Indigo (16 page)

The trip was even worse than Hester could have imagined. The previous night's torrential rains turned the roads into slush. The thick liquid concoction of rain, mud, and melting snow sloshed high up on the wheels as they rolled, intermittently splattering Hester as she guided the reins of the mule. The mule didn't appear to enjoy the slop anymore than Hester. The animal stopped time and time again, refusing to take another step. After much yelling and pleading she finally made it to the depot, but mentally threatened to sell the mule at her first opportunity.

Hester spotted Foster over by the pile of luggage stacked trackside. She took a moment to observe him. The slightly balding Foster with his plain brown face and short rounded figure would never be considered handsome, but he was dependable and true. She didn't need to be in love to pledge her life to him.

He must have sensed her presence because he looked up and upon seeing her in the crowd, he smiled widely and hurried to her side. He squeezed her hands affectionately, then greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek. She found herself comparing his welcome to Galen's sultry kisses before burying the unfair thoughts. Foster would never be the lover Galen was, but she didn't care.

"Welcome back. How was the passage?"

"Tedious. The purser refused cabins to all the Blacks on board. We were forced to either sleep in the hold or stay on the deck. However, something wonderful happened as a result."

Still holding her hands he looked her in the face and smiled. "Hester, I've taken a wife."

Hester's eyes widened.

"Her name is Jenine, and Hester she is the most beautiful and gracious creature I've ever had the opportunity to meet."

He paused a moment to chuckle, "She's not smart like you. I'll never be able to debate anything of substance with her, but I don't care—"

Hester could not believe her ears. "Foster—"

"Hester, I know you and I were to be wed, but I'm in love. For the first time in my life I've been impaled by Cupid's arrow and I am not ashamed to admit it."

Hester wondered if he had contracted a mind fever. Foster in love?! Foster waxing over being impaled by Cupid's arrow?! If she weren't so stunned she might be able to see the humor in this, however right now, all she could see was a Foster she admittedly had never met. The Foster she knew had never pursued anything other than the serious sides of life. He debated the issues of the day, read the
Liberator,
and taught school. What had happened to him?

Foster said, "I know I should have wired you, but my mind's been so muddled since meeting Jenine, I sometimes have trouble deciding whether I'm coming or going. She's like sunshine, Hester, pure sunshine."

She wanted to ask him where that description left her but she held her tongue. It wasn't as if she and Foster had been in love; their marriage would have been built upon mutual respect and admiration. That said, why did she feel angry? Because she had been replaced by a woman who fit the description of sunshine, she told herself.

Foster's voice brought her back to the matter at hand. "I want very much for you and Jenine to be friends, Hester. She can be very shy."

"Where is Jenine now?"

"Right over here. Come and meet her."

Hester had no desire to meet anyone but she told herself that no matter how she felt personally, Foster was still a good friend and she should be happy for him.

Jenine was seated on one of the benches. She was fashionably dressed and greeted their approach with a sunny little smile. She was indeed as beautiful as described. In a sweet little voice she asked, "Is this your friend Hester?"

Foster beamed under her loving looks. "Jenine Quint, this is indeed Hester Wyatt. Hester, Jenine."

Hester nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Jenine. Welcome."

She sighed, "Oh, thank you. I just knew you'd hate me for taking Foster from you. Fostie kept telling me not to worry, that you wouldn't mind, but I did worry."

Hester kept the smile pasted on her face as she turned to Fostie. He had the decency to duck away from her pointed look. Hester tried to reassure the new bride. "There is no need to worry.
Foster
is correct."

"I'm so relieved to hear you say so. I've been dreading this moment since he told me about you. He thinks the world of you. Did you know?"

Not enough to wire me and prepare me for this humiliating event,
she thought to herself. Aloud she said, "Foster and I hold each other in high esteem. I'm sure your marriage won't alter my opinion of him."

Jenine looked to Foster and said, "She's as understanding as you said she'd be."

"I told you. Hester is the most practical person I know."

In the past, Hester would have taken Foster's assessment as a compliment; today she did not.

She pulled her emotions together and said cheerily, "I came to the depot to give Foster a lift home. Do you still require one, or are you heading elsewhere?"

Foster seemed unable to tear his eyes away from Jenine's lovely face. "A lift would be in order, Hester, thank you. Come, Jenine, help me fetch our trunks, and we'll let Hester drive us over to Whittaker."

The first part of the journey proceeded fine, albeit slowly. The mule kept balking and Hester kept threatening to turn the animal into hide. She got the animal to move for almost a mile, but a few steps later the mule stopped once more, this time apparently for good.

Nothing Hester or Foster tried could get the animal to move. While Jenine looked on, they finally stepped down into the mud and attempted to pull the mule forward by the reins, but the mule simply dug in its heels. Hester even tempted it with an apple from her coat, a ploy which always worked in the past, but the mule simply turned up its nose. Hester didn't know what else to do outside of taking a crop to its stubborn back, however she'd never struck an animal in her life, and she would not begin now. "I give up, Foster," Hester confessed. She didn't even want to think about how muddy her clothes had become as a result of this frustrating situation. Both she and Foster resembled mud pies.

Foster began to walk back the way they'd come.

"Where are you going?" Jenine called.

"We passed a farm house a ways back, maybe they have an animal we can rent. I'll return as soon as I can."

Hester called, "Tell them they can have this mule for free in exchange."

Foster laughed and gave her a wave goodbye.

This was not a very good homecoming, she thought with irritation as she watched him round the bend. She cast a malevolent eye at the four-legged beast responsible, but then she thought that if she were a mule, she probably wouldn't want to pull a wagon in this muck either. Luckily it was a beautiful day; the sunshine felt good on her face, even though it was still cold enough for a winter bonnet and mittens.

She was dressed warmly. Fashion would probably frown on the old flannel long drawers she always wore beneath her woolen skirts, but fashion obviously never spent winter in Michigan, she thought dryly. On the other hand, the fashionably dressed Jenine appeared to be freezing in her lightweight coat and thin-soled shoes.

Hester took two quilts from beneath the seat. She handed one to the very grateful Jenine, then wrapped the other around her own legs and mud-soaked boots. Frostbite continued to be a real danger this time of year. She hoped Foster would find help quickly because in spite of her warm clothing, the longer she sat, the colder she would become.

About thirty minutes later, Hester could hear the rumble of an oncoming coach on the road behind her. She turned and saw a big black coach pulled by a team of powerful horses come barreling around the bend. The mud thrown up by the pounding hooves and the wheels cascaded high in every direction. As the coach drew closer, she could see its lines and structure more clearly. Hester realized she'd seen the coach before, and it caused her heart to pound. Recognition hit her like a lightning bolt. The coach bearing down on her was the same coach that had spirited Galen away.

The driver drew the coach to a halt. Hester tried to compose herself but a voice inside herself wailed that now was not the time for this meeting, not here, not this way. The day had already been disconcerting enough. She consoled herself with the fact that maybe she was wrong, and even if the coach did belong to Galen there was no guarantee he would be inside.

The driver's head and face were hidden beneath a burnoose he'd wrapped around himself to ward off the spraying mud. He removed it, revealing the darkly handsome and bearded face of Raymond LeVeq. He greeted her with a brilliant smile. "Good afternoon, mademoiselles. We hear you are in need of assistance."

Hester swayed and wondered if the day could become any worse.

Before Hester could think of something to say to LeVeq, the door of the coach swung open and out stepped Foster. On his heels, Galen made his slow, smooth exit. Hester watched him straighten his tall, lean body up to his full height and found herself nearly blinded by his handsomeness. He bore no resemblance to the beaten, one-eyed man she'd first met. Instead she saw the face of the Galen who invited women in to share his bath, the Galen who spent extravagant amounts of money, and the Galen who left rosebuds in her bed. He was dressed richly and he wore the look of understated wealth well, almost as if he had been born to it. Hester took a deep steadying breath as he and Foster slogged over to where she and Jenine sat atop the wagon. She hazarded a quick look back up at the driver. He smiled at her, winked, then placed his finger across his lips in the age-old gesture conveying silence. His prompting made her remember her vow to pretend as if she and Galen had never met. She just hoped she could hold onto herself long enough to support the charade. She also hoped Galen knew what he was doing.

A smiling Foster said, "Ladies, we are in luck, this gentleman has kindly offered to share his coach with us."

"We are in your debt, sir," Hester offered softly, bowing her head politely so she could momentarily escape the power in Galen's vibrant black eyes.

The shivering Jenine added, "We certainly are. Fostie, you never said Michigan was so cold."

He replied, "The weather will warm soon, I promise."

Foster then made the introductions. "This is Galen Vachon. Vachon, my wife, Jenine, and my neighbor, Hester Wyatt."

Galen paused a moment and met Hester's eyes, but she kept them void of all emotion.

Galen bowed first over Jenine's hand, then took Hester's mitten-covered hand in his. His eyes burned her as he brought it to his lips.
"Enchante,
mademoiselle, I am privileged to be at your service."

He released his hold without incident, unless one counted the faint pressure of the gentle squeeze he gave her fingers in parting. She forced her attention back to Foster.

"Mr. Vachon is going to be residing in Whittaker of all places."

"Where in Whittaker?" Hester asked. She found it hard not to stare at Galen's new face. The bruises and swelling had disappeared. He had skin the color of pale butter. The moustache above his lips added an air of danger to his uncommon handsomeness. He'd not worn a moustache during his stay with her, but the effects of it here today, coupled with his aristocratic bearing, seemed to rattle her senses even more.

His rich voice brought her back to the present as he replied, "I've purchased Lovejoy's Folly as I believe it was once named."

Hester met his deep gaze fully. "Then you must be Mr. Renaud's employer, and the purchaser of my land."

A smiling Galen inclined his head in acknowledgment. "So, you are that Hester Wyatt. Thank you for being so open to my proposal."

"It was very generous."

Foster interrupted to ask, "Hester sold you some of her land?"

"Yes," Hester said.

Foster's face turned serious. "The situation must have been dire for you to sell, Hester. Why didn't you write me?"

"I didn't want to worry you, and besides, thanks to Mr. Vachon, the crisis is now remedied."

Foster observed Galen for a moment as if seeking some answer.

Galen slowly raised an imperial eyebrow at the silent questions on Foster's face before saying, "Mr. Quint, your wife appears to be freezing, why don't we adjourn to the warmth of my coach?"

Foster blustered, "I'm sorry. You're quite correct. Jenine, love, are you ready?"

Foster offered her a hand down from the wagon. She accepted his help, and he escorted her over to the waiting coach. Exasperated, Hester watched him go. It was not as if she really needed help stepping down, but politeness dictated he at least offer her his hand, too.

Galen offered instead. "Your beautiful eyes are flashing like an August thunderstorm. Did you know your Frederick had taken a wife?"

Hester warned him. "If you so much as smile I will sock you."

"I'd rather have a kiss."

She shook her head at his outrageous request. "Just help me down, incorrigible Frenchman."

He did and she tried not to wince as the cold mud seeped into her brogans.

He asked, "Are you still wearing those god-awful shoes?"

She couldn't suppress her humor. "Stop being blasphemous, and tell me what I should do about the mule. I can't just leave her here."