"I'd come back," I whispered, as though the option of leaving had already been offered. "It isn't as though you'd never see me again."
"Like your brother has?" Gran raised one eyebrow. "Gone six months and we've not seen him once."
I grimaced. Had it been so long since Frederic had left?
"I know you think living in Trianon with your mother is the only way you'll be happy. That it will be wonderful, like a dream where you can have every-thing your heart desires, but I think the reality will be much harder than you believe." Gran's eyes searched mine. "I also know that me telling you so is pointless. You've always had to find things out yourself, no matter how much the finding caused you grief."
I looked away, uncertain whether her words should make me feel proud or foolish.
"But that's enough of us sitting here on the floor." Gran rose to her feet, hauling me to mine with surprising strength. "Today is your birthday, and whether Genevieve comes or not, we'll still have cake. But I need time to make it." She shooed me in the direction of the stairs. "Go wash up. Joss will do the rest of your chores so that you can have the afternoon to yourself."
• • •
My free afternoon was only made better by the new dress waiting on my half of the bed that I shared with Joss. It was dark blue wool with yellow daisies embroidered along the collar and down the sleeves. But the best part of it was that the hem reached all the way to my ankles. Pulling it on, I twirled around, imagining how much older and taller I must appear, wishing, in perhaps a not-so-rare moment of vanity, that we owned a looking glass. Racing down the stairs, I skidded on stocking feet into the kitchen.
"Well aren't you a sight." Gran dusted her hands off on her apron. "Go show your father."
Joss was sitting on the front stoop putting a final coat of polish on my boots. She looked over her shoulder when the door shut, her eyes still red from crying. She handed me the boots and I sat down next to her to put them on.
"I'm sorry 'bout your letter. Gran said I deserved to be fed to the trolls for doing it," she said, wiping her fingers on her skirts. "I just..."
"I know," I said quickly so that she didn't have to explain. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight, pressing my cheek against her blonde hair. "Where's Papa?"
"'Round the barn with the Girards." Josette gave me a sly smile. "You should know, Papa gave me your pony."
"What?" I demanded, pulling away. "Why would he do that?"
Joss' grin widened and she grabbed my hand. "Come on."
Together, we ran across the yard towards the barn. I kept my skirts hauled up with one hand, leaping over the puddles so my boots would stay clean. Going around the side of the old wooden building, we found our father leaning against the fence next to Jerome Girard. His son Christophe stood a few paces away holding the lead of a beautiful bay mare.
"Thank you for the dress, Papa," I shouted, twirling in a circle. When I stopped, I noticed he had a strange expression on his face — not one I'd ever seen before.
Jerome took the piece of straw he was chewing out of his mouth. "Spittin' image of Genevieve. Won't be long until you have more help around the farm than you know what to do with."
I smiled, pleased at the comparison, but my father only grunted. Then he cleared his throat. "You ain't grown much taller this past year, but it's still past time you had a proper horse. This mare here's for you."
Shrieking, I grabbed Joss' hands and we spun in a circle. I threw myself at my father, wrapping my arms around him. "Thank you!"
He patted me on the shoulder. "You're a good girl, Cecile, even if you are a fair bit louder than a proper girl should be. Now git off me, you're going to get your new trappings dirty."
My face hurt, but I couldn't stop smiling. I hugged Jerome, then went over to where Chris stood with the horse. He was friends with my brother, but I'd barely seen him since Fred left for Trianon.
"She's beautiful," I said, stroking the horse's shoulder. "What's her name?"
"Oh. Well, we call her Cecile's filly." He scraped one of his boots across the ground and switched the lead from hand to hand. "I suppose that means you have the naming of her."
I held out a hand and the horse snuffled at my palm, looking for treats. "I'll call her Fleur."
"A good name for her, I reckon." Chris broke off his determined inspection of the ground to meet my gaze for a brief moment. "She's only just broke, but you can sit on her, if you want."
"I do want to. Will you give me a leg up?"
Taking hold of my knee, he lifted me onto her shiny back. She frisked around for a bit before settling under Chris' calm hand. He led us out into the yard, and I admired her smooth rolling stride. From up on her back, I could see all around, out past our sprawling farm house and barn and into the fields to the forests that carpeted the range, with the exception of the massive sheared-off face of Forsaken Mountain, its fallen half a broken slide of rocks between the range and the ocean shore. Beyond it lay Trianon, the largest city on the Isle, and the center of all my dreams.
"You like her?"
Chris' question tore me out of my thoughts, and I forced a smile onto my face to match those of every-one looking on. "She's wonderful."
Why could I not be content? I had a good home, a loving family, and everything a country girl could possibly want. But logical or not, my mind still burned with the desire to stand on stage and sing. Almost against my will, my head turned, eyes searching the road disappearing into the trees with the hope I might see a carriage coming towards us. But it was empty.