My Sister's Prayer (53 page)

Celeste spent the next week helping around the inn in gratitude for all Mr. Edwards had done for her as she waited for Emmanuel and Spenser to return. The Court convened and the inn was busy, but with Aline's help, the kitchen crew kept pace with the meals that needed to be served. Berta recovered from the boat ride and helped too. Sary's hand continued to heal, although the finger and thumb remained fused together. A few times, Celeste spied Sary using her hand while working in the kitchen to help balance a cooled pot, but she stayed away from the fire.

Emmanuel and Spenser returned after being gone for ten days, enthusiastic about what they'd discovered. They called Celeste, Berta, and George into the sitting room and gave them the details of their trip. Emmanuel did all the talking. He'd purchased land on the James, well past the falls, and on the other side of the river from Manakin Towne. However, there was a ferry where they could cross to attend the services that were conducted in French. Many in the Huguenot community lived nearby as well.

The property Emmanuel had purchased was covered with trees, had a wide and fast creek that flowed through the land that could be used for the sawmill, and had a knoll that was a perfect site for an inn. Plus, it was on a road, rough to be sure, but passable. Those traveling through would be able to see the inn and would be eager for a place to rest and obtain a hot meal.

Emmanuel and Spenser had already drawn up papers to be sent to
the Netherlands to order the parts for the mill, and the men were hopeful the things they needed would arrive within the next year.

Celeste couldn't help but be proud of her brother. His leadership qualities and sense of adventure allowed him to quickly adjust to this new way of life. She was grateful for his personality that fit so well in the New World.

Emmanuel turned to George. “There's a parcel of land next to mine. It's rumored that it will be for sale soon. If our endeavors are successful, perhaps I could help you purchase it.”

“Thank you,” George said, all the while gazing at Berta.

She blushed and smiled, just a little.

Celeste wondered if Emmanuel had a similar sort of plan for Spenser.

“The other thing all of you should know is that Spenser and I have formed a partnership,” Emmanuel continued, as if reading his sister's mind. “I couldn't build an inn or run a sawmill without him. I've spoken with Matthew Carlisle, and we settled Spenser's obligation to him.”

Celeste was surprised to hear the news but ever so grateful to her brother. Where would any of them be without Spenser?

“How will you build an inn before you have a mill?” Celeste asked.

“We'll mill the lumber here,” Spenser answered, “and then take it as far as the falls. Then we'll portage the lumber around the falls, put it back on a boat, and continue on to the property.”

“I see,” she said. Because Spenser was now in partnership with her brother, he would be linked to her in an even more tangible way—a thought that both thrilled and saddened her. She would be forced to spend the rest of her life in frequent interaction with the one person she truly wanted but couldn't have. And that would be sheer torment.

That evening a different broker arrived with a new cook and maid, both indentured servants, as Celeste dumped out the wash water under the ash tree. A cold autumn wind blew, and she took a moment for herself, placing the bucket on the ground. She stepped around the garden and out from under the trees. Then she shivered and leaned her head back, gazing up into the sky. Clouds hid the moon, but in the far sky stars shimmered brightly. She squinted, trying to find the North Star.

“Celeste?”

She jumped, startled until she realized it was Spenser.

“Yes?”

“May I speak with you?”

She turned toward him, “Of course.”

He took off his coat and wrapped it around her. She shivered again at his touch. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

She nodded, wishing he'd kept his hands on her shoulders.

Spenser leaned closer, his arms at his sides. “I don't want to make any assumptions, but I'm wondering if, perhaps, in time…”

Her heart began to race. “In time…what?”

“I'm wondering if you might come to love me someday. I'd like a marriage, if possible, like my parents had.”

“Love you? Why?”

He sputtered. “B-because—”

“Spenser. You love Berta, I know that. You'll find someone else.”

“No.” He took a deep breath. “I care about Berta. I wanted her to be all right, and it's true I was drawn to her. At first.” He smiled down at Celeste. “But as your trials grew and Berta recovered, as I came to know both of you better, you are the one I fell in love with.”

“But what about the ring? I know you thought Emmanuel should recover it, but wasn't that fuss you made for Berta's sake? Didn't you hope she would wear it someday?”

He shook his head. “No. I mean, you're right. I didn't think Emmanuel should leave it behind, but I wanted it for you. I wanted you to have it back.”

“Because?”

“Because I love you.”

She looked into his eyes, suddenly seeing that it was true. He did love her. How could she not have realized it before?

“I love you too!” Tears filled her eyes. “I thought I would have to go the rest of my life without your ever knowing.”

She collapsed against his chest, just as she had all those months ago on the ship, but this time she breathed in the scent of wood and smoke and the cold autumn night. Chuckling softly, he wrapped his strong
arms around her and held her tight. She began to cry softly, tears of happiness, tears of relief. He loved her. They would have a life together. A marriage like his parents had. Like her parents still did.

Finally composing herself, she pulled away. He wiped her tears and then tilted her head toward his. As their lips met, the clouds parted and the light of the moon shone down from the starry sky.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-F
OUR

Maddee

L
ifeWalk Rehabilitation Center was beautiful and impressive, with sweeping lawns, colorful gardens, towering trees, and even a small brook. This would be a lovely place for Nicole to stroll each day, I thought as we eased up the drive, but then I felt a pang of sadness as I reminded myself that she'd be doing so without me. Once Greg and I dropped her off, in fact, I wouldn't be allowed to see her at all for at least ten days. And though I knew that was a necessary part of the rehab process, I was going to miss her terribly.

This wasn't like her first day of kindergarten when I was the big sister looking out for her on the playground. This time, she'd be on her own. As Greg pulled into a parking space, I wanted to say something encouraging to my sister, but my heart was too full to speak.

The people at registration had been expecting us, and that made the process go smoother. Obviously, Nana had spared no expense choosing this place. Greg had recommended it, not for the cushy accommodations and gorgeous grounds, but for the excellent treatment programs they offered, the faith-based focus, the physical therapy element, and the better-than-average recovery rate. Now he was talking to
the resident PT, laying out his thoughts on that part of her treatment, and I was glad to know my sister's medical progress would continue to receive attention even while she was focusing on her mind and heart.

When everything was set, they let Nicole walk us back outside so we could say our farewells in private. She gave Greg a big thanks and a hug, telling him he'd become like a brother to her and that she hoped they would remain friends. When they were done, he stepped away and she turned to me.

“Guess this is it,” she said.

I could only nod in return. In that moment, she seemed far stronger than I. How I wished I could go the rest of the way with her, but this next step had to be done alone.

“You're my hero,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. “I'm so proud of you right now.”

“And you're my rock,” she said, also starting to cry. “You always were.”

We fell into each other's arms and held on as long as we could. Finally, reluctantly, we pulled apart. Then, with a soft “Thanks” and a tiny wave, my sister turned and went inside.

Tears were pouring down my face as Greg reached for my hand and led me to the parking lot. In the car, he slid an arm around my shoulders and simply held me as I cried.

When I was down to mere sniffling, he smoothed the hair from my cheeks, tenderly kissed my forehead, and handed me a pack of tissues.

The first few miles we rode in silence, but once my emotions were under control, I pulled out my phone and called Detective Ortiz. I wanted to tell her the good news about Nicole going to rehab as well as explain all that had unfolded last night and the many puzzles that had been solved. She'd been so helpful of late, she deserved to know about Hedge and the private investigator and what had really been going on with both of them.

As expected, she sounded thrilled with the news about rehab and relieved to get the facts behind our recent troubles. She thanked me for calling to tell her, but then our conversation took a disappointing turn when I asked how things were going with her investigation.

“Have you figured out yet what Mr. Koenig was doing here? Any ideas on how he might have ended up in the cabin?”

She paused and then spoke. “I'm sorry, Maddee. Maybe I wasn't clear enough on this yesterday. Learning the victim's identity was a huge step, and we're actively working the case again. But don't expect everything else to fall into place anytime soon.”

My heart sank.

“I promise,” she added, “I will work as hard as I can to find answers, but it could take weeks, maybe even months, before we get to the bottom of this.”

Once we'd ended our call, I relayed her part of the conversation to Greg.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “at least you can feel good about having solved one piece of the puzzle. Your cousin Renee did her part, now you've done yours.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Next time, it's Nicole's turn to step in and help.”

We grew quiet after that and rode along in companionable silence. Finally, with a sigh, I tucked my phone—and my expectations about the investigation—away for now and turned my attention to the man at the wheel.

“Speaking of Nicole,” I said, “I can't begin to thank you for all you've done for her—and for me. You've been such a blessing to us both, more than you can ever imagine.”

He humbly waved off my praise, saying he'd enjoyed every minute of our time together. But then it struck me that with Nicole gone, he and I no longer had any need to interact.

And for some reason, that thought filled me with a deep and profound sense of loss.

Turning away, I tried to act casual, but inside my mind was spinning. Was it possible that I cared for this man as more than just a friend? Startled by the thought, I kept my eyes on the passing scenery. My ancestor Celeste came to mind, how one day she had an equally startling realization. She was in love with Spenser.

And I was in love with Greg.

“So you know the other night at the party,” he said, interrupting my
thoughts, “when you mentioned all that about me dating your sister at some point in the future?”

I nodded, hoping he couldn't hear the pounding of my heart.

“Well, here's the thing, Maddee. Nicole's not the one I want to date. You are.”

His words hung there between us as I processed what he'd said.

He wanted to date me?

I wanted to date him. I wanted to spend time with him, learn all about him, explore the possibilities of what we could be to each other. But I wasn't going to jump in blindly as I always had in the past. Instead, with eyes wide open, I would allow our friendship to evolve into something deeper—but only if that was God's will for our lives.

“Well?” he asked, and when I looked at him I saw apprehension written all over his face.

“Stop the car,” I said.

“What?”

“Stop the car.” I glanced around and spotted a small church up ahead on the right. “Turn in there. You can use their parking lot.”

He did as requested, slowing and then making a right into the wide, empty space. Crunching on gravel, we rolled to a stop.

Greg put the car in park, rolled down the windows, and then turned toward me in the silence, exhaling slowly. “I just ruined a perfectly good friendship, didn't I?” he asked with a grimace.

“No, you didn't.”

His eyes met mine, the apprehension fading.

“In fact,” I added, “I think you've brought that friendship to where it's been headed all along.”

Relief and joy flooding his features, he reached out and cupped my face in his hands. Then after a long, heady pause we drew together in unison, our mouths seeking each other hungrily, our hearts pounding the same rhythm. Our kiss was more passionate, more wonderful, more
right
than any I could ever have imagined.