Promises to Keep

by Genevieve Graham

  Why had he brought me here?

  “I believe I can walk,” I told him, hoping I was right.

  Jagged white rocks shifted under my moccasins, causing me to stumble again, but my guide walked smoothly behind me. He caught me before I could fall, and when I started to wobble for the third time, he simply picked me up and set my feet on the grass. I spotted a well-defined trail on our left and wondered who had made it.

  “There?” I asked.

  He nodded, so I kept walking. I dared to trust him, dared to hope I would be safe at the end of this trail. After a while, the rich smell of smoke drifted toward us, bringing with it the feeling of comfort, not threat. A small camp came into view, and I heard voices; someone was cutting firewood.

  “Amélie?”

  I froze, my heart in my throat. “Henri!” I whispered, trembling anew. “Is it you?”

  Impossibly, my brother was instantly by my side, holding me so tightly I thought I’d never breathe again. Our faces were wet with tears, and I stared at him in disbelief, my fingers on his stubbled brown cheek. While I’d been gone, Henri had become a man. I couldn’t stop weeping. When my weakened body began to fail, he held me up. He touched my cheek with his finger, and I knew he had noticed the dried scars left behind by the pox.

  “How you have suffered, little sister!”

  Would I ever be able to tell him the depths of my sorrow? The idea was monumental, and I was afraid. To do so I would have to envision my family again, watch them slip away from me one by one.

  “I am well,” I insisted.

  “I will believe you for now, but only if you will allow us to take care of you.”

  “I look forward to that!”

  He grinned. “I know just the thing to help you recover. I have good news. André is fine. He fights with the Resistance, and we see him often. He was just here a couple of weeks ago. How he would love to have seen you!”

  He could not have given me happier news. We hugged again, and I wished I could hold him forever. But even as I breathed in his scent and felt his arms around me, my mind warned me not to trust this moment. Happiness had been ripped from me so many times that I wondered how I could ever believe in it again.

  “What about the others?” Henri asked, bringing me back.

  How could I find the words? Moments before I had been so elated, my heart bursting for having found Henri. Now I must break his heart.

  “We . . . we are all that is left.”

  My brother seemed to shrink a little. “All?” he whispered. “How?”

  I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “I cannot speak of it. Not yet.”

  “But I need—”

  I felt as if I hadn’t slept in a hundred nights. When was the last time I’d closed my eyes and slept without dreams, unafraid?

  “I know. It’s just—”

  “My poor little sister,” he said, his expression drawn with sympathy. “You have seen too much. First you must rest.”

  “Oh, Henri. I am so weary of crying.”

  Very gently, he wiped a fresh tear from my cheek. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Suddenly recalling my guide, I spun around to introduce him and was startled to discover he was gone. I peered to either side of the trail but could see no sign of him.

  “Where did he go? He saved my life.”

  “He won’t have gone far.” Henri wrapped an arm around my waist and helped me up the path.

  Snuggled up against him like this, I could almost believe. I grinned up at him. “What is this surprise? Will you give me a hint?”

  “I got married!”

  “No!”

  “Is my wife here?” he called out.

  “Would my husband mind helping me with something?” came the reply.

  My mouth dropped open at the familiar voice. “Mali?”

  My best friend’s face popped through the entry to a wigwam, and she burst into tears. “Amélie!”

  Seeing her was almost more than I could bear.

  “My heart sings to see you alive,” she said, holding me close.

  “As does mine. Oh, Mali. This is the happiest day of my life! And Henri told me something so wonderful I almost cannot believe it! You and he . . . ?”

  “At last!” she said, laughing as he came up from behind and put his hands on her shoulders. He brushed the long braid off her back, leaned in, and kissed her neck. Of course they were married. They had been best friends since we were children. Before the English had sent us away, they’d begun stealing secret glances—of which I’d seen every one. This shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, but still . . . it seemed incredible it should have happened while I was gone.

  Henri glanced mischievously at me over his wife’s shoulder. “There is something else—or rather, someone else. Wait here.”

  Mali’s smile was contagious. It warmed my soul to share it with her.

  “What is it?”

  “Wait,” she said, hugging me again.

  Henri’s eyes were shining when he returned. The tiny pink fists of a baby flailed happily beneath his chin, the rest of its body wrapped in a blanket in its father’s protective arms. I thought I might collapse with joy. I stretched out my arms, aching to hold the bundle. When he placed her in my arms, I fell instantly in love.

  “So beautiful,” I cried, kissing the soft, round cheeks. The innocence in her wide brown eyes was absolute. She’d known nothing but love, had no concept of grief, and my heart raced to build a wall against any who might change that.

  “Her name is Amélie.”

  My amazement gave way to longing. Unexpected loneliness swelled within me, and I hugged the baby tighter. “Hello, Amélie,” I whispered.

  The little cupid lips formed a perfect circle as I spoke. I could not look away.

  “Maman and Papa would be so, so proud of you,” I told my brother and his wife, my eyes still on their baby. “They would love her so much. If only—” I took a deep breath and finally looked at them again. “I am sorry. I have much to tell, but I am not yet strong enough.”

  Mali understood. She always had. “When you are ready, you can tell us.”

  “I told Henri the truth, and I will tell you,” I said slowly. “We are the last of our family.” I kissed the baby’s brow again. “At least we have one more now.”

  We said nothing more; there was nothing to say.

  In the next breath my Mi’kmaq guide appeared beside me, sliding from out behind the ferns that encircled the camp.

  “Ah! I wondered if I would see you again,” I said, smiling up at him.

  Mali stepped back, obviously startled. “Amélie, is this a friend of yours?”

  “I think so. He saved my life and brought me here. I don’t know who he is, and he will not answer me when I ask.”

  “Well, I know who he is.” She looked reverently at him. “Amélie, this is Me’tekw, the youngest son of our great chief. He will not speak because he cannot. He was born with no voice. He disappeared from our land many years ago, and for a long time no one had seen anything of him. I . . . We had thought he was gone from this world, until he came here unexpectedly two months ago.”

  Me’tekw. His eyes were on Mali’s, looking like a doting uncle with his arms crossed over his expansive chest. He shifted his gaze to me, then looked back at her and nodded.

  Her eyes widened. “I think I understand why he is here. My father told me a story a long time ago. May I tell her?” she asked Me’tekw.

  He smiled.

  “Your father and Me’tekw were friends, along with my parents. They hunted together, played together, did everything together. This was back when the British were here but they were not yet a threat. But then the British declared war on the Mi’kmaq by paying for scalps.”

  I nodded. I knew of that terrible time.

  “One day, when Me’tekw was a young man, he went fishing near the British. He fell asleep in the sun, and they found him. When he could not answer their questions, they beat him until he was
nearly dead. They shot him twice and threatened his village, but he still said nothing. They held him down and put a knife to his scalp,” Mali said. “They said the scalp of the chief’s son would bring a great reward.”

  I looked at Me’tekw, seeing an entirely different man from the one I had gotten to know in some small way. He had been my protector, my guide, my silent companion, and I’d never had any idea what suffering he had endured.

  “Your father killed those soldiers,” Mali said softly. “He saved Me’tekw’s life.”

  I stared at Me’tekw, hearing my father’s confession all over again. “And you saved mine.” I touched his arm, and the baby I held gurgled softly. “Thank you.”

  He nodded once, gestured deeper into the woods, and disappeared again. Mali seemed to know exactly why.

  “When he came here last time,” Mali said, “he brought someone with him who needed help. Come. I need to show you something.” Smiling, she took little Amélie from my arms, though I was reluctant to let her go. “I think you will want to have your hands free for this.”

  We walked back into the forest toward to the rhythmic echo of wood being chopped. All at once it stopped, and Me’tekw appeared. He walked toward us, and when he was about ten feet away, he stepped aside. A man stood behind him.

  It was a face I’d thought I’d never see again.

  “Amélie.”

  I don’t remember the steps I took, running to him, but I will always remember the moment when Connor’s arms went around me and his cheek pressed against mine. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. His quick breaths were warm on the side of my neck, and I knew he wept with me. When I drew back, needing to look at him, his eyes shone.

  “Are you well?” I asked, not knowing what else to say. My hands skimmed over his arms and face, searching for proof of his health. He bore a new scar on one cheek, but I found no recent injuries.

  “Very well.” His hand pressed against my cheek, and his thumb stroked away a tear. “Oh, my beautiful Amélie. At this moment I am better than I’ve ever been.”

  Me’tekw stepped up beside Connor and eyed him closely, seeming to ask a question. Connor smiled as if he knew him well.

  “Thank you, my friend. Our debt is more than paid. By bringing Amélie here, you have given me my life back.”

  Something happened to Me’tekw in that moment. The tension that had drawn his brow and flared his nostrils, the strain that had held his jaw tight, released.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t save my father,” I told him. “I know you loved him like a brother. He loved you as well.”

  His smile lit his eyes like a sunrise. A long sigh—the only sound I ever heard from him—erased any lingering doubts, and I understood at last. He could not have saved my father, but by taking care of me he had fulfilled his promise and more. What was left of my family was safely together again because of him. Me’tekw bowed slightly—humbly accepting absolution of some kind, I imagined. Then he turned and vanished into the woods, and I saw a lift to his steps that hadn’t been there before.

  THIRTY-SIX

  After the initial excitement, after the thrill of embracing someone dear I’d thought long gone, after the impulsive looks of delight had faded to muted glances of apprehension, what was I to do? I stood beside the man I had dreamed of for so long, held hands with the one in whom I had placed all my trust . . . and stared into the eyes of a stranger.

  “You are tired,” he recognized. “We have much to talk about, you and I, but we can speak after you have rested.”

  “Sleep can wait.”

  We did not hold hands as we walked back to the shore where Me’tekw and I had first landed, but we were side by side. When his skin touched mine, I felt such a roaring in my chest that I clutched my hands together, out of his reach. It was not that I didn’t want to touch him—I wanted that more than I dared admit—but it was important that I think clearly. I must remember Papa’s words and consult my conscience before diving headlong into something so important. But when the rocks shifted beneath me, I stumbled, and he caught me. I was undone by the pressure of his hand on my arm, the arm he braced against my waist. Confused by the swirling sensations, I practically ran the rest of the way. By the time the ground levelled out, my heart had slowed, nearing its normal rhythm. Me’tekw’s canoe was gone.

  “I imagine he will return to be sure you are all right,” Connor assured me.

  “I wish I could have said goodbye.”

  “You said all he needed to hear. He saw what he needed to see.” He turned from the water to face me, but I still saw its reflection in his eyes. “Have you?”

  At his question, my arms tingled, my cheeks were on fire, and yet I could not speak. Fear seized me, its talons sharp and pressing. What was it that frightened me so terribly? After all I’d been through, why could I not simply accept the comfort he offered? For so long I’d been afraid of what was happening to me or to my family, living in the midst of terrifying circumstances beyond my control. This felt different. That’s when I realized this new fear was for my future.

  “I gave you up once before,” Connor reminded me, “and I paid dearly for that decision. I have missed you every day since last we saw each other, and I prayed every night for your safekeeping.” His throat moved, and he let out a long breath. “And yet, despite the pain of being separated from you, I’d do it again if I knew it would save your life.”

  He held out his hands, waiting. He asked for my heart, but what did I have to give him? Long ago, when I was a different person, it had belonged to him, and it had pulsed with love and hope. Since then my heart had come under fierce attack. Pieces had been chipped or gouged away. The shell was cracked, the foundation shaky. The unprotected kernel within had been diminished until it barely existed. Hardly a worthy gift to give to the man I loved. Yet still he asked.

  If I gave him what was left, would it be enough? The fog that had wrapped around him on that terrible morning, whispering over his long black cloak and glowing in Mali’s necklace, still existed between us. I was afraid to step through it.

  “I died that day we left you,” I whispered.

  “You did not die, Amélie. You are right here. And so am I.”

  My throat swelled with apprehension, but I took the first step, laying my trembling fingers on his. They curled around mine and their warmth spread.

  “There is nothing left of me,” I tried to explain.

  His gaze didn’t waver. “I have loved you from the first time I saw you, Amélie. I will gladly take whatever you can give me. I can only imagine the pain you suffer, and I want to ease it.” He squeezed my fingers. “Take my strength. Even when you are strong enough to stand on your own again, I want to stand with you.”

  “I am not the girl you fell in love with.”

  “Yes, you are, though you have grown. Now you are the woman I love.”

  “I missed you,” I choked out.

  With my declaration his shoulders relaxed, as if he had been holding his breath. “Never again, Amélie. You will never have cause to miss me again, nor I you.”

  I was barely aware of my own movement as I leaned closer. He pressed his lips to mine, and I kept my eyes closed even after the warmth of him was gone, needing to remember this sensation of pure happiness. If I did not, I was sure it would swirl away in the breeze and leave me, just as everything else in my life had.

  “Open your eyes, Amélie,” he said. “I’m still here.”

  André was not prepared for the scene he came upon when he visited our Mi’kmaq family. Since he stopped in to see them whenever he was nearby, he knew all about Mali and little Amélie. He did not know about me. When he walked into the camp one afternoon, calling out to Henri, I ducked out of the wigwam and flung my arms around his neck before he even recognized me.

  “Amélie!” he cried. “You’re alive! How did you—”

  He froze, looking over my shoulder at a rustling in the bushes. He had always been alert, but war had quickened his reflexes
. When I followed his gaze I saw Connor had returned to our camp from a hunt. He was staring back at André with obvious apprehension.

  “André, you might not remember—” I began.

  “What are you doing here?” André growled. “I thought I’d seen the last of you when I sent you off with that English weasel.”

  I didn’t understand. “André! Please, I—”

  Connor nodded, his expression wary. “I knew you would come eventually.”

  Henri returned at that moment, a couple of grouse hooked on his belt. I held up a hand and he stopped, regarding the standoff with interest. He asked, “Do you know each other?”

  Henri had never been able to stay out of a conversation, even if it had nothing to do with him. This time I welcomed his interference, since I was at a loss to explain the tension.

  “You could say so,” André said. “I recently did my best to kill him.”

  “That was your best?” Connor shook his head. “I doubt that. You didn’t really try to kill me. You’re not the kind of man to kill another without cause.”

  “You don’t think I had cause?”

  “No. As I tried to tell you at the time, I did not break my promise.”

  André glanced at me but did not move. “I may have acted prematurely,” he allowed.

  “Why would you try to kill him?” Henri asked for me.

  “You know he’s a British soldier, yes?” André asked, rounding on him. “You know he was Winslow’s translator? Why would I not try to kill him?” He looked back at Connor. “I had a personal reason as well. He and I, we had an understanding, and I believed he had not held up his end.”

  “Which was?” Henri persisted.

  “To look after our family.” André’s eyes were on me now. “After I left home, I saw him with Amélie, and I needed to know if he was the man she thought he was. If he was, I wanted to make sure he would take care of our family when I could not.”

  I smiled, hearing this. I had believed André had abandoned us in the beginning. Now I understood that even though he had left, he had still been watching over us.