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Book: Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell
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Authors: Cindy Caldwell
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Saga, Western, Short-Story, Massachusetts, Religious, Christian, Louisiana, Inspirational, Bachelor, Marriage of Convenience, Faith, father, victorian era, Forever Love, Single Woman, Charade, Fifth In Series, Fifty-Books, Forty-Five Authors, Newspaper Ad, American Mail-Order Bride, Factory Burned, Pioneer, plantation, Subterfuge, Privileged Childhood, Speaks French, Mississippi River
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quickly pinned her hair up--all of it--and went downstairs, out the front door and down the brick steps.
A horse whinnied in the distance and she was drawn to the sound, breathing in the crisp morning air. Her head already felt clearer and she started off, walking in the directions of the cabins she’d noticed.
As she passed under a giant willow she stopped, ducking behind the huge trunk as she watched the young mother and little girl she’d seen the day before. And the day before that, now that she thought about it.
The child was beautiful--maybe three or four years old--with caramel-colored skin, black hair and blue eyes. It was a strikingly lovely combination and Josephine didn’t think she’d ever seen a person before who looked like that.
Her mother was equally lovely, her skin just a bit darker and her eyes brown, but a beauty, nonetheless. She wore rather simple clothes, but a bright blue apron over it that was of some fabric Josephine hadn’t seen before--even in the factory.
She ducked behind the tree, only the top of her head peeking out, as Pierre walked over to the woman. His long strides brought him there quickly, and he smiled at the woman, handing her a basket covered with a checked napkin. The child ran over to Pierre, wrapping her little arms around his knees. He laughed and scooped her up, taking a muffin from the basket the woman held and handing it to the little girl.
He set her down on the ground, ruffling her hair before she ran into the house, muffin grasped tightly in hand. He said a few words to the woman--who couldn’t have been much older than Josephine--smiled, and turned back toward the house.
Josephine hung her head, knowing that it was time to seal her fate. She walked toward the back of the house, where the kitchen would be, past the shrubs lining the side of the house. As she passed the young woman, their eyes met. The young woman nodded at Josephine, her brilliant smile seeming genuine and sincere.
She returned the woman’s smile and kept on toward the kitchen, one foot in front of the other, feeling as if she was heading to the guillotine.
Head down, she trudged up the back stairs of the house and reached for the latch of the door. Just as she was about to open the door, it swung open and she looked up in to the startled eyes of Pierre.
Her cheeks blazed as he looked down at her. His eyes softened and he held out his hand to help her up the steps. “I’ve been waiting for you in the kitchen. There are freshly baked muffins and coffee that Bernadette has made for us.”
Her brows furrowed, surprised that he wasn’t angry or asking her to pack. As embarrassed as she still was, she was willing to take her lumps and move forward. She followed him and he stopped at the kitchen door, waving his arm inside for her to precede him.
She walked in slowly, removing her wrap and sniffing at the delightful aroma of coffee. As soon as she did, she shivered at the memory of the last time she inhaled an aroma--and her hair promptly fell into her soup.
Bernadette handed her a cup of coffee with a gentle pat to her shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone, ma cherie,” she said as she shot a glance at Pierre and left the room.
Josephine sat down at the kitchen worktable and sipped her coffee, avoiding looking up. “Pierre, I--”
Pierre sat down across from her and held up his palms. “Josephine, let me speak first, if you don’t mind. I have something I’d like to...ask you.”
Ask? Asking her to leave, no doubt. She took a deep breath, set her coffee down and looked up at him, ready for whatever was coming. It certainly wouldn’t be unexpected. She knew how important this all was to them and she’d failed.
Pierre reached across the table, taking her hand in his. Puzzled, she cocked her head to one side. Certainly he was anxious for her to go. None of this was necessary--it actually made it worse as her hand tingled in his. Better to just go.
She pulled her hand back and sat
A horse whinnied in the distance and she was drawn to the sound, breathing in the crisp morning air. Her head already felt clearer and she started off, walking in the directions of the cabins she’d noticed.
As she passed under a giant willow she stopped, ducking behind the huge trunk as she watched the young mother and little girl she’d seen the day before. And the day before that, now that she thought about it.
The child was beautiful--maybe three or four years old--with caramel-colored skin, black hair and blue eyes. It was a strikingly lovely combination and Josephine didn’t think she’d ever seen a person before who looked like that.
Her mother was equally lovely, her skin just a bit darker and her eyes brown, but a beauty, nonetheless. She wore rather simple clothes, but a bright blue apron over it that was of some fabric Josephine hadn’t seen before--even in the factory.
She ducked behind the tree, only the top of her head peeking out, as Pierre walked over to the woman. His long strides brought him there quickly, and he smiled at the woman, handing her a basket covered with a checked napkin. The child ran over to Pierre, wrapping her little arms around his knees. He laughed and scooped her up, taking a muffin from the basket the woman held and handing it to the little girl.
He set her down on the ground, ruffling her hair before she ran into the house, muffin grasped tightly in hand. He said a few words to the woman--who couldn’t have been much older than Josephine--smiled, and turned back toward the house.
Josephine hung her head, knowing that it was time to seal her fate. She walked toward the back of the house, where the kitchen would be, past the shrubs lining the side of the house. As she passed the young woman, their eyes met. The young woman nodded at Josephine, her brilliant smile seeming genuine and sincere.
She returned the woman’s smile and kept on toward the kitchen, one foot in front of the other, feeling as if she was heading to the guillotine.
Head down, she trudged up the back stairs of the house and reached for the latch of the door. Just as she was about to open the door, it swung open and she looked up in to the startled eyes of Pierre.
Her cheeks blazed as he looked down at her. His eyes softened and he held out his hand to help her up the steps. “I’ve been waiting for you in the kitchen. There are freshly baked muffins and coffee that Bernadette has made for us.”
Her brows furrowed, surprised that he wasn’t angry or asking her to pack. As embarrassed as she still was, she was willing to take her lumps and move forward. She followed him and he stopped at the kitchen door, waving his arm inside for her to precede him.
She walked in slowly, removing her wrap and sniffing at the delightful aroma of coffee. As soon as she did, she shivered at the memory of the last time she inhaled an aroma--and her hair promptly fell into her soup.
Bernadette handed her a cup of coffee with a gentle pat to her shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone, ma cherie,” she said as she shot a glance at Pierre and left the room.
Josephine sat down at the kitchen worktable and sipped her coffee, avoiding looking up. “Pierre, I--”
Pierre sat down across from her and held up his palms. “Josephine, let me speak first, if you don’t mind. I have something I’d like to...ask you.”
Ask? Asking her to leave, no doubt. She took a deep breath, set her coffee down and looked up at him, ready for whatever was coming. It certainly wouldn’t be unexpected. She knew how important this all was to them and she’d failed.
Pierre reached across the table, taking her hand in his. Puzzled, she cocked her head to one side. Certainly he was anxious for her to go. None of this was necessary--it actually made it worse as her hand tingled in his. Better to just go.
She pulled her hand back and sat
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