The Sacred Shore Read Online Free PDF Page A

enclosed by the gathering dusk and the quiet, hearing the night birds and the cicadas herald another spring on the Louisiana delta.
    Louise shifted in her chair, the quiet creaking a wordless agreement to Henri’s own decision. So when he spoke, he knew it was for them both. “Nicole, there is something I need to tell you. Something that has been a secret for many years.”
    Again there was the sign of a troubled heart, for secrets were one of his daughter’s greatest joys. The only way to keep anything from Nicole, be it words or a gift, was for her not to know the first hint. Otherwise she would weasel and wile until she knew it all. Yet tonight she said nothing, and the moonlight shone upon a dark head that did not even turn to meet his words.
    Henri asked, because he had to, “What are you thinking, daughter?”
    â€œI was wondering,” she said, her voice a velvet whisper, “if God really exists at all.”
    Louise caught her breath there beside him, but even before Henri could reach out a hand to keep her from protesting, his wife stilled herself and settled back into her chair. Henri waited through a pair of calming breaths before asking, “Why do you say that?”
    â€œBecause I’ve been praying so hard my heart feels twisted like a washrag. And I have had no answer, no peace, no calm. Nothing but silence. God can’t exist and be quiet while I am feeling such pain, Papa. So I am beginning to think He does not exist at all.”
    The matter-of-fact way she spoke rendered him unable to do more than reply, “He exists.”
    â€œI know you believe. I know you find great solace in that. And I am happy for you. Really. But you asked what I was thinking and I told you.” She could have been discussing a new family arriving from downriver, her voice was that flat and calm. “God cannot exist and remain silent. Not when I need Him more than I have ever needed anything in my entire life.” A faint tremor entered her voice, quickly stifled. “Except the one thing I can’t have.”
    Louise started to move then, yet Henri’s hand halted her before the chair creaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Sometimes God is quiet because He wants us to draw closer and listen harder.”
    His daughter did not respond for a long time. When she did, it was to say, “What did you want to tell me, Papa?”
    It was his turn to hesitate. Henri closed his eyes to the night and the two women he loved and prayed for wisdom, for direction, for the right words. For him too God remained silent, but here and now it seemed the silence held a rightness, a harmony. As though God felt no need to speak, since Henri was moving as he should. Henri opened his eyes. As if in confirmation, Nicole slowly turned about to face her parents.
    So he took a great breath and said aloud, “Daughter, this is not easy to tell. Perhaps it should have been said long ago. I did not know then and still cannot say today whether my decision was wrong or right. But now … now you must prepare yourself for what I fear will be a great shock.”

Chapter 3
    â€œI am what ?”
    â€œShah, my love,” Louise chided, fingers to her lips. “Your brothers.”
    Nicole lifted from the chair as though pulled by invisible strings. “But I don’t … I can’t be.” Her voice trembled through the darkness of the veranda. “I’ve always been …”
    â€œYou are ours—but you are also another’s. Parents who loved you dearly. Who must have died a thousand deaths since we left Acadia.”
    â€œI am English ?”
    â€œYou are our child,” Henri responded. “You are our mourning dove. That is what you must remember.”
    â€œBut I loathe the English!”
    Louise leaned forward, stretching out one hand toward her daughter. “Unless you wish for all to hear and know, my child, you must speak more softly.