The Sacred Shore by T. Davis Bunn Page A

wonder if Catherine still has that way of smiling that lights her whole face and makes her eyes sparkle. I wonder if her faith is still as strong. If Andrew is still with the army after all those horrid …”
    She struggled to sort through the tumult in her mind and heart. “I wonder where the others are. If the orchard is still there. If my room is still under the eaves.”
    She was silent for some minutes. “Most of all, I wonder what little Antoinette is like now. Is she shy and retiring, or bold and self-assured? Does she walk like her papa? Has she learned how to cook, how to keep house? Is she strong and healthy? Does she have a beau? She could even be married—a mother. It is not unheard of.
    â€œYour leaving for Acadia brings all of those questions to my mind once again,” Louise went on, looking searchingly into Nicole’s face. “I had put them aside for so long and now … I wonder. I wonder if she even knows about me. If she knows that her father is a good man. Strong of faith and spirit. She should know that. She should know about her father.”
    â€œMama, please. You are only making it more difficult for yourself.”
    Louise felt the heat and the coming loss solidify into a burning lump at the center of her being. “You speak of difficult . You have never known difficult . Not like I have known it. God grant that you never shall. To have your baby—your own flesh and blood—torn from you. To sail away, knowing that she is still onshore. To watch the land fade away in the darkness of night and know that it is too far to swim should you cast yourself into the sea. And that you might never, never be coming back.” The tears were flowing unheeded now. Louise made no attempt to check them.
    Nicole’s gaze darkened and her face flashed with the spirit Louise had taken as natural from her daughter. Instantly Louise regretted her outburst, and tried to swallow away the ache and the irritation. She reached out a hand to her daughter. “But there was you,” she said in a softer tone. “There was you—or I would have died. You smiled and cooed and you needed me. The flame of love I had lost was lit again by the new love that you brought to my heart.”
    But Nicole’s eyes did not lose their glint. “I cannot imagine what you have felt, what you have endured,” she said, “but you also can’t know what I have felt and suffered.”
    Louise knew the look all too well, the brooding that flashed into sudden anger, the eyes like dark pools. There was a new edge to her voice, yet another sign that her daughter was changing. Growing apart from her. “I never meant—”
    â€œI have been forced to give up the only man I have ever loved. Then I learned that I am not who I always thought myself to be.” Her voice sounded hot as the day. “I have parents I do not know. English parents. A homeland I cannot recall. I do not know if my family is alive—or dead. If I have brothers or sisters.”
    â€œYou have us. Your brothers are—”
    Nicole stood to her feet in one swift motion. “My brothers are no more my brothers than those men toting the bales,” she answered with vehemence. Louise sucked in her breath. “It is true,” went on Nicole. “There is no blood tie between us. Why, I could marry Josef and the law would not frown upon it.”
    â€œSit down,” demanded Louise. She slapped the shawl beside her. “Sit down now .”
    Nicole hesitated, then seated herself again on the bale.
    â€œStop that right now.” Louise’s voice came in tight little gasps. “You may have been—cheated, not knowing your rightful parents. I grant you that. But you have also been blessed.”
    â€œBlessed?”
    â€œYes, listen to me, blessed. You have had not only one set of parents who have loved you, you have had two . Two sets of parents who would have