Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(23)

She smiled at him sweetly. “And here I thought you were learning to accept losing like a big boy.”

“You had a head start and you took a shortcut.”

“Miriam, I think Pierre needs a handkerchief so that he can sop up all his tears.”

Maman gave a soft laugh. “It’s so good to hear you both teasing each other again. I’ve missed it.”

Already Maman looked less hungry and tired than she had yesterday when he’d kneeled before her and begged her forgiveness. Her face had lit up when Angelique arrived, breathless and disheveled, after their race home. She’d wrapped her arms around the girl and let go of the worry that had plagued her since Angelique’s failure to appear at dawn.

Maman hadn’t said anything about being worried, but she’d spent a great deal of time on her knees in prayer that morning. And as he’d worked, he’d lifted his own grateful prayers for a Maman who prayed, for he had no doubt she’d petitioned God on his behalf every day he’d been gone. And he was quite certain those prayers had carried him through many of his rough days and in time brought him back to the Lord.

He reached across the table and captured Maman’s hand and squeezed it. He hated to think of how lonely it had been for her living by herself, with her eyesight failing and leaving her stranded in the cabin.

“I’m glad you’re home, Pierre,” she said, placing her other hand over his and gripping him as if she would never let go.

How could he let go of her now that he was home? How would he ever be able to leave her to fend for herself? But how could he possibly stay?

Angelique was studying his face. Her smile faded, as though she sensed him plotting his departure, and her eyes flashed with accusation—the same that she’d leveled at him last night when she’d first arrived.

Was she angry with him about something? But why would Angelique be upset with him? How could she be, not when she’d always admired him?

She stared at her coffee and forced a smile. “I’ll only be glad Pierre is home if he promises to gut the fish every morning.”

For some reason he didn’t like the thought that she might be disappointed in him, even if just a little. The need to sweep away that disappointment surged through him. “I’ll gut the fish forever if it makes you happy,” he said softly, wanting to see her eyes light up again.

He hadn’t minded gutting the fish. It had given him the chance to watch Angelique without her knowing it. The first thing she’d done was fret over a new burn on Maman’s hand. She’d slathered it with salve and then bandaged it using a rag. Afterward she’d emptied and cleaned the chamber pot, swept the floor, and brought in more straw to add to Maman’s hat-making supply.

She’d even helped Maman brush and plait her hair and twist it into a knot.

“Gut the fish forever?” Angelique said.

“Oui, and I’ll fillet them perfectly and make you fish cakes as often as you’d like.”

Some of the light returned to the brown of her eyes, soothing him. “Fish cakes every day would make me very happy.”

“If you come for dinner later,” he offered, “I’ll make you a whitefish stew like nothing you’ve ever tasted before.”

“You’re tempting me, Pierre, but perhaps another day.”

She glanced out the window at the sun and then pushed away from the table, her chair scraping the floor and signaling the end of their time together.

“You still have plenty of time before you have to go, don’t you? I thought for sure you’d like me to regale you with tales of my adventures in the wilderness.”

He was only joking with her again, hoping to gain another of her smiles.

But she shook her head, leaned over, and kissed his maman’s cheek. “Good-bye.”

A shadow passed over Maman’s face. She stared hard at Angelique, as if by doing so she could make her eyes work again. “Is everything all right, Angel?”

“Everything’s just fine.”

But the shadow on Maman’s face didn’t lift. “Pierre says a battle with the Americans is coming very soon. And when the Americans come, they’ll retake the island, and Jean can come home again.”

Pierre shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t been totally honest with Maman. Oui, the Americans were coming. It was inevitable. But he wasn’t sure that they would be able to take back the island, not with the call the British had just put out for more Indians to join up with their forces on Michilimackinac.

Soon, more Indians decked out in war paint would arrive on the island. Along with the hundred fresh soldiers from the Royal Newfoundland Regiment that Colonel McDouall had brought with him, the British forces would be hard to beat.

Somehow he’d have to smuggle a letter off the island to let the Americans know about the increasing odds stacked against them.

“Jean will be home soon,” Maman said again. “And then you’ll be able to come live here for good.”

A flush stole over Angelique’s cheeks.

Pierre sat forward. “Why does she need to wait for Jean to come home? Why not just live out here now?”

Angelique made a move toward the door, but Maman held her hand fast. “Ebenezer wouldn’t allow Angelique to marry Jean after he refused to sign the Oath—”

“Marry Jean?” Disbelief pushed Pierre to his feet. “Angelique is going to marry Jean?”