The Willows (38 page)

Jude snorted. “Michael likes chocolate
cake, and we don’t have no cocoa.”

“
Any.” Biting her lip, Gwen
smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s a force of habit, correcting your
grammar. My mother used to do it to me all the time.”

Jude thought back to when Gwen had said
and talked about her mother, how she missed her so much. It may
Jude want to cry, too, for she still felt an aching pain, and an
incredible anger. Poor mother, if only she’d known how to fight
back. If only Jude and her brothers could have helped save
her.

“
Don’t worry,” Gwen said,
interrupting her thoughts. “I know how to get cocoa. I would just
bat my eyelashes and talk really pretty, and Michael will bring it
next time he visits.”

Jude shook her head in disappointment.
“Why do you do that?”

“
Do what?”

“
You don’t need to use your
looks to get something. Where simple folks, who like plain
speaking. We don’t have much use for fancy ways, all those pretty
smiles and flirting lashes that don’t mean a thing.”

“
I don’t-“

“
Yes, you do. I’ve watched
you with Michael. He hates it when you try charming him into
something. He likes it better, heck, we all do–when you stick to
the truth. If you want something, just come right out and ask for
it.”

Gwen flinched, then sucked in a breath.
“All right, here is plain speaking then. I’m tired of being
useless. I need to succeed here. And to do it, I need your
help.”

Jude fought against the warm, nice
feeling spreading inside her. “What you need me for.”

“
For one thing, I can’t bake
a cake on my own. I am a disaster in the kitchen, and I’m even
worse outdoors. If I hope to survive in the bayou, I will need to
know what creatures to steer clear of, where I can go, and what to
avoid. It will be easier to teach me these things if we are sharing
a room.”

Jude looked at her, torrent. It could
be a trick, but truth to be told she had lots of questions herself,
questions only another female could answer.

“
Can’t we at least give it a
try?” Gwen pressed gently. “After a week, if you still find the
situation intolerable, we can talk to your uncle about making other
sleeping arrangements.”

A week did not seem that bad, Jude
decided. Suppose she could survive that.

She wasn’t sure if she nodded or not,
but as if finding agreement in her stance, Gwen said, “good. In the
meantime, wouldn’t Michael be surprised to find that whole in the
roof finally mended? Here it is September. If we have a hurricane,
it will be nothing left in that pantry.”

Us? We? The woman was going too far,
too fast.

“
Not that I know much about
carpentry, but I suppose now is a good as time as any to
learn.”

“
You mean to help?” Jude
asked, stunned. “You didn’t burn the roof though.”

“
No, but I did draw the
alligators here. The way I see it’s, we all have mistakes to deal
with, so why not pitch in and work together?”

“
I don’t get it. You don’t
sound the same as when you first came. You sure have
changed.”

“
I hope so.”

“
Yeah” grabbing her string
of fish, Jude pushed out the door, daunted by how much she found
herself sharing that hope.

***

Lance marched into the rivers view
Tavern. Having been in every saloon in the bayou, he had yet to
find a guide willing to work for the small money he could offer.
Shudder to think this hideous I could well be his last
resort.

At the last place he wished to visit,
someone suggested Jim Longley might know a man so down it out, he’d
worked for the promise of a bottle. Lance had been reluctant to
come here, for his regulation of this Tavern were not too pleasant,
but he could put up with Longley’s rudeness, I got him a guide into
the swamp.

When reaching the tavern he fine met
the man he was supposed to meet. When Lance ask him what his name
was. He responded with the name “Morteau.”

Chapter 17

Gwen peaked in the pot at the hearth
and smiled in satisfaction. The children had nearly finished first
to – not bad for her first attempt. Not that she could get too
cocky, for as Jude pointed out, she’d laid too large a fire to cook
it. The front door still open to the night air in attempt to cool
the room.

Looking about her, Gwen marveled at
what a difference a week could make. Here was Jude helping her wash
dishes, while the twins cleared the table, and Christopher tidied
up the rest of the room. Of course, the boys argued as they worked
in Jude war in large frown, but at least they had hitched into do
their share. Not domestic bliss, perhaps, but all in all, she
thought it was a good.

It started when she volunteered to help
fix the roof. She’d gotten horribly dirty and broken several
fingernails each time the hammer slipped, but from that day on, the
children began to view her in a new light. While they didn’t fully
accept her, they seemed more and more likely to listen to what she
had to say. They had even begun reading lessons-provided she rose
early enough in the morning to catch them before they disappeared
into the swamp.

She longed to know what lured them
there, kept them there, but she knew better then to ask. They must
had several secrets they weren’t prepared to share, around her,
they often spoke in low whispers. She could pry, poke and prod, but
they’d tell her about their fortress when they were good and ready,
or they wouldn’t tell her at all.

In that regard, they were a lot like
their uncle.

Sighing as she stacked the dirty dishes
in the cupboard, Gwen wondered if Michael would ever return to
finish their argument. Every day, she braced herself for the
encounter, prepared for his every possible reaction, yet every
night, she’d fall into bed, exhausted and unfulfilled. She needed
to see him, confront him, and hold him tight…

No, she told herself firmly, slamming
shut the cupboard door. It was silly, attaching so much importance
to a single kiss. Very perhaps a series of kisses, each one more
magical than the last, but it had nothing to do with the deeper
emotions. With

Love.

Just one glance, she told herself. A
single look in his eyes, would surely tell her that lance was still
the man she wanted.

“
How come Patrick gets to
play?” Christopher whined at her side.

“
Yeah,” Peter seconded. “We
have to work, why doesn’t he?”

Gwen’s own guilty start was imitated by
Patrick. Jumping up from his seat by the hearth, he dropped the
piece of would he’d been carving and kicked it backward, toward the
fire.

Gwen cried out in protest as she picked
it of the floor. “Patrick, no. Not after the effort you put in
this.” She traced the intricate detail, marveling at the child’s
skill. “It’s such a beautiful sword.”

The boy looked to his sister, who moved
to stand between him and Gwen like a mother protecting her child.
Reaching out, Jude took the wooden sword from her hands. “Wasn’t no
effort. He carves up stuff like this all the time.” She tried to be
offhand, but it was obviously difficult to keep the pride out of
her tone.

“
But it’s so smooth and
dangerous-looking. And look at the lovely dragon carved on the
hilt. Please don’t toss it in the fire, Patrick. Let me have
it.”

He looked at Gwen in surprised, while
Jude hid the sword behind her back. “It’s mine. He made it for
me.”

All four brothers looked at Jude, their
closed expressions again shutting Gwen out. Another secret, she
thought unhappily; once more, she’d strayed into forbidden
territory. Would she ever be able to talk to these children, and
not have to worry about each word she utters?

“
Well, you’re a luck girl.”
She didn’t bother to hide her envy. “Your brother carved you a
hero’s weapon. Worthy of Ivanhoe himself.”

“
As a reward for doing their
chorus, Gwen had been reading her favorite Sir Walter Scott novel
to them each evening, and Jude Blatantly pleased to be singled out
as the hero. Her brother, however, appeared more delighted that
Gwen had saw the swords value. Patrick was a deep one, shed
discovered, a dreamer who felt compelled to hide the
fact.

“
I want the story now.”
Christopher tugged her hand, urging her over to the book shelf.
“It’s time, I cleaned up the best I could.”

Smiling, Gwen reached for the dog-eared
copy of Ivanhoe. How surprised shed found it on Michael’s shelves;
given his dark scowls, she expected more serious reading. It seemed
there might be more than a secret romantic in the
family,

“
Very well, I’ll read,” She
said, turning to face the children. “But until we review tonight’s
lesson.”

It was her one stipulation. Before she
read a word, they must review the table manners they’d learned at
dinner. It not only reinforced the lesson, it made a more eager
audience for her story.

“
We supposed to talk only
about pleasant topics,” Peter began as they sat before her on the
floor.

“
And never talk with our
mouths full.” Paul made them giggle by puffing up his cheeks and
pretending to chew.

“
And why shouldn’t we?” Gwen
prompted, knowing how easily these discussions could degenerate
into a laugh.

“
Consideration for others.”
Patrick glanced meaningfully at the twins. “You’re not supposed to
laugh too loud, either.”

“
Yeah,” Paul added with a
grin. “No one wants gumbo spit out all over the table.”

“
Or Gator guts.”

“
Or-“

“
I think we get the Idea;
Gwen stifled a smile. Let loose, the twins could banter back and
forth all night. “They only thing that should come out of your
mouth are topics of discussion. Let’s think of some few pleasant
ones.”

“
Good books,” Christopher
suggested. Encouraged by Gwen’s smile, he added, “Like
Ivanhoe.”

Jude snorted beside them. “It’s all
right, but I’d much rather read about Camelot.”

There was a collective groan from her
brothers, but Gwen’s interest jumped. How interesting, that she and
Jude should share a liking for the Arthurian legend.

“
King Arthur is ten times
the hero Ivanhoe is.” Jude crossed her arms across her chest. “And
besides, he had Merlin.”

Of course, she’d like the magician the
best. Gwen found herself wishing she have grown up with Jude. Shed
bet anything the girl would make playing Camelot twice the
adventure it had been.

“
Merlin,” Peter said
blankly. “What a fake.”

“
He is not a fake.” Jude
stood, glaring down peter. “Merlin is the greatest magician that
ever lived.”

Peter stood with her. “Yeah, then why
didn’t the experiment work? All we got was a hole in the pantry
roof and Uncle Michael mad at us.

“
Experiment?” Gwen watched
all five go instantly still. “For pity sake, don’t stop now,” She
said. “I helped mend the roof. Don’t I deserve to know how it got
burned?”

The boys looked at Jude. “She did help
us,” Patrick told his sister. “I think we should tell
her.”

Not waiting for her answer, he
scrambled up and went to the shelves. Curious-and a bit excited
that they’d meant to share a secret with her – Gwen watched him
select a book and bring it back to her. Jude glared, but made no
move to stop her brother.

“
We saw that picture,”
Patrick said. Opening to a page in the middle.

Taking the book from him, Gwen found a
dramatic rendition of a robed Merlin, conjuring up spells over a
cauldron on an open fire, his assistant holding a long, metal rod.
Underneath, the cation read “Turning lead into gold.” Confused, she
glanced up at Patrick for an explanation.

“
Jude said she knew the
right spell,” He began.

“
It was the right spell,”
Jude insisted angrily. “It would’ve worked fine, if the twins
hadn’t started fighting over who would carry the pipe. It want
until it slipped out of Peter’s hands that the fires scattered and
embers went flying.”

Gwen remained bewildered. “You started
a fire in the house?”

Again they fell silent, looking at each
other.

“
It was raining outside,”
Christopher said with his sad little boy face. “We had to try.
Uncle Michael needs our help.”

Jude turn her glare on him. “You have a
big, mouth, Christopher. Didn’t we agree she was not supposed to
know that?”

“
That was before the
gator.”

“
He is right,” Patrick
intervened. “If it wasn’t for her, Christopher would not we
here.”

“
Yeah,” Paul, seconded. “And
she kept the code of honor. She never did tell Uncle Michael about
the snake.”

Gwen held her breath, hoping that this
once, she’d be included in the secret.

“
Oh, all right,” Jude said
suddenly. “If you have to know, we wanted to make gold, so Michael
won’t need to work so hard.”