Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [45]
The men laughed. Jules looked up at the sound of Michael’s rumbling laughter, and blinked. She thought it was the first time he had truly laughed since she’d seen him again. It was a wonderful sound. He’s my husband, she thought. My husband.
“I’ll tell you something else, Saint,” Dwight said a little while later. “Etienne knew I was going to marry the two of you. He just looked at me, didn’t say a single word, and I swear to you, I think he was delighted. In fact, it occurred to me that he may have perhaps denounced his daughter to force your hand.”
“Then he is indeed a despicable creature,” Saint said, his lips thinning. “I tell you, Dwight, if heaven is populated with a congregation like him, I don’t think I want to get past Saint Peter.”
“One saint telling another saint to remove himself? Impossible, my dear fellow!”
Dwight arranged with his friends the Markhams to lend a small house to the newlyweds. It was located near Makila Point, only a fifteen-minute carriage ride south of Lahaina. Saint didn’t want to be alone with Jules, but there was nothing he could do save accept the Markhams’ offer with good grace. He waited until Jules went upstairs with Mrs. Baldwin to pack her few things before speaking to Thomas. Dwight, a gentleman of great understanding, left them alone in the parlor.
“I hate him,” Thomas said without preamble. “I hadn’t realized how much until I saw how he treated Juliana. And John Bleecher—dammit, Saint, the fellow’s paltry, a coward! He and Sarah deserve each other!”
“I agree with everything you’ve said, Thomas,” Saint said, lowering his body into a comfortable chair. “The question is, what are you going to do?”
Thomas DuPres drew a deep breath and blurted out, “I want to go to San Francisco with you and Juliana.”
Saint saw the pleading and defiance in the young man’s eyes, and slowly nodded. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea. Unfortunately, Jules and I won’t be leaving until next Wednesday, aboard the Oregon. Where will you stay until then? I assume you know that your sister and I are expected to be alone.”
“I’ve already asked my friend Hopu. Hell, Saint, I’d sleep on the beach if I had to.”
“Have you thought about what you want to do when we reach California?” Saint held his breath, fearing he’d hear Thomas spout off about finding gold and becoming rich overnight. He was blessedly surprised when the younger man said, his voice rich with determination, “That’s easy. I want to be a doctor, like you.”
Saint said on a slow smile, “Excellent, Thomas,” He rose and firmly clasped his hand. “Will you say good-bye to your parents?”
“I don’t know,” Thomas said truthfully. “Perhaps by Wednesday I’ll be able to, but not now.”
“I know just what you mean. Indeed I do. Now, let’s drink a bit of Dwight’s excellent brandy.”
“Father has always hated Juliana,” Thomas said, swishing the amber liquid in his glass some moments later. “She’s so different, you know.”
“I’ve often wondered about that,” Saint said.
“I overheard him talking to my mother about Juliana some years ago—complaining, of course. I think it’s all because—and you won’t believe this—my mother’s mother was a French actress, and Juliana is the very image of her. Evidently my grandmother called my father a petty bourgeois, told my mother she was a stupid twit to marry such a pious prig. My father, of course, could just barely overcome his scruples to marry my mother. And he quickly removed her from all sinful influences.”
“I begin to understand,” Saint said. “Hair as red as sin and eyes just as wicked, is that it?”
“Yes, I suppose that’s it. But it’s paltry, Saint, to dislike a person—your own child, for heaven’s sake—all because she resembles someone else.”
It was more than “paltry,” Saint thought later; it was an illness that no physician could cure.
It was a beautiful, calm evening, the