Remy Broussard's Christmas

by Kittie Howard

  “If the road in front of the school washes out, we’re stuck in the classroom,” Luke said.

  “With no food,” Bobby Lee added, “except for cookies and milk.”

  Remy reprimanded Bobby Lee, “Mrs. Guidry’s cookies are delicious.”

  “I know. But I haven’t tasted turkey since last year’s Christmas party.” He jumped when rain slammed the windows and rattled panes. “Oh, no! The weather is getting worse.”

  When Mrs. Guidry’s chair scraped back, heads turned. “I want students to return to where you sat this morning,” she announced, walking down the middle aisle. “Straighten rows before you return. After you get situated, organize worksheets to turn in. We must be prepared for the Christmas party.”

  When Mrs. Guidry reached the first workstation, Bobby Lee said, “Whew! The party’s not cancelled.”

  “The party’s safe, as long as Mr. LeBlanc doesn’t whisper in Mrs. Guidry’s ear, like what happened in September,” Maurice said. The school, like the homes of the majority of students, lacked a telephone. Landowners with telephones monitored road conditions and relayed information to Mr. LeBlanc’s general store, on the opposite side of the railroad tracks.

  “Since Mr. Langlois and the other bus drivers live near Mr. LeBlanc’s store,” Maurice continued, “students returned home before drainage ditches filled and flooded the roads.”

  Bobby Lee’s eyes popped. “You’re right!” he said, bolting for his desk on the third row and igniting a melee of excited students.

  With a burst of activity, students returned the classroom to normal order and organized worksheets. “Thank you,” Mrs. Guidry said, collecting papers. “The classroom looks very nice. While we wait out the storm, talk to seatmates, but don’t wander around the room.”

  “Yeah, but what about Leonard?” Bobby Lee asked, draping over the back of his chair, while Maurice and Remy spread forward over desks. “When Leonard leaves Mr. Jarreau’s class, he’s at home. What happens when school starts in January, and Leonard returns? Christmas would be perfect if the bully disappeared.”

  “Don’t say that,” Maurice admonished. “Before Leonard’s daddy left to fight in that war in Korea, he played sports and participated in class activities. But his mama is busy with the farm now. Leonard doesn’t have brothers and sisters. He’s lonely and feels unloved. Father Lorio said people with empty hearts take out their anger on others. If Leonard changed back to how he used to be, he wouldn’t be a problem. No one’s perfect,” Maurice said, shrugging. “Leonard can get angry about his problems with English. But everyone has a difficult subject.”

  “I struggle with English, too,” Bobby Lee said. “Cajun French is easier.”

  “Leonard’s a genius in geography,” Maurice said. “He can identify countries on a map without names written down.”

  “He can draw,” Remy said. “Before Leonard became a bully, he showed me drawings of birds and cows and horses. I don’t understand what happened.”

  “Leonard’s bullying is too strange for kids to understand,” Bobby Lee said. “Remy, your daddy would know what to do. He was in the Marine Corps and fought on Iwo Jima during World War II. Leonard would respect your daddy and listen.”

  “No! I can’t tell daddy. He’d tell mama. Ever since baby Yvette went to heaven three weeks ago, mama can’t stop crying. When mama isn’t crying about Yvette, she’s crying about daddy being sick.”

  “Then talk to Father Lorio,” Maurice suggested, “or Mrs. Guidry. As nice as Leonard was, he’s a bully now. A bully fears getting caught. Only an outside force can stop a bully.”

  “No! I can’t tell anyone, not the way people gossip. Mama said if she hears one more problem she will run away. Daddy’s too sick to take care of me. If mama runs away, I’ll be sent to an orphanage in Baton Rouge.”

  Maurice and Bobby Lee exchanged puzzled looks. “Nobody runs away before Christmas,” Maurice said.

  “Mama would! Last week, a social worker drove to the shack. Daddy told the man to go away. When the social worker whispered something, daddy stepped outside. The two stood close and talked.”

  “Where were you?” Maurice asked. “Could you see the man’s face?”

  “I hid near the side of the shack. The man’s back was to me, but after daddy called for mama, they stood in the center of the porch. The social worker spoke Cajun French, like we do.”

  “What’s a social worker?” Bobby Lee asked.

  “A person who helps people in trouble,” Maurice answered, keeping his eyes on Remy. “Did you hear the man say he was a social worker?”

  Remy nodded yes. “The man explained what he did to mama and daddy.”

  “He must have driven from Baton Rouge,” Maurice said. “No one’s a social worker here.”

  “That’s what scares me. The social worker said to mama and daddy, ‘A child so young needs proper care. He can’t receive that care here.’ Daddy got so mad he punched the wall. Mama looked like a ghost.”

  Bobby Lee whistled softly.

  Maurice grew thoughtful. “I don’t think you heard right. I mean, you didn’t hear the first part, when the social worker whispered to your daddy. I don’t believe your mama’s running away.”

  “Yes, she is,” Remy argued. “Mama’s angry I lied to her.”

  “You lied to your mama! That’s not good,” Maurice said.

  “Yeah, that’s not good,” Bobby Lee echoed. “You shouldn’t lie.”

  “I know. I was wrong. But I didn’t have a choice.”

  “When it comes to lying,” Maurice said, biting his lip, “there’s always a choice. You chose to lie. Why?”

  Remy gulped and faced Bobby Lee. “When you and Madeleine got sick and missed a day of school last month, I worried Maurice had gotten sick, too. I was afraid to go to school, and Leonard would slug me.” He took a deep breath. “I pretended my tummy hurt so Mama would keep me home. When I got hungry and ate a biscuit, mama wanted to know how I could eat when my tummy hurt. Daddy said I lied to mama and made me stand in the corner for two minutes.”

  “Lies cause nothing but trouble,” Maurice said, shivering. “The room’s gotten colder. Button the top of your jacket, Remy, so you don’t get sick. I don’t want Mrs. Guidry mad at me for not taking care of you.” Maurice’s parents had given Father Lorio the money to purchase the jacket for Remy, ostensibly a birthday gift from the priest. Maurice’s mother and Father Lorio were first cousins.

  “Did you apologize to your parents for lying?” Bobby Lee asked.

  “No. I worried they’d learn about Leonard. I didn’t want mama to run away.”

  “Christmas is coming. Your mama won’t run away,” Maurice insisted.

  “You don’t understand. When I woke up this morning, mama wasn’t in the kitchen. When I met Bobby Lee and Madeleine, to walk to the school bus, I had searched everywhere. Mama wasn’t in the shack. Mama wasn’t outside. She wasn’t in the chicken coop. She wasn’t in the out-house. When I asked daddy where mama was, he said, ‘I don’t know.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Winds

  Howling winds replaced the rain. Pecan trees in the pasture swayed and twisted. Branches snapped beneath the force and swirled into a sky the sun had abandoned. Standing water from the morning’s deluge rolled like miniature waves over flat land into drainage ditches. Inside the classroom, the three windows rattled.

  Madeleine raised her hand. Her face was strained, as if she fought to retain control. “What if one of the windows breaks?”

  Mrs. Guidry crossed from the first row to Madeleine and stood to her right. “Don’t be afraid,” she soothed. “Rougher weather ended without damage. If I thought a window would break, I’d ask students to crouch under desks, like we practice during nuclear bomb drills.”

  “But a broken window can shatter and cut us, even if students hide under desks,” Madeleine persisted, fidgeting with the bow at her neck. “Blood makes my tummy feel funny.”

  Mrs. Guidry straightened the
bow atop Madeleine’s head. “You always look pretty, Madeleine, but you’re especially pretty today. Goodness, but your hair is as silky as angel’s hair.”

  Madeleine beamed. “Mama washed my hair with shampoo Father Lorio gave her. Mama got upset when I asked Father Lorio if parishioners ever donated shampoo to the poor people’s box.” She leaned forward. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful for the Lava soap people donate. But I think little rocks hide inside the bar. The soap scratches my face,” she said, touching her cheek, then fluffing her curls. “The shampoo didn’t make my hair look like hay.”

  “Your hair is beautiful,” Mrs. Guidry said, smiling at Madeleine. “I’m sure more shampoo will appear in the church’s box.”

  “I hope so. I don’t want my hair to fall out, like it does with the Lava soap,” she said, a pensive look on her face. “I don’t know how we’d manage if Father Lorio didn’t help. Mama says without clothes people donate, we’d walk around as naked as jaybirds.” Tears filled Madeleine’s black eyes. “Mrs. Guidry, I’m afraid the weather will ruin the Christmas party. Mama said Mr. Laurent has a ham and vegetables for us today, like he gave us last year. Mr. Laurent is very good to us. But, if mama has leftovers from the party, she can save the ham Christmas dinner. I made a birthday card for Jesus to put on the table.”

  Mrs. Guidry wiped perspiration forming on Madeleine’s brow with a fresh handkerchief. “Don’t worry, little angel. Students will receive leftovers from the party.” She placed the folded handkerchief on Madeleine’s desk. “Please keep the handkerchief, Madeleine, in case you perspire later.”

  Madeleine’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mrs. Guidry, the handkerchief is beautiful. Thank you. I’ve never had a real handkerchief before. Mama cuts up worn-out clothes to use.” She tucked the handkerchief inside the dress’s bodice.

  “I think you should eat a cookie before the party starts.”

  “I can’t. I’m hungry, but I can’t eat. My tummy feels funny.”

  “Did you eat a cookie and drink a glass of milk earlier?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “How fast did you eat the cookie and drink the milk?”

  Madeleine scrunched her shoulders and wrung her hands. “I tried not to eat fast, I really did. Mama says eating too fast makes the tummy angry.”

  “Tell me how funny your tummy feels.”

  “My tummy feels like it wants to run away.”

  “Ronnie,” Mrs. Guidry said, turning toward the row near the side blackboard, “please pour a glass of water from the pitcher in the bookroom.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Guidry bent over Madeleine. Rivulets of perspiration ran down Madeleine’s forehead. After reaching into her skirt’s empty right pocket, she said, “Madeleine, can you loan me your handkerchief?”

  A shaky hand reached behind the bow at the neck. “I can’t feel the handkerchief. It must have fallen.”

  “Thank you, Ronnie,” Mrs. Guidry said, handing the glass of water to Madeleine.

  “Oh, no,” Madeleine cried. “The lights flickered. The Christmas tree’s angel will die.”

  “Angels never die. Angels always protect us.” Mrs. Guidry wrapped her fingers around a string of pearls at her neck, a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary gift, and said to the combined grades, “Remember, boys and girls, if the electrical power fails, flashlights are in the basket at the workstation, in the well beneath the blackboard behind me, and in the well beneath the blackboard near the door to the bookroom.” After gesturing to the various locations, she said, “If needed, I’ll get the flashlight in the well at the front blackboard. Let’s see the hands of the flashlight captains for the workstation and the side blackboard.” Antoinette and Ronnie raised their hands.

  “Very good,” Mrs. Guidry said. “Now, resume your conversations, but don’t panic if the wind knocks out the electrical power.” Her expression was serious.

  “But how would people rescue us if the bayou road washed out, and there’s no electricity?” Madeleine asked, brushing perspiration out of her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “You’re imagining what won’t happen,” Mrs. Guidry said, stooping down. Her voice was soft, as if Madeleine were a kitten. “Mr. LeBlanc and Mr. Langlois know students are in school.”

  Madeleine nodded and placed the glass of water near the pencil’s well. “Yes, ma’am. But I’m scared. It’s dark outside. If the classroom’s lights go out, the lights go out in the other classrooms. Maybe the bus drivers won’t see where to turn into the schoolyard,” she said, clutching her stomach and standing up. The glass of water crashed onto the floor.

  “I—I don’t feel good,” Madeleine said, taking rushed and jagged steps toward the blackboard. She half-stopped and threw up. Bits of cookie and chunks of white bile sprayed the blackboard and splattered the floor.” Students gasped and froze.

  “Ronnie, get a towel in the bookroom,” Mrs. Guidry said, stepping around broken glass and vomit to comfort Madeleine.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, rushing to the bookroom and swinging the door open. It slammed shut behind him.

  “You will be all right,” Mrs. Guidry said to Madeline, a hand on her shoulder. Madeleine shook her head and lurched forward. She vomited again, just as a power failure plunged the classroom into darkness.

  “Stay calm, boys and girls. Remain in your seats,” Mrs. Guidry said, holding Madeleine’s arm. The classroom grew quiet. “Ronnie, are you all right in the bookroom?” she called, holding Madeleine up.

  Between dry heaves, Madeleine pleaded, “Mrs. Guidry, please don’t leave me.”

  “Ronnie?” Mrs. Guidry called again. When he didn’t respond, she said, “Georgie, get the flashlight by the blackboard, where Ronnie sits.” Georgie sat behind Ronnie.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, inching out of his desk and into Ronnie’s. “Oh, no!” he exclaimed, as the flashlight flipped out of the well, crashed onto the floor, and rolled.

  “Antoinette, get the flashlight in the basket at the workstation, like we practiced.”

  “Madeleine and I put the flashlight on the floor because it rolled on the table.” At the news, a groan spread throughout the classroom. “We wanted to show Marianne and Marie Claire our favorite Crayon colors,” she said and burst into tears.

  “I can crawl under the table and find the flashlight,” Maurice offered.

  “I’ll help,” Bobby Lee said.

  “Thank you, boys,” Mrs. Guidry said, getting Madeleine situated at her desk. With a hand on Madeleine’s collapsed shoulders, she spoke into the cave-like darkness. “The electrical power will return. The wind will blow water off roads into drainage ditches and help dry the roads. Be patient. We’ll have a Christmas party.” While Mrs. Guidry navigated around the vomit to the blackboard for the flashlight, and Georgie searched for the flashlight on the floor, Madeleine sobbed. Howling winds ate the misery.

  “Hello, worm,” Leonard hissed, hunching over the desk behind Remy. “I missed you,” he said, a hand on Remy’s mouth and an arm around his neck. “I slipped through the bathroom door in Mr. Jarreau’s room to visit you. Did you think I’d forgotten about you?” he asked, slamming a fist into Remy’s shoulder. “I hate you, Remy Broussard,” he said, grinding his hand against Remy’s mouth. “Go ahead, squirm. You’re a squirming coward, like your daddy. My daddy’s fighting like a real man in Korea while your daddy’s here, pretending he’s sick.” Leonard removed his hand from Remy’s mouth and yanked his hair. “Did you hear what I said, worm?”

  “S-t-o-p,” Remy hoarsed.

  “I won’t stop until my daddy returns,” Leonard said, raising a fist.

  “Oh, yeah, you will!” Bobby Lee said, grabbing Leonard’s wrist and blocking the blow.

  “Fight!” a student yelled into the darkness.

  “Whoever’s fighting, stop it right now,” Mrs. Guidry commanded, repeatedly pushing the flashlight’s vomit-encased button for light.

  “Leave Bobby Lee and Remy alone,” Maur
ice demanded, twisting Leonard’s left arm.

  Leonard struggled off the desk, recovered from a forward stumble, and roared around. “Get out of my way, Maurice,” he threated, as the electrical power snapped on with a thump. “No one’s stopping me!”

  “I am!” a man’s voice promised with deep authority.

  Leonard turned toward the classroom’s door. “Uncle Jack! What are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Christmas Lights

  Jack Landry, a tall, distinguished-looking man with chiseled features, dropped his hat on the first workstation. “I don’t like what I witnessed,” he said to Leonard and motioned for him to sit at the second workstation. With purposeful steps, he walked up the middle aisle, among students stunned into silence, to join Mrs. Guidry at Ronnie’s desk.

  “Don’t be upset, Ronnie,” Mrs. Guidry soothed. “It wasn’t your fault the door stuck. You did the best you could.” She turned to Jack Landry. “I’m appreciative you came, Mr. Landry. Thank you.” Relief flooded her face.

  “My apologies for not arriving sooner. Until the rain and wind stopped, roads presented a problem.”

  “Boys and girls, this nice man is Leonard’s uncle, Mr. Landry. He drove from New Orleans to talk to you,” she said.

  He smiled at the students, through the tension on his face, then pulled a handkerchief from his suit’s breast pocket. “Excuse me, Mrs. Guidry, I’d like to talk to those three boys first,” he said, nodding toward Remy, Maurice, and Bobby Lee. They huddled at the scene of the fight.

  “Son, your lip bleeds,” he said, offering Remy the handkerchief.

  “Thank you, sir. I’m afraid the blood will stain the writing,” he said, blinking at the monogrammed letters.

  Jack Landry’s no-nonsense eyes softened. He wiped the blood from Remy’s lips and the scratches on his face. He gave Remy the folded handkerchief, and asked, “Are you Remy?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Leonard’s bullying hurt you physically and mentally. There is no excuse for the pain he inflicted and the suffering he caused. I apologize for Leonard’s behavior and pray the Landry family can right a terrible wrong.” Remy shook his extended hand.