My Sister's Prayer (28 page)

During the hot afternoons of early September, Celeste helped Benjamin in the garden, harvesting the ripening vegetables. The leaves of nearly everything—both the plants and the deciduous trees—were growing dry and golden. They also picked grapes off the vines. Benjamin explained that the plants were native to the area, and that the ones imported from France had died. Celeste's parents had talked some about the grapes that grew outside of Lyon, but she had never paid much attention. As she gathered the fruit, though, she did think about the Scripture from the Gospel of John her mother quoted, usually when Celeste was acting self-righteous toward Berta. Celeste whispered the words to herself, “‘I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.'” One time after her mother quoted the verse, she added, “Celeste, you're called to abide. Focus on that.”

The memory brought tears to Celeste's eyes. Her mother had been
right, of course. Sadly, Celeste wasn't sure she'd ever figured out how to abide. She'd been so pleased with herself for being responsible and trustworthy. It was as if she thought she didn't need to abide, as if she didn't need Christ's sacrifice.

One evening in the middle of September, on one of the first cooler days, Celeste arrived at the Petits' just as Spenser was leaving. He said hello but that was all.

Celeste asked Berta if he visited often, and she said he came when he could. She either didn't have the strength, or the desire, to say more. Later, Madame Petit told her that Spenser stopped by now and then but never overstayed his welcome. Celeste got the impression that the woman was quite taken with him.

Jonathan avoided Celeste and didn't come to the inn. A few times she saw him in the village when she was running errands for Mr. Edwards, but as soon as he spotted her he would do his best to disappear. Toward the end of September, on her way to the inn from the market, she saw him outside of the blacksmith shop, looking the other direction, and decided to catch him off guard. She approached and asked him if he'd sold his carriage.

His face fell. “Please don't be cruel.”

She clutched her basket. “Could you answer my question?”

He sighed. “I haven't found anyone who's interested yet.” He stepped closer, which surprised Celeste. She expected him to flee from her yet again. “There's something I should clarify with you though. About your sister.”

“What about her?”

“I'm afraid she may have…fabricated a story about me.”

Celeste shook her head. “What story?”

He lowered his voice. “She made false accusations the day you first brought her here, out on the street.”

Celeste nodded. She remembered the encounter but hadn't been able to hear their exchange.

“Perhaps the young man with her told you what she said?”

“Spenser?” Celeste shook her head. “No. He didn't.”

Jonathan rubbed his jaw. “That's interesting. I thought at least one of them would have said something.”

Celeste again shook her head, annoyed that Jonathan had changed the subject. “Surely there is someone interested in your carriage.”

He held up his hand. “Please, Celeste. I need you to know what your sister said in case she repeats her story. Or someone who overheard it says something. I don't want you to be misled.”

She raised her eyebrows. He spoke slowly and quietly. “She claimed I asked her to come to Virginia because I had feelings for her. She said I told her I no longer cared for you.”

A pain shot through Celeste's chest. “What?”

“Ridiculous, isn't it?”

Celeste took a deep breath. “When did she say this happened?”

“Before I left London. When I was so consumed with tasks I didn't have time even to see you.” He leaned closer. “I cared about you, Celeste. I really did. I still do—”

Her heart lurched. “Please don't.”

“I know you still care for me.” He reached for her hand.

She jerked it away. “Don't.” He was only making it harder.

His hand fell to his side. “I heard Berta is quite ill.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Perhaps her strange words were part of that. I'm wondering if she was delirious.”

“Perhaps. Thank you for telling me.” She wished she could be sure Berta would never do such a thing—imagine such a thing or, worse, fabricate or exaggerate—but it wasn't beyond belief. Her sister had been known to be both dramatic and deceitful. Exaggeration was her forte, which made her untrustworthy. And she had been intrigued with Celeste and Jonathan from the very beginning. Now that Celeste thought about it, Berta had always seemed taken with him. Sadly, it was believable she would make up such a thing—either that, or she actually thought it was true. Perhaps Jonathan had been too kind to her, and she'd misinterpreted his intentions. Maybe he'd mentioned
coming to America, and she took it as an invitation. Whatever had happened, she needed to talk to Berta soon.

“I have to go,” Celeste said. “Thank you for telling me.”

Jonathan nodded. “I'm enough of a scoundrel from what I've done to you without adding more to it.” His eyes hung heavy. “If only I'd known you were coming…Please forgive me.”

“I do forgive you,” she answered. He was sincerely sorry.

“I know you're in a difficult situation. Having to work harder than you're used to, and below your station in life. And, I promise you, I am trying to sell the carriage to help you. I feel horrible about what's happened.”

“Thank you, Jonathan,” she said again, turning toward the blacksmith shop. Sadly, she could understand him choosing the plantation owner's daughter. She'd been foolish to give her heart to him. As she hurried away, she still longed for him. Longed for what they had for that short time in London. She'd never felt so alive as she had during those wondrous, heady days.

Her forgiveness had been more sincere this time, and she expected to be filled with relief, but she wasn't. Instead, she found herself mourning the loss of Jonathan all over again. Soon her thoughts shifted to Berta. What would make her sister lie like that? Her illness? Jealousy? Either way, she was more worried about Berta than ever—but now for a different reason.

Even in her anguish over what Berta had done, Celeste questioned what Jonathan told her. What if, for some reason, he had made it up?

She didn't know what to believe.

Celeste couldn't get away from the inn that evening to see her sister. The next day, Benjamin was ill, and she had to start the fires and tend to them all day. It wasn't until an hour before it was time to serve supper that she managed to slip away. She would have to be gentle with Berta. From experience, she knew if the girl felt cornered she would grow silent and wouldn't respond at all. Or worse, she would lie. There
were several times growing up that Berta had been punished by their parents for her lying. Not once, no matter how severe the punishment, did Berta confess. She could be the most stubborn person on earth.

When Celeste arrived, Berta was sitting in the salon with Madame Petit. She wore a housedress and her hair was pulled back in a bun, a white frilly cap on her head. She looked the best she had since they had left London, and Celeste couldn't help but smile with relief.

“You're up and about,” she said in surprise as she entered the room.

“Only while Judith changes the bed,” Berta replied, tiredly.

Celeste's smile faded. She took a seat in the chair Madame Petit indicated but didn't know what to say after that. She was hesitant to bring up Jonathan's claims in front of their hostess, but then Madame Petit excused herself to go check on the bed, perhaps sensing the sisters needed some time alone.

As the woman left, Celeste leaned closer to Berta and got right to the point. “I saw Jonathan yesterday. He said you made some disturbing accusations the day you arrived in Williamsburg.”

Berta pursed her lips.

“Can you tell me more about it?”

Berta shook her head.

“This is important. Jonathan said that you—” Celeste nearly choked on the words. “—believed he had feelings for you.”

Berta started to stand. “I can't talk about this.”

Celeste pulled her sister back down. “I know we've had our differences, but could we please discuss it? I need to know what happened.” She had to find out which one of them was telling the truth, which one she could trust. “Did you have feelings for him?” Celeste looked her sister directly in the eye.

Berta's eyes narrowed as she glared back.

Celeste leaned forward even more. “Did you believe he had feelings for you? You told me you'd been kidnapped…”

Berta's cheeks flushed a vivid red, and in that instant Celeste realized that she'd been duped. “You weren't kidnapped?” she hissed.

Berta shrugged, averting her eyes. “You assumed I'd followed you down to the dock out of concern. You assumed I'd been forced aboard
that ship against my will. When you asked if that's what happened, I didn't challenge you.”

“In other words, you lied.”

“I let you believe what you wanted to believe. It seemed…easier.”

“Easier,” Celeste echoed, stunned. “You told me someone must have knocked you out or drugged you because the next thing you knew you were waking up on board the ship after we were out at sea.”

“Again, it was your assumption. I just…elaborated a little.”

Celeste couldn't believe it. Not only had the girl lied, but she wouldn't even accept responsibility for those lies. “How did you get on board?”

Berta met her eyes. “The same way you did. I signed a contract. I walked right on with my own two feet.”

“But…why?”

Berta shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Because Jonathan promised to marry me once I reached Virginia, just as he did you.”

Celeste exhaled loudly, unable to take it in. “You're my sister, Berta! You're saying you went out with the man I loved behind my back? How could you?”

“I admit I found him attractive from the beginning. I went out of my way to talk with him, and soon he was taken with me.”

“Nonsense. I don't believe you.”

“You think I'm lying, Celeste?”

“Yes. Why would he betray me like that?”

Berta folded her hands in her lap. “Why would I lie?”

Celeste could think of several reasons. Spite. Jealousy. Embarrassment. But she couldn't say any of those. Instead, she chose something much worse. “Why wouldn't you?”

Berta stared for a long moment and then whispered, “Yes, perhaps I have lied in the past. And I lied by letting you believe I'd been kidnapped, and by providing a few false details. But I swear to you I'm telling the truth now.” Her voice grew louder. “I don't expect you to believe me. But, trust me, if I had known that you were going to be on board that ship, I
never
would have come.”

Celeste was quiet, trying to take it all in. This whole time she'd felt
guilty for Berta following her down to the dock that day and being abducted, but her sister had made that choice on her own, just as Celeste had. This changed everything.