The redhead yawned softly, reclining against the button-tufted leather while nursing her youngest. She focused on the nearly seven-month-old's contented face, smiling tenderly at the boy with eyes as blue as a midwinter sky and fine locks with touches of gold and red. Noah James Dillon had been the most perfect addition to their hearts since his arrival on the eighth of November. Kitty stroked her thumb back and forth against his side and began to softly sing Beautiful Dreamer, hearing doors opening and closing along with sluggish feet. She predicted arguments from her school-aged children, especially the boys since it was the last week of classes before summer break. Kitty lifted her head as the door creaked open, an affectionate smile gracing her lips as her five-year-old crept into the suite.
Josephine harmonized with her mother's alto on the sentimental ballad while she climbed onto the king-sized bed for morning snuggles. Her brown eyes twinkled as her mother's arm came around her at the end of the song. "Bonjour, Maman," Josie crooned, nestling into the older redhead's side and bumping the baby's chubby leg. "Pardon, frère," she apologized to her startled sibling, watching her mother wipe the milk dribbling down Noah's cheek then rebutton her nightgown. "Maman, I missed you while I was sleepin'."
Kitty smiled at her sweet girl, brushing her lips against Josephine's unruly copper curls. "I missed you, too. If you don't mind, petite mère," she requested, gingerly handing the infant to Josephine. She helped situate Noah on the child's shoulder. Her heart slowed and ached as she realized how much her son had grown.
The intuitive child studied her mother. "Maman," Josie whispered, patting her brother's back to burp him, "ne sois pas triste."
"I'm not rightly sad, Quatre," she answered, catching her daughter's inquisitive gaze. "I have a little, tiny pain in my heart is all."
"Why?" the little girl wondered, gasping at her baby brother's loud belch.
"Well, Sweetheart, the more Noah grows…the more I ache for what I'll never get to experience again since he's my last baby," Kitty shared, tucking a wayward curl behind Josie's ear. "Falling in love with the baby you carry is the most spectacular feeling. I'd like to stop time and just keep him little."
"Maman, you can't. He's gotta grow big and strong like Daddy and Alexandre and Luc."
Kitty chuckled, kissing her daughter's head. "I know, Quatre."
Josephine dipped her head while smoothing her hand across Noah's back, wincing as his little fingers gripped one of her ringlets. She gingerly adjusted him in her arms to make sure he could see her face. "Non, Noah. Maman," she whimpered as the baby tightened his grip and tugged. She frowned at her brother's wide, pleased grin that exposed his two, brand-new bottom front teeth.
"I'm sorry, Baby. Your frère likes red hair and has a strong grip like Daddy." As Kitty unwound Noah's fingers from his sister's tresses, she glanced at the maid entering the room with a tray. "Morning, Delia."
"Madame," Delia greeted while setting the tray on the nightstand.
"Have you seen my husband?" she inquired. Matt usually returned to the bedroom before Delia came in to serve coffee. Since Noah's birth, their morning routine had changed. He'd wake the children for school while she fed the baby then he'd roughhouse with Lark while Josephine had her morning cuddles.
The Creole chuckled. "He's chasin' Lark."
"What?"
"She doesn't wanna wear a dress today."
"For heaven's sake," Kitty smothered a laugh, taking the proffered café au lait while arching a brow at her sons arguing in the doorway. "What's the matter with the two of you?" she inquired as Luc dragged his brother into the bedroom. She stole a glimpse of the wall clock, staring at her pajama-clad sons. "Why are you both still in your pajamas?"
The eight-year-old nudged his brother's ribs with his elbow. "Ask her," Luc insisted, praising himself for his timing since his mother was drinking a café au lait. He'd learned not to bother her with anything before she'd had her morning brew.
"You ask her," Alexandre grumbled under his breath.
Luc shuffled closer to the bed, hopping onto the lightweight, handstitched quilt. "Maman, we don't want to go to school. May we stay home? S'il vous plaît," he added, flashing a charming grin.
"Luc, you know the rule. All three of you have to agree to not go during the last week."
"But Maman," he whined. He hated the policy, especially after he'd discovered truancyitis was a condition that his grandfather had created. "The rule's not fair."
"Why isn't it fair?" Kitty asked, viewing her sons over the rim of her floral-painted cup while taking a generous sip. She'd put the rule into place mostly for Luc. As soon as the weather was sunny and perfect, he didn't want to spend his day in a schoolroom.
The dark-haired boy huffed an exasperated breath. "Vivi always wants to go to school. That's why it's not fair."
"Have you asked her?"
"He didn't. I don't mind going all week, Maman. Honest," Alexandre assured, settling next to his younger sister. He planted his bare feet on the bedding and pulled his knees in, taking Noah out of Josephine's arms. He grinned as Noah rested against his thighs and happily kicked his legs.
"That's because you —" Luc's dark eyes widened as his brother's hand clamped over his mouth.
"Hush," the eleven-year-old quietly demanded over Luc's muffled protests.
Luc mumbled an apology before sticking his tongue to Alexandre's palm. He snorted, amused by how rosy the taller boy's cheeks had become. He opened his mouth to make a wisecrack but was interrupted by the three-foot-tall redhead barreling in. "Fille folle," Luc declared as Lark ran behind the chaise lounge and hurriedly wriggled her way into the floor-length, swagged drapery.
"Lark Rebecca," Kitty admonished her never-ending source of entertainment while her husband filled the doorway, puffing and panting from chasing the almost three-year-old through the mansion. "Come out from there right this minute and let Daddy dress you."
"No."
Matt sank onto the foot of the bed with a frustrated exhale, tossing aside the navy-blue dress decorated with floral motifs. He both adored and loathed his daughter's emerging strong sense of independence. Each day, Matt never knew what boundaries she'd test or how she'd assert her own will. He looked at his wife, letting her take over the battle with Lark. He took his mug from Delia, nodding in appreciation while she informed him that she'd made the coffee extra strong. He pecked Josephine on the cheek before Delia led her out of the room to get her ready for the day.
"Lark, would you like to choose your dress for today?" Kitty negotiated, grinning as her willful girl parted the curtain.
"No, Maman."
"Well, alright. What do you want to wear?"
Lark stepped out from the curtain, swaying over to her mother. She sprang onto her tiptoes, whispering into her mother's ear.
Kitty bit her lip, shaking her head as she momentarily glanced at the ceiling. "Alright, Lark. But only if you're absolutely sure."
"Mmhmm," the toddler eagerly bobbed her auburn head.
The amused mother set her eyes on her husband while she reached over, patting her firstborn's knee. "Alexandre, take Lark and let her choose a pair of your pants then you and Luc can start getting ready for school."
Alexandre cocked a brow while skeptically eyeing his mother and sister. "Yes, Ma'am," Alexandre replied, plopping his baby brother next to him. He put his hand on Noah's back. His brother had been sitting unassisted for a couple of weeks, but Alexandre always worried he'd fall over.
"Honey, Noah's perfectly fine. Take Lark."
Alexandre nodded and slid off the bed, motioning for his siblings. "C'mon. Let's hurry. I don't wanna hear Vivi's fussing if we make her late."
Matt rubbed his forehead as Lark climbed onto his knee. "You wanna wear your brother's pants…huh?"
"Yep."
"Yes, Sir, Lark."
"Yes'sir," the moppet chirped with a grin. "Wear Allie's pants."
"Sweetheart, they're gonna be too big and too long for you."
Her lips pursed into a pout as she folded her arms across her chest. "No, Daddy."
"Alright, Lark," he placated, smirking as Alexandre yelled for her. He shook his head as she slipped off his knee. He scooted closer to his wife and rested his hand on her thigh, squeezing softly. "Think it's gonna work?"
"Of course, it'll work. Your daughter has to learn the hard way."
"But, Honey…"
"Matt, do you honestly want to deal with a tantrum before seven o'clock in the morning?"
The big man shook his head, stretching his body out atop the mattress. He grinned at his youngest, watching him settle on his belly. "Kitty," Matt whispered urgently as Noah pushed up on his elbows and knees, beginning to rock. "Son, are you gonna start crawling? You can do it, Noah. Crawl to Daddy," he implored, lightly hitting his hands on the quilt. He turned his head at the sound of his wife's snickering. Matt chuckled, noticing that Lark had also managed to sweet talk her brother out of one of his shirts.
"Look! Allie's pants!" Lark triumphantly proclaimed, clutching the waist of the tweed trousers to keep them from falling while standing on the threshold.
"Careful, Sweetheart. You need to walk slowly," Kitty warned.
The child bounded to the bed, tripping over the excess length of the long pants.
"Lark!" Matt shouted, jumping to his feet, lunging to prevent her from hitting the bed's sturdy frame. He swore under his breath, scooping the screaming toddler into his arms as he quickly realized he hadn't fully stopped Lark from suffering an injury. "You'll be fine. I promise. You're Daddy's tough girl, Lark," he consoled while blood poured from her lip and chin. "Put that on your lip," he advised, taking a wet cloth from his wife.
Lark jerked her head away from her father's attempts to put the cloth on her mouth. She pushed at his arm, inconsolably crying for her mother.
"Baby, I know it hurts," Kitty sympathetically murmured, taking her daughter. She soothingly rubbed circles on Lark's back while swaying from side to side to help calm her. "Your lip will heal quickly, but it'll be sore. Your chin will be, too. But Daddy's right. You're a tough girl," she gently kissed her daughter's head, grateful Noah wasn't harmonizing with his sister's shrill screams and cries when Matt pressed the cloth to her busted lip.
As the duo walked to the Academy of the Sacred Heart, the long-limbed eleven-year-old squinted in the sunlight, tuning out his younger brother's complaints of how boring his day had been. He saw her on the sidewalk and stood in place as he felt a rush of unexplainable emotions. Alexandre observed the way her long auburn locks danced in the afternoon breeze and felt the melodious tone of her laughter rattle his insides.
"Alexandre!" Vivienne called to him with a smile on her face, wondering what was wrong with her brother as he approached. To her, it seemed as if he was in a trance. Her brow arched while Alexandre nervously fiddled with the buckles on his leather satchel. She shrugged her shoulders, deciding she'd find out later.
He stood next to his twin, listening to her bid farewell to her small cluster of friends. He took a deep breath while his siblings walked ahead on the mostly flat mile walk. Alexandre met the pair of eyes that reminded him of emeralds, staring at her, desperately trying to remember what he'd learned from Sean Dornan. "Tráthnóna maith," he spoke awkwardly, but felt at ease when she smiled.
"Tráthnóna maith," Caoimhe Hughes uttered softly, affected by his usage of her language while praying her fair cheeks hadn't flushed. The eleven-year-old had begun to feel butterflies whenever Alexandre Broussard-Dillon was around. She admired the quiet way he carried himself. He wasn't loud and boastful like most of the boys she knew. She fell into step with him and immediately noticed how he'd shortened his long stride for her benefit.
Alexandre anxiously smiled, sneaking glances at her heart-shaped face, resisting the urge to tell her that the undertone of her cheeks reminded him of pink evening primrose. He inwardly cringed at his impoliteness and politely offered to carry her books.
She stopped suddenly, clutching her books against her chest. "Oh, no. I don't want to be any trouble. I can carry my own books," she insisted, gazing at the handsome boy through her thick, ginger lashes.
"No trouble at all, Caoimhe," he stated, carefully taking the two books out of her grasp. "My papa taught me that a man takes care of a lady."
Her heart squeezed in her chest. She debated on if she should take a chance. "Thank you, Alexandre," Caoimhe murmured, sinking her teeth into her lip. She impulsively rose on her booted feet, closing her eyes as she sweetly pecked him on his sun-kissed cheek.
His head swam from the quick, feathery brush of her lips against his smooth cheek. Alexandre gulped, gathering his senses to look around him. He was worried his siblings had seen. Vivienne wouldn't be thrilled with him, and Luc would endlessly tease him.
Caoimhe tucked auburn strands behind her ears, cursing her foolishness for the show of affection. She glanced ahead, relieved to see her best friend animatedly conversing with Luc. "Vivi didn't see," she whispered, understanding her best friend wouldn't appreciate her blossoming fondness for Alexandre.
Alexandre breathed out a relieved sigh. His blue eyes widened, realizing someone else might have seen. He turned his head, frantically taking in his surroundings.
"Alexandre, she didn't see us. I'm sure she didn't."
"I'm lookin' for Mr. Reardon."
"What? Why are you looking for him?"
"Well, Daddy wasn't keen on us walking alone. Maman told him that we couldn't be wrapped in damp cotton all our lives. Daddy followed us until I noticed him one morning. After that, he got Mr. Reardon to do it. Some days, I see him. Some days, I don't."
Caoimhe looked away from Alexandre, acknowledging her uncle's kidnapping of Josephine was the reason. The Broussard-Dillon family had been kind to her, but she'd witnessed firsthand the construction of higher walls around the St. Charles Avenue mansion. Her uncle's involvement would always be a mark against her. She hastily took her books from him, swiftly walking down the sidewalk. She grumbled to herself as he easily caught up with her. "I'll walk the rest of the way by myself."
"Caoimhe," he quietly expressed his regret, squeezing his slender fingers around hers. He loosened his grasp as Luc shouted in French followed by Vivienne yelling their brother's full name. "Luc!" Alexandre yelled, watching his brother run across the street. "Stop! Luc!" He dropped his satchel, sprinting after the wayward eight-year-old while Vivienne and Caoimhe stayed on the sidewalk.
Vivienne shook her head and walked to Caoimhe, dropping to a knee to help pick up the items. "What's sointeresting about Alexandre this afternoon?"
"Nothing," Caoimhe answered. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vivi."
"But you were comin' home with us. You were going to teach me that Irish song on the piano."
"I can't," her friend replied. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Vivi studied her friend as she walked away from her. She wondered what Alexandre had said to upset the girl. She couldn't imagine her twin saying more than a handful of words to Caoimhe. Vivienne turned her head, shielding her eyes from the sun while recognizing a neighbor had caught Luc's attention. The redhead patiently waited for her brothers to return. "Luc, you alright?" she wondered aloud, observing how low-spirited he'd become.
The dark-haired boy shook his head. "Non."
"Wasn't that Jean-Joseph?" she asked, recalling that the son of Jean-Pierre and Suzette Martin had been in her brother's class. She was forever amused by how her daddy couldn't remember the names of the five brunette Martin boys since their names all began with Jean.
"Oui. Vivi, he can't hear anymore."
"What?" Her mouth fell open, glancing at Alexandre.
Alexandre sadly confirmed, but he kept his eyes on Caoimhe until she turned onto her oak-lined street. "He had meningitis. That's why he hasn't been to Holy Cross since Christmas break."
"Oh," she murmured, remembering the Martins had asked her grandfather for his medical opinion. Vivienne returned Alexandre's satchel to him. "We best get a move on. I'm sure Daddy's waiting on the porch for us."
Luc shoved his hands into his pockets, glumly pushing a rock with his foot while walking between his brother and sister. "I had to write in a notebook to talk to him. He can still talk but…" he trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders.
"But what, Luc?" Vivienne gently prodded.
"They're sending him away, Vivi," he disclosed in a low pitch, leaning into the comfort of his sister as her arm slipped around his shoulders. "His parents are sending him to a school in Baton Rouge for the deaf and dumb. Jean-Joseph isn't dumb. He can name all the parishes in Louisiana and when they were established. I would have failed geography if it hadn't been for him. He's not dumb. He's not."
Vivienne thought of what her mother would do and pulled her brother closer against her. She nudged her index finger under his chin, locking her sapphire orbs onto his chocolate ones. "Before supper, I'll go with you to the Martin's house, and we'll get the address to Jean-Joseph's new school with the silly name. You can write letters to him. I'm sure he'll like knowing he still has a good friend in New Orleans. You should always be a good friend to Jean-Joseph. That's what he needs."
Kitty wasn't surprised to see her pajama-clad eldest shuffling into the master suite. As soon as he'd returned from Holy Cross, she sensed her boy's contrition, but she knew Alexandre would come to her when he was ready. She graced him with a kindhearted smile, shifting over to make room for him on the chaise lounge. She pressed her lips to his temple as he settled next to her, resting his head on her bosom. "Sweetheart," Kitty murmured, recognizing his anxious habit of twirling her hair around his finger. She didn't have to look at her son to know he was gnawing on the inside of his cheek. "What have I always told you?"
"To express my emotions…but Maman…"
"No 'but Maman.' You don't bottle up your feelings, Alexandre Matthieu."
"Maman, I hurt her feelings."
"Whose feelings?" she stroked her fingers through his tawny-brown curls.
"Caoimhe."
"Oh," Kitty murmured, tilting her head downward to look into her son's blue eyes. "Well, Sweetheart, tell me how you hurt her feelings."
"I thought Mr. Reardon might have been following us. She wanted to know why, so I told her. She took her books from me and walked off. I didn't get to apologize because Luc ran across the street to see Jean-Joseph."
Kitty drew in a breath, taking in the details of her son's words. "Baby, she knows what her uncle did. I know you didn't mean to hurt her feelings, but Caoimhe is a bright girl. She understood why your Daddy was worried about you, Vivi, and Luc walking to school by yourselves. You reminded her of what her uncle did. I'm sure a part of her will always feel guilty about Quatre being taken."
He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. Alexandre hadn't even realized his error. He rolled over, turning away from his mother, plucking his fingers along the arm of the oversized chair. "Maman, why do I feel funny around her?"
Her brow slowly lifted, speculating if Cupid's arrow had struck her son. "Funny?"
"I just," he hesitated, chewing on his lip. "I look forward to seeing her. She doesn't mind that I don't talk all the time. I learned how to say good afternoon in Irish. And today, she kissed me on the cheek after I took her books from her. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings. Honest…but girls are sensitive."
"Alexandre, girls are sensitive, but so are boys. You, my dear, are. You know how you take an ill word harder when it comes from me, Daddy, Pépère, or your siblings?"
He nodded his head.
"It hurts more because it comes from people you care about. Alexandre, I'm sure it hurt Caoimhe because she cares about you, too. I know you'll find a way to make up with her," she assured, rubbing his back.
He slowly turned to face his beloved mother. "You think so?" his voice lifted with hope.
"I know so," she answered, delicately cupping her son's face before planting a kiss to his forehead. "Go on to bed. I love you, Alexandre."
"I love you, too. Goodnight, Maman," he kissed her cheek and hugged her in appreciation. "Thanks for listening to me."
"I always will, Sweetheart," Kitty told him, watching her son leave the room. With an audible sigh, she sank into the comfort of the tufted cushions and picked up her forgotten cup of lukewarm, herbal tea. She took a sip as her little one stirred in his crib. "Hold on, Noah," she murmured, hearing the distinct smack of his lips. Kitty sauntered to the cradle and lifted him out while he began to suck on his fingers. "All my boys need me tonight, huh? You three went out of order. Luc needed me first," she whispered while Noah rooted at her chest. Kitty undid the row of pearl buttons on her nightdress and smoothly slid onto the lounger without disturbing her youngest's latch, greeting her tired husband with a closed mouth grin.
The big man traveled through the room and to the oversized chaise lounge, bracing his palm on the tufted back to press his nose into his wife's rose-scented tresses. He inhaled deeply before grazing his lips against her forehead. Matt gazed at his youngest son, grinning at how Noah was completely focused on Kitty's face. "I love staring at her, too, Son," he spoke softly to the nursing baby while caressing the bottom of his foot.
"Cowboy, I'm grateful you stopped starin' at me all those years ago," Kitty gripped her spouse's collar, tugging him down, lovingly capturing his lips with hers. She gently broke the caress, nuzzling her nose against his. "Did the girls give you trouble?"
Matt knew she mostly meant Lark and shook his head, dropping onto the edge of the cushion. "Not too much. She carried on about her chin hurtin' her. Josie asked what she could do to make her feel better, so now Lark is sleepin' with Ellie."
"Matt, she has Rufus," she referred to Lark's four-foot-tall stuffed frog.
"Honey," he grunted as he yanked off his boots. "As soon as Josie saw Lark's little pout, I couldn't stop her from handing over that elephant, especially after Lark said only Ellie would make her feel better."
"Please, tell me Josie has Rufus now."
"Lark didn't wanna let her have him."
Kitty grumbled, speculating if Lark would ever learn to share and if Josephine would ever learn to dampen giving so freely. She reminded herself Lark's age was against her with sharing, and Josephine had inherited both her and her papa's generous nature. "You better tell me Lark's little pout didn't work on you."
He feigned offense, glancing over his shoulder. "Almost, Kitty," he winked, "but Josie girl is cuddled up with Rufus. Luc wants to skip school tomorrow and spend the day with Jean-Michel. Luc told me that the boy's lost all his friends."
"Jean-Joseph," she corrected, gently shifting Noah to her shoulder. She kissed his head while she patted his back.
"Honey, are you certain?"
"Yes, Matt. Jean-Michel is the second son. He's thirteen."
"I thought that was Jean-Marc."
"That's the ten-year-old."
He groused to himself, slapping his hands on his knees before standing to his full height. Matt walked to the chest of drawers, retrieving his striped pajamas. "I told Luc he could skip. I know he'll be breaking the rule, but it's more important for him to spend time with Jean-Joseph."
"It is," she agreed, settling Noah against her chest. Kitty had learned her baby boy had to have his head over her heart to fall asleep. The boy stretched his small body, yawning. He snuggled deeper into his mother's embrace as she began to hum to him.
"Honey, I can't imagine what the Martins are going through. We're lucky to have been blessed with six healthy children."
Kitty swallowed hard, staring at her sixth child. She traced her fingertip along the shell of Noah's ear as she wondered what sort of life her middle son's friend would have.
