The boy thrust his arm out from the honeycomb patterned quilt, blindly reaching for the alarm clock. He slapped his hand on the nickel-plated devil, effectively shutting off the annoying buzz. "Why'd you set an alarm?" Luc grumpily muttered, rubbing his olive-toned face into his pillowcase.
"To wake up early," Alexandre retorted, pitching his coverlet off his body. His feet hit the checkerboard rug with a light thud.
"The sun's not even up."
"I got somethin' to do before we leave."
The dark-haired boy flopped onto his back, tilting his head to squint at the clock. "What are you gonna do at 4 o'clock in the morning?"
"Apologize."
"For what?" Luc mumbled, pulling the covers over his head as Alexandre turned up the lamp. He couldn't imagine anything significant enough to be remorseful about at an ungodly hour, but he wasn't his brother. He wasn't as neat and tidy as Alexandre, and his conscience never weighed on him as heavily.
Alexandre hurriedly pulled his pajama top over his head while shimmying out of his bottoms. He grumbled as he toppled onto the mattress. With a grunt, he righted himself and grabbed the clothes he'd set out hours ago. "Caoimhe. I hurt her feelings. I just gotta apologize. I didn't have a chance yesterday since I spent the day with you at the Martins. I don't wanna leave with her thinking I don't care about her feelings. A friend doesn't do that to another friend, Luc."
Luc propped on his elbows, staring at his considerate brother. He scrubbed his hand over his face while his brother dressed. He slipped out of bed and rifled through his chest of drawers.
The taller boy's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "Luc, what are you doing?"
"I should tell Jean-Joseph that we're leaving for Kansas. I don't want him thinking I abandoned him like the others. Will you wait for me?"
"Of course, I will," Alexandre smiled, plopping onto his bed to pull on his socks and boots. As his brother finished dressing, he scribbled a note and left it on his desk for his parents to find. He slowly twisted the doorknob, peering into the hallway. He motioned for Luc to follow him but hesitated as he approached the master suite's door. He gulped, straining his neck to hear any movement.
"Oh, c'mon," Luc demandingly murmured, tugging on Alexandre's sleeve. He knew they had plenty of time before their father woke. Without fail, the big man began his day at five o'clock. Luc tugged harder, whispering, "We only gotta worry about Dee catchin' us. She's the only one up this early."
The eleven-year-old was surprised by his younger brother's knowledge and stealth. He followed Luc down the stairs and out the door. Alexandre puffed out a sigh of relief on the expansive front porch, leaning against the double-leaded glass door. His brow furrowed, observing Luc scurry around the yard. He jogged down the stone steps. "Luc, how are you gonna get Jean-Joseph's attention?"
Luc straightened and turned to look at his older brother. "I'm gonna throw rocks at the window," he replied, revealing the rocks in his pants pocket while Alexandre came closer.
"But he won't hear it."
"Jean-Marc will. He shares a room with him. Are you gonna knock on Caoimhe's front door?"
Alexandre's cheeks flushed. The boy hadn't planned that far ahead. He chewed the inside of his cheek, rubbing the sole of his boot against the dew-kissed grass.
Luc snorted, sharing his half of rocks with his brother. "There you go."
"Thanks," the firstborn uttered softly, passing through the impressive wrought-iron gate. He stepped onto the oak-lined walkway, giving into quiet contemplation under the glow of the street lamps. He rehearsed what he'd say to Caoimhe until he felt Luc nudge him. Alexandre tilted his head upward, realizing their paths were about to diverge. "Bonne chance, Luc."
"Merci, but I don't need luck," Luc said with a confident smile lining his bow-shaped lips. He encouragingly squeezed his brother's upper arm. "You don't either. You'll know what to say to Caoimhe," he assured, hurrying to the nearby colonial home.
Alexandre released a breath, bolstered by his younger brother's confidence in him. He set off in the opposite direction.
For the second time, the Creole knocked on the boys' bedroom door. She shook her head, wondering if their uncle had kept them up too late. "Alright, lazy bones, time to get outta bed," she rumbled, twisting the doorknob and stepping into the bedroom. Her eyes widened at the sight of the empty beds. "Not again," she shakily whispered, her heart racing as she paced around the room, pondering how she'd tell her employers the boys had been kidnapped. As she paced, Delia realized there were no signs of a struggle. She dropped onto the foot of Alexandre's bed and noticed the slip of paper. She grabbed it from the desk, reading Alexandre's scrawl while drifting into the master suite. The maid approached the man sitting on the edge of the chaise lounge, giving him the note. "Read it," she instructed.
Daddy and Maman,
Don't worry. I'll be back soon. I've gone to fix the mistake I made.
The big man finished reading aloud the note left by his oldest son. He guessed Luc had tagged along with his brother. After all, his dark-haired son was always ready for an adventure. Matt's eyes flicked from the paper to his wife as she herded Lark to the dressing table. He glimpsed at Josephine playing peek-a-boo with Noah. He cocked a brow at his presently calm wife. "Honey?"
"I know where they are," Kitty declared, plopping Lark onto the cherry oak. She opened a drawer while the moppet scooted closer to the mirror. "Pick the color you want, Baby. Thank you," she said, accepting the blue bow and closing the drawer. She picked up the silver hairbrush and began to gently detangle the knots in Lark's shoulder-length tresses. "Baby, don't knock over my coffee cup," she instructed as Lark maneuvered herself to sit cross-legged.
"Where are they? What mistake?" Matt questioned while Lark sat perfectly still except for making silly faces in the mirror. He briefly marveled at how his wife's fingers skillfully gathered the front of Lark's straight hair, twisting and gathering more as she made her way down behind the child's ear. He guessed it would take him an eternity to do the same. He softly cleared his throat to get Kitty's attention. "Honey, will you answer me?"
"Alexandre upset Caoimhe."
"How?"
"Matt, that doesn't matter. What matters is that he's gone to make things right," she told him while securing the small bow at the end of the French braid. She kissed the top of her daughter's head. "All done, Sweetheart. Now, Lark Rebecca," she paused, lifting the girl off the vanity top and setting her on the floor. "No roughhousin' with Daddy. Understand?"
The nearly three-year-old stared at her mother's face, coyly smiling while shaking her head.
"That's what I thought," Kitty sighed, putting a hand on her hip. She watched Lark run to the chaise lounge and jump into her father's lap. "Matt, if you roughhouse with her, you can fix her hair," she warned, winking at Delia. If he had to redo Lark's hair, Kitty knew he'd beg for Delia's help.
Matt looked at his little girl and the attractive braid that swept her bangs out of her eyes. "Lark, no playing rough. Your hair won't look like that at all if I have to do it."
"Okay, Daddy," she chirped. "Cadeau!" the toddler yelled, sliding off his thigh to run after the poodle.
He chuckled, his eyebrows scrunching as a thought struck him. Matt suddenly stood, marching over to the vanity while Josephine beckoned Delia to her. "Kitty, does Alexandre have a crush on that girl?"
"I believe so. He said he feels funny around her."
"Funny?"
"Mmhmm," Kitty hummed, scanning the vanity table to make sure she hadn't forgotten to pack anything.
"Funny," he repeated, rapidly pointing his finger at her. "Kitty, let me tell you something. Alexandre's too young to be having a crush on a girl, especially his sister's best friend. When Vivi finds out—"
"We can't help who the heart chooses. How old you were when you had your first crush on a girl, grand homme?" Octavia interjected as she breezed through the doorway. The former midwife had arrived to the mansion early to hitch a ride to Baton Rouge on the private railcar, and she was grateful she'd hurried her spouse since she walked into an opportunity to make the retired marshal squirm. "Bonjour, mon petit ange," she greeted the five-year-old, kissing her forehead before lifting Noah off the bed. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of his soiled diaper and passed him to Delia, gazing at the flustered giant. "You were the same age as Alexandre."
"Well," Matt faltered, disliking Octavia's timing and how she always seemed to be right. He'd been an introverted, gangly eleven-year-old just like his son when a blue-eyed blonde had made him stumble over his boots. He couldn't remember the girl's name, but he still remembered how she'd rejected him.
"I think it's sweet that he has a crush on Caoimhe," Kitty proclaimed, taking her youngest from the maid. "Alexandre learned a little Irish and carried her books for her. It was all well and fine until he put his foot in his mouth just like his father does from time to time."
"Kathleen…"
"Cowboy," Kitty cooed, sidling up to her giant husband. "I'm gonna do you a favor. I'm savin' you from putting your foot in your mouth," she declared, handing Noah to him. "Your baby boy's diaper needs to be changed. Now, I'm gonna go out on the porch and wait on our sons that have gone astray," she pecked her husband on the cheek, lifting her floral-painted mug from the vanity top before turning on her heel to waltz out of the room.
The redhead trailed to the first floor and out the front door, stepping into the crisp air. She wandered to the small, circular table on the far corner of the porch. While taking a sip of her café au lait, Kitty leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs, savoring the first blushes of dawn. She listened to the birdsong and the neighborhood slowly coming to life until the noise of her boys hit her ears. "Bonjour les garçons," she greeted as they ran up the stone steps and toward the door.
The youngsters stopped in their tracks, slowly turning toward their mother. By the look on her face, they knew she wasn't upset with them. Alexandre rushed to the table while Luc decided to go inside. As he pulled out the chair across from his mother, he wondered what had caused his brother to be tight-lipped on the way home. Luc hadn't uttered a word about how his visit to the Martins had gone. Alexandre tucked his hands under his thighs, focusing on the rose design of the table.
"Well, how'd it go?"
He lifted his head with a pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good. We talked for a long time, Maman."
"Wonderful, Alexandre. And Luc went with you?"
"No. He went to the Martin's house. Luc didn't want Jean-Joseph thinkin' he'd abandoned him like his other friends had."
"Oh," Kitty murmured, smothering a laugh as her son's stomach loudly growled. "Go on in. Sadie will have breakfast ready soon then we'll be heading to the depot."
"Alright," Alexandre replied, slipping off the chair. He kissed his mother on the cheek.
Kitty watched the door close and tapped her nails against the tabletop, unable to ignore the feeling that something had happened during Luc's trip to the Martin's home.
In the finely appointed observation room of the private railroad car, the eight-year-old stared out the extra-wide window, watching the scenery illuminated by the full moon. Luc wasn't certain if he was still in Louisiana or if the train had crossed into another state. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could join his slumbering siblings, but his mind wouldn't rest. Luc had flopped like a fish in his bunk until he'd decided to move about the mansion on wheels. He startled as the velvet cushion underneath him dipped. "Maman," he gasped, wrapping himself in the cashmere throw blanket she offered to him.
"I didn't mean to frighten you, Luc," she whispered, fixing the sash of her dressing gown. Kitty glanced out the window while stretching her arm across the back of the sofa, studying her child. He hadn't been his usual self during the first day of travel. "Your papa liked to watch the landscape at night when he couldn't sleep, too. I'd find him right where you are now."
The child inched closer to his mother. "He did? You would?" His voice lifted with astonishment. Luc treasured each time he learned a similarity between him and his papa.
"Mmhmm," she hummed, pulling her boy closer into her embrace. "He wouldn't be able to sleep until he told me what was on his mind. It might have been a business issue or a personal one. Is yours a business or personal issue?"
Luc snuggled into her, responding matter-of-factly, "Personal."
"Oh, I see," she whispered, stroking her fingers through his thick, dark hair. "Is Jean-Joseph upset with you for leaving for the summer?"
"Non," he shook his head, turning his face into her bosom. He felt her hand comfortingly rubbing his side.
"Luc, Honey, what happened this morning? You won't feel better until you talk about it."
"I threw a couple of rocks at the window, and Jean-Marc let me in. He told me that I couldn't tell anyone about Jean-Joseph being deaf. Madame Martin doesn't want anybody to know."
The mother disapprovingly shook her head. She despised that she had been correct with how she'd assumed Suzette Martin was handling her son's condition. The biggest gossip in the Uptown neighborhood would do her best to make sure her family's reputation had no blemishes. In Suzette's eyes, Jean-Joseph's deafness would be a mark against the Martin's standing. She softly cleared her throat, unable to dwell on her senselessness. "Honey, was Jean-Joseph glad to see you?"
"He was. All three of us visited and laughed 'cause Jean-Joseph's been trying to learn how to read lips, but he doesn't get it right sometimes. But then…" he swallowed hard, shifting away from his mother. He sat up, propping his elbows on back of the settee to stare into the wilderness. "Maman, do you and Daddy fight?"
Kitty drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. "Sometimes, we do."
Luc's brows knitted as he turned to face his mother with a skeptical expression on his bronzed face. "But…"
"Henri Luc, I'm not lying to you. Your daddy and I can fight worse than you and Vivi, but we do our best not to quarrel in front of you and your siblings. We save it for the end of the day when you are all asleep."
"Oh," he murmured, slouching his body down the plush cushion. Luc toyed with the edge of the blanket. "Maman, did you fight with Papa, too?"
"I did, but not too often, Honey. Every married couple has disagreements. Some are bigger than others. Did Jean-Joseph's parents fight while you were there?" she gently asked.
"Oui."
Kitty bit into her bottom lip, knowing Suzette would be mortified if she knew Luc had overheard a fight. She rested her hand on his shoulder, soothingly squeezing. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry you heard their quarrel."
"They fought about Jean-Joseph. Maman, they blame each other for what happened to him. Monsieur Martin was talkin' about moving out after Jean-Joseph is settled in his new school. He doesn't want Jean-Joseph to be away from his family, but Madame Martin…" He lowered his head, focusing on the stripes of his nightshirt. "I guess it's a good thing Jean-Joseph couldn't hear them," Luc sniffled, swiping his face with his arm.
Kitty felt her heart break into pieces at her son's statement, but she was grateful Luc could find a silver lining. She hoped he'd never lose that talent. Kitty hooked her arm around his shoulders, snuggly drawing him into her side. "I suppose so," she murmured, pressing her lips into his hair.
"Maman, if I couldn't hear anymore, would you send me away like Jean-Joseph?"
Her son's question hit her smack in the middle of her chest. She tenderly grasped his chin, locking her blue eyes onto his teary brown orbs. "I wouldn't, Luc," she whispered.
"You promise?" he asked, searching her eyes for the answer to his question as she caressed his cheek. He knew the answer while he stared into her eyes, but he hoped she'd confirm it with words.
"I promise, Sweetheart," Kitty earnestly uttered. "I'd want you with me. A mother loves her children no matter what."
"I love you no matter what, Maman," Luc replied, nestling his head against her shoulder. He sank into the comfort of her, listening to the steel wheels rolling along the track. The steady rhythm of the train and his mother's fingers massaging his scalp lulled him to sleep.