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“Yes, both your points are well taken.” However, the memory of the austere atmosphere of the convent sent a chill up her spine and she drew her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “I do not want to leave the rebuilding of my home entirely up to others, though. I think I should be here to help in whatever manner I may.”
André chuckled at her determination. “You are a very proud young woman, my dear, and while that is an admirable quality, you must not allow it to cloud that fine mind of yours and prevent you from observing what must be seen.”
“That is the way you used to speak to me when I was a child, André. When I’d come to the stable to give our horses treats, you always had some word of advice for me.” She had found his instruction useful once, but she was reluctant to accept it now.
“That was not so many years ago, although it seems like a lifetime to me now.” André placed two bowls of steaming porridge upon the table and invited Celiese to join him. They ate quietly, both far hungrier than they cared to admit.
When they had finished, Celiese sipped the herb tea and asked skeptically, “What is it you think I do not see?”
André leaned forward as he whispered, “The secrets you have hidden in your own heart.”
Confused, Celiese nevertheless argued, “I’ve no secrets of any kind, not hidden from myself or anyone else.” That he seemed to think her so devious a creature as Mylan did hurt her badly, for she was quite fond of him.
Frustrated that she did not see his point, André spoke more harshly, “Of course not, but are you certain the fact your husband chose to leave without bidding you goodbye was as unexpected a shock as it appeared?”
Blushing brightly with embarrassment, she looked away, unable to think of any way to express how she felt about that betrayal other than what he had observed the previous day upon the beach. “I would rather discuss the plans to rebuild my house, if you don’t mind. That is what matters most to me now.”
“You cannot mean that!” André responded angrily. “It is obvious to me it is Mylan who matters most to you, but if you will not admit that truth to yourself, how could you have communicated that important point to him?”
Stunned by the clarity of his observation, Celiese realized that the depth of her feeling was not something she had ever attempted to put into words. She had tried only to express those tender emotions with all the imagination and devotion she possessed. “You do not understand how things were between us, there is no way that you can.”
“It is not necessary that I understand anything, it is only you and Mylan who must seek an accord.”
“The man is gone, André, there is nothing I can do now to make him see what he refused to accept when we were together. It was hopeless from the beginning, for my love was never returned. He did not even want a wife when we first met, and most especially he did not want me.” She fought back the tears threatening to overwhelm her again, tears of anger as well as sorrow. With no desire to put on another pathetic display, she lifted her cup to her lips instead, and finished her tea, grateful to have that distraction.
André waited until he was certain Celiese again had her emotions under control, for he had not meant to upset her, only to assist her in finding her own truth. “If your husband were to return today, what woul
d you tell him?”
Puzzled by that question, she refused to speculate on so unlikely an eventuality. “He will not return for a very long time, if ever, André.”
“Indulge me then, for I am an old man, and should I not live until his return, what will you tell him?” He smiled in his most charming fashion, hoping she would play his game.
Celiese frowned, remembering only how she had wanted to show Mylan how well she could live without him. “I am afraid I would say all the wrong things. He would become angry with me as he always does, and he would probably just leave me again.”
“I am pleased to see you understand far more than I thought you did. You are correct when you say you have many questions without answers, but you will gain nothing by avoiding them. I think the fog has begun to lift. I will saddle the horses while you gather your belongings, for surely your own inner peace must be found before you can devote your attentions to supervising your estate. I will take you to the convent for the time being, while we begin work on your home, and perhaps when I come for you, you will have thought of a thousand ways in which to greet your husband without angering him. What do you say? Is that idea not a fine one?”
“Do not saddle the horses as yet, André. Let me think about this a while longer, please.” Celiese tried to smile, for she knew he was being kind. He was as fond of her as she was of him. She left his home to wander slowly back to the ruins of her own, choosing this time to walk down the overgrown paths that had once been part of her mother’s beautifully tended garden. Here and there a flower remained, growing wild now amongst the weeds, and she bent down to pick up a handful of soil as she had done on her first visit there with Mylan.
It had only been dirt, he had said, no more or less than the rich soil that covered his farmlands. “It is not a question of land, though, but of what a person loves as his home.” She knew that, even if he had not, but was her loyalty to the place where she had been born and surrounded with love no more than pride of the most foolish sort?
She was more confused than she had ever been, but if the answers to her problems lay within her own heart, as André insisted, then she would be a fool not to seek them. Gathering up the few things she owned, she made her way to his cottage, ready to join her mother in the Convent of Saint Valery for however many weeks or years it took her to find the secrets she had hidden even from herself.
Chapter 26
Mylan spent the day forcing himself to concentrate solely upon maintaining a firm grasp upon the tiller, giving his full attention to successfully making the voyage home, but his thoughts betrayed him time and again. “Home.” He spoke the word softly to himself as if it were a curse, for he wanted only to put France far behind him, rather than having any great desire to return to his native shores. Winter was coming, its chill already in the air, and he knew he would merely be marking time until spring when he could again set sail in the Raven.
He would go to his farm and hunt when he could, but the weeks he had spent alone there after Celiese had gone had offered little of the peaceful solitude he had craved. He had been far too restless, and none of the activities that had consumed his time as he had prepared for the harvest had held his interest.
He had no qualms about facing his father after taking a voyage the man had forbidden. He would tell him the truth of why he had left so hastily, but he still shuddered to think how close Celiese had come to falling victim to the Torgvalds’ lust for revenge. His anger rekindled at that memory, his handsome features set in a deep frown. No, he had no apologies to make to his father, but the man he had once respected so completely owed him an apology, one he was uncertain he would ever accept.
Despite Mylan’s preoccupation with his problems, the Falcon’s progress was swift, but when they went ashore to make camp for the night he found himself the object of many curious stares. He had no explanation he cared to give as to why he had left his lovely bride behind, and so he offered none. The men of the crew were strangely silent, none wishing to begin the lively exchange of jokes and laughter that usually filled their evenings. Knowing his solemn mood caused their discomfort, he finished his supper in a few hasty bites and excused himself, leaving their midst to search out a place to be alone with his thoughts.
Finding a small clearing nearby, he stretched out on his back and propped his head upon his hands as he looked up at the shimmering stars. He knew their patterns well, and how to use them to plot an accurate course, but it was not a question of navigation that plagued his mind that night. He had made his decision to leave Celiese in the heat of anger, but he had given her the choice. It was better to end their marriage after no more than one day than to continue to bear the agony she had made him endure in the months since they had first met. He hated her in that instant, despised her for twisting his emotions until they were no more than tangled shreds. Yet even as he lay surrounded by the peace of the night, finally rid of her maddening presence, he missed her so terribly he could scarcely stand the pain piercing his heart with an unbearable loneliness.
No matter how fierce their perpetual arguments might have been, she had made a paradise of his nights, and it was the memory of that sweet pleasure that tormented him unmercifully now. He knew he would never find her equal, nor did he even wish to begin a search. He was exhausted both mentally and physically, his courageous spirit as well as his powerful body drained of energy, and he began to repeat the prayers Father Bernard had taught him in hopes of lulling himself to sleep but each word reminded him of Celiese and how desperately he had tried to win her love and how miserably he had failed.
*
