* * * * *
The day Gabriel saw Lottie at the girls’ home, he’d thought it was an answer to prayer. But while the prayer might have been his, the answer was not the one he wanted or expected. He had rehearsed the scene so many times in his mind since his talk with Rosette that when Lottie did not follow the role he had written for her, he had no response. Before he could share with her that he loved her, she relegated their relationship to friends. And with Abram and Agnes waiting in the fiacre, was there any point in continuing the conversation?
So, instead, he’d told her he understood. Understood? No. Gabriel watched her leave and wished they played a grown-up version of tag so he could run after her. He could say, “You’re it. Forever. You always were. You always will be.” But she didn’t turn back to look at him once. Lot’s wife might have saved herself from becoming a pillar of salt had she the same strength.
Walking home down the side streets, Gabriel ordinarily paid no attention to anyone but Lottie. Today, he heard the lyrical chattering of women gathered on porches. Some rocked sleeping infants stretched across their laps. The others leaned against the slatted shutters, sipping coffee, their faces bronzed by the afternoon sun. Most of the dinner gatherings were ending, and families spilled from porte cochères with their lavish gardens and gurgling fountains. All of it making him aware of how alone he was.
By the time he reached home, Gabriel had convinced himself that Lottie might have saved them both. The idea of the two of them having an open relationship was as likely as the notion of flying. Would she walk away from her life? And if so, where would they go? Live a life without family, friends? Would that be a life either one of them would want?
Chapter Eighteen
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February 1841
Dear Mama and Papa,
The date draws near for my coming-out party, for it is now only seven days away as of tomorrow. In reading over letters of the last month, I was overcome by how unkind I have sounded about the event. I have decided I must no longer think of this as punishment or be ungrateful for what Grand-mère and Grandpère are doing for me. They are doing what they know you would have done for me.
I told Gabriel something today that pained me to say and him to hear. Is it wrong for me to deny my true feelings if, in doing so, I believe I am saving someone from heartache? I have come to realize that as long as I allow myself to hope there could be something more between Gabriel and me, I would always be unhappy when left alone with thoughts about my future. I care deeply for him, so much so that I believe what I feel for him is love. I think this afternoon he may have been on the verge of expressing those same emotions for me. I stopped him. I told him that our friendship was important to me, making it seem as if that was the extent of my relationship with him. Oh, if you could have seen his expression after my words slapped him in the face.
Would life not be easier for him to think we were merely friends? All the hope in the world would not change our circumstances. And if he believes that I do not feel the same way about him, then he would be free to make a life for himself.
I think Agnes knows how I feel about Gabriel; she tried to console me. She told me Jesus has been watching me my whole life and He wasn’t going to stop now. She said I need to trust Him, that just because I am in the dark doesn’t mean He’s not holding a candle. Mama, when Agnes talks to me, it is like a mother talking to a daughter, and I imagine what it would be like if you were here.
And I so wish you could see my beautiful dress! Grandmère spared no expense and, I must admit, I feel like a princess when I have it on. It is amazing that all those yards of fabric have been transformed into this spectacular gown. Madame Olympe designed the white tulle to be worn over the white silk, and it has two pink lace flounces, each headed with a quilling of black ribbon. In each of the festoons in the lower flounce is a medallion with black ribbon quillings and pink lace, black ribbon, and tulle. The right side of the bodice crosses over the left side just around my shoulders and dips low in the back. The sleeves are four puffs of silk and tulle, separated by rows of braided black and pink ribbons, ending at my wrists with frills of white lace.
Papa, I am certain that flounces and medallions and quillings are as interesting to you as my listening to Agnes talk about how to make a gumbo. Though she did tell me I needed to listen to her because I wouldn’t know if the cook left something out. I said I’d just send the cook to her first!
Saturday evening Justine and I are to attend the opera with her older sister and her husband. Lucia di Lammermoor is now playing, and I have heard that it is an outstanding production. Grand-père is quite pleased that I am attending the theatre with my friend, as he says I need to enjoy my youth.