Distant Fires (30 page)

“You have nothing to fear from my people. Be strong. the night will soon be over,” he said, in French. “Have some water…”,  bringing the wooden vessel to the face of the smaller person.
 

There was something about the face as he sought the mouth, under the moon’s soft glow. Was this a boy?  And yet, the lips were too full, the cheekbones too pronounced. No, it couldn’t be…
 

“Maman?” He gasped, in a loud whisper that to his mind, sounded more like a shriek.
 

“Is it really you? What are you doing here?”
 

“My son…” her voice trailed off, weakly, but her amazement overcame travail. “Is it possible? I have found you... I have found you…”
 

Her companion seemed to come out of his stupor enough to repeat, “Nicholas? Is this your son, Louise?”
 

Nicholas eyes were overflowing with gratefulness and apprehension. Questions…questions…it was too much to take in and was obvious, their condition would preclude further discourse. All he knew is that by some miracle of fate  she had found him! Though at great cost to herself and her companion…
 

But who was the other man? Was he a guide? He spoke to her with such familiarity…
 

Calling to others, they were removed to the longhouse, then left them to whatever time it took for a complete recovery.
 

                                         ……
 

“My dearest, may I present your stepfather, Gilbert, Monsieur Leger, who accompanied me on my mission from France.”  
 

The rose in her cheek indicated a return to health, though her scrapes and cuts were slower to heal. Her companion was in much better shape, beaming at him now in warmest greeting.
 

Leger, Leger…surely, they were not related…
 

“Monsieur,” Nicholas offered with a handshake, as whatever mistrust he might have felt, faded into indebtedlness and informality. “I am pleased to hear of it, and to meet you.”
 

“You must be wondering how I could be persuaded on such a venture, when it put your mother in such peril...” Gilbert turned to her with a wink, “but I can safely say, there is no woman or mother, with as much will and tenacity, when it is her wont. Try as I might to make her see the folly of accompanying me, she was insistent.”
 

“Only after the first two attempts ended unsuccessfully,” she added, with a tired smile “I remained in Quebec, though I knew we would find a way.”
 

She told him about the Mohawk girl at the convent. He realized she must have been one of the kidnapped victims, the daughter of  Tahne, his wife's sister, killed in the great fire.
 

Gilbert continued, “It was then we hired a guide, a turncoat Iroquois, with some understanding of the proximity to the girl’s village, that we found ourselves within reach. We were never sure you were the ‘white man’ in question.”
 

Louise soberly took up the conversation, “Then, our guide left us, taking most of our supplies. Had we not  been taken by your tribesmen…”
 

Gilbert ventured ruefully, “We did not know the worst of two evils, but by chance, they led us to you.”
 

Louise smiled. “You were not aware that your Maman had the courage to live like the wild Courier de Bois? Perhaps it is a good thing that I began life as an untamed child, no?”
 

She closed her eyes for a moment. Noticing this, Gilbert stroked her hair. Seeing the gesture touched Nicholas. He rose to leave, but she quickly opened her eyes and reached for his hand.
 

“Stay by my side. I have waited so long for this moment.” As she held it, she continued, “You have not asked me about Shanata. She is married to a nobleman, a learned man in France. Eduard, Duc de Lorraine. I will tell you much more about him when I am able…”
 

Lifting herself on her elbows, she took the necklace off her neck. “I will show you something. She gave me this.”
 

“Before I left, the child at the convent told me that it was from the village of ‘the white man’. When did you learn this was Shanata's  home?”
 

The colour drained from Nicholas
.
This was Shanata's home? He knew about the great fire, but had no way of knowing this was her natal village. Was she Ehta's daughter?
 

Before he had a chance to respond, a lovely face came towards them from the shadows of the longhouse to break him from this query.
 

 “This is my wife, Ehta.”  
 

The light from the opening in the roof added sparkle to her eyes and teeth.
 

Was she dreaming? It was too much to hope for. Louise noticed a slight resemblance to her daughter, and saw the rounded belly. It was true! Shanata would be so happy to know her mother was alive and that she would have a sibling. Tears began to stream down her face—tears of loss,  joy, and hope regained. Everything she held dear was embodied in this woman; her child, her son, her grandchild. They each had taken something precious from the other, and given something back. All were victims with lives reclaimed. Like a forest after a fire, it was a time for new beginnings.
 

Wordlessly, Louise reached for Ehta's hand,  pressing the necklace into it. Ehta cried when she realized what it was.
 

"Tell her Shanata is alive. This is a present to her mother."
 

Ehta embraced her, then Gilbert, smiling through jubilant tears of gratitude, then  whispered into her husband's ear.  
 

“She said that she thought she'd lost everything  in that fire. And now she sees she was left with nothing but a scar.”
 

Louise smiled. “Tell her, so was I.”
 

The End