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“Not always. This Pinkerton problem is resting on her shoulders and she’s not happy being manipulated.”
“I’m only asking because Dorrie has predicted a true marriage between us, so I’d like to know what I’ll be getting myself into once we become man and wife.”
Emile cocked his head. “Dorrie said what?”
Brax explained about the dress, adding, “Of course, I’m just pulling your leg. I don’t actually believe her.”
Renay and Emile shared a speaking look and again in unison laughed so loud and long, Brax swore they were heard in Boston.
“Does Raven know?” a wide-eyed Renay asked when he seemed able to speak again.
“Yes.”
And another round of laughter shook them so forcefully, Brax thought they might fall over the railing to the ground below. The hilarity was contagious and he smiled in response. “Why is this so funny?”
“No offense, but Raven marrying someone as staid and proper as you appear to be? How mad is she?”
“She and I have been at odds over everything since we met, so I’m not sure about this in particular. You don’t really believe Dorrie’s prediction, do you?”
The still chuckling Renay said, “Dorrie is never wrong. Ever.”
Emile added, “If she’s predicting a wedding and knows what she’ll be wearing, the deal is pretty much sealed.”
Brax refused to take them seriously.
“Has anyone told you about our Dorrie?”
“No.”
The humor on Emile’s face was replaced by a solemnness that gave Brax pause.
“Her mother died giving her birth. The midwife declared Dorrie stillborn, but a minute later, she drew her first breath. She was named Dorcas after the woman in the Bible who came back from the dead.”
A chill ran up his spine.
“She has what the elders call Sight,” Renay added. “She sees and knows things a child her age shouldn’t. Most times, she’s just a little girl who likes to skip rope, play jacks, and sometimes get in trouble as most children do, but there’s a side of her that predicted our grandmother’s death, knows when bad storms are on the way, and what the sex of an unborn baby will be—among other things.”
Emile further explained, “She doesn’t offerpredictions often, but she’s always accurate, so we’ve learned not to be dismissive.”
“But not everything she tells us is something earthshaking,” Renay said with a fond smile. “A couple of months back, I misplaced my favorite pair of driving gloves. She had no way of knowing they were missing or that I’d searched my apartment frontwards and backwards. She approached me during a Sunday family dinner and told me where to find them. Damned if she wasn’t correct.”
Brax didn’t know what to think. He was from practical, ship-faring, god-fearing Boston. No one talked about people with Sight, at least as far as he knew. “No one can predict the future.”
“Ignore Dorrie’s gift at your own peril,” Renay warned.
Emile smiled and playfully slapped him on the back. “You’ll enjoy being a Moreau. Promise.”
“And we could use a good tailor in the family,” Renay told him.
Brax glanced to see Raven standing in the doorway. He wondered how much she’d heard. By the way she met his eyes and swiftly turned on her heel and disappeared, he guessed more than enough.
“Is it too early for cognac?” Raven asked after leaving the verandah and reentering the library.She walked over to the small cabinet where her mother’s liquor was kept and withdrew a bottle and a number of glasses before glancing around the room at her seated female cousins. “Anyone want to join me?”
Her mother and Harrison had retired to the study to work on the extra sketches, so only Alma, Beth, and Lacie remained. No one declined, so Raven poured a few fingers in each glass and passed them around. She raised hers in a toast. “To my sanity.”
Smiles filled the room.
Bethany asked, “Does this have to do with the pretend marriage to the very handsome Steele the younger?”
