The Sacred Shore (31 page)

The wagon was a marvel, the two seats set upon springs that both steadied the ride and eased the passengers over the bumpy trail. The wagon and horses were gifts from Charles, who had avoided argument by simply going down to the market, making his purchases, and driving them back to the Harrow cottage. How could Andrew protest with all three women exclaiming over the modern features and the new wagon's ease of travel?

The new wagon was piled with items Catherine wanted to take from Georgetown to Cyril and Anne's house in Halifax. It would be their first viewing of the bride-to-be's new home, and Catherine had no intention of arriving empty-handed. And high atop the load rose Charles's own housewarming presents, two handwoven rugs and a trio of quilts made from swatches of velvet crimson and gold and lavender. Charles had found them hanging over a porch rail in Georgetown, and he spent two days convincing the woman to part with them. He'd had to pay a sum that would have fetched a silk coverlet from France, for the woman had crafted them with her own family in mind. But Charles was vastly pleased with his purchases. They suited Anne far more than silk and shone like rainbows in the morning sun.

Andrew told Charles of his joy at being back in the saddle. His journeys on horseback had been few and far between, he explained, restricted to travels with wealthy parishioners who owned more than one horse. Charles had not actually announced that the horses and wagons were Andrew's, since that would have given him an opportunity to refuse the generous gifts.

The three ladies chatted with an animation that matched the birds flitting through the forest and filling the day with their song. There was so much to converse about, years of longing, years of empty places in heart and hearth.

The only cloud upon the day and their journey was that Nicole did not appear to be the least interested in discussing a life in England. Since their conversation in the garden three afternoons ago, she seemed to be avoiding him—as much as two people could avoid each other in such close confines.

Catherine chose that moment to throw back her head and send a peal of laughter echoing about the treetops. Andrew smiled at his wife and said to Charles, “I have never seen her so happy. We have had a good life, and much joy. But only now, when I hear how lovely it is, do I find that I had missed the laughter that had been lost.”

“Andrew, I want you to hear me out without argument.” Charles gripped the saddle horn. “I am leaving a sum of money in your name with a banker in Halifax.” Charles raised his voice before Andrew could protest. “Don't argue with me, brother!”

Catherine cast a worried glance toward the two, and Andrew gave her a quick upraised hand in reassurance. “Have your say, then.”

Charles continued, his voice sounding hoarse in his ears, “Our mother's will left what money she had of her own to you.”

Andrew's head turned so swiftly it caused the horse to neigh and stomp. He patted the steed's neck and muttered, “I knew nothing of this.”

“No, nor I, not until our father passed on. He said he had included the inheritance in the moneys he sent to you, so I was to consider the matter settled, if I so wished. Those were his words, and naturally I wished for nothing else. I had no intention of righting any wrong that might have been done to you.” The last words barely could pass the constriction in his chest and throat.

“Charles, I assure you, there is no need—”

“Hear me out. I beg you.” He took a deep breath. “You are not young anymore. And I will not leave this continent without knowing you have what is rightfully yours. I will not, do you hear me?”

“There is no need to shout, brother. I am right here beside you.”

“I will not hear of it,” Charles repeated more quietly. “You cannot be both a leatherworker and a pastor, not at your age. I realize you will not accept my money. So take what is yours by birth, by a legally binding will laying out our mother's express wishes.”

Andrew reached over and gripped his brother's arm. “I accept, and with an overfull heart. Thank you, dear brother.”

“But …” Charles shook his head in bewilderment. “Why now, when before you would not even let me discuss it?”

“Because before it was offered as a bribe. You wished to gain something from me. It was not a gift, as it is now.”

“True. That is true,” Charles nodded gravely.

“Charles, I wish you could see what changes the Lord is working in you.”

Charles looked up at a slender ribbon of blue framed by trees so tall they seemed almost able to touch the clouds. “I tell you, brother, all I see is the lack in me.”

“The Lord himself said,” Andrew continued, “it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter heaven. And yet you are making those steps and growing inwardly in truth and righteousness.”

“Only because I was broken upon the sea and the bayou and the trail,” Charles confessed quietly. He realized the wagon had slowed, and all were now watching and listening. “Only because I was brought face-to-face with just how hollow my existence has been.”

Nicole found it easier to remain behind her reserve and observe all the joyful activities from a safe distance.

The days in Halifax were nothing if not wondrous. Charles took for them the entire top floor of the city's finest hotel. Nicole knew Andrew accepted the invitation because of her. He and Catherine wanted her to have an opportunity to see just exactly what it was that awaited her in England. Here it was on display, at least hints of what could be for her. The entire city seemed to gather to pay Charles homage. He refused invitations on a daily basis, brought by emissaries from merchants and government alike.

The ease Charles showed with Andrew was translated to a similar level of comfort with Guy Belleveau. When the two had met, despite their differing cultures and their nations having been enemies, there was a remarkable acceptance on both sides. Nicole tested it by confessing to her uncle Guy that she had told Charles of their need to get the treasure back to Vermilionville. Guy had not seemed to mind her sharing the village's secret at all; in fact, he had seemed to accept both her admission and Charles's own offer of help as a gift from God. The two men had spent much time together, speaking of both the situation here and the one in Louisiana. Guy eventually had accepted Charles's loan of horses and wagon and set off for Minas.

One afternoon the governor himself had come to their hotel, arriving in a carriage more elaborate than anything Nicole had ever seen, drawn by four matched geldings and accompanied by three aides in long coats with velvet borders. She saw the uncertainty in Andrew's face when Charles introduced them and drew his brother over to sit with the governor. Nicole remained at a distance, and she observed the familiarity with which Charles moved in the circle of power and influence. She was quickly picking up enough English to follow much of what was being said. She felt herself drawn by the allure of Charles's world. She sensed something within herself, so new she could not name it. And she knew that it could be very easy to accept Charles's offer and travel with him to England and wealth and fame. Very easy indeed.

Anne and Catherine were busy with plans for the coming marriage. Nicole had been included whenever she wished to join. She sensed Catherine's desire to draw her closer still and felt she understood the older woman's uncertainty and pain. She yearned to know her mother better, and her father, though the familiar titles rested uneasy on her heart, as though even thinking them in relation to two who were not Henri and Louise was somehow disrespectful to the memory of Henri and Louise.

Impossible choices. Whatever she did, it meant a loss. And this ultimate result of any decision she could make was far easier for her to see than possible rewards. What to do? Nicole sat in the hotel lobby's far corner, sheltered by heavy drapes drawn back from the tall front windows, and watched Charles with the entourage of power and privilege. What to do?

A whisper of memory, a smiling bearded face above a stocky body, a seminarian who was both a stranger and a friend saying simply,
Make the first choice
. Yes. Choose rightly in the beginning, and all else would come clear.

Nicole closed her eyes, in the finest surroundings she had ever known, with people rushing about, and servants ready to leap at her call. And she prayed.
I want only your will, my Lord. I want to please you. Please show me what your choice for me is. I do not know my way forward. Everything seems right, and everything seems wrong. What do you want me to do?

When she lifted her head, Catherine was standing before her, watching her with a smile. “Am I disturbing you?” she wondered.

“No, please join me,” she said, motioning to the chair beside her. “I was praying,” she added slowly.

“Oh,” Catherine said, “I'm so glad.”

Nicole could not return the warm smile, for the moment was too open and honest. “I don't know what to do,” she murmured sorrowfully.

Catherine leaned toward her. “Nicole, sometimes the greatest moments of my life have been masked by impossible questions.”

“You may call me Elspeth if you wish. It's all right. Really.”

“Elspeth.” Catherine's smile wobbled a bit at the edges. “No, Andrew and I have discussed this. You should hold to the name that is yours by heritage. In my heart you will always be my Elspeth, but you are also the lovely Nicole, raised by Henri and Louise. As part of this legacy, I will call you by that name.”

Nicole stared at the woman, this stranger she felt impossibly close to, whose very presence was enough to make her want to burst into tears. She managed, “Thank you.”

Catherine reached for Nicole's hand, then hesitated and let it fall back into her lap. “You and I have talked about our histories, about some similarities but mostly about the differences. Though there were times when I was sure I could not bear the loss of my own flesh and blood a single day longer, I have found life to be good. There have been so many blessings I wake up some nights fearing that I have let some slip. That I have not been thankful enough. That I have forgotten to cherish something to its fullest.”

The words opened a thousand doors, revealing not just a woman, but a heart and a soul. Nicole did not know why she felt such an urge to weep. But she would not allow herself to lose any of this moment in tears.

Catherine seemed unaware of the effect of her words. “Part of learning to count my blessings is accepting that many of them I would not have chosen if it had been left to me. I must first give up any attempt to compare what was with what might have been. By accepting God as my Shepherd, I must also accept the path He sets me upon—and the blessings from whatever circumstances of life.”

Nicole found herself unable to more than nod. But she was sure Catherine did not see this, for sorrow was etched so deeply upon the woman's features that it was unlikely she was noticing anything beyond her own inner thoughts.

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated by the noise and bustle in the hotel's lobby. Finally Catherine said in a voice so quiet the words could easily have been lost entirely, “It also means that I must accept His will when it comes to those I love.”

Nicole wanted to protest, to say something comforting in the face of the obvious pain Catherine was feeling. But she could not speak. Catherine went on, speaking to the hands in her lap, “What I am trying to say, my dear, is that if you feel it is your destiny to go back to England with Charles, then know you shall travel with my blessing.” The final word quavered, and a single tear traced its way unnoticed down Catherine's face. She repeated, more unsteadily still, “You will always be in my heart and my prayers, wherever you go.”

Nicole closed her eyes, desperate for answers she knew she could not find for herself. She felt as though her heart were crying out with a voice attempting to shake the heavens with its strength,
Tell me what to do
.