Hearts Made Whole by Jody Hedlund

Author:Jody Hedlund [Hedlund, Jody]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC042030, FIC042040, FIC027050, Lighthouses—Michigan—Fiction, Man-woman relationships—Fiction, United States—History—Civil War (1861–1865)—Veterans—Fiction
ISBN: 9781441269492
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2015-04-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Caroline smoothed Sarah’s ebony hair off her face, which was as white and delicate as a single wood nymph flower.

“Monsieur Poupard would never lock you in the cellar,” Sarah whispered in her raspy voice while she peered out the window overlooking the backyard.

“I’m sure you’re right, but still . . .” Perched on the edge of Sarah’s bed, Caroline had a perfect view of the sprawling back garden that was now completely barren . . . except for the presence of Monsieur Poupard, who was kneeling in the dirt.

With the falling of dusk, Caroline had been about to ascend the tower when Sarah’s call had stopped her. Her sister had pointed outside to the bent form of the man digging furtively in their garden. Caroline had spun angrily toward the door, ready to confront the old French trapper. After all, she’d seen a spot of red cloak in the woods the day someone had locked her in the cellar. He’d obviously been nearby.

But Sarah’s weak grip on her sleeve had stopped her. “He’s planting something,” the girl insisted. The darkness of Sarah’s room concealed them, and they could watch Monsieur Poupard without his realizing it.

Caroline knew that Monsieur Poupard wasn’t capable of imprisoning her in the cellar. But it was so much easier to try to pin the blame on him than to have an unknown culprit on the loose waiting to strike again.

Sarah peered more intently at the crate the old man had brought with him.

“I have to go out there and talk to him.” Caroline started to rise, but Sarah’s cold fingers stopped her once again. If he wasn’t to blame, perhaps he’d seen the real offender.

“Wait, Caroline,” she said. “It looks like he’s planting bulbs.”

Caroline broke away from Sarah and stepped closer to the window. She squinted through the growing darkness to the small item he cradled in his hand.

It looked like a stringy onion.

Caroline’s breath caught. Sarah was right. He was planting bulbs.

He scooped dirt out of the ground with gnarled fingers, gently laid the item inside the hole, then covered it with soil. He patted it firmly before reaching into the crate he’d brought and lifting out another.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he paused and looked around. When he glanced at the bedroom window, she ducked away.

“So what do you think?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t know.” Why was he planting bulbs, and in secret?

“He seems like a nice man,” Sarah said. Against the mound of pillows, she was cushioned like a rare jewel.

“How do you know if he’s nice or not?” Caroline asked.

“I see him every once in a while passing by. He always stops and waves at me.”

Caroline turned to face Sarah. “He waves at you?”

“One time, when the window was open, he spoke to me.”

Caroline glared at the bent back of Monsieur Poupard. What was he up to? Why would he make conversation with a sick little girl?

“It was only for a minute,” Sarah said quickly. “He’s always been kind to me.

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