The Beloved Land (34 page)

Explaining their plan to the others took the remainder of the afternoon. After a long, agonizing discussion, Nicole and Gordon decided to risk sailing to Nova Scotia with the family. Nicole so much wanted to see Andrew again, and to do so with Anne as well as Louise by her side would make the moment all the more precious. She and Gordon would remain belowdecks, of course, should their ship be detained by the British.

There were risks, to be sure, but after quiet prayer, they both felt this was the proper course. When hostilities were finally over, they would return to western Massachusetts and discover what their friend Jackson had been able to accomplish on the Harrow estate.

Henri and Louise and Anne and Thomas were most delighted with the news of their traveling companions.

“I may stay in Georgetown until the baby is born,” Nicole explained to her family, “especially if Gordon is called to further duty with the American colonists.”

A seminarian rapped on the doorframe to get their attention and waited for permission to speak. He brought the news that someone from the commandant’s office awaited Gordon at the front door. Gordon arose and left immediately. He was not gone long. When he returned, his face was triumphant. “It is as we hoped!” he exclaimed, waving a paper. “The general has granted permission for the vessel to be sent back to Portsmouth! Not only that, but there is an experienced captain in the stockade who has offered his word as a gentleman and an officer that he will adhere to our terms. With him are enough seamen to take us as far as Nova Scotia, and then you, Anne and Thomas, across the Atlantic.”

“So we have what we require.” Thomas was on his feet. “And all because of you.” He extended a hand toward Gordon.

“It is an answer to prayer,” Anne agreed fervently.

Nicole looked at her sister, thinking of the little boy she had been missing for these many months. No wonder the news was of special significance to her. For a brief moment Nicole felt a kinship with her pain. She swallowed against her emotion.

Anne most resembled her blood parents in her gaze. Seated there between Henri and Louise, her inner feelings totally exposed upon her face, Nicole could see the power latent in those lovely dark eyes. Anne’s fragile form sheathed a stalwart inner resolve and spoke of a soul that had been tested and proven to be strong.

But Anne was speaking, softly, blinking back tears that wished to form. “I cannot tell you what it means to know I shall soon see my son again.”

She turned to Louise and spoke the words again in French. With a mother’s understanding, Louise slipped an arm around her slim waist and drew her close.

Chapter 46

Even now, in the warmth of a perfect late summer’s day, with the clouds framing a world of infinite green, Catherine could feel winter’s breath. It blew not upon her face, but rather her heart.

The three of them had taken to walking together each afternoon. Though it was not stated, all knew this might well be the last summer they shared.

Catherine matched her pace to whichever of the men was moving the slowest, and yearned for those younger footsteps and stronger hearts that were, for now, much too far away.

Today Grandfather Price leaned more heavily than usual upon Catherine’s arm, breathing in heavy gasps as they took the slight rise in the road leading away from the market square.

Oftentimes they would cover the entire distance without a word between them. They knew each other so well. And each was locked intently upon engraving these precious moments in deep, where they might be used to fuel the cold winter days ahead.

When the sound first came, Catherine thought it was a bird.

Andrew stopped in midstride and turned around. Squinting into the sunlight, he asked softly, “What did I just hear?”

“The wind,” John Price replied. But he turned back as well.

“It can’t be,” Catherine agreed. Something about the strange sound had caused her heart to surge like a bird taking flight.

Then it came again. Three voices calling so that the words seemed mixed together into angel’s laughter.

“Mama!”

“Catherine!”

And a different voice, “Mama!”

And then Catherine picked up her skirts and ran toward Nicole and Anne and Louise, calling their names until the four women met in joyful tumult.

Catherine scarcely knew which pair of arms to reach for first, so she made the trip around the circle three times, holding close, weeping and rejoicing all at the same time. English and French were interchanged in a joyous jumble of words. She was vaguely aware that Henri, John Price, Andrew, Thomas, and Gordon were also greeting one another with shouts and halloos, embraces and laughter.

At last Catherine drew back, her arms still firmly around the waist of Louise. “I cannot believe it. How did you get here? Where did you come from? Nothing—no one—is getting through the enemy lines.”

“Speak French, Mama,” laughed Nicole, and Catherine joined the laughter, then switched to French.

In a tumbling of words, Louise poured out the unbelievable sketch of the story. The details would need to be filled in later. But they would have time for that.

“Come,” said Catherine. “Come to the house. The kettle should be hot for tea. You must all be done in.”

“We do not have long today,” Louise explained as they walked together. “But we will have many days. Many days. But not today. We met Guy. He was in town at the market. Can you imagine that? We have not seen Guy or his family since he left the bayou. But there he was—clinging to Henri as if he would never let him go. He wants us to go home with him, and we said yes, when he is done at the market. He will bring us back when he comes in the morning. I could not believe my eyes. The market. Here it is—Frenchman beside Englishman—stall by stall. I have never seen the like of it. How can this be?”

Catherine cast a glance toward Thomas. She felt that much of the credit of the mixed market was due her son-in-law. But there wasn’t time to explain all of that to Louise now. She turned to the two daughters, both of whom she claimed as her own. “Anne, could you run for some sweet cream from the spring house, and Nicole, there is fresh strawberry jam in the cellar.”

From then on it was like a clamorous fete. There was so much talking and laughing that one could scarcely think.
How can so many people crowd into such a small space and share so much love and joy?
Catherine paused to wonder. Even Andrew’s pale face had taken on a flush, and there was a new sparkle to his eyes. At the same time that Catherine rejoiced in the fact, she feared that his frail body might be overtaxed by all of the excitement.
God has granted this,
she reminded herself.
He knew we all needed it. Especially Andrew. Let him enjoy it to the fullest
.

It seemed far too soon when Guy arrived for Henri and Louise. Catherine vowed not to try to hold them. After all, he had more claim on them than she. She served Guy a mug of tea and some bread and jam and watched as Louise gathered her things and replaced her shawl. “I will be back soon,” Louise promised as she kissed Catherine’s cheek. “Until then, you have much catching up to do with our daughters.”

“Yes,” Catherine agreed. She was anxious for some quieter time with the two girls. As yet they had spoken very little amidst all the commotion.

After the door had closed behind their guests, Catherine began to gather the dishes for washing. Anne reached for an apron and moved for the basin, while Nicole took a towel from the wall peg. It had been a long time since the three of them had shared a kitchen.

But even the washing of the dishes was destined to be interrupted, for Gordon chose the lull in conversation to draw two letters from his satchel.

“We happened, by God’s circumstances, to be at the right place at the right time. These letters were given us by the general in Boston. I promised to deliver them by hand.”

Catherine came to a standstill, two mugs still held in her hands. Letters arrived so seldom that it seemed a miracle when one made it through. Gordon had handed one letter to Andrew and the other to John.

“From Charles,” observed Andrew as Catherine drew near.

“Charles? He must have news.”

“Not necessarily. This could simply be correspondence.”

“News of what?” asked Nicole from the open kitchen doorway.

Anne joined her. “Ours was news of little John. Judith wrote also. It was so good to hear after all this time.”

“News of what?” Nicole persisted. She moved into the room and Anne followed.

It was their grandfather who answered. “Charles has been searching for kin of mine. A half sister.”

“I didn’t know you had a half sister.” Nicole’s tone was one of interest but not surprise. Catherine realized there were many things about Grandfather Price Nicole did not yet know.

“No one knew for many years,” John Price went on. “I never told. In fact, I was reluctant to even claim her.”

The girls exchanged glances, Nicole’s puzzled and Anne’s pleading for patience and understanding.

“I never knew her,” John Price continued, fingering the letter he held in his hand. “My father had been married before he married my mother. His first wife was never able to leave France.”

“France? You mean she was French?” Nicole’s voice sounded shocked.

John Price nodded.

“You think Uncle Charles might have found her?” Excitement made Nicole’s words tumble over each other.

“No, not her. She has died. That much we know. But she did have one daughter who lived. We don’t know if …”

“Open it,” urged Nicole, kneeling in front of the elderly man. “Let’s see if he has found the daughter.”

With shaking hands, John Price tore at the flap of the envelope. Catherine noted that the tremor was more pronounced than normal. Perhaps it was tension that made him tremble so.

Anne had pressed in to join the others, easing herself to a seat on the hearth and still twisting her apron in her hands. Even Gordon and Thomas had fallen silent.

John’s attention went quickly to the page, and his watery eyes scanned the first sentences.

“He has found her,” he said in almost a whisper.

“Where is she?”

“Read it to us.”

“What does he say?”

The questions all came at once, and John held up a hand as though commanding his troops to silence and order.

The room hushed.

“He hasn’t really found her. But he does know who she is,” he amended.

“Read it,” Nicole urged again.

With a tremble in his voice, John began to read halfway down the page. “ ‘He is certain now that he has found out the identity of the woman who is your niece. I do not know if the letter I sent previously ever arrived. We have recently had a further report, and it seems to have removed all doubt about her true identity. She was born Celeste Louise Evangeline Brassard, and the records show—’

” Nicole gasped. “That is my mother’s name,” she exclaimed. “What a strange coincidence. It is not a common name, is it?” Catherine queried, her heart beating fast. What did this all mean?

“I wouldn’t think so. Not with three given names.”

“I thought Mama was Louise,” put in Anne. “I never even knew of the other names.”

“She was named Celeste after her grandmother, but they chose to call her Louise,” Nicole said, her tone full of wonder.

“I never knew,” said Anne again, shaking her head.

John Price had turned back to the letter. He was reading silently, but suddenly a look of pure shock registered across his face.

“Listen,” he said, his voice husky. “ ‘She was born Celeste Louise Evangeline Brassard, but the records show that she married when she was nineteen. They lived in a village of Nova Scotia but were with the party driven out by the British. There the trail ends. The Acadians were scattered and are almost impossible to trace. We have no evidence that she is alive or dead.’ ”

The room was absolutely silent. Nicole half rose from her position at her grandfather’s knee. Anne leaned back against the brick of the fireplace as though for support. Andrew was bent so far forward in his chair he threatened to topple from it.

Catherine sat, staring intently at her father. What was he saying? Surely she was hearing it all wrong. Surely there was some misunderstanding.

“Is this a dream?” she finally managed, shaking her head to clear it of the cobwebs.

John Price read the words aloud again, and then the room erupted.

“It’s true,” cried Nicole. “My mother, Louise Brassard Robichaud. She has to be the one.”

Anne had risen from her seat. With tears streaming down her face she threw her arms around her grandfather’s neck. “I knew it. I always knew it,” she wept. “We are of one blood. We are.”

Catherine sat where she was, staring at the commotion around her. It seemed so impossible. So preposterous. She and Louise—kin? It was Andrew who finally made her understand. He reached for her hand, his own eyes wet. “We British drove out our own flesh and blood,” he said slowly. “What if we had never found them again?”

Nicole and Anne were now dancing around the room, waving apron and dishtowel with the hands that were not clinging to each other. And then Catherine’s tears started. This was the most amazing thing she had ever heard in her lifetime. She and Louise. Kin. No wonder they had taken to each other. No wonder the tie had remained through the years.
Oh, dear God, this is too much,
she whispered.
This is too much joy to hold
.