She thinks of him as her son. She—”
Charlotte bolted from her chair. She circled the table and embraced Gabrielle. Even if she could have spoken, no words were sufficient to thank the woman who had saved her brother. She was ashamed for the anger she’d felt and for the jealousy. Gabrielle had been there when Charlotte could not be, and she could never repay her for what she’d done. The two women wept together for the boy they both loved.
“Merci, Gabrielle,” Charlotte said once she had control of her emotions. She wiped her eyes. “Merci.”
Gabrielle spoke to Marchand, motioning for him to hurry and translate.
“Oui, oui.” Marchand nodded. “Charlie, she says she would never separate a family. If you choose to leave, she will not stand in your way. But if you would consider, Gabrielle would love for you both to stay.”
“Can we stay, Charlie?” Will jumped up from his seat and joined the women, putting an arm around each of them. “Please? Will you live here with Gabrielle and me?”
Charlotte looked at her brother, and then lifted her gaze to Gabrielle, overcome with gratitude. “Yes. Oui.”
Gabrielle gave a genuine smile, and Charlotte thought the expression must be one of the reasons Marchand had been smitten with the woman. Her smile was dazzling.
“And will you stay too, Marchand?” Charlotte asked. She wasn’t ready to say farewell to her friend. And she thought perhaps Marchand might have unfinished business in La Grand Pointe after all. At the question it was not just Marchand’s ears that turned red. His entire face looked like it had been painted with tomato. Charlotte had had no idea how easily her friend could blush.
He glanced toward Gabrielle and then looked back at his soup. “It has been a long time since I came home for a visit. Perhaps I will not hurry away too soon.”
Marchand stood and joined them, placing a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, and she was reminded of the warm feeling she’d had earlier as she’d contemplated the people God had placed in her path. She smiled to herself, wondering if she’d been placed in Marchand’s path as well. She glanced at her friend, seeing him steal a glance at Gabrielle, and wondered if he considered destiny a bit more convenient now.
Chapter 22
Alden swatted an enormous mosquito, leaving a stain on his sleeve. He dug in his oar and grimaced as a gator slid into the water right beside their pirogue. The bayou was not for the faint of heart. He heard the sounds of Tom, Nye, and Allred slapping away mosquitos as well, often accompanied by a grunt or a curse. Stafford especially seemed to be a favorite of the insects. But none of the men complained about the journey. They were too pleased about being chosen to accompany Alden while the rest of the crew prepared for their voyage to India, and they were even more pleased to be going in search of Charlie.
Alden touched his breast pocket, feeling the metal of Charlie’s ring. By the time Alden and the others were released from martial duty and returned to New Orleans, Jim Stewart had told him Charlie and Marchand had come and gone a full three weeks earlier. Hearing she was alive, that she was safe, had been such a relief Alden had nearly embraced the pirate. He could not stop the grin that pulled at his mouth. Jim had given Alden the name of the Cajun village, and when he requested payment for the information, Alden had learned Charlie had paid with the ring. Jim hadn’t minded when Alden asked to buy it; in fact, he was certain the man had charged him much more than the jewelry was worth, but to a young lady who’d lost everything, it must be invaluable.
He smiled, imagining how pleased she would be when he gave it to her, but soon enough his familiar worry returned. What had happened when Charlie and Marchand had reached the village? Had they found Will? Or had they continued on to search elsewhere? It didn’t matter. Alden would scour the earth for her if he had to. But he’d be thrilled if today was the day he found her at last. After more than two months of wondering, worrying, hoping . . . he ached to have Charlie back. Just to see her smile, to know she was safe. He’d never longed for anything so completely.
Another mosquito landed on his leg, and he slapped it, turning back to the member of Lafitte’s crew they’d hired to take them to La Grand Pointe. “How much farther, Dubois?”
The man pointed with his chin. “Another mile or so, and then we walk.”
They reached the village two hours later, and Alden realized immediately that locating Charlie—or anyone in this place—wouldn’t be easy. The settlement was spread out over a large area, with houses built haphazardly along the water or near the central path that served as the main street. But the biggest challenge would be the people. Residents peered at them from behind shuttered windows. Cajuns were notoriously private and suspicious of outsiders. Alden glanced around, looking for a tavern or somewhere he could ask for information.
“Spread out,” he said to the others. “See if you can find anyone willing to talk to us or at least to Dubois.” He doubted anyone in the village spoke English.
“This might be a store, Captain.” Allred pointed to a building with a wide porch.
Alden nodded, and Allred and Dubois entered. Tom and Nye started toward a side path, and Alden continued along the main road. He passed a house with a wooden fence and retraced his steps when he glimpsed someone in the garden behind. A woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat was pulling weeds.
“Excusez moi, mademoiselle,” he called out as he approached, not wishing to frighten her.
Her spine stiffened, and she whirled, standing and coming toward him in one swift move
. “Captain Thatcher!”
“Charlie?” He blinked, seeing her dressed as a young lady for the first time. He couldn’t believe her gender was ever in question. Charlie was lovely. The dark dress fit snugly in the bodice, revealing that she did indeed have feminine curves, and was pulled tight at the waist with a white apron.
Seeing him looking, she glanced down, and her cheeks turned pink. She held out the skirt with both hands and gave a sheepish curtsy.
The nervous action was charming. Alden’s heart flopped over. “You look very pretty in a dress.”
She scrunched her nose. “They are terribly impractical.” She glanced to the side, looking uneasy. “Captain, I’m sorry I deceived you. I needed to get to New Orleans, and had no money for a fare, and I figured as a boy—”
“Charlie, I knew.”
She pulled back, folding her arms, and gave an insulted huff. “You did?”
Alden couldn’t help but smile. “Of course I did. Just look at you. How could anyone not realize? I was certain the moment you fell from the rigging.”
She shrugged, frowning. “Well, I suppose I wasn’t as convincing as I thought. Marchand knew as well.”
“I believe most of the crew did.”
“And they played along? Was it just a joke to everyone?”
“No. They—we—kept your secret. It was important to you, and you are a respected member of the crew. We knew you had your reasons.”
“Oh.” She held his gaze for a long moment, her lips parting and her cheeks coloring in the most enchanting blush.
Alden stepped toward her, but something behind him caught her eye, and her face broke into an enormous grin. “Tom!” She rushed to the large man, throwing her arms around him. “You escaped.”
Alden scowled, wishing he’d gotten such a reception, and wishing Stafford could have waited five measly minutes before joining him.
“Not escaped.” Tom patted her back, looking as if he didn’t quite know what to do now that his friend was not only a woman but hugging him. “The crew rescued me.”
Charlie gave an appreciative nod. “I’m so glad they did and you do not have to be on that horrible Captain Harrington’s ship a moment longer. Mr. Gardner is safe too?”
“He is,” Tom said.
“Hello, Charlie.” Nye pulled on the brim of his hat.
“Mr. Nye.” She curtsied.
Nye shook his head. “You really are a girl.”
Charlie shrugged, grinning. “Charlotte.”
“I’d have acted much more gentlemanly if I’d known . . .” He looked down at his feet.
“Do not apologize,” Charlie said. “I’m so pleased at least one person believed my charade.” She looked past him as Allred approached. “Mr. Allred, you’re here too. All of my messmates are together again. I heard something very funny I hoped to be able to tell you, but first, you all must meet my brother.”
“Will?” Alden said. He’d completely forgotten about her brother. “You found him?”
“Yes.” She gave a mysterious smile. “And we’ve more news, but I shall let Marchand tell it.”
***
Alden sat back in his chair, his belly filled with delicious Cajun cooking and his thoughts completely confounded by all that had befallen Charlie and Marchand since they’d parted ways at Lafitte’s warehouse.
Not only had Charlie found Will safe and happy, but Marchand had found his long-lost love, and the two were married. Alden couldn’t have been more surprised if a purple seagull had landed on his plate and sung “God Save the King.”
Once supper was finished, the group gathered in front of the hearth. The men spread out around the room. Marchand sat on the sofa beside Gabrielle, holding her hand and occasionally sharing an intimate glance or a whisper. Alden hardly recognized the gruff man.
Charlie sat on the floor beside her brother. Will was exactly as Charlie had described. He’d asked the crew and Dubois question after question during supper, from which of them had seen a real shark to whether or not they had made an enemy walk the plank. The boy was curious and bright and happy, which was an immense relief. Alden didn’t know if Charlie could have endured losing another family member.
Alden watched Charlie—Charlotte—throughout the evening. Seeing her again had only reinforced what he knew. He adored her. The way she scrunched her nose when she teased or tipped her head when she had a question . . . her jokes, her worries, her strength, her determination—all of her. Alden couldn’t get enough. He’d missed her more than he’d realized and drank in every moment in her presence like a man at a desert oasis.
As they listened to Allred describe the rescue, Charlie laid her head on her brother’s curls, just for a moment. Alden’s throat felt tight watching her. Seeing Charlie happy made his heart swell like a sponge. But would she ever leave this? Marchand and Gabrielle had given Charlie and her brother a home. She had a family again. Would she give it up . . . for him?
Allred finished his story, and the group clapped.
Alden stood. “Charlie, if you don’t mind, I wondered if I might speak to you privately for a moment.”
She rose. “Of course, Captain.”
He led her onto the porch and took her hand, placing it into the bend of his elbow as they walked down to the path.
He handed her the ring.
Once she realized what it was, she clasped it, tightly holding it against her chest. “Oh, Captain, thank you. This . . . my father gave it to me.” Her voice caught. “I thought it was gone for good.” She let go of his arm and slipped it onto her finger.
“I missed you, Charlie,” he said.
“I missed you as well, sir,” she said. She looked up at him then back at the ring. Her voice went very quiet. “I never heard . . . Did you find Mademoiselle LaFontaine?”
“I did.”
“And was she pleased to see you?”
Alden nodded. “Yes. She hoped to begin again where we left off.” He glanced at her, but Charlie’s hair had grown just long enough that if she kept her face turned down, it hung forward and covered her eyes. He stopped. “Marguerite was every bit as beautiful and as gracious as I remembered, and the moment I saw her, I knew . . .”
Charlie stiffened, but she didn’t look up, so Alden lifted her chin, brushing back her hair to tuck behind her ear.
“I knew I didn’t love her.”
Charlie’s gaze rose to his, the line appearing between her brows. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “I thought I did. I was convinced of it, but as it turns out, I’d fallen in love with someone else and didn’t even realize it.” He stepped closer, her skirts brushing his legs. “It’s you, Charlie.”
She gasped. “Captain . . .”
“Alden,” he corrected. “Charlie, I knew when you yelled at the English Captain. I knew when you practiced and practiced to learn to climb the rigging. I knew when you tended my wounds and stayed by my side day and night. I knew all along, but for some reason I couldn’t let go of the past. I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.”
“You don’t really . . .”
Alden slipped his hand beneath her ear, cupping the back of her head. “When you jumped into the ocean to rescue Stafford, I was more frightened than I’d ever been in my entire life. Thinking of losing you . . .” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers. “Please, Charlie, I can’t lose you.”
He touched his lips to hers and slipped his arms around her waist. Charlie was small and soft, and she melted against him, her arms moving hesitantly to his chest and then to clasp around his neck. Her touch was tender, and Alden’s heart pounded until he thought it would break free from his ribs. Kissing Charlie felt like the very thing he needed to be complete, and he wondered how he’d not noticed the Charlie-shaped part of himself missing before now. Charlie pulled away, and he immediately reached for
her, feeling that the inches between them were too many.
“Captain.” Her voice shook.
“Alden.”
“You must be mistaken. I can’t . . . I can’t be with you.” She took another step back.
A panicky feeling made breathing difficult, and he fought the impulse to pull her back to him. “You told me ‘A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.’ Do you remember? That was me . . . Charlie, I found you. We are meant to be together.” He felt dizzy.
“I’m sorry, Captain. I can’t.” Her chin trembled, and she folded her arms.
She couldn’t be serious. Not when he had not one doubt in his mind or in his heart. He glanced back at the house, knowing her reasons. She’d just found Will. She had a family. And she didn’t need him. Though he’d feared it, the truth was such a blow that he staggered. “But . . .”
“Excuse me.” Her voice was a whisper. She started for the house.
Alden spun and walked back toward the boat, not looking back. He didn’t care if the bayou was growing dark or if he stepped on a poisonous snake or became a meal for a gator. Inside, in the very same spot where his heart had been so full moments earlier, he was empty.
Chapter 23
Charlotte hurt too badly to weep. Captain Thatcher had been gone for a week, and she thought she’d never feel like smiling again. Even the spring colors on the bayou looked dull. She performed her chores automatically, feeling heavy and sluggish.
In spite of her melancholy, she knew she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t leave Will behind. She couldn’t hurt him and Marchand and Gabrielle. But the sadness wouldn’t go away.
The night was cool, and Charlotte sat on the porch steps, arms around her knees, watching the stars. She wondered if the Belladonna had already set sail. Was Alden looking up at the stars? Or had he retired for the night? Was he still angry? She knew she’d hurt him; the look in his eyes when she’d rejected him pierced like a blade into the deepest part of her. Would he ever forgive her? Or would his hurt turn to anger and then to contempt?
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