The Beloved Land (29 page)
“Your sister is growing in a way that is not your own,” Thomas continued, his gaze forward now upon the horses drawing their carriage. “You feel she is growing away from you.”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. They were less than a half hour from the village and their visit with Father Phillipe. She would not allow herself to arrive red-eyed and tear-streaked. “That is it exactly.”
“But there is something further, my dear.” Thomas looked at her now and spoke with solemn conviction. “It is not only Nicole who is changing.”
“What are you saying?”
“You are yourself altering course. You
both
are changing. How could you not? You are faced with impossible choices. A sick father, a child to take or leave behind, a journey through war, a village in turmoil. Of course you also are changing.”
She released her grip to reach for Thomas’s hand. She held it tightly as she said, “Tell me what to do!”
“Love her.” He squeezed her hand gently, then said, “Pray for her. Hold her close to your heart. Ask for God’s wisdom to infuse her every step. Ask for His armor to shield her from every danger, both seen and unseen. Make her safety and her peace a daily request. Bind her to your own life through your communion with God.”
As the meaning of his words sank into her soul, so did a new realization. “This is what you are doing with our community, isn’t it?”
Thomas looked her way without answering.
She lifted her hand and touched his cheek. It was uncommon for her to be so intimate in public. But the road was empty, and her heart was too full not to reach out. “You are binding yourself to this region and its future. You are praying as you walk, as you ride. You are making their concerns your own. You are trying with all your might to love them into wisdom, into taking the right course.”
Thomas said nothing at all.
“Has my father spoken with you about his desire for you to return and take on the church and his ministry?”
“He has.”
“What have you decided?”
“Little John is your son, Anne. Charles and Judith are family—”
“He is
our
son, and this is
our
shared heritage.”
Thomas pulled on the reins, halting the horses. “You would return here to live?”
“I would. If that is what you decide.”
“If it is God’s will for us,” he said quietly.
“If you decide to do this, it will be because God has directed you, has directed us,” Anne replied. “Of that there is no question.”
They no longer spoke of the weekly mail delivery. To do so would have meant additional stress, yet the tension was always with them. For Charles, because the quest of John Price had now been taken as his own, and for Judith, because she felt deeply anything that burdened her husband.
They both knew the delivery of mail from the New World, slow in the best of times, was now in further jeopardy because of the war. Yet each week there was hope that somehow a miracle would be worked and a letter from their American contact person would manage to get through.
No report did not necessarily mean there was no news, Judith gently reminded Charles from time to time. It was difficult for her to see the disappointment in his eyes each time the mail failed to bring a letter either from France or from the New World. He would nod in acknowledgment, but she could tell he was still frustrated and impatient. Judith came to dread mail day.
She was in the back garden looking over the summer vegetables the gardener tended so carefully when she saw Charles walking quickly down the cinder path toward her, waving a sheet of paper over his head.
She knew in an instant what the letter was. She also knew what message it must contain. The look on Charles’s face was enough to confirm it.
“You’ve heard,” she said as Charles approached her.
“I have. I have.”
“And it is good news.”
“Wondrous. Ah yes, wondrous. Our prayers have finally been answered. He has found her. He is certain.”
Judith sat down on the garden bench, and Charles joined her, spreading the sheet out on his knee with shaking fingers.
“Found her?” repeated Judith. “Really found—?”
“Well, not exactly found her,” Charles said quickly. “That is, she is no longer living. But they have, with surety, located where she was taken and what happened to her. She did go to Canada, as we had been told. She was adopted there by a Huguenot family. Was raised and married there. In fact, they have also traced her descendants. She had three children, but only one lived to adulthood. I have even been given a name.” He turned his eyes back to the page and scanned the written message. “It is here someplace. Ah yes. Right here. Celeste. That was the name of the child that survived.” He lifted his eyes to hers again. “Pretty name, is it not? Celeste.”
Before Judith could respond, he turned back to the page he held. “My man is off now to see what he can find of this Celeste. He has great hopes that she might still be living. An older woman in the village where she grew up has given him the girl’s married name. She said they moved away. She was not sure just where. Moving from one place to another is common where there’s not an estate to hold one to a given area. And with the war …” His words trailed off. It was not necessary to remind Judith that folks in troubled times often were forced to flee for safety.
“He has done well,” Charles declared, looking pleased with the efforts of the man he had sent to investigate the whereabouts of John Price’s missing half sister. “Remarkably well, under the circumstances.”
“You will inform them?” asked Judith.
For a long moment Charles was silent. Judith could tell that he was thinking carefully before answering. At last he shook his head slowly. “I think not. Not yet. There is too much uncertainty that remains. We will see where this next lead …” But Charles came to a halt while he sat thinking. “No, I think that is wrong. They should have the excitement of knowing what we have discovered to this point. We are getting close, and they should know.”
He stood. “You are quite right, my dear. I should let them know immediately.” He bent over and kissed the top of her head. Judith wondered just what she had said that he would credit her with being right, but she just smiled.
“You just enjoy this delightful sunshine,” he said with a pat to her shoulder. “I am going in to dash off a letter to Andrew and Catherine. And John.”
Judith was still smiling as she watched him go. He might dash off a letter and get it in the post, but barring a miracle, she knew it could be months and months—if ever—before it reached its intended goal. Then her smile widened and she looked up at the blue sky. “Thank you, Lord,” she whispered. What was one more miracle? They already had been blessed with so many. Surely God could provide one more.
Anne looked around at the family from the doorway to the kitchen. Everyone save Andrew seemed wrapped up in the meeting to come. Thomas sat rocking softly, sipping from his mug, gazing reflectively into the dark fireplace. John Price sat in the other chair and cast little glances at Thomas. Catherine was in the kitchen packing apples and cider and cheese and half a loaf of bread to take with them into town.
After breakfast Andrew had returned to his room, as he often did. He had improved greatly in the past weeks, but it was becoming clear to all that his strength would never fully return. At the time, no one had any interest in discussing a future beyond the day.
When Andrew emerged from the room a short time later, he had changed into a pair of pressed dark trousers and a starched shirt.
“Are you going to town?” Catherine asked, coming into the living room with Anne close behind her.
“That depends upon Thomas,” Andrew said, easing himself onto the bench nearby.
Thomas made to rise. “Forgive me, Father. I have taken your seat.”
“Remain where you are, please. I am wondering if I may come with you today.”
“I would count it an honor.”
Andrew was observing his son-in-law very closely. “I have the impression that you know what decision you are to render today.”
Thomas merely returned Andrew’s gaze.
“In fact, I am thinking that you have known for quite a while now.”
“Since the day they set the matter before me,” Thomas affirmed quietly.
“I don’t understand,” Catherine exclaimed. “If you have known all this time, why did you require the delay in announcing it?”
“He did not require the time for himself,” Andrew replied. “He did it for the village.”
Thomas spoke to Catherine, yet kept his gaze upon his father-in-law. “There was a risk that if the matter had been swiftly resolved, they would see it as a simple issue.”
“The problem was never the farm,” Andrew said.
“Never,” Thomas agreed.
Catherine looked from one man to the other. “But—” “The elders did not request my help because they could not find the answer themselves. They asked because they needed someone who could speak to the angry and the discontented within
both
communities,” Thomas replied. “They needed not an impartial judge who would speak of laws written by a distant hand. They needed someone who was both within and without.”
“They heard you speak from the pulpit, and they knew they had found their go-between,” Andrew said.
Slowly Thomas shook his head. “That was only part of it.”
“What else, then?”
Thomas turned and looked at Anne.
“Of course,” Andrew murmured.
“They know your daughter’s story, the Acadian child lovingly raised by an English family. My time in the pulpit might have been my introduction to the English in the community.
But the French elder approached me because of my connection to Anne, the woman they still claim as their own.” For Anne, the moment was captured in the sudden stillness.
Her grandfather in the chair, her mother near him, and her husband and her father sharing a quiet smile. She knew she would remember it for all her remaining days.
When Thomas drew out his pocket watch and rose to his feet, the little group stirred itself again.
“Yes, well,” Thomas said, “we shall see what happens. It is in God’s hands.”
“Amen,” said Andrew.
Anne’s grandfather had declared himself unable to remain at home. Such momentous events do not come but so often, he had explained. Andrew smiled his approval as John Price had slipped into his jacket. The two gentlemen said they would start out early on the way into the village so as not to slow anyone else down.
John and Andrew fell into step with Catherine and Anne and Thomas outside the churchyard gate. Together they made their way through the throng and up to the front steps. Chairs were quickly offered to Andrew and his family.
Thomas nodded to his French interpreter, and the two made their way up to the table and chairs. The Acadian farmer and the English homesteader were already there, hats held in their laps and avoiding Thomas’s eye.
Anne watched her husband turn and glance at Andrew. She saw her father give a brief headshake. Instantly she understood the exchange. Thomas had asked Andrew to say the opening prayer, and Andrew had declined.
“Let us bow our heads,” Thomas said, and he led them in a prayer for wisdom, for peace, each sentence repeated by the translator.
Thomas remained standing and said, “Before the proceedings may continue, we must first establish the framework. We all are part of God’s community. We must not simply accept the words, we must
live
this. Our deeds—both great and small—must reflect our brotherhood.” He turned to where the two farmers stood, separated by the table. “Please shake hands and apologize for words that never should have been uttered.”
The two weeks must have had a profound impact on these two men. Neither of them hesitated an instant. The words they spoke were inaudible, but the expressions on their faces were clear to all.
Thomas waited until the pair had returned to their seats. He raised his hands and said, “Let us all turn and offer one another the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
The response was immediate. A joyful commotion filled the air as English and Acadians, farmers and merchants, shook hands and greeted one another. Anne turned and embraced her grandfather, her mother, and her smiling father. Thomas made his own way down the steps, grasping hands as they reached for his.
When he returned to the front table, he motioned for all to return to their places. “I have studied the evidence placed before me,” he said, looking over the now-silent crowd. “And I have reached a finding.”
He waited for the translation, then continued, “I declare that
both
men have a valid claim to the property in question.”
A quiet rustling ran through the assembly. But there were no protests, not even from the two farmers seated on either side of him. Thomas continued, “It is also clear that the land in question is not large enough to support two families. Nor would their proximity promise long-term peace. And that is what we are after here. A resolution that will satisfy not just their
rights,
but guarantee their
peace
. Theirs, and that of the community at large.”