House of Rougeaux(47)
“Sometimes magic sets them free, sometimes it’s a sad end,” Margaret said.“ More often than not, though it falls upon them to make a choice. Hetty looked over at Josie, still quietly reading, chewing on the end of one of her plaits, just as usual as could be. Phoebe, Hetty’s oldest, often tried to reassure her that all the children had outgrown troublesome phases. Didn’t she remember when Abigail insisted on eating pieces of chalk? The year that Olivie scratched her legs so much she sometimes drew blood, even though there was never any sign of a rash or an insect bite?
“Perhaps I shouldn’t worry so,” Hetty would say, and Phoebe would smile and kiss her cheek, saying that now Maman was being more sensible.
* * *
On a Saturday in midsummer Mr. Minkins asked Dax to come with him to see about a horse he was thinking of buying, and Dax wanted to bring along Guillaume. Few people could appraise a horse better than Dax and he was determined to teach his son what he knew. Every man should know about horses, Dax always said, but that went double for saddlers. So while the men went off in the buggy, Hetty and Margaret took Josie and baby Joah to pick blackberries by the river.
A fresh breeze swept in from over the St. Lawrence, where boats made their lazy way over the water. Neither Hetty nor Margaret said much as they made their way through the greenery to find a good place to begin picking.
The women filled their baskets and Joah rode along tied to his mother’s back, while Josie fed him the ripest berries with her fingers.
“Not too many now,” said Hetty, “you know what can happen.”
“What?” asked Josie, greatly enjoying feeding the baby.
“Far too much laundry,” said Margaret, letting loose with her famous laugh and grasping Josie’s shoulder to steady herself.
Joah began to grow fussy.
“You two go along,” Margaret said. “I’ll just feed him and catch up with you.”
Hetty and Josie rounded a bend in search of another patch, and Hetty took Josie’s small hand in hers. Josie hugged her arm, bringing her face to rest against Hetty’s shoulder as they walked. Josie was eleven now and the top of her head grazed Hetty’s ear. Josie would likely be almost as tall as she was by this time next year, Hetty thought, and probably all through playing with dolls. She planted a kiss on Josie’s soft hair.
“I’m counting the different kinds of plants, Maman,” said the girl.
“That so?” said Hetty.
“I think seventeen or eighteen, now.”
“What a lot!”
“Six kinds of grass, at least.”
Hetty and Josephine found their way closer to the river’s edge, and into another tangle of berry vines, just beyond a little eddy of water where a few leaves floated in a slow circle. Hetty glanced anxiously at Josephine, worried the swirl in the water might bring on one of the child’s frights. But she was as calm as could be, pulling at the stems of some low weeds to see what could be added to her list. Hetty let out her breath and resumed filling her basket.
But then the wind kicked up off the river, rushing past her ears, and when the sound subsided she heard Josie’s voice.
“Maman,” she said, her face wrinkling with worry, “will we see any snakes? I don’t want to see a snake. Will we see one?”
“Surely we won’t,” said Hetty. “If there were any our voices would scare them away.”
“Then there are snakes?” Josie’s shoulders hunched up and her hands fluttered at her throat.
“No, no chérie, I only meant….”
“I don’t like snakes,” Josie sobbed.
Hetty crouched before her and stroked her arms, promising again and again there would be no snakes, until Josie finally calmed down and could be persuaded to continue her game of counting plants. Hetty resumed her berry picking, imagining what Dax would say about false promises, and praying that no snake would show itself that morning.
Soon Margaret appeared with the baby in her arms, sound asleep, and the muslin carrying cloth draped around her neck. Hetty suggested they take a rest, and they climbed up the embankment to find a dry spot in the grass to sit down. The sun was shining and the air was warm, but it had rained the day before and the earth was still damp in places.
Margaret spread out the muslin in the shade of a white birch tree and laid Joah down on it. Then she took off her shoes and stockings and let her toes wiggle in the air, which made Josie laugh and ask Hetty if she could take her shoes off too. There was no one else around and so no harm in it, except that suddenly a little garter snake emerged from behind the tree and caught Josie’s eye. She shot up with a scream, and ran.
Hetty made to follow her, but Margaret was quicker.
“Stay with Joah!” Margaret called back, running after Josie.
Hetty looked on helplessly as Josie and Margaret raced further away. Joah had flinched in his sleep, but hadn’t woken.
Some minutes later, just as Hetty had resolved to pick up the baby and follow them, she saw them returning, Margaret with her arm wrapped around Josie’s shoulders. Her hair had come loose.
“I’ve promised her a special song,” Margaret said, when they arrived back at the birch tree. “Haven’t I, Josie?”
“I’m sorry I ran off,” Josie said, looking at Hetty with tired, sorrowful eyes.