The Beloved Land (32 page)
“Do you think—can you help us find berths?”
“Alas, my child, no ships are departing for England.” The reverend pushed himself to his feet. “I shall see if one of my students can go with you and help you with your luggage.”
Anne found it difficult to rise. “Whatever am I to do!” Her voice broke.
“Perhaps a miracle will arrive.” But Reverend Collins’s tone held out little hope. “Rest assured I shall join with you in prayer. But first let us see to you and your safety—you and your husband. Thomas, it is?”
Soon after clearing the Florida Straits and entering the cooler Atlantic waters, Gordon had been accosted by a trio of American warships. He had traded two sacks of fresh mangos for a crate of laying hens and the latest news.
Over dinner that night he relayed the reports to Henri and Louise. “There have been a score of solid victories on land, and almost as many at sea. The British are in retreat from Florida and Georgia. A general by the name of Swamp Fox is harrying their attempt to hold on to the Carolinas.”
“So it is as you thought,” Henri responded once Nicole had translated. “There is no instant victory.”
“Hardly. But the tides have shifted.”
“Yet there will be more days and weeks of struggle and suffering.”
“I am afraid so, sir.” Gordon motioned for the seaman on duty to remove their plates. “Whoever would have thought the mighty British navy would be handed their hat. And by an upstart colonial force.” Gordon shook his head, and Nicole knew his feelings were torn—admiration for the Americans, and a pang for his previous British colleagues.
During the three weeks of their voyage north, they saw no sign of the British navy. Twice more they came upon colonial forces in attack strength. They were approached and boarded, their papers carefully inspected, and then were sent upon theirway. The wind remained strong and steady, first off their starboard side, then almost directly from the south. Gordon held to a run straight up the American coastline, confident now that the coastal waters were firmly held.
Nicole used the time to tell Henri and Louise of her years apart. And they talked with her about her brothers and their families, about the Acadia villagers of her childhood.
She finally brought herself to ask about Jean, who had early captured her heart but whose wildness eventually pushed her away.
Her father did not answer immediately, but then he said, “He has not come back to the bayou. There are rumors that he is still being held as a traitor. …”
If he said more, Nicole was not aware of it. She gazed out over the blue Atlantic and remembered the awful deception, the traitor who stole Henri’s sterling name and identity to cloak his double-crossing of both the Americans and the British. …
“And Jean may indeed come back to us one day,” she said, as if to herself.
“What has you concerned?”
Nicole gave a start as she became aware of her father’s words. “Oh, Papa,” she whispered, “you of all have the most to forgive.”
“Ah, and if so,” he responded, “I have the most blessing to receive after I’ve done so.”
Alone in the captain’s cabin, Gordon asked, “Why have you been so quiet?”
“It is difficult to explain.”
“Try. Please.”
“I feel as though I am learning to see the whole world anew.”
“For the child, you mean.”
“
Our
child.”
“Yes.”
“Partly that. But questions I have carried with me all my life are being answered. And in ways that I never expected.”
Gordon nodded and waited.
“Questions about my home, my early years …”
“Yes?”
“All my life I have never felt as though I belonged. Never had a place that was truly my own.”
“And now?”
“It is such a strange thing, how the home I thought I would have is burned to a husk, how the land lies fallow, how the nation is at war. Yet I feel not only settled, but that I
belong
.” She struggled to put her feelings into words. “But I am discovering it is not the place that makes me feel this way. I believe God has given me the gift of a home that I take with me wherever I go. With you.”
Louise turned from the Boston harbor to stare at the city rising on the rocky shoreline’s other side. “Such a place as this I had never expected to see in all my days.”
“Some say Boston is America’s grandest city,” Nicole said. “Others, Philadelphia.”
Henri cast a shrewd eye over his daughter. “I sense you do not share their opinion.”
“I do not care overmuch for big cities,” Nicole replied, but without rancor. She also looked around her. A midafternoon breeze blew in from the sea, carrying enough coolness to make even the brilliant sunshine feel pleasant. Three ships had arrived on the same incoming tide, doubling the number of vessels in the harbor. Even this number seemed dwarfed by the harbor’s potential. The docks, left empty by the strictures of combat, jutted seaward.
Gordon mistook her silence for something else. He drew her to one side and murmured, “Is there something that ails you?”
“No, Gordon, I am fine. I cannot tell you all the emotions I’m feeling.”
“Tell me, Nicole.”
“Well, for one, I think I may have felt the baby move.”
“Has this happened before?”
“Perhaps, I am not sure.”
“What else?”
“I am happy the war seems to be coming to an end, that the colonists—the Americans—may have won their freedom.
Our
freedom,” she repeated.
He studied her face, trying to understand. But then he lifted his head, listening.
“What is it?”
She realized that it was not only Gordon but her father who was doing the same. Both of them had turned west.
Nicole shaded her eyes and squinted against the afternoon sun. A call came high upon the wind, and then a figure, little more than a slender shadow silhouetted against the waning sunlight, ran down the dock toward them.
Nicole’s cry joined instantly with the first one.
“
Anne!”
“I still cannot believe it,” said a beaming Pastor Collins as he pushed back to lean his arms on the table after they had shared a simple evening meal together. “Both of Andrew’s daughters—
both
of them—here at my table at the same time. God is indeed great and good.”
Anne reached beneath the table to clasp Nicole’s hand. She still could not believe what her eyes were seeing. Nicole was here beside her. Nicole, as full of warmth and acceptance as always. She felt such tremendous relief. She had been so frightened, so confused, even betrayed, when she had received the news about Nicole turning to side with the colonies. She had wondered how she might respond if they should ever meet again. Were they still sisters at heart? Or had they been forced by a world in conflict to an estrangement she did not want?
When the word had come to the seminary that the ship that had left for New Orleans—the ship on which she knew Nicole and her husband were to be aboard—was arriving in the harbor, Anne hesitated. Part of her wished to run to the dock to greet them, but another part of her feared what this reunion might mean. Nicole had no idea that Anne was in Boston—had likely never heard that they had come over to be with Andrew and Catherine. How would Nicole respond should they meet in such an unexpected way?
The eager side of Anne had won the momentary battle. She had donned her bonnet and short cape and hurried to the harbor. Her wildly beating heart insisted that it was her sister coming in on the arriving ship. Her sister. Not a member of the colony’s combatants.
And when she had called Nicole’s name and Nicole had answered with all of the love of former years, Anne had wept with relief. They were sisters still. In spite of the distance, in spite of the war, in spite of the fact that they were now on opposing sides, they were sisters. Nothing—nothing would ever change that fact. Anne could not wait until they could be excused from this table of reunion to get alone for a long, confidential chat. They had so much to say to each other.
It was Nicole who pushed back from the chatter of the table visitors. “If you will please allow me to excuse myself,” she began, “it has been a very long day and I feel that a bit of rest in my room would be most welcomed.”
The men at the table rose immediately to their feet, and Gordon reached to take his wife’s arm. His eyes offered his apology for not thinking of her comfort sooner. She turned to him and smiled. “Why don’t you stay and converse. Anne will accompany me to my room.”
For a moment he looked as though he would argue, but as he caught the message in her eyes he nodded silently. “I will not be late,” he assured her and let her go, Anne at her side.
“You worked that nicely,” Anne whispered as they left the dining room. “You were always good at getting your desires in a most gracious way.”
Nicole laughed softly. “If I had to sit there any longer and endure more male talk of war when I was aching to catch up on all your news, I would have burst,” she exclaimed.
“I felt that way too. Oh, Nicole. I have missed you so terribly.”
In answer Nicole reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. But she turned the conversation in another direction. “I like your Thomas. He seems most … insightful.”
“You don’t know the half. He is so wise. So … in tune with God.”
Then Anne brought her thoughts in check lest she go on and on regarding her husband. “I like Gordon too. He seems so in charge. Military … yet gentle.”
Nicole smiled. Anne had summed up her husband’s bearing well. “Oh, we have so much to talk about,” she enthused as they reached the small room she shared with her husband. “But first of all I want a thorough report on Mother and Father. And Grandfather Price. How are they? Is Father really as ill as they say?”
Anne’s face turned serious. She feared that the news she had to share was not all good.
“The commandant will see you now.”
Gordon offered Nicole his arm with a wry grin when she paused to adjust the lapel of his best uniform. “Mustn’t keep the general waiting, my dear,” he murmured.
The commandant approached with hand outstretched. “Well met, sir. Welcome home.”
Home
. The word alone was enough to bring a smile to Nicole’s lips.
The general gazed at her and said, “I see you are glad to be back, ma’am.”
“Yes, General. More than I know how to say.”
“I am most glad to hear it. Our young nation has much need of people such as yourselves.” He ushered them inside, where an adjutant stood poised to pour them tea. The general waited until they were both served before asking, “You have heard the latest news?”
“So good it is scarcely believable, sir.”
“Believe it, Captain. Believe it. The British are retreating on land and on sea.”
“Will the war be over soon, sir?”
He took a drink from his cup, then dismissed the adjutant with a wave. “Of that we can only guess, ma’am. Guess and hope.”
“Please, sir. Tell me what you think.”
“They have offered several propositions to General Washington. All of them are most unacceptable.”
“But for the British to discuss terms of surrender at all is rather astonishing,” Gordon pointed out.