the bed, reached for Damian, and hefted him up to her shoulder without waking him. Colin’s look might have passed for admiration in any other man.
“Where did you learn that?” he wanted to know.
“I’ve twenty-seven Keene cousins in Ireland, and I was there for four years.” She rubbed Damian’s back between his shoulders.
When Colin spoke again, his voice was low.
“The boy told me Amelie is ill.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“She has consumption. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Besides, I refuse to believe she won’t be up and around soon. All she needs is good care. Now that she’s home, she’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Marie said they came here to live.”
“Their father died. Amelie had nowhere else to go. Naturally, she came to you.”
“Did you know he was a gunfighter?”
Kate nodded. “Amelie told me.”
Colin’s expression darkened. “What am I to do?”
“Do what you were born to do. Run
Belle Fleuve
.”
“You’re relentless, you know.”
“A woman must be relentless in this world.”
Damian stirred against her shoulder. She rubbed his back and quieted him again. Colin was staring at the boy now. Hopefully, he
was
worried about Amelie and the future. Now perhaps he would take steps to bring
Belle Fleuve
back to life. She turned to leave and suddenly stopped.
“May I take the photographs? For Amelie?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
As he reached for the pictures scattered over the bedside table, Kate noticed the empty praline plate.
“You liked the pralines?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
He held out the photographs and, due to his immobility, Kate was forced to go to him. Their fingers brushed as she took them. A frisson of warmth shot through her, and she dropped her gaze while fighting to ignore her physical reaction to an accidental touch.
So it’s like that
, Kate thought.
It’s still there
.
After all these years, after his rudeness and dismissal, the mere touch of his hand still set her heart soaring. Was this love then? Again and again it all came back to her feelings for Colin and this place. Did she actually love him or was she infatuated with the idea of him and the past?
If she did love him, then he had the power to hurt her.
But at least she’d seen this softer side of him. His care and concern for the children gave Kate the courage not to give up. It mightstill be possible to bring him around, to open his heart to Amelie, and if so, maybe there was some hope that he would someday see the love she had to offer.
She shifted Damian higher on her shoulder.
“What is it, Kate? You look so thoughtful.” He fell silent for a second and then demanded, “Is Amelie worse than you’ve let on?”
There was no way she could admit to him — or more especially to herself — the amount of uncertainty weighing on her. She had no idea how long it would be before Amelie recovered or whether or not he could find the will and the strength to help.
She was living here on borrowed time. They all were.
“Amelie will be well very soon. You’ll see.”
SEVEN
T he morning air was already close and humid in the room Kate shared with Myra. She stood alone at a cluttered table near the gallery window where, for a good quarter of an hour, she’d been attempting to sort her drafts and art supplies into some semblance of order before undertaking what she hoped would be a fast and productive trip to New Orleans.
She dreaded telling Amelie she was leaving and certainly wasn’t going to explain that she was going in search of a physician. Not when Amelie would insist there was nothing to be done. Prayer and potions hadn’t helped. Kate was still determined to find a cure.
She moved a box of watercolor supplies beneath the desk. She hadn’t even found time to open the box once since she’d arrived. It had been naive to think she’d find a few quiet hours of leisure time at
Belle Fleuve
. She sighed and shook her head at
“Where did you learn that?” he wanted to know.
“I’ve twenty-seven Keene cousins in Ireland, and I was there for four years.” She rubbed Damian’s back between his shoulders.
When Colin spoke again, his voice was low.
“The boy told me Amelie is ill.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“She has consumption. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You didn’t seem to care one way or the other. Besides, I refuse to believe she won’t be up and around soon. All she needs is good care. Now that she’s home, she’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
“Marie said they came here to live.”
“Their father died. Amelie had nowhere else to go. Naturally, she came to you.”
“Did you know he was a gunfighter?”
Kate nodded. “Amelie told me.”
Colin’s expression darkened. “What am I to do?”
“Do what you were born to do. Run
Belle Fleuve
.”
“You’re relentless, you know.”
“A woman must be relentless in this world.”
Damian stirred against her shoulder. She rubbed his back and quieted him again. Colin was staring at the boy now. Hopefully, he
was
worried about Amelie and the future. Now perhaps he would take steps to bring
Belle Fleuve
back to life. She turned to leave and suddenly stopped.
“May I take the photographs? For Amelie?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
As he reached for the pictures scattered over the bedside table, Kate noticed the empty praline plate.
“You liked the pralines?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
He held out the photographs and, due to his immobility, Kate was forced to go to him. Their fingers brushed as she took them. A frisson of warmth shot through her, and she dropped her gaze while fighting to ignore her physical reaction to an accidental touch.
So it’s like that
, Kate thought.
It’s still there
.
After all these years, after his rudeness and dismissal, the mere touch of his hand still set her heart soaring. Was this love then? Again and again it all came back to her feelings for Colin and this place. Did she actually love him or was she infatuated with the idea of him and the past?
If she did love him, then he had the power to hurt her.
But at least she’d seen this softer side of him. His care and concern for the children gave Kate the courage not to give up. It mightstill be possible to bring him around, to open his heart to Amelie, and if so, maybe there was some hope that he would someday see the love she had to offer.
She shifted Damian higher on her shoulder.
“What is it, Kate? You look so thoughtful.” He fell silent for a second and then demanded, “Is Amelie worse than you’ve let on?”
There was no way she could admit to him — or more especially to herself — the amount of uncertainty weighing on her. She had no idea how long it would be before Amelie recovered or whether or not he could find the will and the strength to help.
She was living here on borrowed time. They all were.
“Amelie will be well very soon. You’ll see.”
SEVEN
T he morning air was already close and humid in the room Kate shared with Myra. She stood alone at a cluttered table near the gallery window where, for a good quarter of an hour, she’d been attempting to sort her drafts and art supplies into some semblance of order before undertaking what she hoped would be a fast and productive trip to New Orleans.
She dreaded telling Amelie she was leaving and certainly wasn’t going to explain that she was going in search of a physician. Not when Amelie would insist there was nothing to be done. Prayer and potions hadn’t helped. Kate was still determined to find a cure.
She moved a box of watercolor supplies beneath the desk. She hadn’t even found time to open the box once since she’d arrived. It had been naive to think she’d find a few quiet hours of leisure time at
Belle Fleuve
. She sighed and shook her head at
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