Acadian Star

by Helene Boudreau

  Meg’s face twisted in confusion. She took Geneviève’s arm and directed her back to the front door. “No, you just stay here. Wait a few minutes, then go back into the house. I need to go.”

  “Are you thinking of going to the church, too?” Geneviève asked. “Thank goodness! I thought I would have to convince you to go find our papas. I have been trying to think of how to get away all day, but of course your maman would think it unsafe.”

  Meg stared at Geneviève. “The church?”

  “Oh, I know the soldier said the men have already been boarded, but we at least have to go to the church to see if they are still there.”

  “No!” Meg dropped Geneviève’s arm and stepped down the front stairs.

  Mache-couine rose at the commotion, rounded his back in a stretch, then streaked up the hill.

  “I’m not taking you to the church. I’m not taking you anywhere. Just do as I say and go back inside.”

  Geneviève held a hand in mid-air as if searching for Meg. “But I need you, Marguerite. You are the only one who can help me. You know your maman would not allow it.”

  Meg tried to ignore Geneviève’s pleas. She watched the blur of the cat as it headed for the barn. That’s where she’d go, she thought to herself, to the place where this part of the journey began.

  “I can’t help you, Geneviève.” Meg took one last look at Geneviève’s bewildered expression. Her mind turned to Nève and her life back in Picasse Bay. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, then turned and ran up the hill to the barn.

  “Marguerite!” Geneviève called, but Meg willed her legs forward. She had to escape from this nightmare. Her legs burned as she raced up the hill, the wool of her skirt chafing her bare skin as she ran. She swallowed against the hard lump at the back of her throat as she thought of the family she was leaving behind.

  But no matter what Tante Perle said, there was nothing Meg could do to help. And why should she risk her life, anyway? Even if she didn’t do anything, when she eventually made it back to Picasse Bay, everything would still be back to normal.

  Except normal meant Nève moving away. And what about Tante Perle? Would she be there when Meg returned? Either way, Meg couldn’t just wait around to be deported with the others.

  She dashed into the barn and scrambled up the ladder to the loft. Heaving with each breath, she pulled out the oyster to examine it; the crack had crept farther across the shell. Who knew how much longer the magic would last? She needed to get out of there; she had wasted enough time already.

  Meg closed her eyes and held the shell between her fingers. She willed herself to think back to the time in the cellar when all this began. The coloured lights that danced in the darkness, the dizziness—the same thing had happened in the lower deck of the ship. And each time she was transported from one time to another, she had been holding the shell. She traced the edges of the shell lightly, waiting for the colourful lights and dizziness to appear as they had before.

  After several minutes of nothing happening, she stopped. What else did she need to do to get out of this nightmare? She glanced around the loft. Tante Perle’s shawl lay strewn in the straw where she had tossed it aside when she first arrived. The shawl had been her only haven from the smells and sounds of the lower deck. It had been so dark and lonely there. Darkness. The cellar had also been dark. That must be it!

  Meg pulled Tante Perle’s shawl over her head and did her best to block the light. The musky odour of the hay stuck to the shawl penetrated her nostrils. The edges of the shell were rough against her fingers. Concentrate, Meg thought. She gave herself up to the sensation of the shell between her fingers and closed her eyes.

  Soon, a flash of thoughts whirled through her mind. The image of the harbour basin with the awaiting ships dissolved into the seascape of bobbing lobster buoys of Picasse Bay. Meg welcomed the dizziness and laughed with giddiness. It was working!

  “Margit!” Joseph’s voice penetrated Meg’s thoughts.

  Meg shook the sound away and concentrated with all her might on the images flashing in her mind. The image of Geneviève’s confused stare merged with Nève’s sparkling eyes.

  Meg!

  Someone was calling her, from her own time. She was almost there, she couldn’t stop now.

  “Margit!”

  No. She wouldn’t let herself be pulled back. She squeezed her eyes shut to conjure more pictures in her mind. Her body tensed as she channelled all her energy. Another image appeared. The stars beyond the towering masts of the deportation ship twinkled and transformed into pricks of red, white, and blue lights.

  Meg!

  It was there, she could almost make out the fuzzy bits of her old life at the edges of her consciousness. Time wavered and rippled from the past to the present as her dizziness grew. She really was being transported back to Picasse Bay, she was sure of it!

  “Why aren’t you with Gen’viv, Margit? I just saw her walking towards town.”

  Meg froze. All of her thoughts suspended around her like a movie set on pause.

  Geneviève had gone without her? But she was blind! How could she hope to make it to the church by herself and avoid the patrolling soldiers?

  Meg pulled Tante Perle’s shawl away. The coloured lights dissolved as her eyes met daylight.

  What would happen if the soldiers caught Geneviève? How could she explain her living situation to them? There were no records to prove it. They might even transport her to one of the waiting ships to save themselves the trouble of finding out where she belonged. Then Geneviève would be alone, separated from the Haché-Galland family just like Tante Perle had said.

  “Joseph!”

  The little boy stood at the bottom of the ladder with Mache-couine at his feet.

  “Maman sent me after you to give you this for Madame Douaron.” He held out a serving spoon. “What are you doing in the barn? Maman thinks you are with Gen’viv.”

  Meg pulled the shawl around her shoulders and stumbled down the ladder.

  “You’re right. I should be with Geneviève.”

  The dizziness fell away as the harsh reality set in. This wasn’t some crazy dream, it was real. Meg couldn’t deny it anymore. The ships were real. The soldiers were real. The Galland family was real. And most of all, Geneviève was in grave danger. Meg grabbed Joseph’s hand and ran from the barn.

  She had to find Geneviève before it was too late.

  Chapter 14

  MEG AND JOSEPH RAN TO THE HOUSE FIRST, but Madame Galland and baby Daniel were gone.

  “They must have gone to Madame Douaron’s to look for us,” Meg said breathlessly. She turned to Joseph. “Leave the cat. Can you show me where you last saw Geneviève?”

  Joseph let the cat go, and Mache-couine thumped to the floor and took his place next to the warmth of the hearth. Joseph took Meg’s hand and they ran out of the house and down a rutted path lined with trees.

  “Geneviève!” Meg called out her name in desperation. Thinking of how brave Geneviève was being only made Meg feel like more of a coward for abandoning her.

  The path grew muddy at its lowest point and a cool wind ripped through Meg’s cotton shirt. She swept Joseph into her arms and wrapped Tante Perle’s shawl around him.

  “Geneviève!’ she called again.

  Marg…rite…!

  Off in the brush, Meg caught a glimpse of Geneviève’s golden hair. She tore through the bushes, shielding Joseph as the alders brushed the sides of her face. Geneviève stood in a clearing, her face flushed and streaked with tears as she held her hands before her, as if trying to make sense of her surroundings.

  “Stay there, I’m coming for you,” Meg called. She reached her in the middle of a clearing and hugged her with all her might.

  “Marguerite. You came!” Geneviève said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Meg said. “I should never have left you alone back there.”

  “No, it was a horrible idea to set off on my own like that. I just wanted…” Geneviè
ve trembled as a new wave of tears began. She took the shawl Meg offered and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders.

  “You wanted your papa back.” Meg stroked Geneviève’s hair and choked back her own tears.

  “And then I felt like I was walking into a bog and must have wandered off the path…”

  “Don’t worry. I’m here now.” Meg balanced Joseph on one hip and wrapped her arm around Geneviève to warm her.

  “I just wanted to see Papa. With Maman gone, I just can’t bear the thought of losing him too.”

  “But your papa would want you to be safe. Imagine what he’d think if he knew you were out here like this, looking for him. And little Daniel—he needs you.”

  “I know that now. It was stupid of me to go. In my heart, I know Papa is gone.”

  “But you didn’t want to turn your back on him. I understand, Geneviève, really I do.” Meg kissed her and Joseph too, then hugged them both.

  Joseph wriggled out of her arms. “Blech, Margit.”

  The two girls let out a laugh. Meg sighed at the sight of the smile on Geneviève’s face.

  “Let’s go home.” Meg wrapped Geneviève’s arm around hers and took Joseph by the hand. She led the group through the forest and up the rutted path back to the house.

  Madame Galland met them at the door with baby Daniel in her arms as they arrived.

  “Merci le beau Dieu!” She whisked the group into the house.

  “When I found the dish at the door and no one at Madame Douaron’s, I didn’t know what to think!”

  “We’re sorry we made you worry.” Meg helped Geneviève sit on a chair by the table. Joseph scooped Mache-couine into his arms and scrambled up on the bed.

  “Where were you?” Madame Galland demanded. “I was afraid the soldiers had taken you.” She patted the bundle in her arms, trying to quiet the fussy baby.

  “It was my fault,” Meg said. “We got separated, then Joseph came to find me. But we’re together now.”

  Madame Galland grabbed Meg by the arm and pulled her to the other side of the room. She fixed her gaze on Meg, her eyes filled with fury.

  “You left her alone? How could you? Of all the times to disappoint me.”

  “I…I’m sorry.” Meg shrank back at the outburst.

  Madame Galland struggled to compose herself. She turned away from the others and spoke in a low voice. “I have a baby who can’t be settled, a boy with an air for adventure, and a blind girl to look after. If I can’t depend on you, Marguerite…” Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Well, I really don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Meg was left breathless by Madame Galland’s words.

  Madame Galland turned and crossed the room to put Daniel in the cradle, then pulled a blanket over Joseph as he lay snuggled on the bed with the cat. “Come, Geneviève. Sit by the fire and warm up. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”

  Madame Galland helped Geneviève change into dry stockings. When she returned to the cradle to tend to the baby, Meg took a deep breath and crossed the room to the trunk to retrieve a hairbrush.

  “Here.” She loosened Geneviève’s ribbons and brushed the strands away from her face. “Let me fix your hair.”

  She pulled the brush through Geneviève’s hair with long, fluid strokes. The motion brought her back to Picasse Bay. This could have easily been Nève’s hair she was brushing. A hopeless sadness threatened to overwhelm her as she laid one tress over the other in a neat braid, then secured it with a ribbon.

  “There, that’s better.” Meg cleared her throat and sat by the fire next to Geneviève. Madame Galland looked up from the cradle and offered an appreciative smile.

  “Thank you, Marguerite.” Geneviève rested her head on Meg’s shoulder. “For everything. You’re the best friend a girl could have.”

  A pang of guilt rose within Meg. Brushing Geneviève’s hair was one thing, but could she really take on the responsibility Madame Galland was asking of her?

  She’d stopped herself from returning to the present when she’d found out Geneviève was in danger. But given the chance again, would she make the same choice?

  Meg lay awake between Geneviève and Madame Galland. She shifted in the bed, trying to get comfortable. Her body ached to the core. What she wouldn’t do for a hot shower and her own soft bed back in Picasse Bay. They’d gone to bed in their clothes, not knowing when the soldiers would come for them in the morning. Baby Daniel slept nearby in his cradle. Madame Galland rocked it occasionally through the night when he stirred.

  Joseph lay cuddled at Meg’s feet after having spent the evening sobbing. Madame Galland had told him that the cat would have to stay behind. He’d finally drifted off at the foot of the bed, clutching his blanket, with Mache-couine curled up at his side.

  Meg lay in the darkness, weighing her decision. With the Galland family now back together and Geneviève safe, she had a choice to make. Should she try to return to Picasse Bay now, or should she see this whole thing through and wait until everyone was safely on the ship? And what guarantee did she have that she’d be able to return at all? she wondered.

  Finally, she heard the even breathing of sleep above the buzz of the mosquitoes in the rafters. The oyster shell beckoned her from the pocket of her apron. She reached for it and held it in her hand, following the fissure along the length of the shell with her thumb. The crack had edged its way even farther across. How much longer did Meg have before the magic was lost and it was too late?

  Just then, she heard Joseph whimper softly. He pressed his body against her feet. Meg propped her head up onto her hand to look at him as he rubbed his blanket to his nose. This was more than she had bargained for.

  Madame Galland had enveloped her with love the moment she had stepped into the house. Baby Daniel was a helpless infant. And Geneviève was becoming more and more of a friend, not just a distant ancestor. To complicate matters, Meg hadn’t counted on falling in love with a new little brother.

  The weight of the world pressed down on Meg. Could she really leave this family, her family, without knowing whether they had made it onto the ship together? She let out a heavy sigh and flopped back down onto the mattress. The hay padding stuck out in places, prickling her arms.

  “You can’t sleep either?” Geneviève whispered.

  Meg turned her head slightly toward her friend. The outline of Geneviève’s face was the only thing visible in the low light.

  Meg wondered what it must be like to be blind. No shadows, just darkness. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine. A feeling of wooziness overtook her senses. Familiar red, white, and blue pinpoints of light danced behind her eyelids.

  “No!” Meg cried. Her eyes flew open. She wasn’t ready to leave.

  Not yet.

  “Shh…you’ll wake everyone.” Geneviève reached for Meg’s hand in the darkness and instead touched the edge of the shell. “You still have it,” she said, taking the shell in her hand.

  Meg stiffened. “Um, yeah.” How did Geneviève know about the shell? Wasn’t it Ginette who had given the shell to Tante Perle? Did that mean the shell was actually from this time, passed on from one Marguerite Gallant to another? There was only one way to find out. Meg hesitated before continuing, then asked, “Do you remember what you said when you gave it to me?”

  “Of course,” Geneviève replied. “I said if we ever found the other half, we’d be friends forever.”

  “Yes,” Meg whispered. So it had been Geneviève all along…and the first Marguerite. The realization swept over Meg like a cool breeze from an open window.

  “I even remember what it looks like,” Geneviève said as she placed the shell back into Meg’s hand.

  “What can you remember?” Meg asked.

  “I remember the inside was as white as a pearl and looked like the morning sky. The bluest blue streaked with the prettiest pink.” Geneviève was silent for a moment, then continued.

  “And I remember your face, Marguerite. I’ll never forget what you look like.
” She turned to her side and traced her fingers around Meg’s brow and cheek.

  Meg was overwhelmed by the gesture. She felt Geneviève’s fingers slip over her hot tears.

  “Now I’ve upset you,” Geneviève said.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just…well, everything.”

  “I know.” Geneviève leaned back against the mattress and folded her hands on her stomach. Soon Meg heard Geneviève crying too.

  “What will become of us, Marguerite? All of us?” Geneviève asked into the darkness. Meg’s heart ached at the strain in her friend’s voice.

  Maybe it was the bond of the Gallant family ties throughout the generations or simply the quiet strength of the friendship that had grown between them, but in that moment, Meg made her decision.

  “C’est bien.” She tucked the oyster shell in the pocket of her apron and reached for Geneviève’s hand in the darkness. Whatever she had to do, she couldn’t let this family—her family—down.

  “Friends forever, Geneviève. I promise.”

  Chapter 15

  MEG AWOKE WITH A START. She felt for the shell in her pocket. It was still there. And so was she. An odd sense of relief washed over her as she awoke to the same reality as the night before.

  Meg couldn’t remember the moment she had fallen asleep. Her sleep had been so deep, she was sure she hadn’t moved a muscle. Her limbs felt like lead. Mosquitoes buzzed around her face, renewed by the warmth of the sunshine streaming into the simple house.

  But something was wrong. The pressure she had felt at her feet the night before was not there. She bolted upright in bed.

  “Joseph!” The little boy was gone. The cat had vanished.

  “Mon Dieu!” Madame Galland was up in a flash. “Joseph!” Meg helped her search the house.

  “What’s the matter, what’s wrong?” Geneviève grasped the side of the bed and struggled to stand.

  “It’s Joseph! Mache-couine must have wandered off and he’s probably gone after him!” Meg had only known the boy for a short time, but still a powerful force possessed her, willing her to find him. “I’ll go look for him!” Meg headed for the door.