Great. That was about the extent of the French he could remember, other than a few words that didn’t seem helpful here.
Pointing to himself, he said, “George.”
Then he pointed at the little boy.
“Pierre,” the boy said.
Then the boy began speaking again in rapid French. George shook his head and pointed to himself again. “No parlez Français.”
Hopefully it was enough to convey to the boy that he didn’t understand. The boy nodded slowly as tears continued rolling down his cheeks.
George pointed to himself again. “George...help...Pierre.” Wait. What was the word for help? “Aid?”
That seemed to get Pierre’s attention, or at least stop the flow of tears.
Pierre pointed at George’s canteen.
“Are you thirsty?”
Silly of him to ask, since Pierre probably didn’t know the word. George held out the canteen, mostly empty from Flora’s use, but there was a little water to spare.
Pierre drank the water quickly, then pointed to his stomach.
What was the word for hungry? Back when George was pudgy, everything had been about food. “Faim?”
Hopefully he wasn’t telling Pierre something awful. But Pierre nodded, so George took that as a good sign.
Judging by the fact that the little boy was alone and crying, George was going to assume he’d somehow gotten separated from his father. But how was he supposed to find a little boy’s father when he’d barely arrived at the mining camp himself? He’d been here just long enough to pitch a tent and gain employment at the mine.
Flora. She was here with the church mission. Perhaps the people at the church mission would know of anyone who spoke French who could... George smiled. Flora had a French nanny when they were children. She used to brag about how her nanny was superior to everyone else’s because of it. She and her friends would speak in French, giving themselves airs and using it as a means to exclude the other children. Back then, he’d found it annoying.
But now, it just might save this little boy’s life. Flora could help him care for the boy and translate so they could find Pierre’s father.
George gave Pierre a smile. “Pierre come with George. Manger.” At least that’s what he thought the word for eat was. He held out his hand.
Clearly the love of food that had led to George’s torment as a child was helping him now. Pierre smiled back and took George’s hand.
George had never imagined he’d be so grateful for Flora Montgomery. When they were children, she’d teased him and tormented him mercilessly. Who knew that Flora’s annoying affectation from the past might very well be the thing he needed most right now? While pursuing his newfound attraction to her was still out of the question, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again.
George ruffled the little boy’s hair. He wished he could convey something more to him, to make him feel comfortable, but at least Flora could do that. Despite the complication of meeting Flora so early in his quest, knowing that she could be the one person to expose him, she would also be a great asset. People might say that Elias Bellingham’s weakness was his concern for others, but George was grateful his father had passed on that trait to him. He wouldn’t feel right leaving Pierre until his father had been found, and Flora’s help would make it easier for George to help Pierre and accomplish his own mission. As long as he could keep Flora from learning his real reason for being in the camp.
Though he hoped to find Pierre’s father quickly, George was going to enjoy every moment he spent in Flora’s company until then.
Flora was able to slip away to the creek to wash after her baby-minding disaster. Though how she was going to accomplish a good cleansing and change her dress out in the open, she had no idea. The place was private enough, or so some of the other ladies had said. But was this another of their tricks, like Lindsay Carmichael goading her into bringing her best dresses instead of work clothes?
Not that she had anything that could be considered work clothes. Flora sighed. Perhaps it had been a mistake to think that redemption would come to someone like her.
“Flora?” Rose Jones walked down the embankment carrying a bundle. “I heard you’d come this way.”
Of course it would have to be Rose. Flora sighed. Of all the people she’d injured with her thoughtless words, Rose had been hurt the worst. And though Rose had said she’d forgiven Flora, and was polite, if not kind, to her, Flora always wondered if she could truly count on Rose as a friend.
“I was hoping to wash up. My dress smells.” Flora pointed at her soiled silk gown, a yellow stain spreading across the pale pink fabric. It was probably ruined.
Rose looked around. “It’s private enough with most of the men at work, but I wouldn’t come here much later in the day. And you shouldn’t be here alone. As much as Uncle Frank has done to keep us safe, you have to remember that many of the people here don’t have the same regard for the law and civility as we do.”
Flora stared at the ground. She’d only wanted to clean up, but it seemed there was fault in that as well.
“It’s all right,” Rose said softly, stepping forward. “You haven’t been up to the camp before, and I suspect that Lindsay didn’t give you good instructions. I’d hoped to orient you myself, but Milly was ill, so I’ve only just arrived.”
“What’s wrong with Milly?” One of Flora’s many mistakes, and ways she’d wronged Rose, had involved Rose’s stepdaughter, Milly. Before Rose married Silas, Rose had been Milly’s nanny, but because Milly’s grandparents disapproved, Flora had assisted them by trying to take over as Milly’s nanny. When Milly’s grandparents took Milly away without Rose’s permission, Flora helped them, thinking she was doing the right thing. During that time, Flora had developed a genuine affection for the little girl. Still, what Flora had done was wrong, and it was only the mercy shown by Rose and her now-husband, Silas, that had kept Flora out of jail.
Flora turned away. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the right to ask.”
“Of course you do.” Rose stepped in front of her and smiled. “I’m grateful that you care so much about her. It was just a little cold, and she’s fine now. She remained behind with Maddie, our housekeeper, but when I see her again, I’ll pass on your good wishes.”
Another friendly smile. Rose held out the bundle to Flora. “I brought you a dress. The one you’re wearing is too fine for being up here, and from the giggling I heard from the others, I suspect everything else you brought is just as nice.”
Flora gaped at Rose. Why was she being so kind to her? True, after the situation with Milly’s grandparents, part of Flora’s restitution was to help with the ministry. And Flora had worked side by side with Rose several times in the months since.
But that didn’t mean Flora deserved any sort of kindness from Rose.
“I
