Bartered Bride Romance Collection (7 page)

T
he fai do do, Edouard, it’s tomorrow night.” Josée served up steaming gumbo and freshly baked corn bread (a bit flat) for supper. Thanks to Mama LeBlanc, Josée had realized she needed to count to three hundred when stirring the roux. Stop stirring too soon, and the roux would not thicken. Stir too long, and the mess would burn. The thick soup smelled heavenly tonight. Josée determined she would write down how to make roux so she would not forget. She watched Edouard inhale the aroma.

“My mama helped you.”

“She did. I am going to try to do better.”

He surprised her by clasping her hand. “I know.” His thumb rubbed her palm. “Me, too.”

Josée’s head swam, and she pulled her hand away to cut the corn bread. “Like I was saying, your mère told me the Landrys are having a fai do do, and we must go. Oh, I mean, I would really like to. I think it would be good to get out of the cabin.” She sat down across from him.

Edouard nodded. He said the blessing, and Josée waited for him to continue talking about the fai do do. She ate, although she was not too hungry after two bowls of Mama’s gumbo.

“I suppose we can ride in the wagon with Papa and Mama and the others.” Edouard sounded reluctant.

“It’s been so long since we’ve spent time with anyone besides your family, and—” Josée heard herself starting to talk up a stream and fell silent. She took another bite. Edouard had managed to net enough fine sweet shrimp that blended with the broth.

“You should wear the dress from when we married.” Was that a smile she saw tugging at the corners of his mouth?

“I think I will.” She didn’t mention she would change dresses because what she wore had mud caked at the hem. Even if she washed the dress tonight, it might not dry come tomorrow. Worse, what if the stains were permanent?

Edouard apparently did not see the need for further conversation, so Josée figured now was as good a time as any to follow Mama’s suggestions.

“I will be sure to make breakfast in the morning.” Her voice sounded unnaturally high to her ears. “I’m your wife, and I have responsibilities, too. I will cook for you. Mama’s been helping me, and I will keep improving, I’m sure.”

Josée did not miss the expression on his face.

She continued in spite of it. “If you are going to fish and will be away, I will send something with you to eat. I don’t know what you have that you can trade, but I want to buy more seed and replant the garden. I will sew and hang curtains, too. Also, I will be moving the line where you hang the wash to another place where the shirts don’t get in my way. Wash day will be Mondays.” She hoped he would remember everything. The clunk of a spoon in a bowl surprised her.

“You’re goin’ to make me scrape my boots before I come in, too, I suppose?”

“It will save scrubbing the floor so much.” She smiled at him, thinking of the way he’d touched her hand earlier. He did look handsome by firelight, now that her anger had burned off. She prayed his heart would soften.

Edouard tugged at his suspenders and pushed back from the table. “I left one mère to gain yet
un autre
.” He had spoken as if she were a thorn in his foot. A mosquito on his neck. Josée kept eating and did not break his gaze.

Josée thought her anger had burned off, but a few embers reignited. “I am not your mère. I am your
wife
.”

“And I am finished.” Edouard stood up and left the table and tromped to the porch. She heard nothing except the dripping trees and the crickets singing their nightly songs. Josée did not touch the rest of her gumbo. She poured it back in the pot over the fire. Her appetite had left her. She scrubbed their bowls and spoons and heard the sound of Edouard whittling outside.

The rain had stopped, though clouds hung in the sky. Edouard looked westward down the bayou. The sun was trying to peek at them on its descent into night. Josée hummed again inside the cabin. After their words the night before, Edouard had apologized. He had not acted as if he were trying to build a bridge. Change did not happen quickly, either, and he asked if Josée could make one change at a time. She responded with a breakfast of
couche-couche
that almost rivaled his mama’s. But then a body couldn’t easily ruin fried cornmeal drizzled with cane syrup. She must have gotten the milk from Mama, besides the recipe.

Now Josée bustled from pantry to table as she packed a basket to take to the fai do do tonight. Her capable hands folded a cloth to cover the bread. Her hands. Edouard wanted to touch them again, as he had when he woke up that morning to find one of them clasped to his chest in both of his. They were small yet very strong, and one finger of the right hand had a spot of ink from writing in the book she had found. He remembered touching the ink stain. She had a burn on another finger, which he also caressed. It must have hurt, for she murmured in her sleep. He had not known what it felt like to protect someone, to have someone so close …

He swallowed hard and called out, “Are you almost ready?” His neck hurt from the freshly pressed shirt buttoned to the top.

“Here I am.” Josée emerged from the cabin, her shoulders wrapped with a shawl and the basket hung over one arm. She had somehow braided her hair and wrapped it around her head like a black crown. Her cheeks flushed, she smiled at him.

“You look très
jolie
,” he whispered. Where had his voice gone?

“Merci.” It sounded as if she had lost her voice, as well.

Edouard tucked her free hand over his arm, and they set out together for Mama and Papa’s house, where they would ride with the family on the wagon. He would have preferred to walk with her so they could be alone, but he knew she would not want to soil her dress on the muddy roads. Even with hard scrubbing, Josée had not been able to remove the mud from the dress she had worn yesterday.

“Don’t worry, we will get you another dress,” he assured her.

“Edouard! Josée! We are ready to go!” someone called from the wagon. He waved to them and walked faster. Already he could smell the good foods wafting from Mama’s baskets.

The wagon seemed more crowded than usual, and Edouard ended up pulling Josée onto his lap for the ride. Nearly cheek to cheek with her the entire trip, Edouard could scarcely breathe. He sensed Josée’s heart galloping away with her, and a pretty blush colored her neck.

Jacques stared at them from across the wagon until someone asked about a girl he planned to see at the fai do do.
Patience, little brother
, Edouard wanted to tell him. He would not wed his first love, but le bon Dieu would take care of him. It felt as if salve had been rubbed on the painful spots of Edouard’s own heart. He wanted to hold Josée closer, if that were possible.
Merci, mon Père
.

When they reached the common house, Edouard regretted having to release Josée. He did not notice his knee hurting so badly, either. Perhaps he would work enough to buy or trade for a wagon and an animal to pull it.

Josée hopped from the wagon and received the basket Edouard gave her. “I’ll put this with the rest of the food and meet you inside.” Her eyes twinkled at him. Mama gave him a knowing smile.

The fiddles called them indoors, where the benches had been cleared away for the dance floor and a table for the food had been set up at one end of the room. Edouard found Josée right away.

“Edouard, I’m glad we came.” She clutched his arm, and his stomach turned over. “Merci.”

“I’m glad we did, too.” Although he wanted to whisk her away from the crowd, he would not because of the others’ teasing. The two couples who had also been married at the same time were present, and soon it seemed like all of La Manque and those who lived on outlying farms had come. Night fell, and still the music played on.

Edouard managed two fast dances with Josée, who was extremely light on her feet. A familiar face flashed by him.
Celine
. He was surprised to find he felt the barest twinge instead of feeling like a scab had been opened on his heart.

The dance ended, and Josée stepped back. “I’m going to speak with a few of the other ladies. They are in a sewing group and meet together sometimes, and I should like to go and learn how to sew better.”

“Of course, go on. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.” Then off she went, Edouard following with his gaze. He wanted to have her at his side, but he would definitely be teased if he tried to enter the circle of women.

He tugged at his collar. The room swelled with people, and Edouard wanted air. He decided to go outside, where some of the men gathered, talking about the farms and feed and the bayou. And the rain.

Once Edouard left the crowded building, he inhaled the night air as he stood on the steps. Laughter filtered outside. He went out toward the wagons and the side of the building.

“Edouard LeBlanc, so how goes marriage?” Josef Landry tugged on his sleeve as Edouard passed a trio of men who stood and talked by torchlight.

He stopped. “It has been … très different. I’m not used to having someone around.”

Josef sighed. “I count the days until your sister and I marry. I expect to have the house finished by spring and a new pirogue. Lucky for you, you had your family’s old home.”

“I was glad they let me keep it.” Edouard shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You have a good night.”

Josef nodded, and Edouard went on his way to the outhouse. A figure stood under a cypress tree, shadowed by a canopy of moss. He could hear sniffles from where he stood.

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
Edouard walked in the direction of the tree. What was it? Were they hurt? The hazy moon slid out from behind a cloud, though thunder rolled in the distance and humidity hung in the air. Another storm was brewing. His knee could feel it. Edouard stopped short when the figure looked up at him.

Celine
. She wiped her eyes.

“It’s you,” she said. “Please, I don’t know what to do.”

“Is there something wrong? Shall I fetch one of the women?”

She flung herself at him and clamped her arms around his waist. “I was so
stupide
! I was so blind. I should have waited for you.”

Edouard tried to get himself out of her gator’s grasp before someone saw them. “I think you should speak with someone else, my mère perhaps?”

Her arms tightened. “Jean-Luc, he does not understand me. You always did.”

He pushed harder but did not want to hurt someone in her condition. “Celine, this is wrong. You should not be doing this.”

“
Je t’aime
, Edouard.” Her big eyes, dark as the bayou water, pleaded with him. “I need your comfort.”

He managed to get free and held her by the shoulders. “I don’t love you. Not anymore. We can never go back. Our lives are different. And I love Josée.” The whispered words rang through his mind at the realization.

“Edouard—” She came at him again, her lips parted. Light footsteps on the grass sounded behind them.

“Edouard, are you there?” an all-too-familiar voice called.

Josée. Edouard whirled to face her, knowing he had done nothing wrong. The look she gave him spoke more than any words she could say.

She ran off toward the front of the building.

“Josée …” Edouard left Celine without worrying about her troubles. He needed to explain to Josée. Quickly.

He started to run, not caring about the pain in his leg. “Josée!”

She stopped and turned to face him. “How could you?” They stood in a triangle of lamplight shining through the window.

“Let me explain.”

“I saw nothing that needed explainin’.” Josée’s words felt like darts. “I saw clearly.”

“Things are not like they seem.”

“What am I supposed to think, my husband hidden under a tree with a woman?” Lamplight reflected from her flashing eyes. “I am young, but I am not stupid.”

“Josée—” He reached for her.

“Don’t touch me.” Josée waved his arms from her shoulders. “And to think I looked forward to having you hold me in your arms tonight, thinking that
I
was the one you wanted to be with.”

She
wanted
him to hold her close? Edouard rubbed his forehead. “I did not break my vows to you, even in thought.” Celine marched past them and around the corner of the building. Another clap of thunder rolled.

“I’m goin’ inside.” Josée shrugged him off again, though he walked by her side. “We will talk when we get home. Do not think I will forget this.”

At that, Edouard dropped the matter for the time being. Later tonight, he would try to explain.
Mon Père, please, do not disappoint me again
.

Chapter 8