Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(43)
“You’ve worked too hard, Pierre,” Maman said. “I think it’s time to call it a day.”
“I’m almost done,” he called. At nine o’clock at night in June, he could probably get in another hour of work before it grew too dark to see. He eyed the pile of logs still waiting for his blade. He wouldn’t be done until he split the rest of the wood he’d chopped yesterday. After that he’d need to stack it against the cabin and inside the barn. Even then, he didn’t know if Maman would have enough to last her through the winter.
The problem with farm work was that it was never ending. When he finished one job, there were ten others that needed his attention—unlike fur trading, where he could mark his accomplishments by the strokes of the voyageurs. They paddled thirty miles a day, fifty-five strokes per minute, fourteen hours a day.
Even at the portages, he could measure their progress. With two ninety-pound packs strapped to their backs and heads, they could still make the haul overland in ten-minute intervals per half mile.
But farming . . . He shook his head in frustration at all he had left to do.
The three weeks he’d planned on staying had passed, and he was still on the island—without the hired help he’d tried to find for Maman. He’d had several leads, but they’d all fallen through. No one wanted to commit, not with the uncertainty of the war and the inevitable battle that loomed ahead.
And try as he might, he couldn’t make himself walk away. He knew he’d feel guilty if he did. He wouldn’t be able to paddle to Montreal and find the usual contentment with his brigade knowing he’d left Maman as helpless as he’d found her.
Why was he growing a conscience now after all these years of living the way he wanted?
He glanced to the swirling gray clouds overhead. He knew what was happening. Ever since he’d repented and let God grip him, the fingers of the Holy Spirit had been wrapped around his heart and he could no longer ignore the pressure there, the urging to do what was right.
He had to take care of his maman.
Even though he couldn’t audibly hear God, the nudging of the Spirit inside told him the same thing Red Fox had—that Maman needed him more this summer than his brigade did.
Besides, two nights ago under cover of darkness, when he’d paddled to Bois Blanc Island to send another missive to the American forces, he’d picked up a message from Red Fox that the brigade hadn’t had any confrontations yet with the North West Company. They were doing fine without him.
Would it really be so terrible to stay on the island for the summer?
He mopped his sweat-drenched eyes again in time to see Angelique step out of the woods and start across the meadow toward the farm. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her, from watching her lovely swaying and the gentle contours of her figure.
His mind flashed to the kiss he’d shared with her in the tree several days ago, the way she’d said his name and the way her lips had melded with his. He couldn’t remember wanting to kiss another woman quite as much as he’d wanted to kiss her. Even after she’d pulled away from him, he’d ached with the need to hold her again and keep on kissing her.
What was he thinking? He wasn’t supposed to get involved with any woman, much less a sweet, innocent girl like Angelique. He’d never had any trouble in the past. He’d always been content to consider her just a friend. What had changed?
Even as the question ricocheted around in his mind, the answer hit the target head-on. She had changed. She’d grown up. Not only had she developed into an attractive woman, but she’d become even kinder and sweeter and more fun to be around. He loved the way she wasn’t afraid to follow him without any questions wherever he took her, that she wasn’t too grown up to climb a tree, and that she still understood him in a way no one else ever had. He had to admit, he was drawn to her the same as when he’d been a boy. Only now he was drawn so much more forcefully.
He shoved another length of wood onto the chopping block, steadied it, and then swung his ax into it. This was supposed to take his mind off Angelique. The pinging of the ax and the splitting of the wood were intended to distract him from her approach. But with each step she drew closer, his muscles hardened with awareness, until he felt like the slightest pressure would split him into pieces.
Why did she have to grow up? Why couldn’t things have remained the same as always? Out of the corner of his eye he watched her embrace Maman.
Was that why he hadn’t left the island yet? Was it because he wasn’t ready to leave Angelique?
He lowered the ax and rested the blade against the wood chips scattered around the base of the block. That couldn’t be the reason. He wasn’t looking for a relationship with a woman right now. He didn’t want a woman in his life, did he?
Non. Of course not. He was only concerned about Angelique and Maman because they were alone on the island, having to fend for themselves. And with the danger of the upcoming battle, he wanted to make sure they were safe before he left.
Maybe he would stay through the summer, do as much as he could to prepare for winter, and be there to keep them safe during the battle with the Americans. And then after Red Fox and his brigade returned with fresh trade goods and supplies, he’d take his leave.
He heaved a sigh as he turned to look upon Angelique. He’d seen her earlier in the day when he’d taken her to and from the fort for her lesson with Lavinia. He never tired of being near her.