Page 36 of The Autumn Wife
She startled enough to jolt off the seat a bit, and then chided herself for being surprised he knew such details. She had told him, on his first day as overseer, that her husband had been absent and she considered herself a widow. And now, with investigators in Montreal asking pointed questions, her degrading story was probably the big topic of conversation in all the taverns.
“I willnotpick up a bottle.” She shook her head hard. “Eduard was a drunkard. I won’t mirror his stupidity.”
“Smart woman.”
“But I will be relieved,” she confessed, “when I’m deemed by law to be unmarried, and can finally have some peace in this world.”
Fingers crossed that Talon’s investigation unearths no more than that.
“You don’t have to join a convent to find that peace,” Theo ventured. “You could sail away from these settlements and leave everything behind.”
Breath gathered in her throat. Could this be his way of asking her to join him to go to France? She had considered the possibility, wondering if his feelings for her were as strong as her feelings for him. But it didn’t matter. All was vanity—going to France was out of the question.
She swiveled on the bench, lifting her legs to settle them on the other side so she could face this man. She needed to meet his green gaze squarely when she answered such a weighty question.
“Theo.”My darling man.“Do you remember when I asked why you hadn’t escaped from indentured servitude to disappear into the wilderness?”
He nodded. The memory of their kiss by the riverbank rose like a wisp between them.
“Family obligations, you told me.” She gathered courage to speak honestly, even while he looked at her with such intensity. “For those same reasons, I must stay here in the settlements.”
A strange ripple passed across his face. “Etienne.”
“Yes.” Pained, she turned her head to peruse the riot of autumn color on the south bank of the river. “I love my son to the marrow of my bones. Never would I cross a sea and leave him behind. Nor would I tear him from the only home he’s ever known. Nor take him to a place where he might never see anyone like himself again.”
Theo leaned forward with an understanding nod, before paddling with more force than ever.
“And despite both our experiences, isn’t it still a beautiful country?” She dropped her gaze to her gloved hands, daring in a quiet way to probe his own commitment to leaving. “Do you remember how soft and blue the snow can seem in the depths of winter? Or what it feels like, to draw a gentle frost into your lungs? And look at those flaming maples and golden beech trees and rust-leaved oaks. Won’t you miss this, even a little bit?”
A smile tweaked his lips. “I’ll miss only one thing when I leave here, Cecile. And that’s you.”
Though a flock of geese cawed above in the sky, and wisps of river fog curled up from the water, and the scent of a wood fire billowed from her shawl…the world went still again. Time stretched and stretched and stretched until the words from her heart found their way to her lips.
“I’ll miss you, too, Theo.”
What else was there to say, truly? The mutual acknowledgment of affection brought a tightening of her insides, but also a fresh calm. Acceptance, she supposed, and a trill of some finer feeling that stretched between them. She wasn’t alone in her adoration. Theo found her worthy of his regard. With nothing left to be said, she swung her legs back over the bench so she could let bittersweet tears flow.
The voyage continued in a silence that she compared to the sacred quiet of a vaulted church. Thecanoe, pushed by the current as well as the paddle, cut swiftly through the water. Now and again, Theo pointed out a sight of interest—a buck lowering his antler rack as he drank at the water’s edge, the silver flash of a sturgeon swimming by in the black waters. She acknowledged each sight with a nod or a little sound in her throat. She didn’t dare open her mouth. To speak again would churn up new ripples, set loose fresh tears.
As the sun passed its zenith, Theo paused paddling. With his paddle, he pointed to a clearing ahead on the southern bank.
“That must be the Girards’ landing.”
“It is.” How raw her voice. “I can just see the cabin through the trees.”
While Cecile subtly wiped her face free of tears, Theo used the paddle as a rudder to cut the keel free of the current. Dragging hard, he urged the prow of the canoe toward the muddy bank until the cabin came fully into view.
Light spilled from the windows, though the day was bright. The promised warmth made her realize how cold she was, despite the layers of clothing she’d wrapped around herself. As the keel scraped into the mud, Theo leapt out into the shallows with a muscular grace. Gripping the prow, he dragged the canoe farther up the bank until it was secure.
She stood as he approached, bracing herself for the feel of his hands on her body. The padding of her coat and clothing should have dulled the pressure ofhis grip, but when he reached out, she felt the firm impression of every finger. He lifted her high. She flattened her hands on his broad shoulders. Their eyes locked as the ground shifted. The contours of his face—high cheekbones, hollows beneath, a sharp length of jaw, a rippled brow—so familiar, so very dear. On her dying day, she would remember how a good man had fixed her with his green gaze as he held her aloft.
She hardly felt the ground when he finally placed her there. He did not let go, but gripped her tighter.
“I have more to say.” His voice was rough, as if dragged over gravel. “I should have said it in the canoe. Now I don’t know if I’ll get another chance.”
Breath gathered in her chest.
“You are brave, Cecile. You have an enormous heart. I don’t know how it fits inside someone so small. Don’t let anyone break it. Don’t let anyone breakyou.”
