She turned to her sister, and Brielle’s raised brows said she’d noticed at least a little of what passed. She didn’t say anything about it, so Charlotte merely nodded.
Once they were settled at the table with Brielle, Evan, and Uncle Carter on one side, she tucked Damien between herself and Andre, then began passing out food.
“Will your father join us?”
She glanced up and followed Damien’s gaze to where Papa greeted Monsieur and Madame Thayer. “He’ll try to sit with us at some point, but someone always comes to speak with him or needs him to attend to a matter of business. He tries to make the rounds before he settles in to eat, but that doesn’t usually help.” It used to bother her that he never had a chance to eat the feast she prepared, but she couldn’t blame the others for seeking his company. Their family was blessed with his presence most other days, so she could freely share with the village on feast days.
She uncovered the last of the pastry baskets and placed them in the center of the table, but it appeared she’d forgotten the berry pudding. “I need to get one more thing from our apartment. I’ll be only a minute.” She sent Damien an encouraging smile, then turned and slipped through the crowd toward the doors.
Only a few people still strode through the corridor, and she stepped close to the wall to allow two youngsters to dart past toward the feast. Perhaps they’d been sent on an errand to retrieve something their mother forgot.
Her family’s apartment was one of the first past the hallthat led outside, but as she reached the door, she glanced at a figure approaching from farther down the corridor.
Hugo.
Her chest tightened at the sight of him. She owed him an explanation. And more.
She waited for him to reach her, and he slowed as he neared. When he passed near one of the torches that lit the hallway, the light showed a hint of wariness in his expression. Had she hurt him by not returning his affections? Had he trulyfeltaffection for her, or had he been simply going along with her father’s suggestions? She needed to be careful with this conversation, just in case.
She made sure her voice held a gentle smile. “Hello, Hugo.”
He stopped several steps away from her. “Mademoiselle Durand.” He’d not been so formal with her in a long time, but she didn’t blame him.
“I wanted to say ... thank you. For searching for me. For helping my father while I was gone.” She swallowed. This was every bit as hard as she’d expected, but she couldn’t stop until she’d said everything. “You’re a good man. My father respects you, and he values you—your friendship, your opinion. I know he wanted ... something ... between us. But I’m not the one God has planned for you. I know He’ll give you someone far better when the time is right. But thank you for all you’ve done for my father. For us all.”
Hugo stood stiffly through her entire speech, and he still didn’t move for a long moment after she stopped. Part of her itched to fill the silence. But what more could she say? Perhaps she’d missed something, but the way he studied her had begun to muddle her mind.
At last, he nodded. “I respect you father a great deal. It’s an honor to work with him.”
That seemed all he planned to say, so she did her best to offer a smile. “I know he feels the same way.”
Hugo stepped forward and to the side, as though trying to edge around her. That was it, then.
She moved into their apartment doorway to allow him to pass. “Enjoy the feast.”
As the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, she inhaled a steadying breath. It would take time for things to smooth over between them, but she would do her best for her father, and because Hugo had proven himself a good friend. And friends should be cherished.
When she returned to the celebration, other friends had already begun crowding their own table. With Damien spending most of his time in the workshop since his recovery, most of the villagers hadn’t met him yet. Some had only caught that first glimpse as he stumbled across the courtyard on the day of their arrival, too exhausted to be aware of those around him.
Marcellus appeared first, with his father in the wheeled chair that helped him maneuver, despite being paralyzed from the waist down. To no one’s surprise, Marcellus greeted Damien with warm enthusiasm. His mind may not have developed as much as other men his age, but he brought a joy everywhere he went, making him a favorite of the entire village.
The Chapuis family came next, with little Jacques sitting on his papa’s shoulders as they welcomed Damien. The lad possessed more energy than anyone should be allowed, but being placed up high seemed to contain him better.
In families or groups, the visitors continued, and she kept an eye on Damien’s expression to watch for overwhelm. He seemed content, though, responding with politeness to each person.
Partway through the parade of friends, she found Damien’s hand under the table and wove her fingers through his. A simple reminder that he wasn’t alone.
He slipped a glance her way, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening in a look just for her.
Finally, her father called for silence in the room and opened the feast with a prayer of thanks, not just for the bounty they shared on the tables, but for the way only God could have brought Damien to them, reuniting what had been separated over a century before.
The words coursed warmth through her, even more so when Damien gave her hand a gentle squeeze under the table.
As she suspected, Papa attempted to join them for the meal. He managed a bowl of stew and part of agalettebefore one of the council members came to seek his advice on resolving a matter before the next meeting.
As her father followed Erik away from their table, Damien found her gaze, his raised brows saying she’d been right in foretelling that event.
Watching him interact with her family eased her angst. He seemed more comfortable around them, drawing out Andre’s talkative side and even chatting with Uncle Carter, who usually preferred to blend into the background.
