Chapter 18
William Blackburn returned and everyone along the Rivanna seemed to rejoice, Sylvie foremost. He came over the rise to the settlement with his chain men and markers and Noir, the black hound who’d replaced the irreplaceable Bonami after old age took him.
Weary and muddied by a recent rain, Will was clearly in high spirits to be home. Home. Once again, Bleu mulled the word. Where was home to him?
Where was Brielle’s?
Bleu stood at a distance as Will’s brood rushed forward like they’d done him at his return. A loving father, he scooped Jolie up into his arms and carried her toward the big house as the rest of his children cavorted around him. Sylvie stood on the porch, her joy palpable.
As Bleu watched all the Blackburns enter Orchard Rest, Titus came up behind him. “Is that the British Ranger everybody here talks about?”
“William Blackburn, oui. A celebrated Scots soldier who fought against France but has since come to his senses. Revenir à la raison.”
“I don’t want to be a soldier.” Titus’s intensity reminded Bleu his father had died in the last war. “I want to live along the Rivanna forever. I just wish my sister was here, too.”
“I understand, but she is in a far better, more beautiful place.”
Titus nodded, still downcast as Bleu gestured west.
“Would you care to see my land? It lies in back of the orchard.”
“The unfinished house on the hill?”
“Oui.” Bleu began walking through the apple trees as Titus trotted alongside him, nearly matching his long stride. “One day you’ll own your own land if you continue working here in the settlement.”
“How did you come by yours?”
“A gift from my sister and Blackburn.”
A generous ploy to ensnare me which never held much appeal till now.
Titus ran ahead of him, past rustling trees with dense shade to the sloping rise that offered a territorial view of bluish-tinted hills and valleys.
“Is this all yours?” Titus called as he circled one stalwart brick wall.
“Oui”—Bleu eyed the unfinished structure with renewed determination—“though it is far from done.”
“May I go inside?” Titus was already up the steps, hovering on the unfinished porch.
“Of course—but watch out for roosting pigeons.”
Titus disappeared from sight, leaving Bleu alone.
All that needed doing seemed to shout at him.
A front door begged hanging. Glass windows belonged in gaping frames.
Rooms needed furniture. Carpenter he was not, though there were several fine Acadian woodworkers in the settlement.
He came to a stop beneath an old oak, one of several surrounding the house like sentinels.
Titus reappeared, leaning out a window. “You should show Brielle.”
Bleu crossed his arms. “Why so?”
“She lived in a brick house like this when she was young and happy.”
Young and happy.
A potent combination. The remark reminded him of his own childhood, much the same. And what had he to show for it since? Years of fighting that had come to naught. Selling his services to the enemy in a bid for peace. And now? Nothing but this unfinished maison, an echo of his indecision.
“Do you think she’d like it?” Bleu asked, studying the house with fresh eyes.
Titus came to stand beside him, his gaze rising to the gable roof. “She used to say she missed her old brick house, so aye … or oui.”
Bleu chuckled. He’d almost used stone but was suddenly glad he’d chosen brick.
“I do miss it,” came a familiar voice behind them.
Together they turned, Bleu as surprised by Brielle’s sudden appearance as he was Titus hurrying down the hill to join his young friends by the river.
She passed by him, going up the house’s steps just as Titus had done.
He felt a beat of uncertainty. The house was small, smaller than Orchard Rest. He’d thought to live here himself, alone, so had made it so.
And yet it was a house that could easily be added onto …
He followed her inside, wishing the staircase’s handrail was finished.
His desire to show her around and gain her approval gave him a bone-deep satisfaction.
Delighted, she passed from the wide passageway to the parlor and then crisscrossed to the kitchen before returning, her hands on each side of the doorframe.
“Such a magnificent view!”
He stood behind her, wanting to place his hands about her waist and kiss the little bare spot at the nape of her neck below her upswept braid. Instead he simply savored being closer to her than he’d ever been since that first day when he’d carried her from the crossroads.
“Is this all yours?” she asked, turning round to face him.
“Mine, oui.” What he wanted to say was … ours.
Ours and our children’s and their children’s. Forever and ever.
He didn’t step back. He just looked down at her. They were a hands-breadth apart. She didn’t look away, her eyes luminous … adoring. Or did he only imagine it? His own passionate regard of her nearly got the better of him.
She sighed but it was a contented rather than sad sound. “Much like our brick house in Philadelphia.”
“Tell me more about it.”
“Une belle maison. The foyer was tiled in a black and white fleur-de-lis and a winding stair reached the second floor. Halfway up there was a little alcove where a small porcelain angel from France rested. Papa liked to tease that the only angel he needed was Maman …” Her voice faltered and she turned toward the view again.
He swallowed past the knot in his own throat. “If she was anything like you I can see why he said so.”
Back to him, she fell silent and he unclasped his hands and placed them on her linen-clad shoulders. Turned away she seemed less a temptation to take in his arms.
But only slightly.
The warmth of Bleu’s hands on her shoulders seeped through her linen dress. His touch drove away any sadness and left her half-melting with the desire to be in his arms. For a few moments Brielle forgot why she’d come up the hill.
“Sylvie asked me to fetch you and Titus for supper,” she finally remembered.
Bleu’s delayed response told her supper was the furthest thing from his mind, too. “Are you hungry?”
She simply nodded. In truth, every meal around the Blackburn’s table only made her hunger for a home of her own. They started down the hill in step as a dog barked in the distance. Noir? The hound was often with the children when Will wasn’t surveying, Sylvie said.
Bleu’s shout seemed to reach the entire settlement. “Titus!”
When Titus came running she reached for his hand, wishing they could go inside the unfinished house instead and fill the rooms with life and laughter.
That desire grew tenfold when they walked into Orchard Rest’s dining room and found Will at the head of the table, a smiling Sylvie at the other end, their children ringed around them.
Rather than feel they’d intruded or spoiled a family moment, all of the Blackburns greeted them noisily, pointing out two empty chairs side by side while Titus joined the boys opposite.
Brielle darted a look at Bleu and wondered if he felt the same craving for family, a shared future.
So far he’d given no indication he did. Wasn’t the unfinished house proof?
“Sylvie has told me what brought you three to our door.” Will began carving a large ham. “You arrived at a good time. Summer has never been so plentiful.”
All the garden’s bounty seemed to have found its way to the long table. Sylvie’s baking was nearly as exemplary as her sewing. Not only were there biscuits but cornbread and an assortment of jams and jellies, pickles and preserves. No one rose from a Blackburn feast hungry.
“And your surveying expedition?” Bleu asked as dishes were passed. “Sylvie said you were in Albemarle County.”
“Aye. Just when I think Virginia has little left to survey this side of the mountains I’m called out again.” Will smiled. “But so long as I can return to this I’ve no complaints.”
Brielle’s thoughts turned toward the unfinished kitchen beyond the orchard. Memories of her parents’ Philadelphia kitchen with its cream crockery and apple-green shelves, the warm hearth that never seemed to fade, the aroma of baked canelé with its custardy-burnt sugar goodness filled her thoughts.
She smiled at Titus across the table, his sunburnt cheeks full as he ate. Once again his happiness was her own. She’d long regarded him as a mother might, zealous for his wellbeing and happiness. He was growing before her eyes, an inch taller already.
Supper ended with the older girls washing the dishes and the boys hastening outside for their evening chores.
Will and Bleu lingered over cider at the table while Sylvie and Jolie went out onto the humid porch with Brielle.
There they sat in cane chairs, their voices hushed in the humid twilight.
Yawning, Jolie climbed onto her mother’s lap, her head against her shoulder.
“So, how are you faring in the settlement gardens?” Sylvie asked.
Was Sylvie testing her contentment?
Brielle took out a hand fan and waved it to scatter insects as much as cool her face. “I find the work fulfilling if unending. With so many to feed year round …”
“You’re a huge help,” Sylvie said. “But perhaps a change is needed now that the first of the harvest is finished. I’ve seen you with the settlement children. They follow after you like a hen with chicks.”
“Being with the children is where my heart is.”
“Extra hands are always needed in the day nursery. We’ve nineteen children now, six of them bébés and more on the way. I’ve told Will a bigger building must be had, away from the river. Little ones are so tempted by water …”
“The older children are good at helping keep the littlest ones safe.”
“True. We’ve not had a drowning yet though we’ve come close a time or two.” Sylvie folded hands across her expanding waist. “I’ll be glad of your help come my confinement, too. I’ve not long to wait by my reckoning.”
“Another month or so,” Madeleine said, joining them. “Have you any names in mind?”
“If another girl I may name her after my mother or Will’s though sometimes doing so seems a sore reminder of their passing.”
“You miss your parents very much, like I do mine.”
“Always. Over time the ache lessens but it always lingers. You understand that I’m sure.”
“For a long time I tried not to think of what I lost,” Brielle told her. “Dwelling on the past made the harshness of the present unbearable. But here, away from the tavern, I’m freer to remember.”
“I felt the same when I came here from Williamsburg. So much bustle and fuss there, and so much serenity here. And though we’ve recently met I’m struck by all that we have in common—and how you seem more sister than friend.”
The similarities were striking. Once Sylvie had been without a home, even a house, and husband. Her family had been torn from her. Though she rarely spoke of it, the pensive lines in her face told of her past heartache.
“Someday you’ll have your own home, your own family and you’ll find that the Almighty fills the emptiness with Himself along with countless other blessings.”
Brielle bit her lip lest she confide her stubborn fear of having to leave and return to servitude. That somehow Bleu’s redemption of them was flawed and she and Titus weren’t free after all. Yet one thing she knew, one truth she held onto—
“God has already shown me great mercy through Bleu.”
“My brother has always been quick to show compassion, to understand the plight of others less fortunate.”
“Most men would have left us to fend for ourselves without another thought.” She nearly shuddered at the memory of Wade Griffiths. “I wish that I could repay your brother in some way. I feel beholden to him though he’s assured me I am not.”
Understanding shone in Sylvie’s eyes. “I felt much the same when Will asked me to marry him. I was a broken, beholden young woman, more girl really, never having been beyond Acadie. He showed me that same mercy though I pushed him away at first.”
“There has been no pushing away of Bleu.” Brielle smiled a bit sheepishly. “My worry is that I might wake up one morning and he’ll be gone.”
Sylvie’s smile became a sigh. “My brother is like the wind, one never knows when or where it will blow.”
Was his shattered past part of his restlessness? Never settling, always seeking?
“He is extraordinaire, turning a hand to nearly anything, it seems.” Brielle couldn’t hide her pride or her pleasure. “Orchardist, farrier, farmer, ferryman. Even a respected guide and interpreter.”
“We tease and say he could turn tinker if he chose, able to do so many things well,” Sylvie agreed, looking down at Jolie. “He’s of great benefit to the settlement and I hope one day he’ll stay. I’ve been holding onto that hope ever since I came here.”
“Perhaps,” Brielle ventured, “he simply needs a reason to remain.”