Although six, long months have passed since Rebecca took her leave from Jean Luc Rousseau near the outskirts of Breles, his feelings for the young woman have remained the same . . . Six months have passed since the Redemption and her crew set sail for the West Indies, but tensions continue to mount back home as Napoleon Bonaparte, in his vain quest to rule all of Europe, creates a quick and efficient chaos to erupt among his countrymen, as well as his British adversaries in neighboring England. Mounting an oppressive manhunt for suspected dissidents and traitors loyal to the French Republic, Bonaparte creates a ruthless regime of terror in which daily executions are carried out in the name of political genocide. Jean Luc Rousseau, along with Claude and Marielle Laroche, are sheltered from the all-too-recent upheaval living in the quiet community of Guilers, until an enchanting newcomer arrives. Her very presence threatens the placid complacency that has each of them under its spell, but when calamity strikes, all believe that only Rebecca can provide the evidence necessary to substantiate the truth. Will the Redemption return in time for her to save the life of Jean Luc Rousseau?
Redemption's Return
Book ThreeBy Erin HeitzmannAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2011 Erin Heitzmann
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4634-1179-4Chapter One
Marielle Laroche pushed herself to and fro in the old, wooden rocking chair she'd pulled into the encircling warmth of the fire, enjoying the respite from the chill that always seemed to pervade the air in the humble cottage during the cold, damp days of March. The winter had seemed interminably long and difficult, leaving most of the inhabitants who resided in the quaint little town of Guilers longing for spring, but none more so than Marielle, for her belly was swollen in pregnancy and the only warm clothes that she owned were much too small to accommodate the girth of her forthcoming child. The blast of a chilly wind blew over her when Remi, the oldest of the three Laroche children, stepped through the door, his arms wrapped around a large bundle of wood. Stomping over to deposit the rough hewn logs, he dropped them near the cook stove.
"Remi," Marielle scolded. "Take your boots off outside ... look at all the mud you've brought in!"
His mother's quick reproach brought an exasperated scowl to the young boy's features. "Mama," he retorted, "I can't very well get my boots off with my arms full of kindling, can I now?" Remi Laroche had just turned fourteen years of age, leaving him floundering in the vast chasm between the carefree antics of youth and the mature responsibilities of adulthood, but nevertheless, his mother's temperamental moods of late were wreaking havoc on his already hormonally influenced disposition.
"Remi!" Claude Laroche bellowed from the loft above. "Do not speak to your mother in that tone of voice!"
Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Remi retreated through the portal and out into the encroaching darkness, intent on seeking solitude in the barn, where he knew none would harass him with such petty grievances.
Claude slipped down the ladder suspended from the rafters and peered into the warmly lit room which sheltered his wife. "Do you feel up to the church service tonight, cherie?" he asked. The pregnancy had been especially trying on the young woman, and Claude was making a sincere effort to handle his interactions with her with as much gentleness and patience as he could muster.
"No," Marielle murmured, "but I'd appreciate it if you would take the children ..."
A quiet grin splayed across Claude's features. "Need a few hours to yourself?"
"A few weeks, preferably," she teased through a mock grimace of disdain.
Claude remained quiet for a time while he studied the lovely features of his wife.
"What I need," Marielle continued through a lamenting sigh, "is Rebecca. She handles the children so well ... and it would give them respite from my sour moods of late."
"Well," Claude began, "we could always petition the Almighty to bring her back to Guilers now, couldn't we? Perhaps Bonaparte's ruffians will find the time to recapture some more of her friends ..."
"Claude!" she rebuked. "That is hardly a matter to make light of!"
He shrugged his shoulders in helpless defeat, uncertain as to how to console the woman.
"I just miss her," Marielle continued. "I wish this unrelenting war would come to an end so she could return in peace ... without the threat of harm befalling her."
"There is talk, Mari," Claude began in a hushed voice. "Some say the Bourbon's are attempting to reclaim the throne ... "
"And you honestly think Bonaparte will allow that to happen?"
"They say we will have the support of the English on our side ... Bonaparte may have no choice in the matter if he is defeated ... or better yet, forced to surrender."
A light tapping at the portal distracted their pensive musing for a moment. Claude strode across the short expanse of room to see who called on them at such an odd hour, but finding his friend, Jean Luc Rousseau, he pulled the door open wide and beckoned him into the warmth of the small room.
"Hello Claude, Marielle," he smiled. "I thought perhaps you might like me to take the children to the church service ... give you some time alone?"
A smug grin lit the features of Claude Laroche. "You read my mind, Jean Luc, but please, take me as well. I fear I am trying my wife's patience with my lack of sympathy." Claude was quick to pull his coat from the hook on the wall as he called for Isabelle and Claudia. "Perhaps you could check on Remi?" he asked the Frenchman, wanting to help his two, young daughters into their jackets so as not to disturb his wife. "He has taken up residence in the barn."
The befuddled confusion which descended upon Jean Luc's features brought a hearty chorus of laughter from both Claude and Marielle. "It's the only place he remains free of our endless rebukes," Claude grinned.
A knowing nod confirmed his understanding, and offering a polite tip of his head in farewell to Marielle, Jean Luc slipped back into the chilly air.
"Why isn't mommy going with us?" Claudia asked in her typical sing-song voice.
"Mommy is very tired," Claude said. "She is going to stay by the fire and rest."
Claudia peeked around the bulking mass of her father to study the quiet form of her mother, but seeing the woman's eyes had already drifted shut, she held a chubby finger against her pursed lips and whispered, "Shhhh ... she's asleep."
Claude pulled his youngest daughter into his arms, and clutching her snugly against his chest he beckoned Isabelle through the portal. "We mustn't keep Monsieur Rousseau waiting," he murmured, tugging the door shut tight against the pervading nip in the air.
* * *
Rebecca Burgess frolicked about in the waves, the sun having already made a stark impression on her red-tinged cheeks. Petty Officer Andrews watched on through a tender smile, happy to allow the girl the brief respite from the infernal warmth of the afternoon. The Redemption had been in the West Indies for the past several months, and though all were grateful for the absence of inclement weather more common in the north, most were growing weary of the endless days of humidity and heat.
"Mr. Andrews," a kindly voice interrupted from behind.
Spinning about on his heel, the petty officer caught sight of Lieutenant Paul Burgess. Giving him a crisp salute he said, "Good afternoon, sir."
"I don't suppose you've seen my wife about, have you?" the officer inquired.
"Oh, but I have, sir," he affirmed, gesturing toward the placid ocean swells with his head.
"Of course," the lieutenant replied through a lofty grin. "Why should I have expected her to be anyplace else?"
The two men approached the stern and leaned against the railing, watching the unaware but contented Rebecca Burgess moving with smooth strokes along the length of the frigate. By this time she was nearly as tan as the natives which inhabited the islands, but the dark shade of her skin only served to accentuate the honey colored strands of hair woven throughout the mass of curls on her head, as well as the emerald green hue of her eyes.
"Mrs. Burgess," the lieutenant called out.
Rebecca peered toward the deck, her eyes squinting against the brightness of the noonday sun. An enchanted smile lit her features when she caught sight of her husband staring down at her.
"Might you be free for lunch? Captain Jameson requests that we join him in his stateroom."
"If I said no, would you come in after me?" Rebecca teased through a mischievous grin.
Paul Burgess began to peel off the cotton shirt that clung to him, the thought of a quick dip in the beckoning waves offering a temptation he was not likely to resist.
A peal of laughter resounded as Rebecca said, "Wait! It's alright ... I'm on my way up."
Not to be deterred, the officer climbed onto the railing and dove into the water, much to the delight of the petty officer who observed the scenario through a smug grin of complacency.
Rebecca slipped back away from the Redemption to watch her husband, a captivated smile of delight lingering on her face. When he surfaced near her, a squeal of surprise erupted and she plunged beneath the waves to escape his grip. The two splashed about for several minutes, while Petty Officer Andrews returned to his duties on deck in an attempt to give the newly wed couple a moment of privacy.
Paul Burgess swam up beside Rebecca and pulled her into his warm embrace. "You're chilled, Rebecca," he said, startled by the cold sensation of her skin. Her all too recent brush with death by hypothermia never lingered far from his mind and in his desire to allay his apprehension he said, "I think it's time we get out. Besides that, we mustn't keep Captain Jameson waiting."
Rebecca, ever sensitive to the frailties of her husband's great concern for her safety, nodded her acquiescence and began to pull herself toward the frigate. She was grateful to see Mr. Andrews waiting for her, a heavy, cotton covering in his hands. Climbing the sinewy rungs of the rope ladder, she slid over the railing and wrapped herself in the warmth of the thick fibers, her expression of gratitude not going unnoticed by the petty officer who was so meticulous in attending to her needs.
Glancing at Lieutenant Burgess, Mr. Andrews said, "I'm sorry, sir ... I only brought one blanket out with me."
"Not to worry, Mr. Andrews," the officer assured. "I'm certain my wife will share hers."
Petty Officer Andrews watched the happy, young couple meander along the length of the Redemption until they disappeared into the corridor that would return them to their berth. Rebecca kept the covering wrapped tightly about her, more so in a demonstration of cautious modesty, for the lingering gazes of the crew who worked on deck never ceased to trail after her.
Captain Jameson reclined on his settee awaiting the arrival of Paul and Rebecca Burgess. Dr. Ammons was in attendance, as were Lieutenants James Edwards and Phil Sommer. The group had planned to surprise Rebecca, for today was the girl's twenty-first birthday. A light tap at the door announced their arrival, bringing all who waited to their feet in eager anticipation.
"Come!" Captain Jameson called out.
From the darkened corridor, Paul motioned for Rebecca to proceed ahead of him, and when she stepped into the captain's stateroom a boisterous chorus of birthday wishes arose. The smile of delight that splayed across Rebecca's features quickened the spirit of Captain William Jameson, and he was suddenly overcome with gratitude at the realization that God, in His infinite mercy, had deemed him worthy of the young woman's friendship.
"Is it the sixteenth already?" Rebecca queried.
"Indeed, it is," Captain Jameson replied, stepping forward to wrap the girl in an endearing embrace. "The sixteenth of March, to be exact ... the day the world was graced with your presence, Rebecca."
A bright giggle welled up and she said, "I'm not sure if the world shares your sentiment, Captain." Peering around him she cast a playful wink at Lieutenant James Edwards.
The officer's heart warmed at the joyous elation so evident on the features of the young woman, and he too approached her to offer her a tenderhearted embrace. The two had forged an indestructible bond of solidarity after their voyage into France, and Rebecca found Lieutenant Edwards was her strongest ally in matters pertaining to the petty issues that would, on occasion, arise in her newfound life aboard a ship doing service during a time of war.
The cheerful banter in the room was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of George Robbins, the captain's steward, who had arrived with an elegantly adorned birthday cake and several steaming pots of tea.
Rebecca's eyes widened in delight when she caught sight of the cake. "Mr. Robbins," she breathed. "It's beautiful!"
The steward's countenance shone at the generous compliment from the young lady. Handing her a long, silver carving knife he suggested, "Perhaps you would like to cut it, Mrs. Burgess?"
"Rebecca," she corrected through a quiet smile, unaccustomed to the formality her recent marriage seemed to evoke among the crew whom she had long considered friends. Taking the gleaming knife in her hand, she sliced through a thick mantle of frosting and into the moist layers of cake hidden beneath it. "It smells delicious, Mr. Robbins," she murmured, touched by the man's kind gesture. She placed generous portions on plates and began to pass them to the men hovered around her, including George Robbins.
The steward appeared flustered by the girl's actions and shot a nervous glance at Captain Jameson, for the thought of a mere steward dining among a group of officers went against all standards of maritime protocol.
"Please, Mr. Robbins," the captain urged, "join us in celebrating this special occasion. In fact," he continued, glancing at Phil Sommer, "why don't we ask Petty Officer Andrews and Eddy Mayes to join us as well."
A brief nod signaled Lieutenant Sommer's acknowledgement of his commander's request, and he slipped from the room to summon the two midshipmen. Within minutes the three reappeared, and each took a seat at the table where Rebecca was quick to serve them. The atmosphere in the cabin remained lighthearted and cheerful, while the pleasant conversation continued well into the afternoon. One by one the group departed, having chores to attend to that could not be put off by a mere birthday celebration, leaving Lieutenant Burgess, Rebecca and Captain Jameson alone at last. Stepping over to his cabinet, Captain Jameson plucked a neatly wrapped parcel from the shelf.
"A special gift for a very special young lady," he smiled, handing the parcel to Rebecca.
A gracious smile of surprise descended upon Rebecca's features as she took the gift the captain offered. Lieutenant Burgess watched on, his affectionate gaze fixed on his wife. Rebecca began to peel away the wrapping, her eyes bright with curiosity, and when she saw what lay inside a delighted sigh escaped her.
"Ohhh ... it's beautiful, Captain," she breathed, gazing down at the thick, leather-bound bible in her hand. A simple, rugged cross had been burned into the leather, and her name, Rebecca Burgess, was inscribed in gold just beneath it, the cursive penmanship simple yet elegant, just as she had always proven herself to be. "It's my favorite book," she mused through a distant smile. "I don't know how to thank you..." Thumbing through the gold edged pages, she peered down at a passage and began to read. "I have said before that you have such a place in our hearts that we would live or die with you. I have great confidence in you; I take great pride in you. I am greatly encouraged; in all our troubles my joy knows no bounds ..."
The memory of Jean Luc uttering those very same words during a very recent interlude of great tribulation in her life sprang with instant clarity to mind, every detail intact, and she found herself once again offering thanks for the Lord's gracious blessing for the treasured gift of friendship. She allowed her thoughts to linger for several quiet moments on Jean Luc Rousseau and Claude, Marielle and the children, while Captain Jameson and Paul Burgess observed her pensive deliberation through quiet expressions of intrigue.
* * *
"How is Marielle faring, Claude?" Jean Luc Rousseau queried in a low tone. They had taken up seats near the rear of the sanctuary after seeing the children delivered to their bible lessons.
"As well as can be expected, I suppose," he grinned, "Her body is tolerating the pregnancy well, but her emotions are volatile and unpredictable. She's tired most of the time, and as of late she has been pining after Rebecca. I know bearing a child is no easy task, Jean Luc, but I cannot seem to draw her out of her melancholy frame of mind."
"I regret to say that being with child has little to do with pining after Rebecca," he said through a sad smile. "Perhaps I should spend an afternoon with Marielle," he mused. "Then we could wallow in our misery together."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Redemption's Returnby Erin Heitzmann Copyright © 2011 by Erin Heitzmann. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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