Emilie (The Cajun Series Book 1)

by Claire, Cherie

  The door opened and Marianne appeared with a tray of food. “You’re up,” she said. “And dressed.”

  Emilie rose from the bed and took the tray from her mother’s arms. “I’ll eat this in the kitchen now, Maman.”

  The house they were given belonged to the Doucets who was visiting sick relatives at Cabannocé. It featured two small rooms surrounding a center fireplace, one of which housed a kitchen. Only when Emilie emerged into the opposite living area did she realize the rest of her family, excluding her mother who kept vigil in a chair by her bed, were sleeping on the floor of the kitchen and sitting area. Emilie’s heart dropped.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, thinking of her dear sisters sleeping on the hard wooden floors with holes big enough to spot the chickens scurrying underneath the house. “I have caused you all to be inconvenienced.”

  Marianne took the tray from her hands and placed it on the table. “You have done nothing of the sort,” she said gently, then pushed Emilie into a chair. “But I would like a word with you.”

  Something in her voice sounded an alarm in Emilie’s head. It reminded her of the time her mother caught her slicing the apple pie in the middle of the afternoon. Perhaps she was imagining things. Her mother had to be distraught over Papa. What quarrel would she have with Emilie? Then again, Emilie did disappear from New Orleans, following Lorenz into the wilderness without so much as a good-bye. Her mother had to be furious. And she had ever right to be.

  “I’m sorry, Maman. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, you weren’t.” Her mother picked up a napkin and placed in her lap. “Perhaps you want to tell me about it.”

  What was there to tell? Emilie wondered. She hated being left behind, as always, and followed Lorenz on his travels north to find Papa. “You know all the details,” Emilie said, fidgeting with the napkin. “I wanted to be with Lorenz so I followed his lead.”

  Marianne crossed her arms and frowned. “So it was Lorenz’s fault?”

  “No.” Her mother knew better than that. She was always following Lorenz like a shadow. Surely she didn’t think Lorenz talked her into such a dangerous mission. “No,” Emilie repeated. “Lorenz would never allow such a thing.”

  Marianne uncrossed her arms, planted her hands on her thighs and stared at her hard. “But he did.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that. I forced myself on him. He had no choice.”

  The staring continued, giving Emilie the shivers. She knew her mother would be furious at her actions, but her gaze was unnerving. Her mother stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “It won’t happen again,” Emilie assured her. “I promise.”

  Marianne stood, folded her arms stiffly and gazed out the window where Rose and Gabrielle hung laundry. “Of course it will,” her mother answered. “You will marry immediately.”

  “Marry?” Now, Emilie was completely confused.

  Marianne turned, fury in her dark eyes. “Emilie Marie Gallant, this is not something to take lightly. I would think you of all people would be more responsible than this.”

  Emilie had a bad feeling where the conversation was heading, but she had to ask. “Maman, what are you talking about?”

  Her mother’s features softened, perhaps because she realized her daughter might not be following her. “I’m talking about you and Lorenz and a night of unbridled passion.”

  The hairs on the back of Emilie’s neck rose and she swore she stopped breathing. “I was going to tell you, Maman, I swear.”

  “When?” Marianne asked, her temper returning. “I had to sit here and listen to Father Broussard hinting that children left alone in unchaperoned circumstances might get into trouble and that it would be prudent to have a word with you.”

  “Father Broussard?” The man lived in St. Gabriel and no one in Cabannocé was the wiser to their actions. “Why would Father Broussard know?”

  Marianne finally sat down, which relieved Emilie. Staring eye to eye with her mother was a little less disconcerting than her towering figure. A little.

  “Perhaps a certain young man was feeling guilty for his sins and confessed. That’s how Father Broussard knew.”

  Emilie bite her lip to stifle a laugh. Lorenz? Confessing? The last time Lorenz confronted a priest was when the Jesuit caught him stealing from the church fund. “He would sooner fight an alligator,” she said aloud.

  Marianne sighed. She probably wondered the same thing. “Be that as it may, my dear, he more than likely did.” Her voice grew warmer and she took Emilie’s hand, massaging it gently. “I don’t blame either of you. I knew this would happen sooner or later. You two have been crazy for one another since Grand Pré.”

  Emilie had to say something on her behalf. Guilt raked her being. “Yes, but...”

  Marianne stilled her tongue with a look. “Your father and I loved each other like you two do. We never could get enough of each other’s company. You may be surprised to know that we jumped the gun as well. We were fortunate you weren’t an early baby.”

  Emilie squeezed her mother’s hand. “I suspected.”

  “But we got married,” Marianne said sternly. “And I expect you two to do the same as soon as possible.”

  Now it was Emilie’s turn to stand and stare at her sisters through the window. Oh, to be like Gabrielle and Rose, so far removed from the complications of love.

  “He’s asked me,” Emilie said softly. “Several times.”

  “And?”

  Emilie swallowed hard. “And I turned him down.”

  Suddenly, Marianne was at her side, turning her to face her. “Why?”

  Why indeed? Emilie thought. She wished she could figure it out. She wanted to marry him. Desperately. But always, something held her back.

  “Oh my dear,” Marianne said, pulling her into her arms. “I have failed you.”

  Emilie clung to her mother, glad to be surrounded by her comfort and the smell of herbs and lilac soap, but her words disturbed her. “You have never failed me, Maman.”

  Marianne pulled away and took her daughter’s face in her hands. “I have reared a daughter who is afraid of love.”

  Was it true? Emilie wondered. Was she afraid of loving Lorenz? “It doesn’t seem to matter much what two people want when the whole world doesn’t make sense,” Emilie said, amazed that she put the feelings to words. “How can love exist in such a time?”

  Marianne grasped her daughter’s hands and held them against her chest. “Love is the only thing that does make sense, my dear. It’s the only thing that keeps us going.”

  “But Papa...”

  “Papa is with me here every day,” Marianne said passionately, raising one of her hands to her heart. “I wouldn’t exchange one day of my life with him. Not one day.”

  Emilie nodded. She understood. Give it to her mother to make sense of her conflicted emotions. How did mothers do that, she wondered? And would she excel at motherhood too? The thought of bringing her own children into the world with Lorenz at her side brought tears to her eyes. Yes, she loved Lorenz. And she would love him for the rest of her life. Standing in the kitchen, the sunlight warming their faces as they embraced one another, Emilie felt the strength that only love could give. She knew then that nothing could keep she and Lorenz apart.

  Lorenz pulled the ax up and over his head, splitting the log easily as he threw himself into the swing. Again, as a single man, he had been delegated to the barn. But he didn’t mind. He was happy to be of service, happy to be a working asset to the new community. He could sleep anywhere.

  Leger and Narcisse Landry waved from their house on the next land grant and Lorenz returned the salute. His uncle’s family, relatives he thought were lost from Pisiquid, a town located just outside of Grand Pré, turned out to be his neighbors. How ironic life was. He wasn’t alone, after all.

  There were others too. A great aunt he didn’t know he had. A distant cousin who resembled his uncle Francois. Perhaps life would get better in this swampland calle
d Louisiana.

  Lorenz heard a twig break and he turned to find Emilie standing by the side of the barn, scissors in her hands. She appeared pale and quiet, not at all like herself, until her hands found her hips and her chin turned upward in a defiant gesture. The Emilie he knew and loved had bounced back just fine.

  “Are those for me?” he asked, pointing toward the scissors.

  “Maman wants me to cut your hair.”

  She didn’t smile, just stared at him, probably wondering what to do next with a man who shunned church, then spilled his guts to a priest about their lovemaking. Marianne had to be furious. Lorenz was surprised she wasn’t there brandishing a knife at his throat. And Emilie, well God only knew what thoughts were raging inside that beautiful head.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to cut my heart out with those instead?”

  A semblance of a smile curled at her lips, but she looked away before speaking again. “You have to be presentable for your wedding tomorrow.”

  Lorenz listened for the malice in her tone, but there was none. She didn’t appear angry, nor resigned to her fate. Instead, Emilie hovered somewhere in between and Lorenz ached to know her feelings.

  For an instant, Lorenz regretted his confession. He could have waited for her to accept his proposals, but knowing Emilie it might have taken years. No, he had forced her hand and he wasn’t going to back down now. They were meant for each other, better off married than sneaking around in the dark with the possibility of a child coming. She had to see reason, and this was the only way he knew how.

  “Should I wash my hair too?”

  Emilie turned and frowned. “Of course you must.” She rolled her eyes, like so many times when they were kids. Lorenz’s heart warmed. “Lorenz Dugas, you are insufferable. Do you wish to be married looking like that?”

  As Emilie picked up the bucket of water and began to fill it at the well, Lorenz knew he was forgiven. He knew she loved him; he knew that since Cabannocé, if not before. But Emilie needed a push.

  Lorenz stood behind her and gently slid his hands up and down her arms. “Are you happy with this?”

  “What difference does it make now?” she returned, although again, there was no anger in her voice. When she turned to face him, he wanted to pull her into his arms and plant kisses on as much available skin as possible, but Emilie pushed him aside.

  “Your hair, Lorenz. I am not marrying a grisly bear.”

  Lorenz couldn’t help but smile, even though Emilie still wouldn’t. He obediently sat on a tree stump by the barn’s side and waited for instructions. Instead, he was greeted with a shower of cold, spring water. “What the...?”

  Dripping from head to toe, he turned to look at the tormentor at his back, but she pushed his face forward. “Sit still,” she commanded. “Unless you want these scissors in your neck.”

  Lorenz didn’t wait to be told twice. Drenched in water, he looked forward and sat unmoving while Emilie washed his hair and trimmed months of growth off the back of his neck.

  “Joseph has a land grant west of here,” Lorenz began, hoping to talk of anything but forced marriages and sharp objects. “We’re not sure where, but it’s in one of two districts, the Opelousas or the Attakapas. Marianne thinks we should head west in search of it, then wait there until Joseph arrives. It would be a way of sustaining ourselves until he makes it back to Louisiana.”

  Lorenz felt a comb slide through his thick locks and heard the click of the scissors. He prayed she wouldn’t take revenge with those scissors and render him bald.

  “Do you think he’ll make it back to the territory?” she asked softly.

  Lorenz ached to touch her, to pull her into his arms, but he thought it best for Emilie to make the first move. “Yes, I think Joseph will swim back to Louisiana if he has to.”

  A silence followed with the clicking of scissors the only sound. “I think it’s a good idea going west,” Emilie finally said. “I choose the one without the cannibal Indians.”

  “That would be the Opelousas District then. Although I’m told the cannibals are gone now.” Lorenz thought of the absurdity of that statement. Maybe Louisiana wasn’t such a paradise after all.

  “Is this Opelousas land farmable?”

  “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  Emilie continued cutting and Lorenz thought back on their years in Maryland, where he and Emilie had managed the planting and cultivation of their family’s meager crops. For being practically children, they had done well, managed to keep the family alive. But then, they had good teachers.

  “My cousin...” Lorenz swallowed, amazed at the emotions that surfaced with such a simple word. “He says the Acadians in Opelousas have done well with cattle. It’s something to consider.”

  “I don’t know anything about raising cattle,” Emilie answered.

  Lorenz thought back on what Bouclaire had said at the river’s edge. They had a lot to learn in this new territory and cattle was only one lesson among many. “I’m sure we’ll do fine.”

  Emilie moved to his front to cut the hair surrounding his face. He ached to touch her, to place his hands on those generous hips and draw her close. If only she would give him a sign.

  She must have felt him staring for a slight blush spread about her cheeks. When she cut a lock of hair at his forehead, her fingers trailed behind, caressing the skin at his temple.

  “We should name our firstborn son and daughter after your parents,” she said softly.

  Lorenz wasted no time placing his hands about her waist and sliding his fingers underneath the hem of her vest. He pulled her forward between his legs, so close he made out her heavenly scent, and buried his face in the soft material at her breast.

  “Oh Em,” Lorenz moaned. “I have missed you so much.”

  Emilie responded by drawing her fingers through his hair, a simple gesture he had grown accustomed to since their first lovemaking, and an affection he physically ached for since their argument at the riverside. Lorenz sighed, then tilted his head back and gazed into her eyes.

  “Are you still angry with me?”

  Emilie’s hazel eyes glistened in the dusk light, but no anger lingered there. “I would have liked to have been asked,” she answered, a smile lurking.

  The earth stopped moving at that movement; the heavens opened up and rained stars among them. It was possible to be happy after all, Lorenz thought, doubly determined to make their life together work. He would build her a chimney of gold if that was what it took. He would take her back to Canada in a chariot. He would stop being so impulsive and promise to let rationality rule the day.

  Lorenz vowed at that moment he would spend his life making sure Emilie was content.

  Lorenz stood and grasped Emilie’s hand, motioning for her to take his seat on the tree stump. When she sat down, a puzzled expression on her face, he knelt before her.

  “Emilie Marie Gallant,” he began, holding her hand tenderly in his, “will you share my home, wherever that may be, bear my children, help me run a farm, grow old with me? Will you allow me the infinitesimal joy of being my wife?”

  Emilie pushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, then cupped her palm against his cheek. “Lorenz Joseph Dugas, I would be honored to be your wife.”

  For the first time since Emilie had known Lorenz he was speechless. He sat on bended knee staring at her silently. She would have laughed had not the scene touched her heart so.

  She leaned forward and cupped his face in her hands, then softly brushed her lips against his. “I will always love you, Lorenz, no matter what comes.”

  She wanted to add that he was still the most agonizingly, stubborn man she had ever met, but the gravity of the moment held her tongue. It was time to put away childish actions, time to leave Grand Pré behind and start a mature, new life with her husband.

  Quietly, Lorenz stood and held out his hand. Emilie accepted and rose to meet him. He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and lead her inside the barn.

&nb
sp; “I suppose I would be asking too much of your mother to steal a few minutes alone with you,” he finally said.

  A delicious shiver ran through her thinking of the possibilities. “Maman doesn’t expect me back soon,” she said with a coy smile. Her mother had pushed her out the door, scissors in hand, stating firmly not to return until after dark. She told Emilie she was creating her wedding attire, but Emilie knew Maman wanted them to have time alone.

  Lorenz glanced around the barn, then led Emilie into the corner where he had made his bed. “All the animals are taken care of,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “No one will be coming here again tonight.”

  His kisses were gentle and hesitant and Emilie wondered if he doubted she had agreed to marry him. He kept pausing, gazing into her eyes with wonderment as if he suspected he was dreaming.

  “My dear Lorenz,” she said, nuzzling her head to his. “I have made you wait far too long.”

  He slid a hand up the length of her back, but she felt his face break into a smile.

  “No, mon amour,” he said so seductively goosebumps rose on her arms. “I was just thinking that I should listen to my elders more often.”

  Now, Emilie was thoroughly confused. She drew back far enough to examine his countenance. Lorenz responded by grinning broadly. “Jean Depuis said it would take five proposals before you agreed. He was right.”

  Emilie grimaced. “Has it been that many?”

  Lorenz bit an earlobe. “Tease,” he whispered into her ear.

  Emilie smiled knowing they would always be dear friends and that some things, like their sparing, would never change. But as she ran her hands up his back and pulled him close, reveling in the feel of his broad, strong back, she knew childhood was over. Oh yes, she thought, as Lorenz led a trail of kisses to her breastbone, things were going to be deliciously different between them.

  Emilie

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emilie woke to find two smiling faces gazing down at her.

  “Wake up sleepy head,” Gabrielle said. “Time to get dressed and get married.”