Ada nodded as she listened, but the other worry about him kept into her thoughts. “And who is Emma?”
“Jack’s wife. She’s a Virginian. He wooed her across the South. They got separated for a bit, and she believed he was dead when she got here, pregnant with his child. Francois offered to marry her and make all well. I think, from what I heard as I wasn’t here, he fell in love with her. But Jack appeared, all well and good and determined to get his Emma back. Emma loved Jack, so for them, all was good. But Francois couldn’t handle it and left to join the war.”
“He didn’t go to fight to keep slavery?”
Cerise laughed and kissed her child on his head before she answered. “No. He went to run away from seeing her every day and knowing he couldn’t have her.”
Ada sat back, varying her thoughts and emotions from confused to ecstatic to angry. After their fight, they’d been together yet they hadn’t talked outside mundane things. It’d been like walking on eggshells barefoot. But the other memory now exploded in her head.
“And who is that girl?”
Cerisa frowned, though Ada saw the flicker in her eyes. “What girl?”
“The one he carries a portrait of? In his coat?”
Cerisa closed her eyes. “He never told you? No, apparently not. That is Emma.”
“Excuse me?” Ada’s cheeks inflamed, she could feel the heat.
“Francois thought he loved her, so he went to war to forget her but must’ve taken the portrait.” She smiled. “And then he met you!”
Ada started tapping her foot. “I’m supposed to believe that? That he’s over her? She’s married to his brother!”
“Yes, it was a bit black, you could say.” She leaned forward, wincing from the childbirth, but looked at her tightly. “He came back, thrilled to have you with him. He does love you. And it’s way more than with Emma. I see it in his eyes and the way he acts. Maybe, you might consider giving him a second chance?” Cerisa eyed her. “Heaven knows, we could use your help around here and I think you could badger him into seeing how things could be. Would you consider that?”
Ada drummed her fingers softly over her leather medical bag. She loved him and having his child did sound beautiful. But how could she forgive him for all he’s done?
Chapter 45
“The edge of the conflict swayed to and fro with wild whirlpools and eddies. At times I saw around me more of the enemy than my own men; gaps opening, swallowing, closing again; squads of stalwart men who had cut their way through us, disappearing as if translated. All around, a strange, mingled roar.”
—Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, 20th Maine, Gettysburg, July 1863
3 days later
The house had finally settled to near normal. Francois breathed in the clean river air and sighed. The baby was healthy, Cerisa recovered to a nice rosy, new-mother glow, his own mother was now well and Ada was buzzing around, taking care of the three. It was his own heart that beat with a skip when he saw her, hoping she’d give him a glance, one that he could view as time for him and he’d scoop her away, to beg for his case, but alas, she still skirted him. Would it never end?
It was a lovely afternoon, a day he could almost think there was no war as Pierce wore civilian clothes and no gunfire was heard. His ankle was less bothersome so the cane was in use less and less each day. As the birds chirped outside the parlor window, he swore he’d find a way to talk to her and try to sweep her off her feet…
Instead, his mother called the family to come to the parlor for tea. He could never refuse her.
“Mama, it’s so good to see you well at last.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Marie blushed. “Glad you have left that awful unpleasantness. And that you brought the most enchanting mademoiselle with you to wed.” She smiled at him and Ada.
Ada shifted on the settee, her cup of tea rattled softly in her hand. Francois went to sit next to her, giving her a wink as he mouthed his apologies for his mother being so blunt. Yet before he could say a word, Pierce escorted his wife and baby in, settling Cerisa near her mother.
“Oh, let me see that boy!” Marie held out her arms.
Cerisa gave her son to her and sat down. “We’ve decided on a name. Gustav Pierre Duval.”
“Simply wonderful! We will set the baptism for this Sunday.” Marie grinned broadly, kissing the baby on the head.
“Which will work out well,” Pierce said, still standing. It was then Francois noticed his uniform was back on.
“What are you trying to say?” he asked.
“What have you two decided?” Pierce shot back, nodding toward Ada.
“That’s a rather blunt question,” Francois shot back. There was an edginess to the Yankee that he didn’t like.
“Are you staying?” Pierce asked Ada. “Because if you want to return north, I can help you on that.”
Ada’s mouth dropped. Francois leapt up, ignoring his ankle screaming. “Why would she leave?”
Ada’s heart stopped when the Union general before her gave her a ticket home. Home to what? A man who’d betrayed and lied to her? To a job duty where the commanding staff ignored her skill set? To a war of hell and pain? Of men she couldn’t help and a multitude demanding nursing help? Or stay to marry Francois, who had slept with slaves, had a mulatto child, and was in love with his brother’s wife, making her feel second place, like a fill in. Her
