by Adrien Leduc
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The following day, immediately after Mass, Godfrey, Arthur and Jules piled into the back of their uncle Benjamin’s truck.
“Are you sure you won’t come, Julie?” asked the broad shouldered man as they rolled slowly past her and Rosa.
“No, thanks, Benjamin. I’m fine. The girls and I will go on home. Speaking of which, where’s Delphina?”
Rosa pointed towards the river twenty yards away where her elder sister was picking flowers with another girl from the parish.
“Josephine’s cooked a nice ham for lunch,” said Benjamin.
Julie smiled. She’d always had a soft spot for Leandre’s good-natured, younger brother.
“No, but give her my regards.”
Rosa began to wail then, upset that she wasn’t allowed to go and Julie silenced her with a slap to the wrist. “Goodness, child. The way you whine. DELPHINA! WE’RE LEAVING! GET YOUR HAT AND LET’S GO!”
Benjamin grinned at his sister-in-law’s no nonsense attitude. “Alright. But next time you’re coming with. And Rosa, you and your sister as well. Okay, ma petite?”
The little girl looked at her uncle but refused to smile, instead shaking her head and burying her tear-stained faced into her mother’s blouse.
Julie and Benjamin exchanged that look adults do when kids are misbehaving and with one final wave, they were off.
“I’LL HAVE THEM BACK BY SUPPER!” he hollered as they pulled away from the Saint Timothée Cathedral, a cloud of dust rising in their wake.
