Josephine: Bride of Louisiana (American Mail-Order Bride 18) by Cindy Caldwell Page B

eater. My mother made French food for my father when I was younger. I love chocolate croissants,” she said, her eyes lighting up.
    Pierre eyed her warily, trying to decide whether to explain to her what each of the items was before she ate it, or see if she liked it first. He thought back to when he had introduced Harriet and her little daughter Rebecca to French food when they’d first moved into the small cottage on the plantation. They’d loved it immediately, so he shrugged his shoulders and hoped for the best.
    Harriet and Rebecca. He sighed at the thought of the two of them, wondering if he would ever know who Rebecca’s father was. Harriet had refused to speak of it, and he had taken pity on her when he’d come upon her, very pregnant but still working in the fields. There was something about her that he couldn’t turn a blind eye to, and it had taken everything he had to convince his father that they couldn’t abandon her and her unborn child, and he’d eventually--reluctantly--agreed to allow Pierre to house them on the plantation. Now, Harriet had found her place and was loved by all, as was the darling young girl, Rebecca.
    With that thought in mind, he pulled out a chair for Josephine, who smiled eagerly as he scooted her in. He sat down beside her, hoping that she’d have the same response as Harriet and Rebecca had, and that he wouldn’t have to carry her back out to the buggy as she’d become ill.
    “I’m very much looking forward to learning about this.” She hung her head for a moment before looking back up at Pierre, her shoulders squared. “I know I can do this and I don’t want to let you down.” Josephine rubbed her hands together. “Just as long as there are no really strange things like snails, I’ll be fine.”
    Pierre sighed, patted her arm and squinted as he looked at her. She really was beautiful, and her smile infectious. His heart tugged at her enthusiasm, and he tried to smile. If she could get through this, she may be able to get through just about anything.

Chapter Seventeen
    J osephine held her hand over her belly as it roiled, not helped much by the swaying of the buggy. Cow’s tongue? Goose liver? The thought of it sent her back into the moment, how she’d felt.
    Pierre had been kind to give her small portions, and she’d thought them delicious. Well, almost all of them. She hadn’t cared for sandwiches that Pierre had described as ‘normal’. Normal to her was braised brisket and potatoes. They’d rarely had vegetables, and if they had, it was mostly cabbage, carrots and onions besides the potatoes.
    She had to admit, the cafe au lait was delicious. Coffee with just a hint of warmed milk. She could get used to that every day but the rest? She thought that if she stayed, she might starve. She shivered at the thought of having eaten calf brains and thought she might never eat again no matter what.
    Josephine looked up at Pierre who was peering down at her, a smile hidden beneath his hand. She narrowed her eyes at him and tapped him lightly on the elbow. She’d been surprised that he’d had sort of an equal mix of a sense of humor and kindness toward her, but could be aloof as well and completely absorbed in his business, as he had been on the ride out around the plantation.
    And although she knew he’d brought the basket to help her--help both of them, actually--his sympathy for her had been plain on his face as she’d paled and thought she might become ill when he’d actually told her what they’d eaten.
    “I suppose that was fairly amusing,” she said. Her stomach had started to settle and she thought back on grabbing her cafe au lait when he’d told her she’d just eaten cow stomach--tripe, he’d called it--and burned her mouth on top of everything else from the hot coffee. Between the mess she’d made last night and her reaction to these--delicacies--she actually had to laugh. Honestly, what had she been thinking? Even Michelle would be laughing by