Emilie (The Cajun Series Book 1)

by Claire, Cherie

  Emilie (The Cajun Series Book One)

  by Cherie Claire

  Emilie (The Cajun Series Book One) by Cherie Claire

  COPYRIGHT © Cherie Claire 2016

  1st Edition, February 2016

  Produced with Typesetter

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any manner whatsoever, electronically, in print, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Cherie Claire, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the heroes of my life: Bruce, Joshua and Taylor.

  The Cajun Series

  Book One: Emilie

  Book Two: Rose

  Book Three: Gabrielle

  Book Four: Delphine

  Book Five: A Cajun Dream

  Book Six: The Letter

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Emilie

  Emile Pro

  Emile 1

  Emilie 2

  Emilie 3

  Emilie 4

  Emilie 5

  Emilie 6

  Emilie 7

  Emilie 8

  Emilie 9

  Emilie 10

  Emilie 11

  Emilie 12

  Emilie 13

  Emilie 14

  Emilie 15

  Emilie 16

  Emilie 17

  Acknowledgements

  Emilie

  By Cherie Claire

  Emile

  Prologue

  Grand Pré, Nova Scotia

  1755

  The harvest had been a good one and Joseph Gallant smiled broadly as he approached his simple yet comfortable home. It was only a matter of minutes before his wife Marianne would greet him at the door.

  “Beware all who trespass here,” called out Gabrielle, his seven-year-old daughter, dressed as usual in pirate garb and brandishing a willow branch in the shape of a sword.

  “Dear me.” Joseph raised his dark-haired child into his arms. “I didn’t know we had pirates about.”

  “She’s at it again, father,” snitched Emilie Gallant, Joseph’s older daughter who had inherited his wife’s chestnut hair and hazel eyes. “She keeps going down to the Basin to look at those ships.”

  Joseph sent Gabrielle a stern look but secretly understood the lure of the majestic frigate anchored in Minas Basin. The English had occupied Acadia, or Nova Scotia as they called it, since the Treaty of Utrecht had ceded their French country to Britain in 1713. The English allowed the Acadians to remain in Nova Scotia and practice their Catholic religion as long as they remained neutral in the French and English wars. So far, the relationship between Grand Pré residents and the English government was peaceful and cooperative. There were things to be ironed out, of course, differences to be reconciled. The right to bear arms for protection and hunting was one of those problems. But all that was to be settled at the church meeting that afternoon.

  “Gabrielle, you are to stay away from the water,” Joseph said. “And particularly away from the soldiers. You know I have forbidden you to go there.”

  “But there are more ships there now,” Gabrielle answered in her defense. “Several more have arrived.”

  For a moment, Joseph tensed. Additional soldiers had recently been called into Grand Pré, forming a large settlement around the church in town. It might have been something to be concerned about, but the Grand Pré Acadians had worked repeatedly to sort out problems with the English. Just that afternoon, Joseph and neighboring Acadians had gathered crops and fruits from their orchards to supply the occupying army with food.

  “I don’t care if the entire Royal Navy has come to Canada.” Joseph placed Gabrielle down and sent her hurrying away with a delicate pop on her backside. “Take care of your maman and leave the ships alone.”

  Emilie and Joseph watched as Gabrielle bounded behind the side of the house, her long, silky black hair flying as she ran. Emilie, always the authority figure, shook her head. “She won’t listen to you, father. She loves the sea too much.”

  Joseph had to smile. His oldest, barely eleven years old, had grown so much in the past year. Emilie’s tall, slim body had abandoned her one night, literally transforming her into a woman without giving her childish mind time to catch up. Emilie was caught between two worlds, on one hand trying hard to be as mature as her looks and on the other, fighting her emerging femininity. Joseph knew Emilie was more comfortable chopping wood than darning socks, despite her Junoesque physique.

  “I should have had sons,” Joseph said as he watched Emilie pick up her neglected bucket of milk and effortlessly hauled it toward the house.

  “You should have been home an hour ago,” answered Marianne, looking half her age and twice as beautiful.

  Joseph circled his arms about his wife’s slender waist and met her lips before she could protest. “I love you,” he whispered.

  The light that perpetually shown in Marianne’s eyes dimmed for a moment, and a look of alarm crossed her face. “What made you say that?”

  Joseph pulled her toward him and squeezed. “Do I have to have a reason to love my wife?”

  Joseph relieved Emilie of her load and the two crossed the threshold into the warm cottage. Rose, the youngest daughter barely five, sat by the enormous hearth, playing with a variety of hand-stuffed dolls and enjoying a ripe red apple. Joseph greeted his curly headed baby, whose smile was blinding.

  “Rose is so agreeable,” Joseph said to his wife, who never moved from the front door. “Why couldn’t all my children have been as easy?”

  Emilie immediately threw her hands to her hips and was ready to object when she noticed her mother’s stern countenance. Joseph followed her gaze and stood.

  “Marianne, what is it?”

  Marianne looked as if she would faint, so Joseph quickly grabbed her elbow and guided her to a chair.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, even though the color had not returned to her cheeks. “I thought I had a vision.”

  The last time his wife had had a “vision” she imagined herself with child. It was a false alarm, although Ovile LeBlanc two houses down announced she was pregnant the next day.

  “You’ve been working too close to the fire, mon amour.” Joseph brushed the auburn tendrils that framed his wife’s forehead. She was a beauty the first time he set eyes on her, capturing his heart with a smile and a touch of her hand, and her loveliness had not lessened over the years.

  “Don’t go to town,” Marie whispered stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m worried...”

  Joseph laughed. “That I may visit Thomas Simoneaux’s cellar on the way home.”

  The light that had been part of Marie’s countenance failed to return. “Do you have to go? Can you not send one person to talk about our concerns, our needs. Why every man in the region?”

  Joseph straightened and placed a loving hand on her shoulder. “The proclamation said every man and boy ten years and older must go to the meeting or risk penalty. Do you wish for us to lose our land, our livestock?”

  Marianne stared at the flames. “No, but...”

  “Colonel Winslow said the king was to communicate his wishes in this district. It’s imperative that I go.”

  Marianne’s somber disposition failed to lessen and Joseph felt a shiver run through him. Her dark mood was getting the best
of him. He shook off the premonition.

  “Papa,” Emilie announced defiantly. “You tell the king we are to have our guns and ammunition whenever we please, that we will not abide by the rules the English lay out for us. If the king doesn’t like it, tell him we will raise forces against him and reclaim our land.”

  Joseph glanced back at Marianne, who shrugged. She mouthed the name “Lorenz.”

  Joseph took the large knife out of his daughter’s fist raised in defiance. “Emilie, you tell Lorenz Dugas to stop putting those rebellious thoughts in your mind. We are French Neutrals. We comply with the English government, give them a share of our food and we all live comfortably with one other. We have no quarrels with the English. Do you understand?”

  Emilie frowned but nodded. “I don’t like them. I don’t like the way they look at me.”

  Joseph certainly understood how young sailors would find the sight of Emilie an enticing view. For a moment he wanted to punch a few Englishmen senseless. “Stay away from them,” he warned her, and there was no mistaken his seriousness.

  Glancing at his pocketwatch, Joseph knew it was time to go and he planted a kiss on to his baby’s face and was rewarded with a large hug. “Stay happy,” he informed Rose and she responded with a giggle.

  He turned to his oldest whose curvaceous figure was twisted in a mannish stance. “If anything happens to me,” Joseph said, mirroring his wife’s fears, “you are the man of the house.” He kissed the top of her feather brown hair. “Take care of the family while I’m gone.”

  “I will Father,” Emilie said confidently, and Joseph knew she would.

  Joseph turned to his wife who now had tears in her eyes.

  “I’m afraid I’ll never see you again,” she whispered, then pulled him to her and held him tight. “Dear God, how will I ever live without you?”

  Just then, Joseph felt it too, a dark sense that something was amiss, a foreboding that tore at his soul. He placed a palm on the side of her head, closed his eyes and silently said a prayer.

  “God watch over my family,” he said aloud. “Until I return.”

  Emile

  Chapter One

  New Orleans, Louisiana Territory

  February, 1768

  The ship slowly made its way toward the harbor lights of New Orleans, tacking against a bitter north wind blowing across the wide expanse of muddy river. The Louisiana capital, dark and mysterious lying almost below the level of the river, appeared as if the surrounding marshland would swallow it at any moment. Or perhaps it was the humid air pressing heavy on Emilie’s lungs that made her feel as if she were descending into a bog.

  “I don’t like it,” she said to her mother and sisters standing beside her at the ship’s railing.

  “So what’s new,” Marianne answered. “You said the same thing about Maryland.”

  Now that the boat neared the city, Emilie caught a variety of unpleasant odors in the wind. The stench only added to her agitated disposition.

  “Why couldn’t we have stayed in Maryland, let father come to us.”

  “Who’s to say father isn’t hurt or ill,” Gabrielle said. “We only know that he’s in the Louisiana territory at St. Gabriel. We don’t know any more than that.”

  Emilie raised her handkerchief to her nose. Definitely the smell of rotten meat and if she wasn’t mistaken, horse manure. Lots of it. “You just wanted the chance to be on another ship.”

  Gabrielle turned to her oldest sister, her dark eyes expressing emotions ranging between hurt and anger. Emilie had touched a nerve, and she instantly regretted her remark. Gabrielle would forever blame herself for their separation from Joseph, even though it was clear some other force was at work that autumn day when the English had shipped them off for Maryland, forcing them to leave Joseph behind in Nova Scotia.

  “I’m sorry,” Emilie said, but she knew it was too late. Gabrielle retreated to the far railing, the familiar dark look haunting her eyes.

  “Why did you have to do that?” Marianne said. “You know how much she shoulders our situation.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her. I just don’t like this place.”

  “It will be fine,” Rose interjected. “It will be better when we join the others. Things sometime look grim in the beginning, but turn out well in the end.”

  Always the optimist, Emilie thought of her youngest sister Rose. Even when they were crowded aboard the vessel bound for Port Tobacco, Maryland, most of them sick with small pox and half starving, Rose never stopped smiling. She rallied through the sickness while half the ship’s inhabitants failed to see their next shore.

  Emilie shivered thinking back on their exile from Nova Scotia. The English capturing and holding the region’s men in the church that afternoon, the fires set to their fields and homes, Lorenz crying on the shore while his mother perished in his arms, the ships coming in from New England to haul them all away.

  As she had done numerous times in the past, Emilie shoved those painful memories aside. Where was Lorenz anyway? She searched the ship’s deck and found him amazingly absent. Lorenz was never one to miss the action.

  “What have you said this time?”

  Emilie swung around and nearly collided with Lorenz’s broad chest, covered by his familiar long woolen waistcoat that hung down to his knees. Lorenz Dugas was one of the few men in the world tall enough to look down upon her. But not by much.

  “You scared me. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  Lorenz’s eyes, black as the night and complemented by equally dark hair, remained fixed on her. Emilie wondered if he would ever look at her differently again. She doubted he would ever forgive her.

  “What did you do?” he demanded again.

  “To whom?” Emilie asked, although she knew the answer.

  Lorenz stared away toward shore, his thick black hair, some claimed the result of a Micmac ancestor, blowing in waves across his face. They had been friends since babes and she couldn’t imagine a life without him. But if Lorenz’s threats held true, their friendship had ended the night before.

  “I didn’t mean it,” Emilie finally answered. “You know how sensitive Gabrielle is.”

  Lorenz looked back toward Emilie and sent her such a scathing look she shivered. “And so do you, which is why you should learn to hold your tongue. Do you ever think before you speak?”

  Emilie knew where this conversation hailed from and it certainly wasn’t Gabrielle. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry to you?”

  Emilie tried to keep her temper at bay, but wasn’t a woman allowed to say no to a marriage proposal? Only Emilie had said no to her best friend. After she had laughed in his face.

  “Lorenz, would you please let me explain....”

  “I told you before,” Lorenz interrupted. “I don’t care if you ever speak to me again. But your sister is dear to me and I’ll be damned if I sit back and watch her suffer over your callous words.”

  Emilie attempted a rebuttal, but Lorenz marched away and joined the men at the stern of the ship. Unmarried with no family ties, Lorenz was always part of the decision makers within their community, always the one called upon to perform dangerous tasks. Emilie both adored and envied him.

  Why didn’t he understand? Emilie thought. He knew her so well, knew her ambitions, her desires. She hadn’t meant to laugh. It was a nervous reaction to an unthinkable request. They were friends, not lovers. How could he possibly think she would say yes?

  Glancing at Lorenz’s back, the blue woolen coat stretched taunt against his broad shoulders and his dark hair curling at the collar, Emilie felt the unwelcomed emotion race through her again. He had touched her cheek so lovingly last night, kissed her without her having time to protest. Before she realized the implications, she had slipped her fingers into his silky midnight hair and let him deepen the kiss.

  It had been the most incredible feeling, like summer lightning striking at her brow and shooting out her toes. And secret places had reacted
shamelessly to his touch.

  What had come over her, she thought, and why couldn’t she get that feeling out of her head?

  Heading toward the ship’s main mast, Emilie knew Gabrielle would find solace at the ship’s center. She loved to watch the men sail the ship, asking about riggings and rope knots and God knew what else. Emilie knew her sister’s mind captured every detail as if she were secretly planning on sailing away. But like Emilie and most women, the knowledge would most likely never be used.

  How alike they were, and if anyone knew her pain it would be Gabrielle. Emilie felt doubly guilty about her insensitive remark. The last person she wanted to hurt was her beloved sister.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she heard Gabrielle say as she rounded the corner and they made eye contact. Gabrielle was seated on the hatch, her favorite place on the ship, the center of all activity.

  When Emilie didn’t answer, stared guiltily at her sister, Gabrielle took her hand and rubbed her thumb across her knuckles. “I know you didn’t mean it. I don’t like this place either.”

  Emilie joined Gabrielle on the hatch and within minutes they embraced each other tightly. To Emilie’s surprise, the tears that began to fall from hurt feelings were hers. She buried her face in the warmth of Gabrielle’s woolen shawl and began to sob while Gabrielle stroked her mane of brown hair.

  “I heard all about it,” Gabrielle said. “Lorenz looked as if someone had cut out his heart this morning. He was more than eager to talk.”

  Emilie turned and rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. “He asked me to marry him!”

  Gabrielle laughed. “Emilie Marie Gallant, you are the only person in the entire world who is surprised at this. That boy has been in love with you forever.”