Chapter 16

It was good, on days like today, for Alexandre to have a place of his own. It had been a month since he had left Josette, and though he was on the prairie, surrounded by wide-open spaces and windswept grass, he still felt as if he couldn’t take a deep breath.

He sat on the front porch, his Bible in hand. It was Friday, which meant he only had two days to finish his sermon. He planned to speak about the prodigal son, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the second chapter in Genesis. He read the words aloud, knowing he would find no comfort, but reading them anyway.

“And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.” He stopped, his voice cracking from the weight of his loneliness. “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.”

He closed the Bible and leaned his head back against the rocking chair. He could not stop thinking of Josette. Even in the pulpit, while his mouth spoke the sermon he had prepared, he thought of his wife. At least a dozen times, he had started to compose a letter to her—but he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t bring himself to ask her to come to him—and he knew, with every fiber of his being, that he couldn’t go back to St. Louis.

Fragrant wildflowers blanketed the August prairie and butterflies flitted about, but the joy of the day was lost to Alexandre. He had tried to keep a happy face for the others living at the mission, but he failed. He’d told them Josette had stayed behind to manage her father’s business, and he was sure the Greenfields would ask him to leave, but Mrs. Greenfield only smiled and reassured Alexandre that God didn’t make mistakes. Her confidence was something he struggled to feel himself. He needed his own space to put his life back together, so shortly after his arrival he had bought a two-story clapboard house close to the mission and the Mississippi. A clothesline and chicken coop sat in the back and an oak tree sheltered the front, with a picket fence encircling the whole yard.

He often sat on the porch and watched the water flow by. It was the same water that would one day pass St. Louis, and then go on to New Orleans. It was a tangible connection to the people he loved most in the world.

Alexandre set his Bible on the little table next to his rocker and stood. Maybe he would take a walk and clear his mind, so he could prepare his sermon.

He put his hands in his pockets and walked to the riverbank, staring into its murky depths. Summer was at its peak, and the prairie was alive with life. Birds sailed through the air, singing to one another, while ground animals scampered on their quest to put up food for the winter. But all Alexandre could focus on was the prayer he had uttered every day since leaving St. Louis: “God, please ease the pain in my heart, and let Josette fade into a distant memory.”

Instead of fading away, his love only grew, until he thought his soul would jump out of his body to seek after Josette.

A rattle on the road startled him out of his melancholy. The stagecoach passed by on Friday afternoons, and Alexandre usually waved at the driver as he sat atop the shiny red vehicle.

But today, the stagecoach didn’t drive by. It stopped.

Alexandre turned from the river and strode through the tall grass to the front of his home. Hopefully no one was sick, or injured. Maybe the driver just wanted to chat for a few moments.

A movement in the back of the stagecoach brought Alexandre to a sudden halt. Through the small window he could see two women. The one closest to him was a stranger—but the other looked just like Josette.

His heart raced. Was he imagining? Had his grief taken him too far?

The driver jumped down and shouted howdy before opening the stagecoach door.

Alexandre held his breath as one of the women stepped to the opening.

She wore a beautiful blue traveling gown with a matching hat, and when she lifted her face, she offered Alexandre the biggest smile he’d ever seen.

“Josette.” He said her name like an answer to prayer. He raced to the stagecoach and lifted her off the step, hugging her in a massive embrace.

She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his face, over and over, until she was giggling and breathless. “Alexandre.”

Her laughter was like a balm to his weary soul. “Why are you here?”

She smiled, tears glistening in her beautiful brown eyes. “Because you’re here.”

He wanted to believe what he was hearing—but he had to be sure. “Ma chérie, are you here to stay?”

She smiled and then leaned down and whispered into his ear. “If you’ll have me, I’m here forever.”

Alexandre didn’t care if he had an audience—he wanted to kiss his wife.

And that’s exactly what he did.