In fact, one of the next things Ellie planned to try, after her homegrown lavender lemonade, was to recreate the mint-infused rum. It would be a romantic surprise for Julien on the night of his studio opening. She knew it would remind him of their time on the island and the first time they realized they were more than just friends. The circumstances were quite memorable.
College-aged Ellie had gone to the bar by herself that night. While she told herself that she mainly went to watch the sunset, some part of her had to admit that she also loved to watch the bartender whom she had mentally nicknamed Caribbean Crush. She hadn't yet worked up the nerve to say anything to him more than meaningless chatter. She planned to work up the courage to engage him in real conversation.
Ellie was enjoying her time on the island and knew that her French was good; she had been mistaken for a local on three separate occasions and was feeling cocky. She sat at the bar and asked for the traditional chiquetaille de morue on a bed of avocat féroce and a water. She didn't think the fruitiness of famous Le Planteur, or guava berry drink, would go very well with her meal, plus it made her look like a tourist, and she wanted Caribbean Crush to think of her as a long-term visitor, not just another tourist.
Ellie knew a little about him. Julien was working his way through college, studying at the American University of the Caribbean on the Dutch side of the island and bartending at Le Chemise on the French side. He had asked her about her work; it had been difficult for her to get a position due to the limited number of schools on the island. Ellie, too, was working her way through college. In addition to her scholarship, she assisted the English professor at a small private école, and took classes most evenings, working on a double major in foreign language and education.
As Ellie was taking her first bite of the creole-style dish, a glimpse of someone standing just behind her right shoulder startled her. Ellie hadn't heard anyone approach; she merely caught a flash of color in her peripheral vision. Ellie turned and recognized her at once. Madame Margaux had appeared out of nowhere.
Madame Margaux smelled of jasmine and patchouli and was quite the local celebrity. She was a dark-haired, heavy-set woman dressed in a skirt made entirely of scarves. The sheer pieces of fabric were blowing in the wind, and her olive-toned skin was smooth and beautiful except for the corners of her mouth and eyes, where deep lines marked her many years. She was widely rumored to be a descendent of the heir to Château Margaux, the famous winery in the Bordeaux Region of France.
Startled to find Madame Margaux hovering at her side, Ellie sputtered her drink and jumped. Ignoring Ellie's shock, Madame grabbed Ellie's hands, stretched out her palms, and examined them briefly. Then, with Julien watching, she kissed Ellie on both cheeks and whispered something to Ellie in French. What Ellie understood Madame to say in her throaty, unfamiliar French dialect must have been some type of riddle.
When she kissed Ellie's right cheek, Madame Margaux intoned that Ellie would marry Caribbean Crush and have two children. Crazy enough, because they were not even dating, but when Madame kissed Ellie's left cheek, her voice became about an octave lower -- deep, gravely, gruff. Ellie was never sure if she'd understood Madame's words clearly because they held no meaning for her.
Ellie heard Madame garble, "quand les gens bourdonnent comme des moucherons, ne perdez pas la foi, vous allez survivre le creuset" which Ellie roughly translated as "When the people buzz like insects, don't lose faith; you will survive the crucible."
After the strange pronouncement, Ellie felt slightly dazed. For a moment Ellie just stared at Madame. A whirlwind of thoughts flew through Ellie's mind at once, scrambling her brain and preventing her from thinking clearly. Ellie was shocked at Madame Margaux's boldness in approaching her. Wasn't she supposed to entertain tourists who wanted a glimpse of the island's colorful superstitions? Ellie had not asked for a palm reading or ever expressed any interest in fortune-telling. In fact, it had always frightened her.
Why, then, did Madame approach Ellie? Ellie hoped she didn't look like the stereotypical tourist. The day before, a tourist had asked Ellie for directions in his patchy French, and Ellie had been thrilled to be mistaken for a local.
Ellie wondered if Madame was trying to scare Ellie and make her see that she would never fit into Madame's people, her culture, her island. Ellie, however, thought that tactic wouldn't help Madame Margaux earn her living. Madame wouldn't be endearing her clientele if she continued scaring customers. After all, Madame's livelihood depended upon the tourists' wallets.
Nevertheless, seconds after the initial shock wore off, Ellie decided she would help fund Madame's odd lifestyle; poor old lady was probably lonely. Ellie looked down to get a few coins from her bag. She would be a good sport.
When Ellie looked up to hand over the coins, Madame was gone. It spooked Ellie. That was the second time in five minutes that Madame had snuck in and out of Ellie's proximity. How could she do that with all the tinkling earrings, beads, and bangles she wore?
Ellie's face must have revealed her shock because Caribbean Crush brought her a shot of mint-infused rum, on the house, and told her to sip it slowly. After she had finished, Julien asked if she felt better. Ellie gave a nervous chuckle, "How did you know mint's my favorite?"
He flashed a white-toothed smile that dazzled against his dark skin and said, "Well, you looked like you needed to clear your mind, and mint is known for helping with that. My grand-mère taught me about it when I was little."
"Does it work?" Ellie asked.
"My grand-mère was originally from Barbados and a bit eccentric to put it nicely." He said with a wink. Was Caribbean Crush flirting with her? His French was just as beautiful as he was. She inhaled, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the smell of the mint infusion.
"Well, I do feel better," Ellie responded with her head down, still gazing into the shot glass, "and I happen to love studying various uses of herbs, so your grand-mère seems like a very wise woman to me." She didn't move her head but raised her eyes to look at him from underneath her lashes. She was horrified to feel a heavy blush creeping up her neck, rapidly heading for her ears and face.
"Hey, it's okay." He reached over and gave her forearm a slight squeeze. "You don't have to be embarrassed."
Oh, God. He noticed me blushing. She focused all her might on trying to push the blush back down under her shirt where he couldn't see it.
"Madame Margaux can be somewhat glauque, but she really is harmless." He cocked his head to one side as he started wiping the bar. "What did she say to you, anyway?"
Her blush deepened. Ellie couldn't tell him what Madame had said to her since it was about him, so she simply replied, "Umm -- my overactive imagination was probably getting the best of me. Again. I thought she said something about buzzing insects and surviving a crucible."
But Ellie hadn't imagined it. Madame's warm, breathy whisper had tickled Ellie's ear. Her voice still echoed in Ellie's head. Caribbean Crush looked at her with a slight frown. He seemed to know Ellie was lying. Ellie knew she still looked scared and was trying to rearrange her face to seem braver than she felt.
Caribbean Crush stopped wiping the bar and stared into her eyes for a moment. Then he took her hand and said, "Well, if she frightened you, I'd be glad to walk you home. My shift ends in a half hour. Would you allow me to escort you?"
Ellie's heart fluttered, and her stomach flipped. She thought for a minute. She didn't want to seem like a coward, but if he was offering, how could she resist?
"I'd like that very much, if you're sure it's not too much trouble. And I think I'd like another one of these, please." She handed him her empty shot glass.
That walk turned out to be the best walk of her life. Along the way, Ellie confessed part of what Madame had said in her gravelly voice.
"It was really strange. Madame said that when the people 'buzzed like insects' for me not to lose faith, that I would 'survive the crucible.' But," Ellie added, "I have no idea what that means. I was unnerved by t
he whole incident."
And then, laughing, Caribbean Crush scooped Ellie up in his caramel-brown arms and told her that he'd protect her from all the scary fortune tellers on the island and leaned in to kiss her. Ellie may have been a little off kilter from fear and rum, but she allowed herself the luxury of believing him.
CHAPTER TWO
INTERNET INSTALLED
Before Ellie realized it, nearly the entire summer had passed since the big move. She and Julien had been so busy painting, sanding, and installing that they hadn't had time to miss their iPhones. It was a good thing, too, since there was barely any cell phone service in Stusa. Who knew there were still places in America rural enough to avoid cell phone service?
Ellie chuckled to herself as she posted her first blog entry since the move. Her teacher blog enjoyed a small following of fellow French faculty, but they would be flabbergasted when they read this week's post. Most readers knew of her relocation, but they never imagined a place so remote that internet was only available through satellite. Although the Pelletiers had managed to get the farmhouse set up with satellite internet access two days prior, a series of thunderstorms had blocked the signal completely, and Ellie had not been able to update her blog. She was eager to get back to her readers.
Despite the weather-dependent internet connection, living the sweet life outside of Stusa thrilled Ellie. She couldn't wait to tell her readers about the locals who came by every few days to invite her to church. No matter how many times she explained they were happy members of a Catholic church miles away, locals insisted on trying to convince her to "give their church a try."
Especially Lydia Bennett and Luella Baxter - twin sisters who had both married preachers. Mr. Bennett was the minister of the local Methodist church, and Mr. Baxter was the preacher of the Church of God Assembly. Lydia and Louella seemed to have a running rivalry to see who could convert Ellie's family first.
Most of the visitors shared local gossip. Lydia explained why Stusa had such spotty cellular coverage. Landowners were fighting over where the lucrative tower would be built. Louella painted a less-than-flattering portrait of the school superintendent, who also doubled as the pastor of the First Baptist Church of Stusa.
Apart from the interfering church ladies and the lack of cell service, Ellie was enjoying their new home. She chose to look at both issues as quaint advantages - reliance on people rather than on technology. She had always been a fan of Thoreau and his Walden Pond experiment. She felt that this was her chance to live the modern version of his foray into simplifying. It was all part of her new outlook on life: less traffic, less rush, less crime, less worries, and now - less cell phones.
As she blogged about her new home place, Ellie couldn't work up any jealousy of her tech-savvy readers. She was blogging from her laptop sitting on the front porch swing. The girls were playing in the front yard. Ellie was sipping another freshly made glass of lavender lemonade. Julien was taking photographs to document the renovation.
Fanning away a few gnats that persisted despite her ceiling fan, Ellie returned to her blog, informing her readers that the superintendent had called her that morning to welcome her to his school district. They'd chit-chatted for a few moments until he finally talked himself right up to the point of the call; he asked Ellie to take the proficiency exam for English Language Arts. If Ellie passed the exam, he explained, the school would reimburse her for the cost of the test, and she would be certified to teach English and French. He said that the school needed to assign Ellie one English class in addition to her five French classes.
Ellie wasn't sure what teaching English would be like, but she couldn't turn down the superintendent. He was, after all, the preacher of the local church. Ellie thought she had probably scared him a little when she told him they were Catholic. She'd better start proving that she could fit in. She agreed to his proposal and prepared to take the exam the following week.
Anyway, she loved reading and blogging, so how hard could teaching one English class be?
CHAPTER THREE
PREPLANNING PICKLE
As summer vacation drew to a close, Ellie and her family settled into their mostly renovated farmhouse. School started early in Stusa. August first meant two things: the return of lesson-planning, and temperatures well into the nineties by nine o'clock in the morning. Since Ellie and the girls didn't have much vacation time left, and the blistering temperature severely limited outdoor activities, they were all three looking forward to getting back to school. Ellie was eager to meet her new students and to bring some joie de vivre into their French lessons.
Ellie was curious to hear how her students would address her; since arriving in Stusa, Ellie had been called everything from Mrs. Peleteer (as in Musketeer) to Mrs. Payluhtay (as hooray) instead of the proper French pronunciation "Peh leh tee ay". Ellie was sure her nom de famille had never had quite so many variations. It was endearing.
She wondered if Julien (Zhoo lee ehn) would become plain old Julian, although he could use his nickname - Jules. That ought to be easy for the locals. And their girls Méline and Bibianne. Perhaps they would go by their nicknames, too – Mel and Bibi – even though their names weren't too unusual.
As the last days of July progressed in afternoons of running under the sprinkler and playing board games under the porch fans, Ellie prepared for her new job. Julien took a break from renovations to keep the girls entertained for the week of Ellie's preplanning. Ellie loaded her SUV with all the teacher materials she'd brought from her previous position.
Ellie awoke energized and enthusiastic on the first day of teacher planning. She added a dash of vanilla to her cinnamon-sprinkled cappuccino and drank it on the front porch watching the sunrise. After she was dressed and ready, she grabbed her keys, dipped her middle finger in the benetier by the door, crossed herself, and said a quick prayer as she headed off to her new job.
She arrived early, got her key and room assignment, and went straight to her classroom. As she placed the key in the lock, she read the door tag.
Mrs. Pelletier – Room 9
Miffed at the misprint, she had specifically requested Madame Pelletier, she decided not to let it bother her. She was the new kid on the block, after all. She couldn't go around demanding every wish be granted.
Ellie continued unloading her car until she had arranged her classroom. Her lamps and scarves created the perfect ambiance for learning French. Ellie's classroom ended up looking a lot like the café on St. Martin. Well, except for the gnats. Le Chemise never had a problem with gnats like Stusa did. That ocean breeze managed to blow away anything uncomfortable, from gnats to nightmares.
Later, there was a long faculty meeting with the Reverintendent, Ellie's private nickname for the shifty-looking superintendent who was also a pastor. The meeting was filled with prayers, prayer lists, and prayer requests. In between names, Ellie sensed an oncoming attack by the determined-looking group of ladies approaching her, so she rashly inserted herself between Lydia and Louella, who were also co-presidents of the PTA. With frown lines creasing their caked-on makeup, the group swept past her and onto their next victim.
Instead of starting with school business, the Reverintendent opened the faculty meeting with prayer. Ellie started to squirm, but no one else reacted. Separation of church and state did not exist in Stusa. Pondering the fine line the superintendent/pastor must have to walk, Ellie didn't bow her head in prayer. Noticing, Lydia put her hand on Ellie's shoulder.
"Well, sweetie, I will pray for you." Oh well. She'd take all the prayers she could get.
At the close of the meeting, the secretary distributed schedules and rosters. When Ellie looked down, she was thunderstruck to see that she was listed as the new English teacher. All her classes were English classes with no French classes! Her right hand made the sign of the cross before she registered the stares.
No wonder they didn't put Madame Pelletier on my door! She huffed as she rushed to the office to find out what had happened. Principal D
anvers told Ellie that the current French teacher hadn't retired as planned. They needed Ellie to fill in as an English teacher since she passed the English certification exam.
"Don't worry," Principal Danvers said. "You'll get to teach French classes again as soon as Frenchie retires. Ever'body here starts out as an English teacher until the spot they really want opens up." Ellie was too overwrought to respond, so he continued.
"In the meantime, though, do your best with these American Literature classes. Each student you're teaching has several standardized tests to be eligible for graduation. There's the HSWT, the HSGT, and the EOC. Most of these kids are juniors, too, so they'll also be taking the SAT and the ACT at some point during the year, and I'm sure you know how important these high stakes tests are. You need to make sure all your students do well so that our school doesn't do poorly in our AYP report. Don't look so worried." He clapped Ellie on the shoulder. "You'll be fine." As he started towards his office, he left her with his favorite advice, "Just do what ya' gotta do!"
Ellie stood in place for a moment, speechless. English all day? Sure, Ellie loved to read, write and blog, but what about all those tests? She didn't even know what the acronyms he'd hurled at her meant. Apart from a final exam, she'd always done pretty much as she pleased in her French classes.
What am I going to do? She asked herself. Classes start Friday – four days from now. And I have no idea what I've gotten myself into.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE SHADOW
As she snapped the leaves off the dandelion stalks and placed them in a sieve, The Shadow wondered for the dozenth time if her groupies would be adequate for the task. Had she at last found the necessary participants? Even though the near discovery in the woods a few months ago had scattered and scared her flock, the ritual was complete. The fire-tenders had performed tolerably, if not elegantly. The cell phone junkie was a bit of a concern; she was biddable, though, and The Shadow thought that quality alone made up for her annoying flair for drama.
Crucible Crisis Page 2
