"Alexandre," the father whispered with a gentle shake of his son's shoulder.
The five-year-old rolled over, rubbing his face into his pillow, drowsily mumbling as he squirmed underneath the duvet.
Henri softly chuckled as he rubbed his oldest son's back. "Mon cher fils, wake up."
Alexandre popped one eye open, blearily staring at his father's face. "Papa?"
Henri smiled at him while peeling the covers back. "Viens avec moi."
The boy rubbed his eyes as he slid out of bed. His feet hit the wool runner with a soft thud. He faintly gasped as his brother flopped and kicked the chambray comforter off his small body.
"Let's not wake Luc," Henri glanced at the toddler, grateful to see his slumber hadn't been disturbed.
"Papa," he whispered, asking, "Where are we going?" Alexandre noticed the sun wasn't peeking over the magnolia trees while he yawned and stretched.
"An adventure," Henri answered, offering his hand to the boy, tiptoeing out of the bedroom with him.
"Papa, is Vivi going with us?"
Henri stopped in his tracks, sucking in an anguished breath at his son's question. He hadn't wanted to believe his wife when she told him about her conversation with Alexandre. The boy had complained that his father didn't love him as much as his sister and brother.
He knelt in front of Alexandre, gently taking him by the shoulders, looking the child in the eyes. "No, Alexandre. Juste toi et moi. Is that alright with you?"
The boy's blue eyes lit up as a crooked, pleased grin covered his mouth. He enthusiastically nodded, tawny curls bouncing with each bob of his head.
"Bien," Henri hummed with a warm smile, kissing Alexandre's temple as the boy hugged him. He patted him on the back before leading him into the master suite.
Alexandre followed his father, beaming at his mother, surprised to see she, too, was awake. He ran over to the chaise lounge, springing on his toes to kiss her good morning.
"Good morning, Baby," Kitty greeted, stroking a wayward curl behind his ear. "Brush your teeth and get dressed. You have a big day ahead of you," she motioned to the clothes she'd put out for him at the foot of bed.
As she sipped her café au lait, the redhead watched her firstborn scramble to put on his long pants and shirt. A gentle smile graced her face, observing Henri assist Alexandre with lacing his leather boots. She hadn't been fond of the idea of Alexandre missing a day of school, but she knew he needed the one-on-one time with his papa. Alexandre wasn't like his sister. He needed more than French lessons and curling up with a book from his father.
The boy had breakfast at his father's favorite restaurant in the city. After breakfast, the pair had traveled outside of the city to the fields. Alexandre had picked a bag full of cotton, learning the task was a hot, dirty job, but he'd loved every minute of filling the burlap sack. He wound his fingers into the black mane of the Thoroughbred stallion as he sat in the saddle with his father. He shielded his eyes from the midday sun, staring at the rows of strikingly tall grass. To him, it seemed like the field was never-ending. He watched the slender arrow shaped stalks sway with the breeze. "Papa, is that sugarcane?"
Henri dipped his head. "Yes. One day, it'll all be yours to run as you see fit for the family."
The boy tilted his head back. "Mine, Papa?"
"Yours," he confirmed. "You are my firstborn son, Alexandre. You will oversee the planting and harvesting when you're old enough. Luc will work with you if he wants."
"Is it ready now?"
"We'll harvest next month. Son, the cotton can be early, but the cane will rarely be ready before November."
"How do you know?"
Henri beamed at his inquisitive son. "Alexandre, you'll look at the leaves at the top of the stalk. They may start to dry and turn jaune or brun."
"Is it sweet?"
The Frenchman halted the horse, waiting for Alexandre to dismount. Henri slipped out of the saddle and walked over to a row, hacking a stem with his knife. "The bigger the cane, the sweeter it is," he glanced at his captivated son. "The Spanish call it azucar. Germans say sucker," he grinned at Alexandre's giggle. "The British colonists called it white gold, but to our people, it's sucre."
"Sucre," Alexandre repeated, tilting his head as he stood next to a towering stalk. He touched the blond base of the sugarcane before placing his attention on his father.
"It has seams, and what you can eat is in-between," Henri ran his finger between the sections. "It's dry close to the seams. You don't want to eat that part. Understand?"
The willing student nodded his head. "Yes, Papa," he answered, viewing him cut more of the stalk and put notches in the skin. "Like whittling," he decided.
"Exactly, Son," Henri finished peeling and cut the stem in half twice. He handed the piece to his son. "As you chew, the juice will come out. When it's all gone, spit it out."
The child scrunched his nose while thoroughly chewing. He spit out the portion, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "It's like honey," he took another bite, savoring the naturally sweet taste.
Henri ruffled his hair and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, remembering the time his father did the same with him. "When I was about your age, my père, your grand-père, brought me to the fields for the first time."
"I'm named after him."
"You are," Henri sat down on the green grass, smiling as his son sat down next to him to lean into his side. He put his arm around the boy. "Back then, it was all done by hand, and the process was very difficult. We had our own sugar mill. That's where the kettle train was. Your grand-père only trusted a few with the task. The smallest mistake could ruin the entire batch. There was a grand kettle where the sugar juice would be boiled," he paused, spitting out the sugarcane, "the juice would be reduced, moved to the smaller kettles…back and forth until it was a thick syrup. Eventually, there would be crystals of sugar."
"Like Sadie uses for cakes and cookies."
Henri nodded his head. "At the end of the grinding season, we'd have a great celebration…dances and candy pulling. The adults would drink hot punch."
"What's that, Papa?"
"Boiled sugar juice and French brandy."
"French brandy is the best," he declared with a wink of his eye. He'd heard his parents say that plenty of times. He'd always wondered what it tasted like.
Henri chuckled. "It is the best, but you cannot have hot punch until you're thirteen…perhaps. We might have to sneak then, so your Maman doesn't get upset with us. Your arrière grands-parents made brandy and wine in Southern France. I learned how to do that, too."
Alexandre sank deeper into his father's side, looking up at him, hanging on his every word as he told stories of the past.
The silver-haired man ambled down the sidewalk, holding his granddaughter's hand and the poodle's leash in the other. He listened to the birdsong while Vivienne gleefully told him about her school day. The little girl had fallen into her daily routine without a misstep. Doc let go of her hand since they were close to the mansion, keeping an eye on her as she skipped ahead. "Garde, Cadeau," Doc glanced at the silver canine, unhooking the leash so he could remain close to his charge.
Vivienne hummed to herself, leaping over a twig. She bumped into a lady who seemed to appear out of nowhere. The little girl gasped and tilted her head. "Excusez-moi, Madame," she apologized, scrunching her freckled nose at the offensive fragrance of sandalwood and amber attacking her nostrils.
The chocolate-haired woman leered at the auburn-haired moppet, harshly crooking her finger under the girl's chin. With her meadow-green eyes, she piercingly gazed at the child, marveling at how much she resembled a certain redhead. "You should be more careful, petite belle," she sweetly spoke, releasing the girl with an elated smile on her face.
Vivienne gulped, slowly nodding her head while tensely chewing her lip. "Je suis désolé à ce sujet," she murmured, not liking the way the stranger made her feel. The woman's odd smile put an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and the angry scar on the brunette's cheek alarmed her. Vivienne worriedly glanced at Cadeau. She'd never heard her beloved pet growl so deeply. She darted to the safety of her grandfather, clasping his hand tightly, hiding her face against his coat.
Doc set his eyes on the stranger while comforting his grandchild. He felt an icy shiver trail up his spine as the woman drifted by. He looked over his shoulder, keeping his eyes on her until she was out of sight.
The wearied father pressed his lips to his daughter's head, listening to her peaceful breathing as she drifted back to sleep. "Fais de beaux rêves, dors biens, mon petit amour," he whispered, tracing his fingertip along her lovely face. His little girl was too young for nightmares, but she'd awakened, screaming at the top of her lungs for her father. He'd soothed her and listened to every detail of her dream, reassuring her that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He'd sang Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star to her just as he'd done throughout the restless nights when she was a baby. Henri eased out of her bed, snapping his fingers for Cadeau to leap onto the mattress. "Reste," he commanded, scratching the poodle's ears.
Henri left Vivienne's bedroom door cracked, crossing the hall to the master suite.
"Is she alright?" Kitty asked, pouring her husband a generous amount of cognac into a tulip glass. She'd been indulging in a luxurious, relaxing bath when Vivienne's panicked screams echoed throughout the second floor.
He dropped onto the chaise lounge as soon as she'd made room for him. He took the glass, downing the amber liquid. "She's asleep for now. Her cauchemar rattled her, Chérie. She's dreaming about the stranger she and Galen bumped into on the street." The stranger had unnerved Galen, too. Henri wondered if it could be Manon, but he knew it was impossible.
She took the glass, setting it aside as she nestled into him. "She scared Vivi…whoever she was. I told Vivi that she always needs to trust her instincts when it comes to people."
"She has good instincts like her Maman," he brushed her curled tresses off her neck, pressing his lips to her nape while his arms pulled her closer against him. He breathed in the calming lavender scent of her.
"I hate she's having a bad night, especially after Alexandre had such a good day."
He comfortingly rubbed her thigh, resting against the cushions. "I want to take him to see the harvest next month. There's still a mill at The Oaks. I'll write to Silas and Anne-Marie to harvest a small batch and process the cane the old way. We'll have a celebration just like the old days."
"He'll love it."
"Kathleen, he's an amazing boy. He's smart. He asked so many questions about the cotton and sugarcane. More than I ever thought about asking when my père took me to the fields. I don't know why I was worried about spending time with him."
With a gentle sigh and a consoling brush of her palm across his chest, Kitty caught her husband's eyes. "I know why. You witnessed how much joy a Dodge City Marshal brought to Alexandre, and you didn't believe you could compete with that. You're his Papa, Henri. You're the man he looks up to. He copies your actions," she cupped his cheek, stroking her thumb along his jaw. "Our son kissed me goodnight and called me Chérie, like you do," she shared.
"He did?"
"Mmhmm," she kissed his cheek, placing her head on his shoulder. "He'll know how to treat a woman with love and respect because of you. He'll know hard work. I know you didn't have the best father to look up to sometimes, Henri, but Alexandre and Luc do."
Henri grumbled softly, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling. He heard his wife refilling the crystal-cut tulip glass. He lifted his head, taking the offered glass, sipping slowly. "What was my father thinking? Taking me to a brothel…"
She jerked the glass from him, downing the remaining liquid. Her cheeks flushed from both the libation and embarrassment. "What was my father thinking? Leaving me with a woman who ran one…"
"Kathleen, no…mon amour, don't," he murmured, pressing his nose to her temple while slipping an arm around her. Her misty eyes pained him.
She inclined into his touch, closing her eyes, sniffling. Since becoming a mother, Kitty had realized how much of her adolescence had been tarnished by one unfortunate circumstance after the other. She didn't want her daughters to have to grow up too fast like she had. She desperately wanted them to have the carefree childhood she'd never had.
"Now that I have two sons…I can't," he cleared his throat. "I can't imagine why my père did that. I don't believe losing one's virginity makes a man. And being a father to Vivienne and perhaps another precious girl…those girls…they're someone's daughters…you were," he whispered, wiping the tear from her cheek. "I don't understand how your father abandoned you. I wouldn't abandon mes amours." Henri enfolded her in a gentle embrace, smoothing his hand in circles on her back while pressing his lips to her hair. "The only way I'd leave is if La Fauchuese came for me, and I hope to be an old man when she comes."
A tender smile graced her face as she envisioned them in their golden years, sitting on the veranda to watch their grandchildren play under the magnolias. Kitty drew in a breath, thinking that was what her mother had wished-for, but she hadn't lived to be an old woman. She listened to her husband's heartbeat, toying with one of the buttons on his smoking jacket while gazing at him through her ginger lashes. "Mon beau, if something should happen to me before the children are grown…"
"I wouldn't remarry, and I swear I would never abandon our children. I swear that if something were to happen to me, you'd be cared for financially for the rest of your life. I've made certain. I promise," he kissed her forehead. "You wouldn't have to worry about anything except for finding happiness. I'd want you to be, Chérie. That's what I've always wanted for you."
Kitty licked her lips, swallowing hard, pushing out of her mind what her life would be like without him. "I wouldn't be happy without you."
Henri squeezed her to him, hiding the wistful curve of his mouth. He combed his fingers through her auburn locks and watched the flickering of the flames in the fireplace. "Kathleen," he broke the silence, "let's take the children to the park tomorrow. I want to spend the whole day with ma famille."
The clear, bright blue sky allowed the sun to shine through the allées of oaks, casting shadows on the wide walking paths in the lush urban oasis of Audubon Park. The redhead sat on a wooden bench, observing her family. Her son and daughter were blanketed in the warmth of the sun as they competed to see who could swing higher. Her eyes drifted to her youngest, roaming around with a small sack filled with varying shapes and shades of rocks to add to his collection. She smothered a laugh at the sound of her spouse's explicit swear in French. Henri seemed to resign himself to the fact that Luc's kite would forever be stuck in a tree. For hours, she'd witnessed him playfully act as a child again.
He stalked over, plopping next to her on the bench, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Chérie, it may take a hurricane to knock it loose."
"Luc's forgotten all about the kite," she pointed to the boy tossing a stick for Cadeau, placing her other hand on her rounded belly. There was no longer any public doubt that the fourth Broussard child was on the way.
Henri smirked as he watched the toddler run to the swings and beg his older brother to push him. "I wonder what Quatre will be like. I wonder if she'll be energetic and cheerful like Luc, quiet and thoughtful like Alexandre, or delicate and stubborn like Vivi."
"Why are you still calling her that?" she playfully rumbled, pinching his thigh.
"You haven't decided on her full name."
"I have until May, and I might wait until the very last minute. Besides, she may be a he, ya know."
The Frenchman grinned at her rebellious, willful statement. "Well, mon amour, Quatre will inherit your obstinacy. She is a girl. I'm sure of it."
"Oh, she'll have a real good dose from her Papa, too," she teased.
He winked at her, cupping her face as he set his lips upon hers, caressing her rosy lips with soft, gentle slow movements. He broke away, brushing his lips against her temple. "I can't wait to meet our Josephine. Josephine May…Josephine Kathleen…Josephine Anne…Josephine Lillian…Josephine Claire," he prattled, chuckling as she rolled her eyes at him.
"Don't influence me. I get to choose."
Henri suddenly straightened, looking around. He shivered while gripping the back of the bench, trying to shake the ominous feeling engulfing him. He swallowed hard as his brown eyes darted around the park.
Kitty tilted her head, glancing at her husband as he swiftly stood, hovering over her, clutching her shoulder. She put her hand over his, grasping his fingers. "What's wrong, mon beau?"
"I can't put my finger on it, mon amour," he murmured, extending his hand to her to assist her off the bench. "Where's Galen?"
"He walked to the lagoon."
Henri nodded, glancing behind him, relieved to see his surrogate father-in-law rambling up the pathway. He hollered for his children, steadily taking in his environment. He clutched his wife to him.
"Henri, you're scaring me," she whispered, disliking the panic in his eyes and how tightly he was holding her against him. She felt him relax slightly as the children ran toward them.
"Maman!" Luc shouted, bounding to his mother. "Look," he held the smooth, round rock up to her.
"I see it, Honey. You don't have one like that. Do you?"
He shook his head and outstretched his arms, wanting to be held. Luc flashed a grateful smile as his mother lifted him off the ground. He placed his head on her shoulder, covering his mouth as he yawned.
Henri held the twins' hands. "Stay close to me," he instructed, setting his eyes on Kitty.
"Cadeau!" Vivienne called.
"Vivi, he'll come," her father told her.
Vivienne furrowed her brow, gazing up at her father. She looked over her shoulder, exhaling a relieved breath as she spotted her pet. "Cadeau, ici!" she yelled, repeating the command since her dog disobeyed. Cadeau had never defied her before. She realized he was focused elsewhere and assumed his attention was on her grandfather. Her eyes widened, recognizing the lady with the marred face and unnerving smile that she'd seen both on the street and in her frightening dream. Vivienne opened her mouth, but no words would come out. As Cadeau menacingly growled, she insistently tugged on the hem of her father's suit jacket, finding her voice. "Cauchemar."
Henri stopped, spinning around as the canine ferociously barked. He thrust his arm out, shielding his wife and children from the woman he'd never thought he'd see again. He tuned out Manon Durand's lewd, shrieked insults. "Je t'aime de tout mon coeur," he murmured. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep, strengthening breath while looking over his family. His mind raced to come up with a plan.
With a euphoric smile on her face, Manon relished the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. She'd waited for this day, her day of reckoning. She purposefully marched closer while brandishing a hammerless revolver, focusing on the auburn-haired woman. She clucked her tongue as her eyes raked over the family. Her former lover had been busy in her absence. "Well, well," she huskily hummed, "pleased to finally meet you, Kathleen. I've dreamed of this day."
Kitty steeled herself, studying the brunette, inhaling that unmistakable, nauseating blend of sandalwood and amber. She imagined that Manon had been beautiful once upon a time, but she saw the ravages of Angola prison underneath the woman's heavy face paint. She fixed her eyes on the deranged woman's green orbs, arching a brow. "Oh? I'm flattered," she bit with sarcasm, shifting Luc to her other hip.
Manon took a giant step forward, close enough to thrust the barrel into Kitty's swollen belly, smiling coyly. Surprisingly, the redhead didn't flinch. The brunette couldn't deny she appreciated her adversary's spirit. She was certain that would make killing her that much more pleasurable.
"Manon," Henri growled.
"Kathleen and I are speaking," she snapped, returning her attention to Kitty. "I paid you a visit, oh, three years ago, but you regrettably weren't at home. I visited with Helena Fontenot instead, but she wasn't as entertaining as you would have been, Kathleen."
"Manon," Henri repeated, trying a kindhearted tone to get her attention.
She flicked her eyes to her former lover. "Henri," she cooed, "You never could get enough of me…could you? You are all I've thought about for three years. Your betrayal," she raised the revolver, trailing it across the bone of his strong jaw, enjoying the subtle ripple of his muscles while the children's screams pierced her ears. She let her arm fall to her side, a hollow laugh tumbling from her throat. "It's alright, children. I won't hurt your Papa. I promise, petite belle," she grinned at the distressed little redhead, touching her ivory cheek.
"Don't touch my daughter!" Kitty snapped, pulling Vivienne closer to her. She wished she didn't have her youngest in her arms. She soothingly squeezed her daughter's shoulder while shushing her whimpering toddler.
"Soon, you won't care what I do," Manon taunted in a gravelly pitch. She pointed the revolver at Kitty again, intensely glaring as Henri stepped in front of her.
He stared into her eyes, feeling the gun press into the middle of his chest. The Frenchman didn't see a sliver of sanity in her depths of green. He took a breath, praying that his wife trusted him. He touched Manon's sallow face, delicately brushing his fingertips over the scar. "Amoureuse," he spoke softly, "s'il vous plaît," he closed his fingers around the silver barrel, lowering the weapon, wishing he could disarm her. Unfortunately, his family was still tooclose.
Manon drew in a quivering breath at the sensation of his gentle touch. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. "But I have to," she whispered, taking a step closer to him.
"No, Manon."
Her brunette head dipped, nodding slowly, not breaking eye contact with him. "I have to kill them all. It's the only way we can be free."
"There's no need to murder my wife and family. I'll come with you. We'll be together. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
"You swear? Swear to me, Henri Broussard," she demanded.
"Je jure, Amoureuse." His breath caught in his throat as his daughter clutched his arm, clinging to him. He slowly dropped to a knee, rubbing Vivienne's back as her arms wrapped around his neck. He felt her hot tears against the curve of his neck. "Mon petit amour, go to Maman. Stay with her."
She shook her head, tears spilling down her face while her lip trembled. "Papa…non…stay with me. I'm scared…"
"Go, Vivienne," he gently pushed her arms from his neck, glimpsing at his wife cradling Luc against her while she gripped Alexandre's hand. He saw nothing but terror in Kitty's sapphire eyes, but he was proud to see his oldest son standing in front of his mother, guarding her like he had done moments ago. With a jerk of his head, Henri wordlessly told Alexandre to stand behind his mother. The Frenchman slowly rose to his full height, straightening his jacket. His eyes widened as Manon swayed closer to his wife.
"Manon, leave her be," he reached out, tugging her to him by her elbow. "You want me. You have me," he laced his fingers with hers, doing his best to guide her away from his family. Henri spotted Galen slinking behind a tree, readying his pocket pistol.
Manon melted into his side, putting her arm around his waist, dragging the tip of the gun down the buttons of his shirt. "Will you love me as much as you love Kathleen?"
He nodded his head, keeping his eyes on the dirt of the pathway.
Manon tilted her head, locking her eyes onto his, whispering, "Will you?" His hesitation repulsed her. "Liar!" the unhinged former mistress screamed, pushing away from him. She whirled around, taking aim at Kitty. "Au revoir, Madame Broussard," Manon grumbled as her target twirled to gather and shelter her children, shouting for the twins to scatter.
"Mon amour!" Henri warned, hurling his body in between Manon and his beloved family as he threw his arms into the air in a feeble attempt to take up more space.
Two shots simultaneously rang out. Blood spattered. Birds squawked and flew out of the oak trees.
"Henri!" Kitty screamed, watching him collapse. He'd taken the bullet meant for her. She covered her children's eyes as they screamed and cried. Paralyzed by fear, she held her breath, waiting for the slightest movement from her husband. Kitty only heard his pained groans. "No," she reprimanded, yanking Vivienne back into the folds of her skirt. "Stay here. Please, stay here," she shakily implored, glancing at Doc charging toward them. He'd briefly stopped at Manon's lifeless body. His aim had been true, shooting her through the heart.
"Go to Henri, Kitty," he urged, taking his youngest grandson from her. With one fleeting look at the Frenchman, the retired physician discerned the severity of his dear friend's injury.
She ran to him, sinking to the ground, putting his head in her lap. His blood seeped into the cotton of her skirt. She put her hand over the wound, pressing her palm to quell the bleeding.
"Chérie…"
"I'm fine, mon beau," she sniffled, curving her fingers around his hand, gingerly pulling it to her quivering lips.
"The children…"
"They're fine."
"Mon amour," Henri wheezed, struggling with each breath. "I don't…have…much time."
"Shhh, save your strength. Doc! Do something!" Kitty begged, stroking her husband's olive cheek while glancing over her shoulder at her dear friend. She'd seen that grim look in his eyes before, but he had to be wrong. He just had to be.
"Send for…Matthew. He will…help…"
Kitty shook her head as her tears fell harder. "No, Henri. No. You're not dying! You can't leave me. You can't leave us," she pressed her forehead to his, kissing the bridge of his nose. "You have to meet Josephine, mon beau. Look at me," she ordered as his eyes fluttered. "You have to. She needs her Papa…"
"Mon amour," he choked, coughing up blood, loosening his hold on her hand. "Je t'aime…pour…toujours."
"Henri Luc Broussard, don't you dare die on me!" Kitty wiped the blood from his mouth. "You can't leave me," she pleaded, clasping the front of his shirt. "Please, stay with me," she cradled his head against her chest, silently praying for a miracle. She could barely hear his final ragged breath pass through his lips over the screaming and crying of her three young children. "Oh, God, no! NO!"