Captured by Love (Michigan Brides #3)(70)

He swung the shovel in the air. And even though he’d never hit Pierre before, for once Pierre believed Papa was angry enough to knock him down.

“Go ahead,” Pierre taunted, stepping away from the wall. “Hit me.”

Papa glared at him.

“If you want to hit me, I won’t stop you.” Pierre straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest, preparing for the first swing. He’d seen Papa come to blows with plenty of other men. Though Papa had claimed to be a changed man, his temper still flared all too often.

At almost eighteen, Pierre was as tall as Papa and just as broad-shouldered, but he knew he wasn’t a match for Papa’s strength. Even so, he stood without flinching as Papa lifted the shovel above his head.

In the loft, Jean’s glare matched that of Papa’s. He remembered thinking, If they all hate me so much, why should I bother staying?

“I hate you.” He ground the words out and flung them at Papa.

Papa rocked backward almost as if the hate had knocked him in the stomach. Slowly he lowered the shovel and then let it fall from his fingers into the soiled hay. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes filled with an incredible sadness that still pierced Pierre whenever he thought about it.

His declaration of hate was the last thing he ever said to Papa. He shoved his way past the big man, stuffed a bag with his belongings, and left the farm without looking back.

Papa was right. He was a stubborn fool.

If only he’d had the chance to tell Papa the truth before he died, the truth that he’d never stopped loving him, that he’d respected him, and that now he understood.

“Papa wasn’t wrong,” Pierre said into the cavern. “He was just trying to keep me from making the mistakes he did.”

“But he was wrong to try to force you to do what he wanted,” Jean replied. “We each have to forge our own way in this world, and that includes making a few mistakes along the way.”

“And I’ve made plenty.”

“That doesn’t mean you should give up doing something you love.”

Pierre’s soul burned with the remorse of all his sins, even though he’d long ago confessed them to God and pleaded for forgiveness. He’d been as guilty as Papa for all the drunkenness and debauchery that came with the voyageur life. He’d fallen into the trap of living for the next beach and the next night of drinking.

But he’d tried to turn his ways around. “I haven’t had a drop of rum in a whole year.”

“You’ve got the best qualities of both Maman and Papa in you,” Jean said, his voice growing weak again. “You’ve got Papa’s physical abilities and Maman’s spiritual strength. If anyone can live a godly life in the wilderness, it’s you.”

At Jean’s words, Pierre’s chest grew tight. “Thanks, Jean.”

Silence fell between them. He imagined themselves as if boys again, that they were merely resting in the cave after playing all morning. He wanted to forget that a bloody battle was still being fought only a few miles away. He wanted to pretend that he and Jean weren’t fighting over Angelique.

“Go back to the wilderness, Pierre,” Jean said. “It’s where you belong.”

He wanted to deny Jean’s words, yet his heart beat faster at the truth of them. “You’re just trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?” His words were meant as a joke, but somehow they lacked the mirth he’d intended.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid of you tempting Angelique away from me. I realize the friendship you’ve always had with her. She always followed after you first, always sought you out more than me.”

“True.” Pierre forced a laugh, hoping to cover his discomfort at Jean’s words. If his brother knew Pierre had already tempted Angelique away, he’d want nothing more to do with him. Maybe Jean hadn’t really hated him the way he’d rationalized that day in the barn, but when Jean learned Angelique was going to marry him, this time the hatred would be real.

“Besides keeping you away from my bride-to-be,” Jean continued, his voice falling to a whisper, “I know you need to go. The fur trade is part of who you are. It’s what you love most.”

“Someone has to stay and take care of Maman now that she’s blind.”

“Blind?” Jean groaned. “What do you mean? How? When?”

At the agony in Jean’s questions, Pierre wished he could take back his words. But Jean demanded to know everything. And by the time Pierre had finished telling him about the blindness and the condition of the farm that spring when he’d returned, Jean was thrashing in agitation.

“I’ll stay until you return,” Pierre assured, reaching out a steadying hand to Jean’s shaking one. “I won’t leave Maman here alone. I promise.” He wasn’t deserting Angelique either. No matter what Jean said about him needing to go, he loved and wanted to be with Angelique more. He wouldn’t think about leaving her, especially not at the mercy of Ebenezer.

“I guess then I’ll have to trust you.” Jean’s whole body was shaking now. From pain, cold, or fear, Pierre didn’t know. He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, wishing he could comfort him and tell him he had nothing to worry about.

He wouldn’t lie, though. Not any more than he already had. “I’ll take good care of everything.”