Wes looked at Nicole in disbelief. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and sighed, then held up her hands in helplessness. Wes choked on his laughter. The twins came scampering down the stairs and launched themselves into his arms. He twirled them around, tossing them into the air as they screamed with laughter.
“You ought to get married, Wes,” Janie said in a deadly serious voice as she gave a meaningful look at Nicole.
“I will, as soon as you agree to marry me,” he laughed. “No! I can’t. I remember, I’m already promised to one of Isaac’s little sisters.”
“It’s a good thing,” Janie sniffed. “You ask me to marry you, and I will. Now put down those young ’uns and come over here and eat.”
Later, as Wes ate and answered the twins’ questions, he noticed Nicole’s face. He knew what was upsetting her. He reached across the table and squeezed her ha
nd. “Everything will work out, you’ll see. Travis and I will see he doesn’t lose the plantation.”
Nicole’s head shot up. “What do you mean lose the plantation? Losing one year’s crops shouldn’t make him lose the whole place.”
Wes and Janie exchanged looks. “Ordinarily, it shouldn’t, but then men rarely lose their entire crops. Clay should have planted above the flood level.”
“But even if he does lose the crops, surely he has enough cash reserve to survive. I can’t believe the plantation could go under in just one year.”
Wes pushed his plate away. The rain thundered down on the roof. “You might as well know the truth. Last year, Clay let his crops rot in the field, but because of his hard work in the years before and his father’s and brother’s work, financially, the place was solid. But Bianca—” He faltered, watching Nicole’s eyes. She tried to keep them blank, but he could read them, could see how Bianca’s name hurt her.
“Bianca,” he continued, “has run up some extraordinary debts. I saw Clay about a month ago, and he said she’d been borrowing money, using the plantation as collateral, in order to send money to her father in England. It seems she’s trying to get back what used to be her family’s house.”
Nicole stood, walked toward the fire, and idly twirled the poker in the ashes. She remembered the park outside Bianca’s house, the one that had once been Maleson property. Bianca never ceased to talk about how she would someday get her family home back. “And Clay just let her use his land? That doesn’t sound like Clay.”
Wes waited a while before he answered. “I’m not sure it is Clay. He’s changed, Nicole. He doesn’t really care what happens to the place or to himself. He never moves without a glass of whiskey in his hand. When I tried to reason with him, he wouldn’t listen. He just ignored me. In a way, that was worse than anything else. Clay’s always had a temper, and he’ll strike out before he thinks, but now—” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.
“So Clay lost last year’s crops and now this year’s. Are you trying to tell me he’s bankrupt?”
“No. Travis and I have talked to the creditors, and we’re backing Clay. I told Clay he had to keep Bianca from spending any more, though.”
She turned to face him. “And did you tell Clay you were going to stand behind his debts?”
“Of course. I didn’t want him to worry.”
“Men!” Nicole said fiercely, then said some things in French that made Gerard, who listened passively to everything, raise his eyebrows. “How would you like for Clay to tell you he knew you couldn’t handle your own land, but not to worry, that he’d take care of you?”
“It wasn’t like that! We’re friends; we’ve always been friends.”
“Friends help each other, they don’t destroy each other.”
“Nicole!” Wes warned, getting angry. “I’ve known Clay all my life, and—”
“And now you throw an anchor to a drowning man, that’s what!”
Wes stood up, his face growing red, his hands clutching the table.
Janie interceded. “Stop it, you two! You’re acting like children. Worse than children, since the twins never act like that.”
Wes began to calm down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry, but Nicole, you’re accusing me of some awful things.”
She turned back to the fire, the poker still in her hand. She’d redrawn the bend in the river that Wes had shown her. She stared at it as she spoke. “I didn’t mean anything. It’s just that Clay’s so proud. He loves the plantation, and he’d rather give it up than lose it.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t. Maybe I’m having difficulty expressing myself. Wes, isn’t there any way we could keep the river from flooding?”
“Pray, maybe. If the rain stopped, the water might recede.”
“Why doesn’t that land flood every year? Why is it such a sometime thing?”