“It can’t be about Emilie and Lorenz,” Gabrielle insisted as they followed the commandant through the garrison. “They would have said something by now.”
“I don’t like this,” Marianne whispered back. “Something’s not right.”
Piernas entered his quarters and motioned for the women to sit down. “I prefer to stand, if you don’t mind,” Marianne said.
Piernas sighed heavily and rubbed the top of his nose. Rose had witnessed the same gesture many times; obviously the man suffered from some form of headaches, most likely given to him by the consistently bewailing Acadians.
“Willow bark tea would help those,” Rose offered.
The piercing stare Piernas gave her made her swallow hard. “I beg your pardon, mademoiselle.”
“I’ve used it many times for headaches,” Rose said. “I will be happy to bring you some.”
Piernas laughed, which startled the women. “I’m sorry,” he said, when he noticed them flinch. “But I believe you are the first Acadian to worry about my discomfort or to offer me any kind of assistance. I would rather command an army than six of your families.”
Rose felt her mother’s hand tense in hers and Gabrielle folded her arms defiantly across her chest.
“Please sir,” Rose began, hoping to ward off angry words her mother and sister might throw his way. “You must understand that some of our families are at St. Gabriel. Our father, whom we haven’t seen in thirteen years, is suspected of being there.”
Piernas looked at each of them, clearly surprised at the news. “This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Alexis Braud told the governor of our situation,” Marianne explained coldly. “How is it that you have no knowledge?”
Piernas rubbed the back of the neck, obviously another sore spot. “The governor wishes to settle the Louisiana frontier with families so that we can stop English aggression. Those were my orders, nothing more. Surely, you can understand his position and mine.”
“We are one family,” Gabrielle pleaded. “Would one family make a difference?”
“You are one family and Joseph Braud and his wife are another,” the commandant insisted. “Henri Babin is another. The Landrys. The Depuis. Where do we draw the line, mademoiselle?”
“Señior,” Marianne said, stepping forward. “Why do you wish to see us?”
The dark Spaniard placed a hand at his hip and stared at the mass of papers before him. “You have another daughter, have you not?”
Rose felt her throat constrict and her heart race. She immediately prayed that Emilie and Lorenz hadn’t been caught and deported from Louisiana.
“Yes, I do,” Marianne said proudly, her chin held high. Rose felt her mother’s hand shaking, but knew her mother would never let him see her weak. “Why do you ask?”
Piernas remained silent for a moment, than met her stare. “Please sit down, Madame,” he said softly.
Suddenly, Marianne’s shaking was clearly visible. “Has something happened?”
“No, Madame.” Piernas grabbed her elbow and led her to a chair. “And we hope nothing will.”
Gabrielle placed a hand on Marianne’s shoulder and squeezed. “What do you know of Emilie?”
Piernas leaned back on the corner of his desk. “I received a list of passengers aboard the Guinea from Maryland. Your daughter and Lorenz Dugas were two who did not arrive here in Natchez, besides the Braud brothers.” He moved to the front of his desk and picked up an official paper. “The number of passengers bound for Natchez was reported in New Orleans. I am not the only one who knows that there are members of this party unaccounted for. The governor wants my report.”
“They have gone to St. Gabriel,” Marianne said anxiously. “They only want to get word to my husband. They will join us as soon as they find him. You have our word on it.”
Piernas rubbed the bridge of his nose again, this time more furiously. Rose felt the man’s anguish. He was only performing a duty to his governor, making the best for a group of settlers who should be happy to have land and the freedom to practice their Catholic religion. Instead, he was housed with dozens of complainers and complications. Without forethought, she reached over and took his free hand.
The Spaniard’s eyes shot up and Rose instantly regretted her instinctual move. She was forever acting on impulse, never thinking things through. She had only wanted to express some gesture of gratitude and understanding, but like so many times before, she crossed a cultural and diplomatic boundary.
Piernas pulled his hand away at the same time Rose removed hers. But to her amazement, he seemed neither embarrassed nor alarmed.
“I will send word that your daughter and Monsieur Dugas have become ill en route and will be joining us at the fort as soon as they are able,” he said. “If they are not at Natchez within two month’s time, I will have to report them missing. If they are found, they will be tried and possibly deported.”
Marianne stood and covered her mouth to keep her emotions at bay. “Thank you sir,” she finally whispered.
“They’ll be here,” Gabrielle assured him.
Piernas nodded and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “Let’s hope for your sake and theirs.”
Marianne and Gabrielle bowed and left the commandant’s quarters, but Rose paused and glanced up at the Spaniard one last time. “I’ll have the tea brought to you as soon as possible. You should try a hot compress on the back of your neck as well.”
Feeling rather embarrassed, as if she stepped over the line yet again, Rose bowed awkwardly and moved to leave. Before she reached the threshold, she heard a faint reply. “Gracias, mademoiselle.”
“Two months,” Gabrielle repeated, pacing the floor of the barracks. “How long did it take us to get here?”
“Sit down Gabrielle,” Marianne ordered. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Oh why didn’t I stop her?” Gabrielle paused and placed a hand on her forehead. “I should have shouted out. I should have called someone after her.”
“You would have risked both their lives,” Rose said. “Stop blaming yourself.”
Marianne stared hard into the fire as if in a trance. Rose was used to her moments of “sight,” but she had become ominously silent since their meeting with Piernas. “They’ll make it,” Marianne whispered, closing her eyes. “I see them with us. But your father...” Marianne’s eyes shot open and she gasped.
“What about father?” Rose asked, bending down to look at her mother’s face.
Marianne’s face constricted in pain. “I see him going away from us,” she said anxiously, grabbing her daughter’s hand. “He’s leaving us.”
Gabrielle kneeled down on the other side of Marianne and took her other hand. “That’s not possible, maman. We got word that he was at St. Gabriel. We’ll find him.”
Marianne shook her head, tears pouring down her face. “Perhaps,” she said, wiping them away. “But not this year.”
Gabrielle and Rose gazed at each other over their mother’s lap and Rose felt a chill travel up her spine. Holding on to their mother’s hands, both daughters felt the energy leave her body. After every “vision,” Marianne collapsed, sleeping for hours afterward. Rose wondered if it was the power of such a gift that stole her energy or the memory of that fateful day in Grand Pré.
Gabrielle and Rose helped their mother to bed, the tears still fresh on her face, then retired to the fireside. Neither one could fathom sleep after such an image.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this low or seen mother in such a state,” Gabrielle finally said. “I wish Emilie and Lorenz were here.”
Rose stood next to her sister and placed her head at her bosom. While she stroked her sister’s long, dark hair, supposedly a replica of their father’s, Rose began singing the first stanzas of Sept Ans Sur Mer, a soft French ballad about a shipwrecked family.
Emilie awoke by the sound of the men leaving to tend to the animals, the lilt of Lorenz’s laughter rising above the re
st. Wanting to see him and make sense of what had transpired the night before, Emilie threw her legs from the covers and jumped out of bed. As soon as her feet touched the ground, however, she knew she could not make it as far as the door. Swollen, bruised and cut from days of wearing Charles’s shoes, her feet had finally declared mutiny.
She sat back down on the bed, massaging her throbbing feet. In the distance she heard the men walking in the direction of the barn and fields. Probably just as well, she thought, as her stomach voiced its own disapproval of being neglected. In all likelihood, Anna was creating a massive breakfast for them all and she should help out in the kitchen.
Emilie struggled through dressing, gently slipping her woolen stockings over her damaged feet. When she stood, she was amazed to find she could hardly walk. She limped through the process, holding on to whatever crutches she could find. By the time she entered the main house, she was ready for assistance. Anna immediately caught sight of her, snaked an arm about her waist and lead her to a chair by the kitchen table.
“What on earth has happened to you, child?” Anna placed Emilie into a chair and removed her stockings. Peering down toward her war-torn feet, even Emilie was surprised at their condition.
“I wore shoes two sizes too small for days. Then I switched to my own shoes, which probably added to the injury.”
Anna examined each foot, particularly the joint areas around the big toes where blisters had formed and oozed blood and puss. She glanced up to Emilie with a bewildered look. “And you never noticed this happening?”
Emilie wondered how to explain her predicament. Gazing down into accepting, maternal eyes, she decided to tell the truth. “I wasn’t supposed to travel with the men. I followed them for days dressed as a boy in case they saw me, which they eventually did.”
To her surprise, Anna nodded knowingly. “You stay put and I’ll get you a plate of breakfast. Then I’ll get a bucket of hot water to soak those feet in.”
Emilie watched as the older woman went about her business, obviously not too concerned that Emilie had disguised herself as a male and ran away from her family.
“It was important to me that I go to St. Gabriel with them,” Emilie continued, feeling a need to explain her defiance to her mother, her sisters and the Spanish governor of Louisiana.
“I understand,” Anna said, placing a heaping plate of breakfast items before her. “Coffee?”
Emilie nodded and watched in bewilderment while Anna poured her a cup of steaming coffee. “You do?”
Anna sat down across from Emilie at the table and folded her hands in front of her, the same gesture her mother used when she wished to discuss matters of importance. “I’ve seen how you two look at one another. Of course, I understand.”
In between bites of eggs and a thick and juicy blood sausage, Emilie gazed up at the kind woman who had shown her unending hospitality. She dreaded asking the next question. “Understand what?”
“My dear,” Anna began, placing a maternal hand on to her wrist. “I am old enough to be your mother. I can see when two people are in love.”
Emilie nearly choked on her breakfast. She was sure a piece of sausage had lodged in her throat. When she tried to argue, her voice emerged in a whisper. “It’s not what you think.”
Anna rose and poured herself a cup of coffee, then grabbed a sugar bowl and small pitchèr of cream before sitting back down. “Of course not, dear.”
“No,” Emilie said, her voice finally free of the obstruction. “We’re just friends.”
“Friends.” Anna spooned sugar into her coffee and motioned to do the same for Emilie’s cup.
“Oui, merci. Madame Frédéric...”
“Anna. Cream?”
“Oui, merci, Anna.” Emilie swallowed hard to clear her throat and her senses. She had to be distinct on this point. “You must understand. Lorenz and I have been good friends since childhood. It’s nothing more than that.”
“So were Mathias and I.” Anna rose and picked up a cast iron skillet from the stove. “More sausages?”
“Oui, merci.” Emilie wondered if Anna was hearing her. Anna placed an enormous sausage on to Emilie’s plate, knowing well that Emilie was hungry enough to eat it, then sat down and folded her hands together as if waiting for the truth to be told. Like Marianne and possibly all mothers, Emilie knew there was no lying to this woman. Emilie sighed. “He asked me to marry him.”
Anna instantly brightened. “How wonderful.” She grasped Emilie’s hands and squeezed. “You must be very happy.”
“I turned him down.” Emilie watched as Anna absorbed this information. “Twice.”
Surprisingly, Anna didn’t flinch. She appeared more disappointed than astonished. “Why?” she asked with such emotion, Emilie felt a strong tug on her heart. Tears lurked precariously close to the surface.
Emilie stared down at her plate, the appetizing sausages quickly becoming a blur. “Because we’re friends,” she stated firmly, hoping her words would restore her emotional equilibrium. The statement gave her strength and she looked up, releasing her hands from Anna’s grip. “We’ve always been friends.”
Anna leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. Emilie didn’t like the way she was being scrutinized by the kind woman; she felt guilty meeting the older woman’s eyes. Definitely a maternal trait, Emilie thought, thinking back on how her mother could send such scathing messages with only a look. If Anna was anything like Marianne, she feared what arguments would come next.
“What are you scared of?” Anna finally asked.
This was not what Emilie had expected. She laughed, folding her own arms about her chest. “I’m not scared of anything. I have been taking care of my family for thirteen years. My father made me head of the household and I have met that challenge head on.”
Anna unlocked her arms and leaned in close. “But you are scared of getting married to the man you love, my dear.”
Her words reverberated through her mind, bouncing off and bringing to life denied fears Emilie refused to think about, let alone believe in. She felt herself tremble as a pain deep inside her rose to the surface and commanded her heart.
Anna placed her hands on to Emilie’s arms and pried them apart. Then she held her hands tightly.
“Tell me, dear,” she said sweetly. “What is it that you fear about marrying Lorenz?”
“I don’t want to marry him,” Emilie reiterated, hoping to convince herself as much as Anna. “I don’t want to marry anyone.”
“But why?”
Emilie felt the tears roll down her cheeks and the words lodge in her throat more painfully than her breakfast. “Because when you marry someone, you become a part of them. And when they’re gone, you’re less of a person.”
Anna moved so that she sat next to Emilie and placed a gentle arm about her shoulders. “Oh my dear. You have it all wrong.”
Emilie shook her head. “I’ve seen it in my mother. She and my father were so much in love and it’s destroying her being apart from him so long.”
Anna lovingly placed Emilie’s head on to her shoulder and began stroking her hair. “Your mother and father did become a part of each other when they fell in love. But that doesn’t mean they lose a part of their souls when they are apart. Your mother became more of a person by knowing your father. His love gives her strength, not the other way around.”
Emilie wanted to sit up straight and make her point, but it felt good to have someone to confide in, someone to comfort her in her mother’s absence. Still, she wasn’t completely convinced. “Mother cries herself to sleep. I’ve heard her. Sometimes she gets so depressed she doesn’t speak for days. She claims she can feel father’s pain, almost hear his thoughts.”
Anna leaned her head toward hers and brushed a cheek against the top of Emilie’s head. “You get that way when you love a person for a very long time. Sometimes I know what Mathias is going to say before he says it.”
Now that Emilie considered it, she often
knew what Lorenz was thinking before he put his thoughts to words.
“But you must understand,” Anna continued. “Love gives us strength. It brings us comfort. It gives us a reason to live, to face the next day. Don’t fear it for what may or may not happen. You and Lorenz may live to be one hundred years old and what comfort will you have then if you don’t allow yourself the pleasure of loving him now?”
This time Emilie did sit up. “He’s rebellious,” she said angrily. “He’s always doing things he shouldn’t be doing, being in places he’s forbidden. And naive — God how he is naive. Anyone could talk him into doing something foolish, something wrong. One day he could kiss me good-bye and walk straight into a church surrounded by English soldiers and get himself exiled.”
Emilie closed her eyes tightly willing away the image. She hadn’t meant to bring that horrid memory to the surface. She felt Anna’s arms about her, squeezing her tight, kissing her forehead, but the relentless pain tore at her soul.
“It’s behind you now, dear,” Anna whispered while Emilie fought back the sobs. “Don’t fear the future and risk your happiness because of what happened years ago.”
“But the Spanish government threatened us with exile,” Emilie insisted, wiping away the tears.
“I doubt the Spanish government will deport a young, beautiful Acadian who wishes only to find her father. Nor will they find much fault in a young man who wants to protect his fiancée and reunite his future family.”
Emilie thought of how Lorenz had always managed to get into trouble, and amazingly escape it, in the past. Would he escape this time? “I hope you’re right,” she whispered.
Anna pulled up her apron and wiped Emilie’s eyes. “He’s a nice boy and you’re a nice girl. You should be together.” Then she moved Emilie’s neglected plate closer. “The next time he asks you to marry him, don’t tell him no. If you can’t say yes, tell him you need more time. He’ll understand.”
Emilie wanted to say that two rejections usually didn’t bring about another proposal, but Lorenz’s kisses the night before proved he was anything but defeated.
Emilie (The Cajun Series Book 1) Page 6