Justine stopped and pointed ahead. “Alcee and I are going to get a lemonade. Would you like one?”
They both said no, and when they closed the distance between the two girls, Alcee whispered she could convince Abram and Agnes to stay with them. “You two keep walking and don’t turn around.”
“That sounds dire, Alcee. Biblically dire,” Lottie whispered back.
Lottie and Gabriel continued to walk and were only steps away when Alcee let out a high-pitched mewl. “Justine, I have to stop. My ankle must be shattered.” Then, within moments, “Agnes, how could you leave me….”
“We missed her first theatrical performance in front of an audience,” Gabriel said. “You were talking about my lips on yours.” He smiled.
Lottie sidestepped a low spot but her voluminous skirt did not, and the weight of it started to pull her to the ground. She emitted a noise that sounded more like Isabelle’s child, but Gabriel’s arm encircled her waist and his other hand held her arm before she fully embarrassed herself by tumbling down the levee.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he whispered in her ear before he released her.
Lottie smiled. “No. But I would be happy if you wanted an encore.”
“Continue,” Gabriel said.
If only I did not have to. She wished the memories of this day would end here. “Before and even after my party, I allowed myself the luxury of imagining a life with you. Each possibility ended in having to leave the city. That terrified me, until I thought of a life without you. That is when I knew I had the courage to leave.”
“That is exactly what I came to tell you,” he said.
His fingertips on her face were like feathers, moving from her eyes to her cheeks to her chin. He kissed her forehead. He was so close, she felt him breathe. And with every ounce of strength she could pull from her heart, she placed her hand on his lips. “Stop. I wasn’t finished.”
She explained everything her grandparents had told her, what they would lose if the marriage didn’t happen. “I can’t walk away, knowing what the consequences would be for them. You wouldn’t want to be with me, because I wouldn’t want to be with myself.”
“I…I can’t believe you are telling me that you will marry a man you don’t love so your grandparents can sell a piece of land and make money from it. From you.”
“Why does that surprise you? Look at the marriages among my friends. Plantations, business partners, cash, stocks…they are arranged mergers. And my grandparents are not earning a profit. I am making it possible for them to keep their home,” Lottie said. “What would happen to Agnes and Abram if they couldn’t?”
“So, that is it, then?”
“You have been making a sacrifice for your family ever since you chose not to go to Paris to stay here and help your mother. I at least thought you would understand that much.”
“Except that the decision to choose Paris never happened for me in the way that it was meant. What I sacrificed was an immediate education, and it was fully my decision. Rosette supported me either way. It’s not the same, Lottie.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But they are my grandparents. They raised me, and now they need me.”
“I’m sorry too. You know about his other marriage, don’t you? And that she is with child?” Gabriel’s tone was harsh, unfamiliar.
“If I had not known before, that was a cruel way to tell me.”
Gabriel stopped out of hearing range of everyone waiting for them. “Please do not expect me to understand that the woman I love will marry a man whom she does not love and who probably does not love her. Bartering herself for a piece of land.” He looked at her, the sadness in his eyes belying the coldness in his voice. “I do not want you to come with me on Sunday. Or any Sunday thereafter. I hope you understand.”
* * * * *
“Honey chile, you need to wake up.”
Lottie heard the scrape of the draperies, which meant her room would be pulsing with sunshine and, when Agnes opened her French doors, cold. Still, she didn’t move. She didn’t even remember how she came to be in bed. Gabriel walking away and Agnes’s voice, but nothing in between.
“You already missed breakfast, and if you get up now, you might make it to lunch. If you don’t fall over all dis you left on the floor before you git out of your room.”
Agnes must have been hanging her clothes, judging by the creaking of the armoire doors.
“What you want to wear today? How ’bout dis yellow one? Brighten you up.”
“Please leave me alone, Agnes. I am not getting up, and I am not wearing that horrid yellow dress. And when I do wake up, I will find my scissors and make yellow shreds of it.” Lottie felt the mattress tilt. Agnes sat close enough to unpin the mess of curls at the back of Lottie’s head. When she had freed every curl, Agnes finger-combed Lottie’s hair, stretching it across the other pillow.