It had taken Nicole just a few hours after her arrival to learn that French agriculture was a far more civilized affair than farming in the colony. Starting a farm on virgin soil meant waging war against vegetation that had claimed the land centuries before. Trees, vines, roots—all had to be cut down, dug up, and either burned or used for lumber to make proper fields for growing crops. Luc had begun the war against the land, but he needed Nicole to help win the last backbreaking battles. She spent much of her summer toiling in the Quebec sun that was every bit as nasty as her winter storms. Luc’s plot gave them a decent harvest, however, and by autumn the rest of the land was cleared and ready for spring. It would be easier next year. “Supper’s ready, then?” Luc rested on his hoe and wiped the sweat from his brow and patted her protruding midsection. Another miscalculation. Despite Luc’s assurances that their child wouldn’t make an appearance before summer, the first Jarvais child was expected in late February or early March.
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