“For years I’ve tried to outrun the life I once lived. Dwelling on the past makes mefurieux. At the same time there are things I don’t want to forget.” He stopped by a sundial. “It is… bittersweet.”
“I understand. We should try to dwell on the good as Scripture says.”
His smile returned in confirmation. “Like your company here and now.”
Soon Brielle felt caught up in the whirlwind of settlement life along the Rivanna. Titus began helping Bleu at the stables managing the horses, while her mornings were spent in the settlement gardens where she worked nearly as hard as she had at the tavern. Their days started ahead of dawn before the summer sun wilted both them and the plants. Weeding, hoeing, harvesting, sorting, cleaning, drying, pickling, and cellaring filled her hours but with all of the fulfillment and none of the fear or fatigue of before. Shared work made a lighter burden.
Sylvie stole her away afternoons where they sewed in Orchard Rest’s parlor or on the covered porch. Her daughters, all but petite Jolie who was napping, joined them, sewing with nimble fingers in mimicry of their seamstress mother.
As the days unspooled, Brielle was able to share pieces of her past. A good listener, Sylvie seemed the sister she’d never had. Always the conversation circled back to Bleu. Though she looked forward to his joining them at meals, he began to appear only half the time and she realized he sometimes ate with other Acadians in the communal dining room called the kitchen house.
“He has many friends in the settlement,” Sylvie explained.
“Not only friends,Maman.” Madeleine whispered conspiratorially. “Sabine.”
Sabine?
Brielle felt a qualm as Sylvie and Madeleine exchanged glances. She kept sewing a shirt for Titus, unasked questions swirling. There was much to learn about these Acadians. Though they lived in the American colonies they’d retained many of their customs and traditions as best they could.
Would she find out next that Bleu had a sweetheart?
“Sabine Broussard’s father fought in the Resistance with Bleu,” Sylvie explained as if sensing her sudden unease. “He’s calledBeausoleil. Shining Sun. He was a light for our people at a very dark time. He tried valiantly to preserve our way of life. In fact, he never stopped fighting even when most of us were put on prison ships and sent away from Acadie. He’s since been captured and is a prisoner in Halifax.”
“Canada?” Brielle looked down the wooded hill toward the settlement. “But Sabine is here?”
“She came seeking refuge with other Acadians after I married Will. She’s been waiting for her father’s release ever since.”
“Might Beausoleil come here then?”
“To see Sabine, perhaps.” Sylvie threaded her needle with beeswax and began work on a petticoat. “But word is he has his sights set on a French colony in the Caribbean.”
Brielle felt inexplicable relief… if Sabine would go with him. Had this woman captured Bleu’s heart like he’d captured hers? Agitated, she poked her finger then wiped the fleck of blood on her apron, wishing her wayward emotions were as easily managed.
“She is very fond of Bleu, as are a few other young women,” Sylvie told her in low tones. “But he’s always avoided any romantic entanglements.”
Brielle’s mounting misery ebbed though her stitches stayed crooked.
“I’m hoping he settles soon, marries, and starts a family.” Sylvie looked up at her briefly. “I want him to be as happy as I’ve been. My wish is that he stay here. He would make a fine husband and father should that happen.”
A fine husband and father, truly. Sylvie echoed what Brielle had pondered more than once since he’d ridden into their lives at the crossroads. Why did he avoid any romantic entanglements? He’d spoken of Sylvie’s matchmaking with a patient amusement—and seemed to take pride in remaining free.
Might she, a mere tavern maid, sway him?
16
Sabine Broussard stood by the kitchen house door, arms akimbo and expression smug, just as she’d been when he’d last seen her. “I thought you’d never return and am overjoyed you’ve proved me wrong.”
Bleu regarded the young woman he’d known for so long she seemed more sister, albeit a quarrelsome one. “For now,oui.”
She surveyed him intently as if searching for another scar, another sign of the conflict which had kept them apart. “Promise me you’ll remain.”
“The Rivanna is a homecoming of sorts,” he said, “though I’m never sure how long I’ll stay.”
Even as he uttered the well-worn phrase he saw that it had become an easy excuse. To be distant. Absent. To risk nothing of his heart. Brielle had, unwittingly, helped him realize that empty evasion.
“I have a proposal for you.” Sabine walked with him into the kitchen house where a line snaked past a long table laden with food. “But first let’s eat.”
More wary than curious, Bleu filled his trencher with the garden’s bounty, remembering Brielle’s tireless work there. Fresh-caught gaspereau from the Rivanna was the meal’s mainstay, fried to perfection. Titus, he remembered, had contributedto the catch. Seeking a breeze, Bleu sat down at a table near an open window.
