The Birthright (5 page)

Back in Georgetown, Nicole found it easy to take up her familiar routine. The weather held stubbornly to its lower temperature, encasing the East Coast in an icy grip. Cold sea winds blew off the frigid water and pulled at the sleeves and hems of cumbersome coats, whipping the ends of scarves used to protect faces and ears from frostbite. The cold fought its way through the heaviest of woolen shawls draped over hunched shoulders.

There were days when Nicole felt she did little else but feed the ever-hungry fireplace. But in truth she did much more. Increasingly she was able to help Andrew with his parish duties. As much as she had come to appreciate the time spent with her mother, she enjoyed getting out and stirring about the village. As the days grew longer and warmer she was even taking the horse and sleigh now to visit her uncle Guy and the other Acadians in their newfound settlement that lay a half day’s ride down the road. Nicole enjoyed expressing herself once again in flowing French, rather than stumbling around for the proper English word. She always returned after a few days’ visit feeling reinvigorated.

Andrew joined Nicole on one visit to see Uncle Guy and found himself so warmly welcomed that he encouraged Catherine to make the trip, also. Soon they were all traveling from Georgetown at least once every month. Nicole was thrilled by their coming along with her, for she felt her two worlds were at last beginning to blend. Even as she translated for her English and French families, the old and the new gradually melded, making her feel she now belonged to this homeland she’d come to love. She felt more whole, more at peace with who she was. Perhaps soon God would show her how the past was to be played out in her future. Surely there was some purpose for the events of her life, some way that they would benefit her, and others, in the days to come. If she could just discover what that might be, she knew she could make peace with her past.

She took every opportunity to improve her halting English. Catherine helped her add words to her vocabulary. In their daily Bible study together, they bent their heads over the Book and read and talked and learned. But it was more than Bible and language study; it was also a wonderful opportunity to bond as mother and daughter. It soon became Nicole’s favorite time of the day, and when she looked at Catherine’s glowing eyes, she felt her mother shared the feeling.

Catherine prayed in English, her words slow and deliberate. Nicole knew this was for her sake, not the Lord’s, who understood perfectly every language on the face of the Earth. Nicole knew it was Catherine’s way of helping her become at ease in talking with her heavenly Father in her mother tongue.

In these shared times together, Nicole struggled to say her prayers in English. But she believed that God was an understanding God. In her private times of prayer, she went back to the familiarity of the French, pouring her heart out with abandon.

She still treasured the worn French Bible given to her by Louise and Henri, yet she was equally touched by the new English edition from Catherine and Andrew. It was another indication to Nicole that she had been richly blessed to have two sets of loving parents.

It had been many months since they had heard from Henri and Louise. Their last letter said they had returned to Louisiana safely, but the news of unrest had met them at every port. They were much relieved to be home once again. But since then, Nicole had received nothing.

Surprisingly her uncle Charles’s letters had not been delayed by the threat of war. A fresh bundle of post arrived with each ship that pulled into the Halifax harbor. They were family letters, written to inquire about family affairs. Though Charles never pressed Nicole for an answer, he shared newsy items about English life and continually assured her that he was praying God would lead in the matter. In one such missive he was bold enough to request that, should she consider his offer, she not come for a short term but remain at least two years.
It takes time to adapt to something so totally new,
he reminded her.

Nicole continued to pray for God’s guidance, but in her heart she felt she’d already been given her answer. To refuse to go, she felt strongly, would be denying what God had been gently urging her to do. One day she would agree with the plan, her body tingling with excitement, then the next day she would draw back, fearing the unknown. But in her heart she did not waver in her decision. She would go in obedience. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to discuss it with Andrew and Catherine. Nicole dreaded the thought of fighting through another decision that would rend herself from the family she loved.

Chapter 4

After nine days of wind and pelting rain, the morning was shocking in its silence. Nicole made her way out to the point, walking the now-familiar trail through a frozen world. To everyone’s surprise the early March storm had been warm—warm, that is, for winter in this northern world. No matter what she might have thought while living in the bayou country, March in Acadia was certainly not a month of spring.

After the winter she had just endured, the early morning freeze was almost pleasant. At least now the air was still and dry. In fact, she had come to cherish such times. The winter winds could be unbelievably powerful, sweeping in from the Atlantic and gathering immense force in their journey. They could transform flakes of snow into stinging bullets and make a walk from one house to the next a deadly trek for the weak and elderly. The winter storms imprisoned all but the hale and hardy and seemed to last forever. The cottage’s front room became like a cage then. And the patient manner in which Andrew and Catherine sat by the fire, reading Scriptures or talking silently or just watching the flames, only added fuel to Nicole’s irritation over being shut inside.

But in spite of the harsh weather, she had come to dearly love this place and the people who inhabited it. There was no logic to these thoughts, and if she had been asked to describe herself, she would have said she was a child of warm days and soft green waters. Even so, along with the adverse weather and shorter days, she had come to feel a deep appreciation for these people and the world they had made for themselves. In the depths of the winter now passing, when the storms raged and the darkness settled at midafternoon, Nicole had found herself astonished at how the villagers had not merely endured but prospered. She would have thought it easier to carve homesteads from solid stone.

And then there were mornings like this one, when frozen silence captured the essence of the tempest now past. Every leaf was transformed to a work of jewel-like precision. Every blade of grass shined. The sunrise appeared impossibly long, the hours before dawn so gradual that when the sun finally revealed itself, it then rose triumphant, as though not night had been vanquished, but winter itself.

Now, with thirty minutes or more before sunrise, all the world was a soft silver. A mist swept about her feet and ankles, lying close to the earth. Her footsteps stirred up delicate tendrils that danced in the gentle light, then disappeared.

Nicole emerged from the woods and halted. The squat tree trunk looked like a frozen throne in the mist, sparkling its welcome. The little meadow was a royal chamber in white and crystal, walled not with trees but with ice. Icicles and frost clung to every branch, trapped in reverent stillness as if waiting for the dawn. She held her breath as she walked over and sat down. Beyond the frozen point, the world dropped off and then vanished altogether. The sea was utterly masked by the low-lying fog.

The sound of crunching footsteps whirled her around. It was too early for Grandfather Price to be up and about. When the weather was cold he rarely got out of bed before the sun was high in the heavens. To her amazement, Andrew emerged from the wooded trail. He took a long, slow look around, then whispered, “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not.”

He treaded quietly over and lowered himself to the trunk. “It has been far too long since I last enjoyed a sunrise like this.”

“But you are always up before dawn.”

“And always with something to fill my hands.” Although their voices were scarcely more than whispers, their conversation sounded loud to Nicole’s ears. “Anne will be so glad to know you are enjoying her favorite spot.”

“At times like this, I feel that God is almost close enough to touch.”

Andrew nodded slowly. The predawn light softened the weathered features and eased the years of strain that lined his brow. He wore a well-patched greatcoat and a fur hat so old it was no longer possible to tell its color. From beneath its rim his hair was lightened with strands of gray. Yet there was a strength to the man, an authority and wisdom that left him ageless in Nicole’s eyes.

“It’s good to know places and times where words aren’t the only bridge to God,” Andrew said, “where prayer would only hold God at bay.”

They sat together in silence for a while, their breath soft plumes that drifted out to mingle with the rising mist. The rim of the earth turned orange, then fiery gold. Down below, the fogbound sea became a billowing realm, a reflection of divine light. Then the sun’s upper edge peeked above the unseen horizon, and Nicole was forced to turn away. The light was too pure, too powerful. She studied how the world reflected the sun’s beauty, how every tree limb was now a prism. How the mist was infused with color, with life.

“Glory, glory,” Andrew murmured beside her. “All the world reflects God’s glory.”

They sat there till the dawn became day and the cold filtered so deep Nicole could feel it in her bones. When she shivered a second time, Andrew stood with her, and together they started back. On the way, he asked, “Do you miss your home?”

Perhaps because the sunrise was still freshly impressed on her senses, Nicole was able to respond to the question with honesty and ease. “I don’t know where my home is anymore.”

Andrew’s voice came quietly from behind her as they walked the trail. “Did you ever?”

She stopped and faced him. “What a strange thing for you to say.”

“I’ve observed you and loved you through an Acadian winter,” Andrew replied. His words were spoken softly, but they still had the power to rock her. “And I see that you have been given a restless spirit as a gift. One which thirsts for the new and the challenges of the unknown.”

“I don’t know,” Nicole confessed, “if I would call that a gift.”

“In another it might not be,” Andrew agreed. “In someone who does not have your strength and your confidence, it could be a terrible burden.”

“But I don’t feel strong at all.” The confessions came easier now. “I feel confused and lost.”

“No one who has been found by God,” Andrew replied, “can ever count themselves as lost.”

“Then why does the answer elude me?”

“Oh, I think you have come upon your answer.” He smiled, but it quickly faded with the knowledge of what he was to say next. “I think you have known for months now.”

Nicole opened her mouth, shut it, then tried again. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Did you think we would not notice? Did you think we, your parents, couldn’t see what direction you would probably seek?”

Finally she found the strength to ask, “Catherine knows, as well?”

“Of course she does. She saw it before I did.”

Nicole felt the rising swell of confusion about to surface. “It all seems so impossible to me!”

Andrew crossed his arms. “Tell me what distresses you.”

“Everything.” She cast a worried glance about her. Sunlight now entered the forest glen, filling the world with light, though its warmth could not penetrate the season’s cold. Nicole was reminded of the passage of days and seasons, counting down toward another time of change in her life. “The Acadians are starting a school, and they want me to teach. I am French and I know the English. I
am
English. I could help them come to know the people, as well as the language.”

“It seems a natural fit. Your English has improved more than I would have thought possible. But this new work may not be enough to grant you fulfillment, am I correct?” When she did not respond, Andrew continued, “So you have prayed about this. I know you have. I have seen the worry and the fervor with which you have turned to God.”

The dripping world seemed louder now, so clamorous she felt propelled toward what she couldn’t see. “Then why has God not answered me?”

“Oh, I think He has.”

She studied the lean, reserved man, saw both the strength and weakness of his sorrow. She hurt because she was the one causing him pain. “But what if I don’t want to go?”

“God’s gentle response may be because of your indecision,” he said. “You are a believer now. You are a member of His family. Of this I have no doubt. Perhaps He’s willing to let you decide, knowing that you will serve Him wherever you are.”

She heard a different cadence to the morning now, a dripping sound like that of tears, as though the day were weeping softly. She seemed to hear Acadia crying because she would need to leave. Strange how all the world knew what she had not yet accepted: that she would depart for England.

Then Andrew said, “But God has granted you wondrous gifts, of beauty and strength, and also this restlessness. You will find your greatest fulfillment in putting these to use for His glory.”

Nicole found herself thinking of Henri Robichaud and the wisdom he showed in such impossible times. “How can you speak to me like this and release me so easily?”

“It is
not
easy and it will be harder when the day arrives.” Andrew’s eyes held a mixture of peace and sorrow. “But God’s gentle voice has been speaking to me. And to Catherine, too. And He has made it clear what is to be our next challenge.”

“What challenge?”

Andrew reached over and took hold of Nicole’s quivering fingers, then whispered, “Letting you go.”