“Still at work. I was able to come because I stayed late last night but the boss couldn’t accommodate all five of us. I’m sure you understand.” It was six p.m. on a Saturday. “They’ll meet us at your apartment later.” Edouard kissed Mathilde on the cheek and then turned to Emilie and Joseph, his face lighting up at the sight of them. “Hello there, little monsters. You both got so big.”
“Hi, Edouard,” said Joseph, and he shook his older brother’s hand as a man would. Emilie didn’t know what the most appropriate greeting was so she extended her hand as well. Edouard dropped to one knee and hugged her instead.
“Nice to see you again, Edouard,” she murmured as she accepted his embrace. Right then the memory of Edouard carrying her on his back while he walked across the kitchen floor on his hands and knees flashed through her mind and she smiled. She’d been close to her half-brother once. Maybe she could be again.
Emilie was exhausted when Eugene, Louis, Alphonse and Jean-Baptiste arrived at their new apartment in the Flint section of Fall River. She greeted her half-brothers and then followed Joseph to the bedroom they would share, leaving the adults to catch up. She was tired yet she couldn’t sleep. She focused on the stains she could see on the walls, even in the dark. Their apartment was one of six in what Edouard had called a triple-decker. It was on the third floor and it was stiflingly hot despite open windows. Their home in Rimouski wasn’t much larger than this two-bedroom apartment but it was clean, and fresh air came through its open windows. She would help her mother clean these walls tomorrow, she was sure of it.
Emilie couldn’t believe how many of these triple-deckers lined the streets of their new neighborhood, all of them the same. She didn’t think she could find her way back to their apartment if she had to go anywhere alone. She couldn’t believe how many people were piled up in so little space. Edouard had told her father that they were lucky to have this space just for the four of them and that most apartments hosted families of eight or more. Her father had replied that if any or all of the boys wanted to share the space they were welcome to since it would allow them to save more of their wages. Edouard had promised to think about it. Emilie wondered where the boys would sleep if they moved in, but trusted her father’s judgment.
She heard Joseph’s small bed squeak as he tossed and turned and sighed loudly.
“You can’t sleep either?” she asked softly.
“No. I hate this place. I want to go back home.”
Emilie turned to face her brother. Both beds were so close they might as well have been one bed. “I know it’s not like home, Joseph, but did you see all the stores and the restaurants we passed on our way here? I’m sure we haven’t seen the best of this place yet. Just wait and see.”
“The ice cream did look good in that one store window, did you see it?”
Emilie could imagine a smile on her brother’s face in the darkness of the room. “Yeah, it did look good. And did you see those cookies?”
They kept talking about the things they’d seen on their way from the train station to Flint and finally went to sleep in their new home.
Chapter Three
August 1888
Two months after their move to Fall River, Emilie and Joseph were finally used to the fact that their mother left for the cotton mill with their father, Edouard and Jean-Baptiste six mornings a week. Eugene, Louis and Alphonse had decided to stay in their own apartment but Edouard and Jean-Baptiste had accepted their father’s offer to stay with them. Emilie’s parents had given the second bedroom to the older boys and the parlor at the front of the apartment had been turned into a third bedroom for Joseph and Emilie, with small mattresses directly on the floor. Emilie remembered her mother telling her as they’d first made the small improvised beds that they didn’t need a parlor anyway since they never had time to use it. A kitchen to eat and rooms to sleep in were all they needed.
Emilie had turned nine in July and she was in charge of preparing dinner every night so they could eat in between six and six thirty p.m., as soon as the four adults came back from their thirteen-hour shift at the mill. She enjoyed cooking. In fact, of the long list of chores both Joseph and Emilie had to do every day, cooking was her favorite.
Their chores didn’t leave Emilie and Joseph much time to play outside but they had an hour or two most afternoons to meet with neighboring children by the Quequechan River to swim or play or just chat. Emilie often chose to sit by herself and read an old book she’d already read. This time of day was her time. Besides, the children in Flint Village were almost exactly like the children in Rimouski. Emilie didn’t dare tell her parents or even Joseph that she was quite disappointed with Fall River. It was too much like home, but without the aspects of the farm that she actually missed, like green spaces and animals, animals she could speak to without fear she’d be mocked or misunderstood. Joseph, on the other hand, had adapted to life in Fall River much better than he’d expected that first night. He’d made lots of friends in Flint and as soon as they left their apartment he didn’t pay any attention to his sister, which saddened Emilie.
On this specific Thursday of August, however, Emilie and Joseph didn’t go down by the river to play with the other children. Their mother had warned them that the apartment needed to be perfectly clean and the table needed to be set with their best linens, dishes and silverware. Father Robillard was coming for a visit, his first visit since their arrival. Emilie was surprised it had taken so long for the priest to accept her mother’s invitation. Back home, Father Lavoie had visited often and without being invited.
When they’d left for the cotton mill that morning, her mother had seemed nervous and anxious to finally have Father Robillard over for dinner. Her father, however, had seemed less than pleased. He’d even grumbled something on his way out the door about the money this meal would cost them. Her mother had left Emilie in charge of the pea soup, which Emilie had made before, and had bought pork and beef for a stew. Emilie had made stew once with her mother but today would be the first time she made it alone. Stew was a meal they ate on rare festive occasions and Emilie prepared it with all the respect it deserved.
When her parents and half-brothers came home, she was busy selecting the dishes with the least number of chips. Mathilde went straight to the stove and tasted the stew. “Mm, great job, sweetheart,” she told Emilie, kissing her on top of the head. “You make me proud.” Emilie smiled and watched her mother disappear into her bedroom. She knew her parents and half-brothers were hurrying to change out of their working clothes, covered in cotton dust, into their Sunday clothes. Emilie and Joseph had already changed into the same outfits they’d worn for the trip to Fall River. They hadn’t waited for their mother to tell them. The visit of a priest called for it and Emilie took advantage of every occasion she had to wear her pretty blue dress.
Everyone changed quickly and Mathilde was fixing her chignon when Emilie heard a faint knock at the door. Her father opened the door and welcomed Father Robillard. He then introduced his children to the priest and the men all sat at the table. Emilie helped her mother serve dinner and when they finally joined the men at the table they all closed their eyes as their guest said a prayer.
“Thank you for inviting me. I rarely have the occasion to share a meal with my parishioners,” Father Robillard said afterward. Emilie thought that was strange and from the expression of surprise on her mother’s face, she wasn’t the only one. It seemed some things, after all, were different in Fall River, and that made Emilie smile to herself.
They ate as the priest talked with Emilie’s parents and her older brothers. Emilie focused on her mother as the conversation went on and she could swear she read more and more disappointment in her face.
The first letdown had come when the priest mentioned that he hadn’t been to Canada in over a decade. The second came when he casually declared that he’d seen several families settle permanently in Fall River even though they’d originally come with the intention of going back to Canada.
From her mother’s grimace at the priest’s casual declaration, it couldn’t have been worse if he’d pierced her chest with a knife.
Fortunately for Father Robillard, her mother’s smile came back when he mentioned how much he was looking forward to seeing Emilie and Joseph at Notre Dame’s parochial school in September. Before her expression had a chance to fully change for the better, however, Emilie’s father spoke. “Actually, Father, Emilie and Joseph are going to attend public school.”
Emilie was as shocked as everyone else by her father’s words. She immediately stopped observing her mother’s reactions to bring her attention to her father, whose face was as stern and stoic as Emilie had ever seen it. His gray eyes had become black and his mouth was sealed into a tiny, lipless line, barely visible in the thick black beard studded with white hair.
It seemed to Emilie that the thin crown of gray hair on the priest’s head tried to stand up, and in her mind she could easily see smoke coming out of the priest’s ears. It made her smile, but her smile quickly disappeared as Father Robillard swallowed the bite of stew he’d been chewing and addressed her father directly at the other end of the table. “But Mr. Levesque, surely you want to ensure your children go to a school where their catholic religion and values are taught daily, and in their own language. It is, after all, the only way to maintain their culture and their religious beliefs, the only way to avoid the corruption that grows so easily at every street corner of this country. As the proverb goes, Mr. Levesque, tell me with whom you associate, and I will tell you who you are.” The priest ended his speech with a nervous yet condescending laugh and a long silence followed.
Her father coughed and cleared his throat before he finally answered. “With all due respect, Father, I trust my children already know who they are, no matter who they associate with. Unlike those other families you’ve talked about, we’re going back to Canada sooner rather than later, but I don’t see how it can hurt my children to learn English while they’re here and to be around other folks. I’ve seen plenty of corruption among us and I don’t think paying the Catholic Church to send them to school is what will save them from it.”
“Henri,” Mathilde interrupted. “I think that’s enough.” She spoke in a voice that was soft but achieved her goal as he stopped talking and took another bite of stew. It was the second time Emilie heard her father defy a man of cloth and this time it scared her even more than the first because he’d done it right in his face. Emilie waited for God to strike their apartment with lightning or show his disapproval in some way. But there was only thick, uncomfortable silence.
Edouard and Jean-Baptiste asked the priest a couple of questions, creating diversion until the end of the meal, when everyone stood up and gathered at the door to bid farewell to their guest. Father Robillard thanked Mathilde for the meal and then brought his attention back to Emilie’s father. She trembled at the disdain she saw in his eyes and figured the wrath of God had finally found a way to manifest itself. When he spoke, it was as if each word addressed to her father were like a weight over their entire family. “I hope you’ll reconsider, Mr. Levesque. As your priest, I am convinced Notre Dame is the best option for your children. You do want their lives here in Flint to be as virtuous as possible, don’t you? Not to mention how going to public school may affect their status, and yours, in this community.”
Emilie saw her parents exchange a look before her father answered. “I’ll think about it, Father. I bid you good night.”
Emilie helped her mother with the dishes and went straight to bed with Joseph. Edouard and Jean-Baptise quickly retired to their bedroom as well. Her mother hadn’t said a word while they washed dishes, which was not usual, but she was clearly, obviously upset.
Once everyone else was sleeping, Emilie listened to the argument between her parents. Her father would not back down. She argued that the priest was right, that they needed to go to a French-speaking, Catholic school to keep their virtue and culture intact. He argued that it wouldn’t hurt them to be exposed to different children. But his biggest plea was that he wouldn’t give any money to the Catholic Church when there were free schools available. His final words were, “I’m not going to change my mind about this, Mathilde.” His tone was as rigid as steel. Emilie hadn’t heard her father use those words often but she knew that when he did use them, they marked the end of the conversation. She heard a door slam and then nothing.
That night, Emilie took a long time to finally fall asleep. A small part of her still feared for her father because of his defiance, but a bigger part of her was pleased she’d be going to public school. She’d been told there were American children there, as well as Irish, Italian, Polish and even Russian children. She smiled at the possibility that she might finally stop feeling like the odd one out.
Chapter Four
September 1888
The first day of school wasn’t at all what Emilie had expected. Her father had promised English would be easy to learn, but she didn’t understand anything. She’d loved school in Canada, but here she felt like an idiot. How could she learn when she couldn’t understand anything her teacher said? It was so frustrating.
The other children were different from the children in Rimouski and in Flint Village, that much was for sure, but she couldn’t imagine finding kinship with any of them. Most didn’t pay attention to her. They stayed with their own group and didn’t seem to share her need to get close to anyone outside of their clan. Italians stayed with Italians, Polish with Polish, and so on.
The only group that paid any attention to her was the Irish and so far it was only to insult her. They’d called her “Peasoup” or “Frog” all day long and one had even yelled at her to go back home. He said other things Emilie couldn’t understand, but she knew what “go back home” meant. Emilie ignored the comments but she didn’t understand how children she’d never been in contact with could hate her so much just because she was from Canada. She’d known a couple of Irish children in Rimouski, but they were just like the others. Certainly not mean.
It had been a horrible day and Emilie was ready to go home, maybe not to Canada yet but at least to their apartment in Flint. She almost ran to the spot where she was supposed to meet Joseph so they could walk back together, but when she got there the scene she witnessed horrified her.
Joseph was on the ground and a group of four children his age were kicking him, spitting on him, and yelling at him words that Emilie couldn’t understand beside the familiar names she’d been called herself all day long. Emilie’s instinct was to defend her brother so she started yelling. “What’s wrong with you, boys? Leave my brother alone right now or my five older brothers will kick your butts!” The boys briefly turned to Emilie but only to laugh at her before going back to Joseph.
Certain they couldn’t understand her threat because she’d addressed them in French she was trying to think of English words when someone spoke French behind her. “That’s not going to work. Between the four of them these boys probably have fifteen older brothers of their own.” Emilie turned to see a girl slightly taller than she was. The girl walked past her and addressed the boys in English. They stopped beating on Joseph, grumbled, and went their way.
“What did you say?” Emilie asked the girl as she picked up Joseph’s wool cap and they both walked toward him. She had long curly light brown hair and big blue eyes. Her cheeks were pink, her nose curved up just a little. She looked like the girls in that catalog her mother kept at home who wore all the pretty dresses she’d never have.
“I reminded them they’re one warning away from getting kicked out of school and if they do get kicked out, jobs are already lined up for them at the mill where their parents work.” The girl grabbed one of Joseph’s arms while Emilie grabbed the other and they helped him up. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Joseph mumbled as he shook the dirt off his clothes. “They’re not that strong,” he added with the little pride he had left even as he brought his hand to hi
s side. He took his wool cap and put it back on his head with a forced grin. “Thank you,” he said to the girl.
“Yes, thank you,” Emilie added.
“You’re welcome. My father always says we have to stick together, you know, us frogs.” They all laughed, which made Joseph grunt in pain. “My name is Angeline Fournier.”
“Pleased to meet you, Angeline. I’m Emilie Levesque, and this is my brother Joseph. Do you live in Flint? Do you want to walk with us?”
“Yes, I’d love to walk with you.” Angeline bent forward to whisper into Emilie’s ear, but made sure Joseph could still hear, “Someone has to be there to defend your brother.” Emilie laughed.
“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself,” Joseph quickly protested, his pride as obviously hurt as the side of his body. “It’d help if I could understand what they say.”
“You will,” Angeline reassured him. “You’ll see. You’ll speak English in no time.”
The girls started walking together and Joseph walked behind them, kicking rocks as if they were the boys who attacked him. Emilie was grateful for the time it gave her to speak to Angeline alone. “How long did it take you to learn the language?” she asked.
“Oh, I didn’t.” The answer left Emilie confused and she showed her puzzlement because Angeline chuckled before she continued. She had beautiful laughter: unrestrained, yet not loud or obnoxious. She laughed like a lady. “I mean, I grew up speaking both languages. I was born here.”
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