him, her teeth biting
down on her upper lip as if steeling herself for something painful.
With no warning she reached into his lap.
"Madame!" he'd said, rising to his feet in
shock.
Her hands were on him then, on the front of
his pants. Touching him there, there where he was already growing
to fit her hand.
And afterward they knelt together on the
cabin floor, his arms around her, laughing together.
And then he kissed her. She tasted of him and
herself and of the sin they had committed. It was a better taste
than even her cooking.
Laron smiled to himself as the tender memory
washed over him. He held the curtain aside and allowed Karl to
precede him into the cabin. They carried eggs and milk and were
hungry as bears.
Elsa and Jakob were helping their mother. Or
at least Elsa was; Jakob seemed to be more employed in laughing and
scampering about the room.
He and Karl emptied their buckets and poured
the milk through a straining cloth. Laron leaned more closely to
dip himself water from the big black pot that hung on the firehook.
Then using the punch on the end of the poker, he eased the hook
over the flames.
Helga was setting breakfast on the table. She
had already washed with last night's water, her hair carefully
braided and once more atop her head. She looked tidy and neat, and
Laron wanted to walk across the room and kiss her. But it was full
daylight and the children were there, so he did not.
"Beignets!" Jakob called out as if it were a
battle cry.
Helga had learned to fry the sweet Acadian
treat to please Laron, but her children enjoyed the hot, sugary
cakes as well.
"And eggs, too," his mother answered. "The
guinea hens have laid four this morning. That seems much abundance
for this family to share."
The word family caught momentarily in her
throat and Laron could not help but notice it. Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
"It is a wonderful day outside," little Jakob
announced to anyone who had not heard already. "A storm is coming.
Oh I wish, how I wish that after breakfast we could go fishing in
your pirogue?"
Laron shook his head. "Not today," he
answered. "Today we harvest that providence rice down in the swampy
bog. We've left it almost too long already. It's going to turn cold
soon and we might lose it altogether before I return."
Jakob nodded, not wholly disappointed.
But surprisingly Karl turned surly. "I don't
want to work in the rice," he complained. "I work here all week
every week, while you come and go as you please. It's your rice;
you should harvest it yourself."
The boy's attitude was more than
disagreeable; it was disrespectful, and Laron opened his mouth to
tell the boy just that. To his surprise, Helga unexpectedly
interceded.
"Perhaps Karl can borrow your pirogue and
catch us a big fish while we cut and stack the grain," she said.
"With me and the children helping, you should be able to get the
rice in without him."
Stunned almost speechless, Laron hesitated to
reply, giving Helga a long curious look before he nodded and
answered. "Of course," he said. "We can do it ourselves."
Karl puffed up like a toad fish and gave
Laron a look that was positively defiant.
"You want to go fishing with me, squirt?"
Karl asked his brother, one eye on Laron, almost daring him to
speak.
The little fellow seemed startled by the
invitation. Karl usually treated him like an unwelcome pest. Jakob
hesitated, momentarily tempted. The tension at the table was
palpable, undoubtedly even young Jakob could feel it.
"Non," he said finally. "I want to be with
Oncle."
Karl looked daggers at Laron.
Laron looked questioningly at Helga.
Helga looked down.
Laron took his place at the table, still
puzzled and uncertain. Without Karl to help, cutting the rice would
put more work on Helga and Elsa and take all day at least. But Karl
was Helga's son and she raised him as she saw fit. But clearly,
something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Aida was horrified when the Sonnier family
arrived in
down on her upper lip as if steeling herself for something painful.
With no warning she reached into his lap.
"Madame!" he'd said, rising to his feet in
shock.
Her hands were on him then, on the front of
his pants. Touching him there, there where he was already growing
to fit her hand.
And afterward they knelt together on the
cabin floor, his arms around her, laughing together.
And then he kissed her. She tasted of him and
herself and of the sin they had committed. It was a better taste
than even her cooking.
Laron smiled to himself as the tender memory
washed over him. He held the curtain aside and allowed Karl to
precede him into the cabin. They carried eggs and milk and were
hungry as bears.
Elsa and Jakob were helping their mother. Or
at least Elsa was; Jakob seemed to be more employed in laughing and
scampering about the room.
He and Karl emptied their buckets and poured
the milk through a straining cloth. Laron leaned more closely to
dip himself water from the big black pot that hung on the firehook.
Then using the punch on the end of the poker, he eased the hook
over the flames.
Helga was setting breakfast on the table. She
had already washed with last night's water, her hair carefully
braided and once more atop her head. She looked tidy and neat, and
Laron wanted to walk across the room and kiss her. But it was full
daylight and the children were there, so he did not.
"Beignets!" Jakob called out as if it were a
battle cry.
Helga had learned to fry the sweet Acadian
treat to please Laron, but her children enjoyed the hot, sugary
cakes as well.
"And eggs, too," his mother answered. "The
guinea hens have laid four this morning. That seems much abundance
for this family to share."
The word family caught momentarily in her
throat and Laron could not help but notice it. Something was wrong.
Something was very wrong.
"It is a wonderful day outside," little Jakob
announced to anyone who had not heard already. "A storm is coming.
Oh I wish, how I wish that after breakfast we could go fishing in
your pirogue?"
Laron shook his head. "Not today," he
answered. "Today we harvest that providence rice down in the swampy
bog. We've left it almost too long already. It's going to turn cold
soon and we might lose it altogether before I return."
Jakob nodded, not wholly disappointed.
But surprisingly Karl turned surly. "I don't
want to work in the rice," he complained. "I work here all week
every week, while you come and go as you please. It's your rice;
you should harvest it yourself."
The boy's attitude was more than
disagreeable; it was disrespectful, and Laron opened his mouth to
tell the boy just that. To his surprise, Helga unexpectedly
interceded.
"Perhaps Karl can borrow your pirogue and
catch us a big fish while we cut and stack the grain," she said.
"With me and the children helping, you should be able to get the
rice in without him."
Stunned almost speechless, Laron hesitated to
reply, giving Helga a long curious look before he nodded and
answered. "Of course," he said. "We can do it ourselves."
Karl puffed up like a toad fish and gave
Laron a look that was positively defiant.
"You want to go fishing with me, squirt?"
Karl asked his brother, one eye on Laron, almost daring him to
speak.
The little fellow seemed startled by the
invitation. Karl usually treated him like an unwelcome pest. Jakob
hesitated, momentarily tempted. The tension at the table was
palpable, undoubtedly even young Jakob could feel it.
"Non," he said finally. "I want to be with
Oncle."
Karl looked daggers at Laron.
Laron looked questioningly at Helga.
Helga looked down.
Laron took his place at the table, still
puzzled and uncertain. Without Karl to help, cutting the rice would
put more work on Helga and Elsa and take all day at least. But Karl
was Helga's son and she raised him as she saw fit. But clearly,
something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Aida was horrified when the Sonnier family
arrived in
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