“You just enjoy this delightful sunshine,” he said with a pat to her shoulder. “I am going in to dash off a letter to Andrew and Catherine. And John.”
Judith was still smiling as she watched him go. He might dash off a letter and get it in the post, but barring a miracle, she knew it could be months and months—if ever—before it reached its intended goal. Then her smile widened and she looked up at the blue sky. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered. What was one more miracle? They already had been blessed with so many. Surely God could provide one more.
Chapter 38
Anne looked around at the family from the doorway to the kitchen. Everyone save Andrew seemed wrapped up in the meeting to come. Thomas sat rocking softly, sipping from his mug, gazing reflectively into the dark fireplace. John Price sat in the other chair and cast little glances at Thomas. Catherine was in the kitchen packing apples and cider and cheese and half a loaf of bread to take with them into town.
After breakfast Andrew had returned to his room, as he often did. He had improved greatly in the past weeks, but it was becoming clear to all that his strength would never fully return. At the time, no one had any interest in discussing a future beyond the day.
When Andrew emerged from the room a short time later, he had changed into a pair of pressed dark trousers and a starched shirt.
“Are you going to town?” Catherine asked, coming into the living room with Anne close behind her.
“That depends upon Thomas,” Andrew said, easing himself onto the bench nearby.
Thomas made to rise. “Forgive me, Father. I have taken your seat.”
“Remain where you are, please. I am wondering if I may come with you today.”
“I would count it an honor.”
Andrew was observing his son-in-law very closely. “I have the impression that you know what decision you are to render today.”
Thomas merely returned Andrew’s gaze.
“In fact, I am thinking that you have known for quite a while now.”
“Since the day they set the matter before me,” Thomas affirmed quietly.
“I don’t understand,” Catherine exclaimed. “If you have known all this time, why did you require the delay in announcing it?”
“He did not require the time for himself,” Andrew replied. “He did it for the village.”
Thomas spoke to Catherine, yet kept his gaze upon his father-in-law. “There was a risk that if the matter had been swiftly resolved, they would see it as a simple issue.”
“The problem was never the farm,” Andrew said.
“Never,” Thomas agreed.
Catherine looked from one man to the other. “But—” “The elders did not request my help because they could not find the answer themselves. They asked because they needed someone who could speak to the angry and the discontented within both communities,” Thomas replied. “They needed not an impartial judge who would speak of laws written by a distant hand. They needed someone who was both within and without.”
“They heard you speak from the pulpit, and they knew they had found their go-between,” Andrew said.
Slowly Thomas shook his head. “That was only part of it.”
“What else, then?”
Thomas turned and looked at Anne.
“Of course,” Andrew murmured.
“They know your daughter’s story, the Acadian child lovingly raised by an English family. My time in the pulpit might have been my introduction to the English in the community.
But the French elder approached me because of my connection to Anne, the woman they still claim as their own.” For Anne, the moment was captured in the sudden stillness.
Her grandfather in the chair, her mother near him, and her husband and her father sharing a quiet smile. She knew she would remember it for all her remaining days.
When Thomas drew out his pocket watch and rose to his feet, the little group stirred itself again.
“Yes, well,” Thomas said, “we shall see what happens. It is in God’s hands.”
“Amen,” said Andrew.
Anne’s grandfather had declared himself unable to remain at home. Such momentous events do not come but so often, he had explained. Andrew smiled his approval as John Price had slipped into his jacket. The two gentlemen said they would start out early on the way into the village so as not to slow anyone else down.
John and Andrew fell into step with Catherine and Anne and Thomas outside the churchyard gate. Together they made their way through the throng and up to the front steps. Chairs were quickly offered to Andrew and his family.
Thomas nodded to his French interpreter, and the two made their way up to the table and chairs. The Acadian farmer and the English homesteader were already there, hats held in their laps and avoiding Thomas’s eye.
Anne watched her husband turn and glance at Andrew. She saw her father give a brief headshake. Instantly she understood the exchange. Thomas had asked Andrew to say the opening prayer, and Andrew had declined.
“Let us bow our heads,” Thomas said, and he led them in a prayer for wisdom, for peace, each sentence repeated by the translator.
Thomas remained standing and said, “Before the proceedings may continue, we must first establish the framework. We all are part of God’s community. We must not simply accept the words, we must livethis. Our deeds—both great and small—must reflect our brotherhood.” He turned to where the two farmers stood, separated by the table. “Please shake hands and apologize for words that never should have been uttered.”
The two weeks must have had a profound impact on these two men. Neither of them hesitated an instant. The words they spoke were inaudible, but the expressions on their faces were clear to all.
Thomas waited until the pair had returned to their seats. He raised his hands and said, “Let us all turn and offer one another the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The response was immediate. A joyful commotion filled the air as English and Acadians, farmers and merchants, shook hands and greeted one another. Anne turned and embraced her grandfather, her mother, and her smiling father. Thomas made his own way down the steps, grasping hands as they reached for his.
When he returned to the front table, he motioned for all to return to their places. “I have studied the evidence placed before me,” he said, looking over the now-silent crowd. “And I have reached a finding.”
He waited for the translation, then continued, “I declare that bothmen have a valid claim to the property in question.”
A quiet rustling ran through the assembly. But there were no protests, not even from the two farmers seated on either side of him. Thomas continued, “It is also clear that the land in question is not large enough to support two families. Nor would their proximity promise long-term peace. And that is what we are after here. A resolution that will satisfy not just their rights, but guarantee their peace. Theirs, and that of the community at large.”
He turned to the Acadian farmer. “Mr. Laroux, a question, if you please, sir.”
The farmer sat up straighter.
“Cast your mind back to the time of the expulsion. It is true, is it not, that your entire holdings were burned to the ground.”
“That is correct, Monsieur Crowley,” he agreed through the interpreter.
“Your home was destroyed.”
“Utterly, Monsieur.”
“Your barns also went up in flames.”
“I watched the fires light up the sky.”
“Your orchards were also torched.”
“The smoke was a pillar that burns still in my dreams.”
“You were how old at the time?”
“Eleven.”
“This is a terrible tragedy that no one should ever be forced to endure. Most especially not a young child.” Thomas offered his hand. “Sir, on behalf of the British nation at large, I offer you my most sincere apologies. There is nothing I can do or say that will remove the stain of this most awful event. I, with all my countrymen, stand co
ndemned. I humbly beg your forgiveness.”
When the Acadian had finished translating, the farmer rose to his feet and took Thomas’s outstretched hand.
Another tumult filled the church, subsiding only when Thomas watched the farmer seat himself and then turned to the Englishman. “Mr. Reynolds, you have been tilling this soil for how long now?” he asked the Englishman.
“This will be my twelfth planting season.”
“When you arrived on the land, what did you find?”
“It had lain fallow so long the weeds and saplings stood higher than my head.”
“Yet you knew it had been farmed before.”
“Aye, there was no question that sometime in the distant past it had been tilled. The furrows were overgrown, but a farmer knows, sir.” He looked at the Acadian and nodded soberly. “Aye, a farmer knows.”
“How did you come to select this land as your own?”
“Why, it was chosen for me. I landed in Halifax and went to the land office with all the other new arrivals. This was the tract I had purchased. I signed the deed and bought my goods and loaded my family and made my way here. Simple as that.”
“So you did not know if anyone else might lay claim to the land.”
“Far as I knew, it was mine and mine alone. That is …”
“Yes, go on.”
“Well, sir. The neighbors, they came to tell us of the tragedy. And that first planting, we came upon ashes in the topsoil.” He lowered his head and his voice dropped. “Ashes everywhere.”
The Acadian farmer covered his eyes with a work-scarred hand.
“You built a new home for yourself, did you not?”
“Aye, that I did. With the help of many gathered here today, sir.”
“If I recall correctly from what Mr. Guy Robichaud reported, you chose to site your home somewhat away from where the original Laroux homestead was situated.” Thomas waited through a heavy silence, then said more softly, “Was that decision taken because of the ashes as well, sir?”
The English farmer replied in a voice so soft it scarcely carried beyond the front rows. “Aye.”
“You sought to remove your own family from whatever calamity had befallen those who had lived and farmed here before.”
“Aye.”
“You built a new home. You planted new crops. You watered the earth with your own sweat. You have established a newhomestead.”
The farmer lifted his head. “Aye, sir. I have. All that and more.”
Thomas moved in a slow circle about the table.
He returned to his place behind the table and lifted a jug of fresh-pressed cider. “At our last gathering someone gave this to us to quench our thirst. Who can say whether the apples were French or English? How many different hands took part in carrying it forward?”
He walked down to the front and placed his hand upon his wife’s shoulder. “My own beloved wife carries this same question each and every day of her existence upon this earth. Is she French? Is she English? Who can lay claim to her heritage?”
He turned back to the Acadian. “Mr. Laroux, it wrenches my heart to have to say this. But there is no escaping the fact. Sir, your farm is no more.”
The Acadian farmer might have nodded. Or it may have simply been the shiver of a man seeking to maintain control. But his dark gaze did not waver from Thomas’s face.
“I cannot order you to place the past behind you. That is your choice. But I can ask you to ponder this question: What inheritance do you seek to pass on to your children, and your children’s children, and all the generations still to come? Is it a land salted with bitterness and gall? Or do you seek to leave them with a peace and security within which they might build their own hopes and aspirations?”
Thomas turned back to the congregation. “Here, then, is my decision. Mr. Laroux will have the right to choose whatever land he wishes from any that now lies fallow. He will take his time. He will search out the finest property that awaits him. He will make his selection. And then the entire community will join forces to buy this land for him.”
A stirring ran through the gathering, but Thomas raised his voice to continue, “Not only that!” When the murmurs subsided, he went on, “Not only that, but all will aid him in building as fine a home as can be found here. A home, barns, corrals. All will give. None will rest until Mr. Laroux himself declares that he and his family are not merely grateful, but satisfied.”
He then turned to the English farmer. “Mr. Reynolds, will you help?”
“I’ll do more than that, sir.” Joshua Reynolds was rising to his feet. “I will offer him from the best that I have.”
“None here could ask more.” Thomas turned to the Acadian. “Mr. Laroux, I began these proceedings with a declaration that all must abide by my decision. Sir, I hereby free you from this obligation. No one who has suffered as you and your family should have anything this momentous forced upon you. I do not order you, sir. I am simply asking you. Accept this, and with it build a future for yourself, for your family, and for the community at large.”
The Acadian rose to his feet. In heavily accented English he replied, “I accept. And I thank you.”
Chapter 39
Nicole had regained her normal strength and vigor by the time the produce and village wares were purchased and readied for shipment to New Orleans. An elder and a village trader were dispatched to New Orleans to contact a reputable shipowner. With Henri’s assistance, a new plan had been formulated. Everything possible was to be acquired within the bayou villages. The merchants of New Orleans were to be circumvented, except in the case that the villages could not supply the wares. And even here, the village trader and elder would act on Gordon’s behalf. Thus the extra profit would come to the villages and not to the city merchants. The development of these plans had done much for Gordon’s and his men’s full acceptance within the Acadian community.
Gordon and Nicole were sitting in their favorite spots on the front porch, he on the railing to catch any breeze that might happen by and she moving slowly back and forth seated in the hammock.
“Have you told them yet?” Gordon was asking as Louise came through the door with a tray of tea mugs.
“Tell us what?” she said.
Nicole looked at her mother. “I thought you didn’t speak English.”
“I understand as much as I need to. What do you want to tell me?”
“Where is Papa?” Nicole asked.
“Out back.”
“Perhaps you should fetch him.”
When Louise returned with Henri, the three of them sat clustered by the side railing, their backs to the street. It was the common signal to all who passed that they were not welcoming either guests or idle talk. Gordon did not join them, as that would have required translating, and he was only too aware of the topic.
“You are seeking a way to soften ill tidings, yes?” Henri said, his voice gentle.
“How … how did you know?”
Henri shrugged. “It is a headman’s worst duty. Go ahead, child. Speak to us.”
She took a breath. “Father Andrew is ill. Very ill.”
Louise tightened her grip on her apron. “You mean he was when you left Acadia.”
Nicole returned her mother’s gaze without speaking.
“Daughter, what are you saying?”
“It is his heart.”
Henri finally asked, “Is he dying?”
“He may already … have passed over.” Nicole could barely say the last words.
Louise was on her feet. “I must go to Catherine.”
“Louise, please.” Henri reached for her hand and urged her back to her chair.
“But—”
“Wait, my dear. Just one moment further.” Henri called Gordon over, and indicated that he should draw up a chair.
“Daughter, ask your husband how we might travel north in safety,” Henri said.
“We?” Louise stared at her husband. “You would leave the village?”
“The new headman might actually benefit from having me gone for a season,” Henri replied. “Too often he turns to me for advice. He is a good man. He needs to learn to trust more in his own wisdom. As does the village.”
“You have been planning this?”
“I had thought it would be better to wait until the conflict was over. But, yes, I have been searching for a reason to travel back to Acadia again.”
Louise leaned back in her chair, astonishment in every feature.
Henri said, “Ask Gordon what he thinks.”
When Nicole had finished translating, Gordon replied, “The voyage to Boston is not the problem.”
“But from there?”
“If there have been American victories on land, my guess is the same is happening at sea. The British are determined to hold on to the northern colonies. The occupants there have always been more strongly loyalist. If the British withdraw, it will be to form a protective shield around the Nova Scotia coastline.”
“This is not good,” Henri mused. “Not good at all.”
“There is one possibility,” Gordon ventured. He turned to his wife. “Forgive me, I should have spoken with you about this in advance.”
“You intend to take the ship back to her British owners.”
“You knew this?”
“You have made no secret of your hopes.” Nicole sighed. “To do this, you will have to purchase the vessel and request a safe passage.”
Louise put in, “What are you two saying?”
Nicole did not turn from her husband. “Gordon, there is too much risk of the British imprisoning you.”
Gordon began shaking his head, then stopped. “Much as I would like to return the vessel myself, I confess that you are right.”
Nicole was filled with relief and leaned back in her chair.
“That leaves us, of course, with the problem of where to find a British skipper and crew.”
“I have every confidence you will think of the proper course.” Nicole turned back to her parents and announced in French, “We may have the beginnings of a plan.”
The Beloved Land Page 21