The Birthright (2 page)

Still, when Henri released his brother Guy and turned to Andrew, he waved Nicole over to translate a final apology. “They say this will be the last ship of the season heading south.”

“With the troubles rising,” Andrew replied, “I have no doubt. Some are even calling it war.”

“May God grant that it not come to that, not now, not ever.” Henri spoke with quiet fervor in his native French, but Nicole’s English translation was so subdued, so tragic sounding, that Anne turned away.

The sky seemed grayer still, the wind softer, the sliver of light on the horizon more golden than ever. It was a curious sort of day, the world darkened and brooding, yet with a crown of brilliant light shimmering in the distance, countless miles away. Anne clung to the light with the desperate hope that this was indeed a sign for her, a promise that if she held on through this heartrending moment, there would be joy again.

The time with Louise and Henri had been unlike anything she could have ever expected. Their reunion was branded upon her heart. It took place here at the quayside, on this very spot where they now stood holding one another. Catherine had waited beside her then, with Andrew, Nicole, and Cyril. Just like now. Only different. For her body had not been wrenched by sorrow as now. Then Anne had seen the impossible come to life, the dreams of years. And had experienced joy so great her heart could scarcely contain all she had felt. The boat drew near, and the two figures rose up above the gunnel and waved and shouted and laughed and wept. The three of them—Andrew, Catherine, and Nicole—had replied with tears and cries of their own.

Anne had suddenly found herself blinded, as though her heart’s only defense was to wash the day in tears, leaving her unable to see a thing. No matter that she could no longer see, as the boat had scraped against the rocky quay, and the cries and the footsteps came nearer. No matter that she had no memory even today of what the newcomers said, for her sobs had drowned out everything else. No, it had not mattered at all. When first the rough, sinewy man’s and then the softer woman’s arms had wrapped around her, Anne had felt her heart growing, expanding in her chest. Re-forming so as to create enough room for these new folks she could now call her parents.

Anne was drawn back to the present moment as Louise stepped in front of her. Now it seemed to Anne that Louise understood exactly what she was feeling. She stepped before her daughter and said, “Never shall I be able to think of this place on Earth without knowing the joy of lifelong dreams come true and the sorrow of this day.”

Anne struggled to draw a fraction of breath, enough to whisper, “Momma.”

Then a hand caressed her cheek. “Look at what this day has brought. The dream that woke me in the night, year after hopeless year, has now become real. What joy I feel in hearing you speak that word. What impossible joy.”

“Oh, Momma. I cannot let you go.”

“You never shall, my daughter. Whatever this strange thing called life may bring, we shall never be parted from one another’s hearts.” It was Louise’s turn to struggle for breath. “It is the only thing which grants me the strength to endure this day.”

A second figure stepped up alongside her mother, stockier and grayer, with a strength that reminded her of a great oak tree, able to endure the harshest winds, bending and creaking but remaining ever steadfast and sheltering. “Oh, Father.”

“There is no man wealthier upon this earth,” Henri whispered as he held her close. Then lowering his voice for her ear alone, he added, “Or sadder.”

Louise fitted herself into their embrace, and the three of them held together as one. “I came with one daughter and one hope,” her mother said. “I leave with two daughters and the wonder of seeing miracles come alive with my own eyes.”

Strangely, Louise’s hardest farewell was not with the daughter she had borne, Anne, but rather with Nicole, the daughter she had raised as her own. Or perhaps not so strange at all. During their two months together in Acadia, Louise had come to see her daughter as the adult she now was. No longer viewing her with protective eyes had also meant accepting the choices, even the mistakes her daughter might make.

Her adventurous young lady with the fiery gaze hungered for all the experiences life had to offer. So unaware of her beauty and its effect on others, she paid no mind to the young men who stumbled in their haste to grace her with whatever caught her eye. But since severing the relationship with Jean, her first love, life held too great an appeal for Nicole to give further thought to romance.

It was a mother’s wisdom that colored Louise’s expression now and filled her heart with fear. She feared all the dangers and mysteries that such a life of yearning, of searching, might bring to Nicole.

But when Louise finally released her embrace of Anne, her dear sweet Anne, it was to Catherine that she turned. Louise gave her dearest friend yet another hug, murmuring words neither of them truly heard. Then Andrew, then Henri’s brother Guy and his wife. Until finally there was no one left but the baby who had become her own. This reality ran against all the logic of this Earth, yet was so right that Louise could imagine no other truth than to be mother to this willful, wonderful woman.

“You will take care, won’t you?” Louise whispered, her eyes imploring.

“Of course, Mama.” Nicole gripped her mother’s hands with both of hers. “What a question.”

“It is only, well…” Louise had spoken several times of this, but still there was the sense of leaving too many things unsaid. “I know how much you want from life. And I know the cost—”

“Please, Mama, not here. You’ve already told me all this.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…” Louise bit her lip. “You are my precious daughter. And I would do anything to be the one to carry your burdens. But I cannot. So all I can ask is that you take care, daughter. Please. Take great care. The world can be so harsh, especially to lovely young women with the desire to know all there is to life.”

Nicole started to deny her longings. Louise could see it in her daughter’s eyes. And for the first time in her life, understanding Nicole so well brought its own sadness as Louise looked into her jade green eyes and saw all the mysteries yet to be unfolded. All the future possibilities, all the challenges, all the dangers. And now there was nothing she could do except pray.

To her surprise, Nicole did not speak, did not dispute Louise’s words. Instead, she gave a fraction of a smile, the first anyone had shown that gray and dismal day. “You have always known me better than I know myself.”

“Sign of a mother’s love at work,” Louise replied. “Now promise you will take great care. And above all else, that you will be honest with yourself and honest with your God.”

The smile trembled, then completely melted. A single tear escaped to trace its way down one cheek. The sight threatened both Louise’s heart and the day itself. Nicole whispered, “I wish…”

Louise yearned to have her daughter finish the sentence as she wanted, that Nicole would agree to come home with them, to return to the life they knew, the world they had shaped and claimed as their own. But though she willed it with every shred of her being, still Louise knew it was not to be. Whatever future was open to her daughter, Louise knew Nicole’s explorations—within herself and without to a vast, unknown world—were not yet over. In fact, she realized with an awareness that pierced her heart, Nicole’s own quest had barely begun.

This time it was her husband’s hand that reached up and lifted the tear from his daughter’s cheek. “The most precious jewel in all the world, here in my poor hand.”

“Oh, Papa.” Nicole allowed herself to be a little girl again, flinging herself into Henri’s embrace with a force that rocked the strong man back on his heels. “Don’t go. Please, I beg you.”

“I must, my darling daughter. Just as you must stay. No, no, don’t speak. Let us not cloud this day even more with words we both know mean nothing. Here and now, let us only hold the truth between us. Yes?”

Nicole released her grasp on him just enough to search his seamed features and piercing dark eyes. Though it cost her to have her sorrow and indecision revealed, still she needed to draw from his strength and drink in the furrowed face once more. “You are right.”

“The gift of truth, then. You are searching for your destiny. This restlessness is your greatest strength. And yet it is also your greatest risk, my beloved daughter, for it can blind you if you allow. Do not enter your future blindly, my precious one. Do not.”

“I will pray, Papa.” She gave her face an impatient wipe, clearing her eyes. “I promise.”

“And you will study the Word and seek to do His will and not your own.”

“I promise,” she quietly repeated. “And I will seek to know Him as you do.”

“Ah, what praise, what folly.” Henri attempted to smile. “Know Him better than that, daughter. Rise above my own poor limits. Make me proud.”

“I will miss you so,” she said and couldn’t help but let go another tear as she turned back to Louise. “Both of you.”

“Let us join together in prayer, then. Will you ask Catherine and Andrew to translate?” Henri waited till all had come together, an assembly tightly bound by sorrow and faith. “Dear gracious Lord, we give solemn thanks for all the wonders of our lives. Even here, even now, in the midst of the hardest farewells we have ever known, still we place our lives and our hopes upon your altar. Grace us with your presence and shelter us from all life’s storms. Be with our daughters, both of them….” Henri stopped and drew a deep breath, taking comfort from the arms and hearts that surrounded him. “Be with both these precious young women and grant them the joy of knowing you and living in your will. Be with Louise and me as we travel home. Be with all of us as we face life’s journeys. In Jesus’ holy name I pray, amen.”

Louise found she couldn’t focus on the figures gathered at the quayside. The boat rocked and strained against the waves as they were rowed ever farther from the rock-lined harbor wall. The scent of salt and the voyage ahead filled her senses, and her heart keened a forlorn cry. So Louise turned away. Just for a moment, long enough to gather herself. She had to. But the vision of those slate gray waters and the ship ready to take them away offered no comfort at all.

A breath of salt-laden wind kissed Louise’s face, and a gull swept in to hover alongside the boat, so close Louise could have reached up and caressed the bird’s white wings. It hung there riding the wind, drawing a chuckle from the seamen. Its dark eyes fastened on Louise. For some reason, she found comfort in this strange moment, as if the bird were a reminder of the possibilities of her life—a herald of tomorrow’s hopes. There was no making sense of her thoughts, yet Louise found herself now turning and peering out at the figures growing smaller on the quayside. She rose up to her tiptoes, waved a final time, and called across the waves, “I love you all!”

“I love you, too, Mama! Farewell, Papa!” Nicole allowed her arm to drop to her side. Her heart felt squeezed, and it hurt to breathe. It was not just sorrow she felt but aching guilt. How could she permit her parents to leave without her? She knew it was selfish to give in yet again to her desire for a life beyond the borders of her Louisiana world. Nevertheless, as she had prayed over and over during the nine weeks of their visit, Nicole had felt a sense of being called in two directions. Or perhaps even more than that. As though the choice was hers now. She could go, or she could stay. Or…what?