Remember Me - Regency Brides 03 (8 page)

North looked from
the near-empty paper to Pierre with dismay radiating from every pore of his being. "I don't suppose you could ... "

Pierre made a
tsk-ing
sound. "I write very poorly, monsieur. And besides, if I do it for you, it would not be from your heart but mine." North sighed and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he conceded, although he wished he knew what to do.

Helen suddenly came to mind, and he wondered if she could help him. Of course she had been to church before, so perhaps she could give him an idea of what to do. And besides, she was the only person who would understand
why
he didn't know what to do.

He quickly gathered his papers and put the top back on his ink. "May I borrow your barouche, Pierre?"

Pierre seemed taken aback by his sudden change. "Of course, but why?"

"Because I'm going to meet with Helen. She'l be able to help me."

Pierre helped him don his coat and put his things in a leather satchel, which North had found near the bottom of the trunk. "Perhaps there are other reasons you want to see the pretty lady?"

"Mind your own affairs, Pierre," he ordered as he walked briskly to the door.

He heard Pierre shout as he closed the door. "But yours are so much more interesting than my own!"

North's heart was beating excitedly as he knocked on the Baumgartners' door.

Just the prospect of seeing Helen once again seemed to reduce him to a nervous schoolboy with his first crush.

Of course, since he couldn't remember even going to school, she would actual y be the first. A tal black man dressed in fine black attire greeted North with a solemn nod and asked him the reason for his visit.

Before he could answer, Imogene Baumgartner came hurriedly down the staircase to greet him. "Reverend Campbel ! How wonderful you have come to visit us."

They both nodded to each other in lieu of a curtsy or bow. "Good morning, Mrs.

Baumgartner. I came by to see if I might have a word with Helen."

North was surprised to see the older woman's eyes light up. "Of course you did!"

she exclaimed as she put a hand against her throat and looked at him as if she knew a secret. "Our Helen is a very special lady, if I might be so bold as to say."

She leaned forward and whispered, "But I think you are already aware of that." -..

North was wel aware Imogene Baumgartner was not a lady of high society.

Pierre had told him about her being the daughter of a servant in England and that Robert Baumgartner had given up everything to marry her. But despite her obvious lack of ladylike behavior, she was a very engaging woman who quickly endeared herself to al those she met.

Again, North had no idea how he understood the differences of society and their behaviors. He couldn't even remember if he'd been considered a gentleman or simply a rich commoner. And there was a difference. Whereas a gentleman was born to his distinction whether he was wealthy or poor, a commoner, no matter how rich, could never hope to be recognized on the gentleman's level.

In America, however, it seemed that whoever had the most money or the drive to better themselves could achieve anything they wanted.

So North supposed it didn't real y matter what he was, as long as he worked hard to establish himself and proved himself worthy to be cal ed a minister to the Golden Bay people.

North -smiled at Imogene, leaned forward, and whispered back to her, answering her assumption. "You are correct. I think Helen Nichols is a very lovely girl."

Imogene giggled with girlish delight, and North smiled with her, enjoying the merriment dancing in her light hazel eyes. "Why don't you wait right here in the library while I go and tel her you are here." She directed him to a smal room off their grand foyer, just beyond the staircase.

North remained standing after she had left and looked with startled interest about the room. It was indeed a library with shelves made of what looked like heavy oak, but there were no more than twenty books spread about them as they circled the room. The rest of the space was taken up by potted plants, figurines and a few miniatures.

"It seems sort of an atrocity to cal this room the library, doesn't it?"

North turned toward the female voice that he was coming to recognize so wel .

He took a moment to admire how Helen had left her dark curls to flow around her shoulders, complementing the light violet of her morning dress.

Indeed, it is, he agreed. It seems to be nothing but old books of poetry, scientific works, and ..." His voice drifted to a pause when he noticed a stack of books in one far comer that seemed to be newer than the rest. "What are those over there?"

Helen smiled. "Those are mine. I'm afraid I wasted a lot of time in England reading and not applying myself to other studies as I should have."

Suddenly a thought popped into his head, and North spoke it without realizing what he was saying. "Of course! I remember you like to read gothic romance novels; am I correct?"

The moment those words were out, they both froze-staring at one another in unbelief. "How do you know that?" she final y asked, her voice sounding almost fearful. North shook his head in wonderment. "I don't know. The information just appeared in my mind like a memory normal y does."

"Wel , do you remember anything else?"

North closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the memory he just had but could remember nothing else. He opened his eyes and sighed. ' Absolutely nothing."

Helen looked at him with sympathy. "I'm sorry, North. I'm sure more memories wil come to you. Perhaps if you try not to think about it so much, you wil one day remember everything."

"I suppose you're right," he readily agreed. It just felt so good for that tiny moment to have a true memory of something. It was like God giving him a smal gift to get him through the day.

"What's that in your hand?" Helen prompted as she spied the satchel he had taken from his shoulder.

' Ah yes." He'd almost forgotten his reason for being here. "I've come to ask for your help with my sermon." He dipped his hand into the satchel and brought out

,his papers. "Since I can't remember preaching or even hearing a sermon, I don t have the first idea how to go about constructing one."

He watched as Helen smiled prettily and crossed her arms in front of her in a motion of confidence. "Wel , Reverend, you've come to the right person!"

Helen glanced back and forth between the two men nervously; and if she were pressed to describe their first reaction to one another, it would most definitely be
hostile.
Even
that
would be an understatement.

As soon as the words had left North's mouth, Helen feared Sam would surely take offense. And if his ,flaring nostrils and narrowed, angry eyes were any indication, Helen knew she was right in her assumption.

Realizing she would have to try and unruffle the Indian's feathers, so to speak, she began to walk toward him. Helen had only taken two steps when she was suddenly jerked back by North and pul ed to his side.

"What are you doing? That is a savage!" North barked, sounding as though he were horrified at even being in Sam's presence.

Knowing how Sam usual y liked to play up to people's stereotypical thinking that al Indians were uneducated, barbaric, and dangerous, Helen knew he was probably already thinking of what to do to shock. North even more.

"But, North, he's ..."

"They've been known to scalp a fel ow before he could even let out a scream," he stressed in a low voice, al the while keeping his eye on Sam. "They also like to take white women back to their camps and use them as their slaves."

Helen stopped short of rol ing her eyes. "You know this, but you can't remember your own name," she whispered back with exasperation. Then In a louder voice,

"North, if you'l just let me intro -"

'Why don't we start walking toward the house very slowly? Perhaps he'l leave us alone." He started to pul her to walk around Sam, when the Indian suddenly pul ed out the long knife that had been strapped to his hip and then made a show of examining his blade, flashing the metal against the sunlight.

Helen noticed North appeared to be growing more apprehensive by the minute.

"All right, you've had your fun, Sam. Now put the knife away, she cal ed out. Sam scowled at her. "But I haven't even shown him my frightening war cry," he complained. North looked at her with disbelief. "You
know
him?" Helen's arm was starting to hurt as North unconsciously kept tightening his grip. "If I vow with al sincerity that he wil not scalp us, wil you let go of my arm?" North immediately let go, his face matching the apology he offered her. "Please accept my forgiveness; I did not realize..."

"Are you hurting my woman?" Sam roared angrily, as he stomped over to where they were standing.

Helen groaned, holding out a hand to stop the tal man. "Wil you cease cal ing me your woman?" she lamented. "I've told you time and time again that I - "

"I demand to know what he means by the words 'my woman'," North interjected, his question directed to Helen but his eyes steady on Sam.

Helen put her hands on either side of her face and shook her head. "Oh, dear!

This is getting dreadful y out of hand. If you both would stop and listen-"

"I have tried three times to barter a trade between myself and Baumgartner for Helen," Sam started to explain in his blunt way.

"You've done
what?"
North interrupted, but Sam, unfazed, continued.

"He has rejected al my offers, but this time I don't think he wil ." He waved a hand back toward the black horses. "This time I have brought not two, but three of the finest horses around this area. I do not think he wil refuse."

"Trade..." North choked as he listened to Sam. "That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard. You can't be serious," he barked and turned to Helen.

"Tel me he isn't serious."

"Sam, I told you our people do not trade women or even men for horses or anything else! It's just simply not civilized."

Sam scoffed at her words, which he'd heard many times before. "1 have seen white men barter for the black men and women," he countered. "1 see no difference!"

How can I argue with that?
Helen stared at Sam, disconcerted. "Sam, I am not for sale, and there is no more I can say about it. Mr. Baumgartner, even if he wanted to, could not trade me to you. He doesn't own me."

"I can't even believe I am hearing this conversation. Why are you trying to reason with him?" North said, exasperation threaded in his tone. "This is none of your business, white man!" Sam barked, his eyes glaring at North.

Helen quickly jumped, in, in an attempt to defuse whatever was happening between the two mistrustful men. "I haven't introduced you two, have I?" she asked brightly as she stepped between them, causing them both to back up.

"This is Sam Youngblood, Reverend Campbel . He lives just across the bayou.

Sam, this is my friend, North. He is the new preacher in town."

Suddenly the hostility left Sam's face, and he smiled broadly. "You are a preacher?"

North seemed unsure of how to react to the Indian's sudden change of attitude.

"Yes," he answered after a brief pause.

Sam nodded as he zeroed in his focus on Helen, his interest in her shining in his dark, mysterious eyes. "That's good. Because if I can't barter for Helen, then I suppose I'l have to get her another way," he stated.

North tried to move around Helen, but she kept sidestepping him. Final y he just pointed to Sam over her shoulder. "What other way would that be?" Helen moaned, "Oh, dear!" She looked over her shoulder and saw Sam was actual y enjoying the fact he was upsetting North. Sam shrugged, and with a sigh that sounded as though he was quite put out, he answered, "I'l have to woo her into marrying me, I guess." "Mar--" North choked on his words again. "Did you hear what he just said?" he practical y shouted at her. Oh yes, she'd heard, and she was just a little perturbed at his seeming reluctance to try to court her. It didn't matter that she didn't want him to!

"You don't have to seem as though it would be a great hardship to woo me!" she scolded Sam. ' You were certainly wil ing to give up your best three horses for me, so what is the difference?"

North, standing behind her now, tapped her on the shoulder and whispered forcibly in her ear, "Helen, do you hear what you are saying?"

"It's a lot less work!" Sam answered over North's whisper.

"Wel , I never!" Helen huffed, insulted by his words.

"So can you marry us?" Sam asked over her shoulder to North, ignoring Helen's outrage.

"Absolutely not!" North stated with a steely resolve.

"I never said I would marry you!"

"Why not?" Sam pressed, his question not directed at her but at North again.

"I am not marrying anyone, so please stop discussing a wedding that wil never happen!" she yel ed at them both as she backed away and glared with hands on hips.

"Do you always yel like this? I'm not sure I want a wife who is so loud," Sam observed with a sudden frown.

Helen tapped her fingers on her hips. "Then I shal make sure to yel at you every time we meet!"

Sam scowled at that answer. North smiled at her with admiration.

Both men were driving her crazy.

Without so much as another word, she whirled around, tossing her dark curls behind her, and marched to the house.