“Do you like it?”
At Joseph’s question, Angeline realized she’d been staring at the ring on her finger. “Yes, of course. It’s beautiful.”
“It was my grandmother’s. My father gave it to me when I told him about my intentions. It’s been in my pocket for a while, you know.”
Angeline smiled at Joseph, and her smile was genuine. She vowed to make every effort to become as excited about their wedding as he was. She just needed more time. Her resolution compelled her to kiss him on the cheek. As she moved away from his face, he turned to her and she recognized the way his eyes had looked just before he’d kissed her on the lips for the first time. They were so dark. Angeline could have imagined they were Emilie’s eyes if his hadn’t been rimmed with just a tiny circle of blue. Emilie’s eyelashes were also longer, although Joseph’s were quite long for a boy. For a man, she corrected herself as Joseph brought his lips closer to hers. She closed her eyes just before their lips met. His mouth was soft. She could have imagined it was Emilie’s mouth, if his hadn’t been covered with a somewhat prickly beard. He pressed his mouth harder against hers and she let him, wondering why she was thinking of Emilie in this moment, why she still felt Emilie’s hand on her back and on her side, where it had been earlier. Why now, while Joseph was kissing her, she was enjoying this kiss so much more than the first one.
Chapter Twelve
September 1897
Emilie sat in the same wooden chair she’d sat in for every meal she’d shared with her family since their arrival in Fall River more than nine years ago. Her father and Joseph were sitting in their usual chairs too, except they were not around the table. They were around her parents’ bed, staring at her mother as she labored for every breath.
Her mother was dying.
Emilie watched as Joseph cried, holding her hand as he sat by her side. On the other side, her father shook his head with anger. “Damn cotton,” he kept whispering. “Damn mill,” he repeated as tears fell to his bearded cheeks.
Emilie sat at the foot of the bed, watching quietly. She hadn’t cried yet. She felt like she wasn’t really there, not really part of the scene. It was almost like a scene out of a book. Like Fantine’s death in Hugo’s Les Misérables. It wasn’t really happening to her and her family.
Her mother had been coughing for about a month. They’d all heard her cough, but the sound of coughing was so common in Flint that they didn’t pay much attention to it. When she complained she couldn’t breathe right and they finally all thought it might be brown lung disease, Emilie asked Maurice to come and examine her mother. He came, of course, and Emilie saw in her father’s expression that he wondered how his daughter knew a doctor, but he didn’t ask questions. He was just grateful a real doctor had come to see his wife. Unfortunately, Maurice couldn’t do anything for her. It was already too late.
Emilie watched as her mother took her hand out of Joseph’s and wiggled her finger weakly, asking Emilie to come closer. Joseph wiped the tears from his eyes and got up from his chair to let Emilie sit by their mother. She wasn’t talking much anymore and when she tried to speak, her voice was nothing but a low, scratchy whisper. Emilie brought her ear directly over her mother’s mouth while making sure the frail woman could still get enough air.
She spoke in brief sentences, with long pauses to catch her breath. “Emilie, you’re different…I know…Could do anything…So proud of you…Get out…Out of the mill…”
Emilie’s first tears fell down to her mother’s face. As more tears threatened to follow, she looked into her mother’s eyes and managed to say, “I promise, Maman.” Then she dropped her forehead to her mother’s shoulder and started sobbing. The woman dying in her bed was not Fantine or any other character from any book. This woman was her own mother, and she was losing her. This was really happening, and it was happening to her. Emilie kept sobbing harder and felt her brother’s hand in her back, shaking with his own grief as he tried to comfort her. It was happening to him too, and to their father. Their family would never be the same.
Later that day, the priest came to administer the last rites and Mathilde Levesque took her last breath.
For the next four days Emilie went back to being nothing but a spectator to her own life. She couldn’t cope with actually being there as people filled their small apartment for three days of wake, then came back on the fourth day to share a meal in honor of her mother after the funeral and burial. She’d had enough of the good people of Flint, of their prayers, food and good intentions. Yet she almost missed them the minute they all left, including her older half-brothers and their families, when she found herself alone with Joseph and their father. The worst of the pain her mother’s death had caused was on their shoulders, and the void she’d left was suddenly all too obvious. They stood in the kitchen and looked at each other almost as strangers, as if the only thing that had kept them together was Mathilde Levesque.
Joseph was the first to move, and he made it toward Emilie. He hugged her and Emilie understood her brother needed to be held so she held him. As she felt his strong arms around her small body she remembered. Joseph was her big brother, her first friend, her only human friend until she’d met Angeline. Joseph would always be there for her. She was certain of that. Their bond was strong and their mother’s death could only make it stronger. Emilie and Joseph held on to each other in silence until they heard their father’s voice. “She didn’t want to come here.”
The voice came from their parents’ bedroom. Emilie hadn’t even noticed her father leave the kitchen. When Joseph and Emilie entered the bedroom, he was staring at the empty bed where his wife had died. He kept staring as he talked. “It was my idea. She didn’t want to come here. Did you know that?” Only then did he look at Emilie and Joseph. They both nodded and the way Joseph grabbed her hand, the same way he’d held it the night they’d sat on the top step of the wooden stairs and listened to their parents discussing their upcoming move to Fall River, she knew he was remembering it too. Yes, they knew coming to Fall River was their father’s idea and their mother hadn’t really wanted to come.
“I promised her we’d go back to Canada,” her father continued. “I promised her. If I’d kept my promise…” His voice broke and he wiped tears from his eyes.
Her father’s pain and guilt were tangible and Emilie felt powerless to comfort him. He’d always been the strong one. What did she have to give the man who’d always been the strongest person in her life? If he fell apart, they would all break to pieces.
Emilie watched as he squared his jaw and approached her. He looked straight into her eyes, and then looked at Joseph, who was standing by her side. “I made your mother another promise. Just before she died. I promised her I’d get you out of that mill. I will keep that promise if it kills me, you hear me?” He spoke with a determination that was almost threatening. “You,” he continued as he spoke to Joseph, “you marry that girl of yours and go back to Canada. If Price doesn’t have a job for you, you’ll find something else. Her father will help you any way he can. Pierre Fournier is a good man and he’ll guide you better than I ever could.”
Joseph simply nodded. He seemed frightened by their father.
“And you,” her father said as he turned to Emilie, “I wish you’d find a good fellow to marry and take care of you, but that doesn’t seem to be your calling. I don’t know what it is you’re meant for, my sweet girl, but I know it’s not the cotton mill. I worry about you, but I figure if you can find a way to make friends with a doctor, you can find a way out of here. Am I wrong, Emilie? Do you want me to keep worrying?”
Emilie shook her head. “No, Papa, I made the same promise to Maman and I’ll keep it. I’ll find a way. You don’t need to worry.”
“Good. That’s what I want to hear.” He smiled briefly before he squared his jaw again and turned his back to them to resume staring at the empty bed in the room.
“What about you, Papa? Will you come back to Canada with me and Angeline?” J
oseph asked.
Their father didn’t turn around to face Joseph when he answered. “It’s too late for me, son. I brought your mother here and she died here. The least I can do is stay here until I can finally join her.”
Without another word, he knelt by the bed, joined his hands together, and leaned his forehead against the mattress. Joseph and Emilie exchanged a look and exited the room in silent agreement to leave their father alone with his prayers.
When they got back to the kitchen, they whispered so they wouldn’t disturb their father. “So what will you do, Emilie? You know you can come to Canada with me and Angeline. We’ll be happy to have you.”
Emilie smiled at her brother. He’d placed his hands on the back of a chair and was leaning on it the same way their father so often did. “Thank you, but no. Dr. Banville and his wife are helping me figure things out. I’ll have a definite plan soon, but it won’t take me to Canada. What about you? Are you really going to work for The Price Company?”
“That’s the plan. Mr. Fournier likes the work and in his last letter to Angeline he told her it wouldn’t be long before he could get me a job there. He said they’re expanding.”
“I see. Angeline hadn’t mentioned that to me.” Emilie wondered why Angeline had kept that information from her. It was an important piece of information, after all; one that meant Angeline and Joseph would leave for Canada and get married in the near future. Emilie had thought she’d cried her eyes out over her mother’s death, but thinking Angeline’s departure could be imminent brought fresh tears to her eyes.
“I wish you’d reconsider your decision, Emilie. Your place is in Canada, with us.”
“You have no idea where my place is, Joseph.” Emilie’s anger surprised her as much as it surprised her brother, but she was unable to contain it. “You go ahead and trade in cotton dust for sawdust if you want, but I want something better for myself.”
Joseph sighed with exasperation. “I know you think you’re better than the rest of us, Emilie, but don’t forget who your family is.” With that, he pushed away the chair he’d been leaning against and left the apartment, but not before Emilie could see his eyes glisten with tears.
She hated herself instantly for causing those tears. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She wished she could run after him and tell him the truth. That she was jealous of him, for he was the one who’d get to leave with Angeline and therefore would have the better life. No matter where he was or what job he worked.
Of course, Emilie knew she couldn’t tell her brother any of that, so she sat at the kitchen table and cried until she couldn’t cry anymore. Then she took a deep breath, stood up, and prepared to make her way to the Banville residence. The plan they’d started to formulate would be finalized today.
Angeline waited at the buttonwood tree. She wanted to be there before Emilie arrived. She hadn’t seen her much since Mrs. Levesque’s death and she knew her friend was suffering in silence. Emilie had been keeping most of her feelings to herself for the past year, since around the same time Angeline had become engaged to Joseph. Angeline figured it was the knowledge that they would soon be taking separate roads that had made Emilie close up like a clam. Even to her best friend. Perhaps she was upset they wouldn’t see each other anymore, or perhaps she was just focused on her own plans, on her own road. Either way she’d become secretive, almost distant, and Angeline couldn’t find a way in.
Joseph, however, had told her all about his pain. He’d even talked about his father’s outburst and his plea for Joseph and Emilie to leave the cotton mill. When Angeline had asked about Emilie’s reaction, Joseph had tensed up and avoided answering the question. He urged Angeline to pack up and follow him to Rimouski before December so they could settle in and have a Christmas wedding. Angeline had managed to convince him to wait until after the Christmas holiday, when, according to her father, The Price Company would begin its expansion plans. She needed time, more time with Emilie. She needed to get through to her, perhaps even convince her to come to Canada.
When Angeline spotted Emilie walking toward her, she was shocked at her appearance. Her friend looked like a ghost. The black skirt and bodice made her skin look even paler than usual. Her face always seemed a little emaciated, but dark circles under her eyes made it look thinner yet. The black hair tied into a tight chignon made her look older. Even the way she walked was different, as if she’d lost the usual drive in her step. “Am I late?” Emilie asked softly. “I thought I’d make it here before you.”
“No, you’re not late. I didn’t want to miss a minute with you,” Angeline said as she patted her hand on the ground beside her, asking Emilie to sit down. “How are you holding up?”
Emilie sat on the ground but not quite as close as Angeline had hoped for. Without so much as a glance in Angeline’s direction, she shrugged with a nonchalance Angeline didn’t believe. “I’m doing fine.”
“Emilie, it’s me you’re talking to. I know you’re in pain. You can tell me the truth.” Angeline spoke in a voice she wanted to be soft, comforting and inviting, but the effect was not what she’d expected.
Emilie straightened up and sat solid as a wall, impenetrable. “I’m telling you the truth, Angeline. I can’t waste any more time crying. That’s not what my mother would want. I promised her I’d get out of the mill and that’s what I’m working on. Now is time for action, Angeline, not for tears. You hear me?”
Angeline’s heart broke. Emilie was so defensive. She’d shut everyone out, including her. Since she was getting nowhere trying to get Emilie to talk about her feelings, she figured she’d make her talk about her plans. She just wanted Emilie to talk. About something, about anything, as long as she finally opened up. “Yes, Emilie, I hear you. So tell me how you’re going to do it, then. How are you going to get out of the mill?”
Emilie had been staring at the river. She made eye contact with Angeline at last, as if the question had surprised her. “Do you really want to know? Even if it’s not what you want to hear? Even if I’m not going back to Canada?”
Angeline swallowed. She knew she had to hear her friend’s plans and be supportive even if it tore her apart, but she still hesitated to give up all hopes of having Emilie in Canada with her. She took a deep breath before she said what she had to say to keep Emilie talking. “Yes, of course, I want to hear all about it.” She swallowed again, this time with more difficulty, braced her hands on the grass and offered Emilie an encouraging smile.
Emilie relaxed ever so slightly and leaned on one hand toward Angeline, ready to reveal her intentions. “Maurice has a friend who owns a small bookstore in Boston. The man also owns the space just above the bookstore, which he turned into a lodging house. Maurice will write to ask if he could rent me a room and hire me as a clerk for his bookstore. Maurice says he might object to hiring a woman at first but he owes Maurice a favor so there’s a good chance it will work out in the end. Can you imagine, Angeline? I’d be surrounded with books all the time, in the middle of a large city buzzing with possibilities. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
Yes, it was what Emilie had always wanted. Yet she looked like she was trying to convince herself that she was truly excited about the opportunity. The light that should have been in her eyes as she spoke about the job that was indeed made for her, the life she was most likely meant to live, remained absent.
“Yes, I know it is, Emilie. You must be so happy,” Angeline finally said without much conviction. Her attempt at cheering sounded more like a question and her answer was Emilie’s eyes quickly filling with tears before her forced smiled vanished and she let Angeline do what her instinct compelled her to do: pull her into a tight embrace.
Angeline felt her skin instantly become wet as Emilie sobbed, her face tightly cradled in the nook of Angeline’s neck. She felt her friend’s frail body shake in her arms, defenseless. The vulnerability contrasted with the strength of Emilie’s arms around Angeline’s shoulders. Her grip was so tight Angeline could hardly breat
he, but she was not going to complain. It was too good to have Emilie so close to her again, to be the strong one for her the way she’d wanted to be.
Slowly, Emilie’s crying subsided but her grip remained strong and her face stayed against Angeline’s neck. As she gently rubbed her friend’s back, Angeline could feel Emilie breathe against her and the contact of warm breath on her skin, still damp with tears, gave her chills. Emilie was breathing heavily, probably from crying so hard.
There was something so intimate about Emilie’s panting into her neck it sent a jolt of pleasure through Angeline’s veins. It was almost like another chill, but ran deeper into her. She had never known this sensation before. It was not just the satisfaction of being a source of comfort for her friend. That felt wonderful, of course, but this new sensation was much more concrete than that, much more tangible. She found physical satisfaction in holding Emilie, in feeling her tight grip around her and her breath against her skin. The closeness they were sharing in that moment was both emotional and physical. It was complete. It was the kind of closeness she knew she could only find with Emilie. The kind of closeness she would have to live without once they went their separate ways.
“You don’t have to go with him, Angeline. You don’t have to get married,” Emilie said in a raspy whisper.
Angeline could have imagined she’d simply thought the words in her own mind if she hadn’t felt Emilie’s lips move against her skin, sending another deep chill through her body.
Angeline forced her friend out of the safety of the nook of her neck so she could see her face. She was surprised to see fresh tears in the dark eyes as she held her at arm’s length. “What? What are you saying, Emilie?”
Emilie blinked and let the tears fall freely to her cheeks as a timid but genuine smile appeared on her mouth. Angeline felt the familiar caress of Emilie’s hand on her face and leaned into it. Emilie’s thumb brushed over Angeline’s bottom lip in a less familiar but pleasant touch and Angeline watched nervously as Emilie’s eyes paused on her mouth for a few seconds.
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