Etienne counted the days until he could see Katie. He calculated how long it would take Gerrit to leave for Sevigny-le-Rideau. Each day he hoped for a message but nothing was forthcoming. It meant Gerrit and Katie had left immediately, he consoled himself.
In the meantime he found himself a celebrity in his village. Word spread and villagers came to see him by the droves, to see the miraculous healing in his life.
No matter how much he tried to tell them Jesus had healed him, he heard all kinds of speculations from the peasants. Stories came back to him that it had been a visitation of the Virgin Mary and they wanted to build a monument. Others that he had had a demon expelled from him. They looked at him with suspicion.
He sat with the curé at night, frustrated at how little the truth seemed to be heard.
The old man smiled with understanding. “You see how important discipleship is.”
“What do you mean by ‘discipleship’?”
“Teaching people what the truth is.” He thumped the worn Bible with his forefinger. “You must learn it for yourself first.”
Etienne gave a faint smile. “I will have good teachers in Katie and her family. They all quote Scriptures upon every occasion.”
“That means they have read and studied it.”
“That is what I must do.”
He began that very evening to read the gospels in the New Testament, and it was as if he were reading them for the very first time. The life of Jesus unfolded with a new clarity and reality he had never seen before as a boy studying his catechism.
He asked questions the following day of the curé and looked forward to the day he would be able to discuss his readings with Katie and Gerrit.
In the meantime, he had gone to the magistrate and mayor and identified himself.
Instead of waiting for Gerrit, he took the curé and Florentin’s father and returned to the château. He half-expected Marcel and his mother to have absconded but they were still in residence.
That is how little they feared his return, he surmised. When he was shown in to see them, the curé at his side, Jacques parked at the door, his stepbrother and stepmother were seated in a parlor, looking as relaxed as if he were making a social call. But at the sight of him walking in, they sat up. Celeste dropped her fan, Marcel stood.
Etienne held up a hand to forestall their questions.
“I want you to know that the good Lord has restored my sight and my legs. I am no longer the helpless victim you can take advantage of.
“That being said, I give you notice that I want you to vacate these premises within forty-eight hours. You are not to take up residence at my father’s hôtel in Paris. I never wish to see either of you again. If you do not comply with these orders, I will bring formal charges of murder against you both.”
He stared at each in turn, to make sure his words had sunk in.
They said nothing for a few seconds. Finally, Marcel flicked an imaginary spot off his jacket sleeve. “You presume much, brother. You yourself could be charged with treason.”
“I will take my chances on that. I am giving you an opportunity to escape only because of my father’s memory. I do not wish to have his name dragged through the courts. But my patience and tolerance is very slim. If you do not leave within this time, I will not hesitate to bring formal charges. I have witnesses who will be glad to testify on my behalf against you.” He stared hard at his stepbrother until Marcel looked down.
“I would suggest you leave the country. If he hasn’t absconded already, you can take that scoundrel Pierre with you. I will not extend this same amnesty to him if I find him on these grounds.
“One last thing. I would like my father’s signet ring returned to me.”
His brother glanced down at his hand, his fingers curling into his palm. After a few seconds, he slipped the ring off and held it out. Etienne approached him and took it from him.
“Thank you.” He put it in his pocket, not wishing at that moment to wear the ring that had so recently been on his stepbrother’s finger.
With a nod to his stepmother and Marcel, he turned from them. “That is all. You are my witnesses,” he said to the curé and Jacques.
Etienne felt dirty having had to face Marcel and Celeste one last time.
The old curé patted his back as they left. “Courage!”
“I hope they obey. I do not relish having to deal with them any further.”
“If they are smart, they will,” the curé murmured. “Eh, Jacques?”
“Yes,” Florentin’s father said unsmiling. “Many will be happy to see them gone, and I think they know it. If the law doesn’t deal with them, they know they may find themselves waking up in the night to a group of unhappy servants.”
“Do you think I did right in allowing them to be gone?” he asked the curé later.
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “It is not for me to say. It is between you and your conscience.”
Etienne wished he could discuss things with Katie, but she wasn’t there. But somehow he thought she would understand and would applaud his decision. For so long he’d been consumed by hate, and now it was gone. He had no wish to hurt anyone, even if they had hurt him.
He was relieved when Jacques came to inform him that Marcel had departed with his mother and Pierre. A few of the house servants had also fled, he reported, those who had been hired by them.
Etienne left the parish and returned to take up residence at the château. He occupied his old room. He visited his father’s room, hoping some day to be able to inhabit it. But he didn’t wish to do so until he had wed.
He looked out a window in that room. It overlooked a beautiful formal garden. He would never take for granted the sights his eyes beheld.
Would Katie ever be his bride?
Fear edged his consciousness. When would he see or hear from her?
It was only a few days later that Tom returned with Gerrit. Etienne rushed out when he heard of their arrival. Gerrit gave him a wide grin, then the two men embraced. It seemed as natural as if they were brothers.
Gerrit stepped back, marveling over his condition. Etienne looked beyond him to the coach, but no one else emerged. “Katie—where is Katie?”
Gerrit’s smile disappeared. “She didn’t come. She stayed behind with Hester. But she sent you a letter. Here it is.” The words sounded awkward, which was unusual for Gerrit.
Etienne frowned as he took the envelope from Gerrit. “Is something wrong with her—or with Hester?”
“No, no, they are both fine. But...but Katie felt Hester needed her—” he coughed—“at this time, you understand.” He didn’t quite meet his gaze.
Etienne broke open the seal and unfolded the letter. Only a note, he saw in disappointment as his gaze devoured the scant words.
When he’d finished reading it, he looked at Gerrit. “I am glad she is well. And thank you for coming. As it is, I have fought my dragons on my own—that is, not on my own, but with some allies the Lord has sent me. Come inside and I will tell you all.”
It was only later that evening, when he could read Katie’s note again that he sat and pondered the meaning of her words. It said so little. It was almost like a note dashed off to an acquaintance. It was true he had written her a short note, but that had been in haste before Tom’s departure.
Was it because of that? Did she doubt Etienne’s love? But he had made it clear in his note. He had told her how much he longed to see her.
He curled his hand into a fist, frustrated at the miles between them. He needed to see her. He could tell by the merest inflection of her tone when something was bothering her.
He smiled, remembering those days. Now, he would be able to see her. What color were her eyes? Gray, had she told him once? Now he’d see if they darkened when she was troubled, or did they shine when she spoke of the Lord? All those things he’d imagined when he’d sat in her presence, sightless, he’d now be able to ascertain.
He looked back down at the note in his hand and his smile disappeared.
Your Sister in Christ, Katie Leighton.
Yes, indeed, she was now his sister in Christ. But was that all she was? Had he imagined the rest of her feelings? Had he imagined their kiss? Had she kissed him out of pity? He remembered her staunch words to her brother-in-law. She had not disavowed her love for Etienne and her belief in a future for the two of them.
What had happened since then? Had absence weakened her feelings—feelings bred out of pity? Did that mean that now that he had regained all he’d lost, like Job, she could let him go and return to her old life?
The thought filled his veins with ice. He felt as powerless as when he’d sat blind and immobile at Pierre’s mercy. He shuddered, remembering those days. He never wanted to experience that sense of helplessness again.
Something she’d said to him the day they’d kissed at the Bois de Boulogne came back to him. If he ever regained his sight and beheld her, she’d have to run away.
The words resonated in the stillness. Had that happened? Was she refusing to come to him because he’d be able to see her? She always belittled her appearance. He remembered all she’d told him of her troubles in Maine and how uncomfortable she felt amidst French society. What was she afraid of if he saw her? Did she think he would be disappointed?
He must do something to reassure her. He would return to Paris. No matter the tasks that still needed his attention here. No matter if he risked losing his château and lands again if Marcel and his mother knew he was gone.
He would be back and this time, God willing, with his dear Katie at his side.
* * *
Etienne arrived in Paris in record time. Dusty and travel-worn, he hardly saw the city that he hadn’t been able to see for the past two years. All he wanted to do was rush to Katie’s house and see her.
But he forced himself to first go to his own residence.
To his relief, the house was empty of all traces of Marcel and his mother. He greeted the servants and endured their shocked exclamations with good grace, though his heart was beating with impatience to see Katie.
Gerrit had applauded his decision to return to Paris and promised to take care of things for him during his absence.
Once he had tidied up from his journey and dressed in clean clothes, Etienne gave himself one last look in the mirror—something that still startled him each time—and adjusted the knot in his cravat. He looked different to himself, thinner still, and older.
“Thank you, Lord, for the gift of sight,” he whispered as he did each time he beheld himself, before turning away.
His palms were damp by the time he arrived at the imposing hôtel where Katie and her family were staying. He’d sent a note on ahead informing Hester Hawkes of his intended visit, asking her to please keep the knowledge from Katie, because he wanted to surprise her.
He was ushered into a parlor, where he found Hester sitting by herself. She smiled and extended her hands. “I’m so glad you come back.”
He bowed over her hands, squeezing them. “Thank you for receiving me.” Katie’s sister was a lovely woman. If Katie was anything like her in appearance, he would be pleased indeed.
Hester beamed up at him. “Praise the good Lord for your healing. You look wonderful. I can hardly believe you are the same man.”
He smiled. “I feel very little like the same man.” He cleared his throat. “Katie is here?”
She nodded. “She has no inkling you have arrived. You shall find her on the third floor doing her French lessons, as far as I know. Why don’t you go on up?”
He swallowed. “You think she will want to see me?”
Hester smiled. “There is only one way to find out.”
Having to be satisfied with that, he bowed and made his way out again. Though he had resided in the house for some weeks, he had no idea of the layout since he had been carried everywhere. A servant stood in the hallway and Etienne asked him to direct him.
A few moments later, he stood before the door to Katie’s classroom. He decided not to knock but turned the knob softly and pushed the door open.
She stood with her back to him, writing on a blackboard. She was conjugating a French verb. At her side stood a stern-looking woman he surmised was her tutor. With a movement of his hand and a finger to his lips, he motioned the woman to leave them.
His appearance must have been such that the woman, after a quick blink of the eyes, headed toward the door.
Before Katie could turn around, he said in a peremptory manner to hide his nervousness, “Aimer—do you know that verb?”
Katie’s hand stopped on the chalkboard. The next second she whirled around, the chalk falling from her fingers. Her hands flew to her mouth. “Etienne!” she whispered.
Shock was all he read in her widened eyes. His gut clenched as dismay filled him. There was no welcoming in her face and tone, only fear. What had he done? Had he miscalculated everything?
Ignoring his own fears, he began to walk toward her. “It means ‘to love.’ It shouldn’t be too difficult to conjugate. It is a regular verb. But do you know it, Katie?” he repeated.
“J’aime, tu aimes,” he began for her.
“Il aime, nous aimons, vous aimez…” she continued in a low, unsteady voice. He’d been right. She was afraid.
“If you add an object it becomes je t’aime. Has your instructor taught you this structure?” With each word he advanced. As he grew closer, she stepped back but bumped into the chalkboard.
He reached out but the moment he touched her, she gave him her back.
“Please don’t,” she choked out.
He let his arm fall to his side, stunned at her rejection. “What is the matter, ma chérie? Is my presence so unwelcome? Is my touch so distasteful to you?”
She covered her face with her hands. Please...please...go,” came out in a broken whisper.
“I will not go until I know what I’ve done—”
She whirled around. “You’ve done nothing! Please, please don’t ever think that.”
He stepped closer, shocked at the tears of agony filling her beautiful gray eyes. “Please tell me, Katie. You are tearing me up inside with worry.” He took her by the shoulders. “My dearest, darling Katie, don’t you understand how much you mean to me? You are my life!”
She shook her head at his words. “Don’t say that! You don’t know me. Now you see me for the first time. Don’t you see? I am no one, just plain Katie. You are a count and so handsome and strong...” With each word, her bottom lip trembled until she was sobbing outright.
How could she have doubted his love? “You think because God has granted me my sight and use of limbs—restoring to me what was mine—that I would cease to love my Katie, the only thing of beauty to come and save me from my wretchedness and despair?”
He touched her skin again. “You are beautiful, my Katie, the most beautiful woman I know, more beautiful than I ever imagined with my mind or eye or in my dreams.”
She whimpered as if in pain, shaking her head as he spoke. He shushed her once more with a fingertip to her lips.
“You must allow me. It has been so many weeks that you were able to see me, but I could not see you. You must indulge me.” As he spoke, he gazed at her and touched her face with his fingertips the way he had when he was blind. “Let me get my fill, though I imagine that to be impossible.” He caressed her temples, his gaze feasting on her features—soft gray eyes, so full of fear right now, rosy-hued cheeks, and half-parted, pink lips.
“Your eyes,” he said in a voice of awe, “they are like the sky at dawn as the first rays of sun are illuminating it. And your nose—” His forefinger trailed down its length to its tip—“so fine.”
He touched one of her curls. “Your hair is just as I imagined, the way you described the color to me—neither dark nor fair, but in-between like the hazelnut paste that I used to love as a child. And so soft,” he murmured.
His fingertips came to rest once more on her lips. “Remember when you indulged me by letting me ‘read’ your face?”
Katie nodded, mesmerized by Etienne’s words.
He smiled, like a child fascinated by an object. He traced the contours of her mouth. “How I would love to see a smile on these beautiful lips.”
Katie had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Etienne had caught her at her worse. She had on an old gown, her hair was falling from its knot, and likely there was chalk dust on her face.
She was so afraid of seeing disappointment in his eyes, yet all she read was love.
His dark eyes met hers again. “You cared for a blind cripple enough to visit him each day. Could you not come to care for a man whom the Lord has made whole?”
His words caused her mouth to tremble once more and her vision to blur. “I do care,” she whispered.
“Then why do you cruelly tell me you are leaving without even allowing me to see you?”
She couldn’t speak, her throat had closed up so. All she could do was shake her head and close her eyes. The tears leaked out and trailed down her cheeks.
“Oh, ma pauvre petite, don’t weep.” His fingers wiped away a tear.
Her body went stiff with shock when his lips touched the other trail of tears. She couldn’t push him away. She had no resistance left.
Lower went his lips, kissing her check down the trail until they reached the outer corner of her lips.
If his hands had not held her shoulders, she would have fallen. Slowly, like a sleeping person rousing, she opened her eyes and found his own staring into hers. His face was inches from her, his irises a warm, deep chocolate, a question in their depths, as if asking her permission to go on.
All it would take was a fraction of a move to the left and she would be out of her depth. She would be in a place she’d never known, the depths of the sea with not even a piece of driftwood to hold onto.
Or, the highest tree limb of the old oak tree in her backyard, which she used to climb up as a child, then let go without knowing where she’d land; or the summit of Stillman’s Hill where she’d hike with her sled in winter, knowing in another second she’d go hurtling down at an every-increasing breakneck speed, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth screaming with laughter.
Letting all fears and doubts melt away, she found herself making the fraction of a movement of her head toward Etienne.
Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear... Her lips met his, warm, soft, gentle, and ever so real.
“My Katie,” he breathed against her lips. Hers parted just enough to welcome his.
His eyes closed, his face bent downwards until all she could see was the blurred outline of his dark hair. She stood on her tiptoes, her arms wrapped around his neck, and closed her eyes. Her fingers entwined in his hair, as once again she remembered its silky feel.
He deepened the kiss and then they were embracing, kissing each other as if their lives depended upon it.
Finally, he let her lips go just enough to look down at her. “Oh, my Katie, ma chère, ma vie—my life—my love, will you be mine?”
She wanted to say that she already was. Instead she drew up a hand and touched the corner of his eye. “I think it is now that you are blind.”
His beautiful lips curved upwards. “If I am now blind, then I am happy to remain so.”
His gaze sobered. “But I do not think I am. I think I see more clearly than I ever have before, and I thank the good Lord for opening my eyes so thoroughly.”
She couldn’t smile, not yet, although she was having a harder and harder time refuting his words. Almost he persuaded her that she was beautiful...
She looked down. “I...was so afraid you’d be disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” He softened his tone, reaching out to touch a lock of her hair.
“Katie,” he said in his endearing accent. “How could I ever be disappointed?”
“I’m not—” Her voice faltered. “Not...beautiful. You are...so handsome...and I’m plain. You must have imagined someone I could never live up to.”
“You are just what I imagined.” His fingers came up to her cheek, “and so much more,” he murmured.
“You—you’re so tall,” she whispered.
“Is this a problem?”
“No—o.” Her hand pushed against his chest, a firm wall. Her fingers splayed against his coat, and she felt the dull thud of his heartbeat.
“I dreamed of this moment...for so long…ever since I first heard your voice on the esplanade,” he said.
Did he see her? Perhaps his vision was blurred. She tried again. “I’m not handsome or elegant—”
He put a finger to her lips. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever beheld because your beauty comes from here.” He touched her chest. “And radiates out from here.” He touched the corner of her eye.
Tears filled her eyes and overflowed once more, as all the while she shook her head.
“Now what is this nonsense of running away to America? People who love one another do not behave in such a cowardly fashion.”
“You are right,” she whispered. “I am cowardly.”
“But you will be so no more. Remember your faith. It is you who were brave enough to befriend me. You who rescued me from Les Invalides and nursed me back to health. You who helped me believe in a future. Now you must be brave, but you will have me at your side.”
She didn’t know what else to say. He had slain all her defenses. In their kiss her soul had been laid bare to him.
“Will you marry me, Katie? Will you be my wife and allow me to love you and take care of you from this day forward?”
Her palm cupped his cheek. “Are you quite sure, Etienne?” She searched his eyes. “Perhaps you should give yourself more time to adjust to your newfound life.”
With her first words he was already shaking his head. “I know that in you I have found the best I will ever find. The Lord brought you to me. You revealed His love to me. And now I hope you will not withhold yourself from me. You have me—you have my heart.”
“Oh, Etienne.” Her voice broke.
Then his lips covered hers once more.
“Say yes, Katie,” he murmured between kisses. “Do not deny me this. Do not deny yourself.”
“Yes...Etienne,” she finally whispered on a sigh. “Yes...yes...yes!” she said, kissing him back, her arms tightening about his neck.
A few minutes later they parted enough to talk. The miracle the Lord had wrought in Etienne amazed her afresh. She touched his cheek lightly. “You look so wonderful! How do you feel?”
“Like the happiest man on earth.”
She blushed. “Not about me—us. I mean since the Lord gave you back your sight and the use of your limbs. I could scarcely believe it when Tom told us.”
He shook his head. “Nor I, who experienced the twin miracles. It was beyond belief. It didn’t happen all at once. I don’t know if I could have hidden my reaction then, and that was crucial, I think. I needed to be able to not only catch Pierre but more importantly, Marcel and his mother. Pierre was only a pawn, after all.”
She shuddered. “What will happen to them?”
Distaste drew his lips downward. “I leave them in God’s capable hands. I did not want to see my father’s name dragged through the courts. They have left and that satisfies me.”
“The Bible says, ‘It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God,’” Katie whispered.
“Enough of unpleasant things.” He took her arm in his and patted her hand. “Come, let us greet your sister, whom I left in the sitting room, and give her the good news. I must have behaved like a madman when I first came in, but she was very understanding.
“She and I have been so curious about all that has transpired since you left us.”
He tugged her forward. “I will tell you all you wish to know of my time in Sevigny and of a very loyal pet awaiting you. He’s been very patient.”
She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Brioche! How is he?”
“Fine. He found someone to take care of him for you.”
“I also wish to tell you of the Château St. Honoré, which I hope you will soon see for yourself.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, but her insides fluttered with worry.
As if reading her mind, he patted her hand. “Do not worry, my love.”
Katie allowed herself to be led out. Her heart was full to overflowing with her love for Etienne and her gratitude to God, so she managed to push down any misgivings she had about their future together.