shouldnt have to point out that in wartime it is what a man does that counts. You have a chance to redeem yourself. Take some advice from an old friend. Dont jeopardize your career again over a woman."
Jacquess temper flared. "Mara is not like that. She is still loyal to her dead husband. She would never betray the man she loved."
"I did not mean to question her virtue," Alain said with a shrug, "but in my opinion, you need a woman who will bring joy into your life, not a grief-stricken widow. And she needs a man who can bring her stability and respectability."
Jacques stared into the flames, pondering his friends words. That his career could be easily jeopardized was true, but he had plans to resign as soon as the war was over. As for joy, that was fleeting, as he had told Mara just that morning.
Mara.
With an unexpected twinge of disappointment, he realized that on one point Alain was right. She needed a steady, respectable man. Without a doubt, she deserved better than a dishonorable bastard.
* * *
The trading post was a long rectangular building opposite the main gate of the fort. Mara followed Brother Denys across the parade ground, trying to ignore the stares and whispered comments of the soldiers. She felt vulnerable without Corbeau to shield her from them.
Inside the building, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim light. Looking around, she spied a counter behind which stood the largest man she had ever seen. The chaplain introduced her to Claude Bernard who welcomed her with a huge grin. He appeared to be about fifty years old with a luxuriant black beard sprinkled with gray. But his brown eyes sparkled with good humor and joie de vivre.
While he went to get his wife, Mara wandered around looking at the trade goods in the storeknives, blankets, kettles, combs, and tobacco. In one corner stood a table covered with scattered scraps of paper and writing materials.
Claudes wife, Sophie, was a thin, tired-looking woman with the wisdom of the ages in her eyes. A blond girl of about six years peeked from around her skirts.
"Is this your daughter?" Mara smiled at the child who stared solemnly back at her.
Sophie patted the girl. "No, she is an orphan, taken in a raid."
The haunted look on the childs face tugged at Maras heartstrings. She knelt down and lightly touched her arm. "Then we have something in common, little one. I, too, am a captive."
When the girl still said nothing, Sophie explained, "She does not speak French very well yet."
"Is she English?" Mara asked.
"German, we think," Claude answered.
"What is your name?" Mara asked her in German.
The girl smiled suddenly. "Barbara." This was followed by a torrent of German that Mara could not follow.
"Slow down," she said to the girl.
"Not now, Babette," Sophie said in French. "You can talk with Madame Dupré later. Now go play with your doll."
With a shy smile, Babette ran out of the room.
"How is it that you speak German, madame?" Brother Denys asked.
"I am Swiss," she explained. "Though I grew up in a French-speaking city, my grandfather insisted I learn German as well. His family was originally from Bern."
"Can you read and write, madame?" Claude asked with a gleam in his eye.
"Yes, my grandfather believed that all children should be taught to read."
"Excellent." Claude clapped his hands together. "Then you can help me with my correspondence and accounts."
"Yes, of course."
The big man beamed at them all. "Now I will not have to trouble the good chaplain with my worries."
"But why " Mara began, then broke off at the warning look on Sophies face.
The older woman leaned over to whisper in her ear. "My Claude cannot read and write. I can figure well enough to keep the books, but when it comes to writing letters "
"I understand," Mara assured her. "I will be glad to help you in any way."
"Let me show you where to put your things."
Sophie led her into the small room off the main store, which served as the
Jacquess temper flared. "Mara is not like that. She is still loyal to her dead husband. She would never betray the man she loved."
"I did not mean to question her virtue," Alain said with a shrug, "but in my opinion, you need a woman who will bring joy into your life, not a grief-stricken widow. And she needs a man who can bring her stability and respectability."
Jacques stared into the flames, pondering his friends words. That his career could be easily jeopardized was true, but he had plans to resign as soon as the war was over. As for joy, that was fleeting, as he had told Mara just that morning.
Mara.
With an unexpected twinge of disappointment, he realized that on one point Alain was right. She needed a steady, respectable man. Without a doubt, she deserved better than a dishonorable bastard.
* * *
The trading post was a long rectangular building opposite the main gate of the fort. Mara followed Brother Denys across the parade ground, trying to ignore the stares and whispered comments of the soldiers. She felt vulnerable without Corbeau to shield her from them.
Inside the building, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim light. Looking around, she spied a counter behind which stood the largest man she had ever seen. The chaplain introduced her to Claude Bernard who welcomed her with a huge grin. He appeared to be about fifty years old with a luxuriant black beard sprinkled with gray. But his brown eyes sparkled with good humor and joie de vivre.
While he went to get his wife, Mara wandered around looking at the trade goods in the storeknives, blankets, kettles, combs, and tobacco. In one corner stood a table covered with scattered scraps of paper and writing materials.
Claudes wife, Sophie, was a thin, tired-looking woman with the wisdom of the ages in her eyes. A blond girl of about six years peeked from around her skirts.
"Is this your daughter?" Mara smiled at the child who stared solemnly back at her.
Sophie patted the girl. "No, she is an orphan, taken in a raid."
The haunted look on the childs face tugged at Maras heartstrings. She knelt down and lightly touched her arm. "Then we have something in common, little one. I, too, am a captive."
When the girl still said nothing, Sophie explained, "She does not speak French very well yet."
"Is she English?" Mara asked.
"German, we think," Claude answered.
"What is your name?" Mara asked her in German.
The girl smiled suddenly. "Barbara." This was followed by a torrent of German that Mara could not follow.
"Slow down," she said to the girl.
"Not now, Babette," Sophie said in French. "You can talk with Madame Dupré later. Now go play with your doll."
With a shy smile, Babette ran out of the room.
"How is it that you speak German, madame?" Brother Denys asked.
"I am Swiss," she explained. "Though I grew up in a French-speaking city, my grandfather insisted I learn German as well. His family was originally from Bern."
"Can you read and write, madame?" Claude asked with a gleam in his eye.
"Yes, my grandfather believed that all children should be taught to read."
"Excellent." Claude clapped his hands together. "Then you can help me with my correspondence and accounts."
"Yes, of course."
The big man beamed at them all. "Now I will not have to trouble the good chaplain with my worries."
"But why " Mara began, then broke off at the warning look on Sophies face.
The older woman leaned over to whisper in her ear. "My Claude cannot read and write. I can figure well enough to keep the books, but when it comes to writing letters "
"I understand," Mara assured her. "I will be glad to help you in any way."
"Let me show you where to put your things."
Sophie led her into the small room off the main store, which served as the
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