Chuck's Books

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The Godmother by Charles O. Goulet

Chapter One -- The Great Romance

   Marie-Anne stared out the paned window.  The dark scudding clouds matched her mood.  It was Friday, August 2, 1805--her twenty-fifth birthday--and she was depressed and unhappy.
   "Marie-Anne, it's time to work...not to dream of a knight in shining armour who'll arrive in the rain and whisk you off to some exciting foreign country.  Here, take these sheets and go make Monsieur le Curé's bed."
   Although she spoke sharply, Marie-Anne knew that Madame Frenier, the middle-aged housekeeper, was kind by nature.   She treated Marie-Anne like the daughter that she never had.  Marie-Anne shrugged her shoulders in resignation and stood for several more moments looking out onto the single dirt track that was the main street of the tiny village of Maskinongé.  All her life, this was the only place that she knew.  True, every couple years, she made the trip to Three Rivers, the bustling town twenty kilometers east at the mouth of the St. Maurice River where it emptied into the mighty St. Lawrence.  That was an exciting time.  The town was always busy with lumbermen from the northern forests, miners from the nearby iron mines, and fur-traders from the north and the west.  Oh, how the men seemed to enjoy life--laughing, joking, and talking excitedly among themselves.  Sometimes Marie-Anne wished that she had been born a boy rather than a girl.  Then she could do all the exciting and wonderful things that boys were allowed to do but which girls were not.
    Madame Frenier's sharp, "Marie-Anne!" brought her out of her reverie.
    "Sorry.  I'm on my way."
    "My, Marie-Anne, you're not yourself this morning.  What's the matter?  Are you sick?"
    "No, Madame.  I was just thinking that it's almost ten years that I've been working at the presbytery.  That's a long time."
    Madame Frenier laughed.  "My dear, you're still young.  You've many years ahead of you.  I've been working for the priests of this parish for over twenty years."
    "That is a long time.  Don't you ever feel like leaving and going to another part of the world?"
    "I did at one time, but it's too late now.  I'm forty-five years old, and this is all I know--to cook, to wash, to take care of the priests."
    Marie-Anne thought she sounded a little wistful.  "Did you ever think of getting married...and doing all those things for your own family--a husband and some children?"
    "Yes, years ago I thought of that, but now it's too late.  But it's not too late for you, Marie-Anne."
    Marie-Anne cocked her head.  "If I don't meet a young man soon, it will be too late for me too."
    The older woman shook her head.  "That may be true, Marie-Anne.  There aren't too many young men left in Maskinongé.  Most have gone to find work elsewhere.  There's not much to do in Maskinongé these days.  All the good land's been taken, there are no animals in the woods, why, even the best trees have been cut down.  So the young men look for their fortunes elsewhere."
    Marie-Anne shook her head sadly.  "Those that I want aren't available, and those that want me the devil wouldn't want."
    Madame Frenier smiled at the remark.  "Maybe you've been too picky.  There's still Gabriel Dupont.  He's still available, and he's well-established on his farm."
    Marie-Anne wrinkled her nose in disgust.  "He's old enough to be my grandfather.  I'd never think of him."
    Madame Frenier laughed heartily.  Dupont was not old enough to be her grandfather, but he could have been her father.  He was more Madame’s age than Marie-Anne's.
    At that moment the priest, Monsieur l'Abbé Vinet-Souligny, entered the small kitchen of the presbytery.  Both woman started in surprise.  Marie-Anne's face reddened as she wondered if the old priest had overheard their conversation.
   "Good morning, ladies.  Would it be possible to get a cup of tea.  The weather's depressing, and maybe a cup of tea will cheer me."  He rubbed his hands together as was his habit.
   Marie-Anne picked up the sheets from the chair on which they lay and quickly left the room.  As she hurried down the hall to the priest's bedroom at the far end, she could hear the murmur of voices as the two older persons talked.  She hoped they were not discussing her.
    Twenty-five years old today, she mused.  A quarter of a century and she wasn't married yet.  All the girls her age had found a husband, and most were already mothers, some with several children.  What was the matter with her?  She was pretty enough.  Her blonde hair and hazel eyes emphasized her broad forehead and her rosy cheeks.  She was of medium height and sturdily build--strong and healthy, like her brothers and sisters.
    Her father, Charles Gaboury, worked his small farm a few miles outside the village, and although they had never been wealthy, they never lacked the necessities of life.  At sixteen she left her father's home, and since that time she worked for the parish priest as a helper to his housekeeper, Madame Frenier.  Somehow, working for the priest scared the young men away, and she never had a boy friend, let alone a beau.  Maybe that was the problem.  Maybe she should seek work elsewhere.  But jobs were scarce in Maskinongé, and her parents would not approve of a move to Three Rivers or Quebec, and Montreal was out of the question.  It was too big and too dangerous for a woman by herself.  "What should I do?" she muttered to herself.  "There are no young men for me here."
    Two days later, on Sunday, Marie-Anne, along with the people of the village of Maskinongé and the surrounding farms, went to Mass in the parish church.  Sunday was Marie-Anne's day off, and often she went home to spend the day and to enjoy her mother's homecooked dinner.
    It was a bright day, full of sunshine and fine weather, and everyone was in a jovial mood.  Although the service was long and the Latin ceremony dull, Marie-Anne enjoyed the singing of the choir.  She often wished she had a good singing voice, but unfortunately her singing talent was lacking.
    After Mass, people stood around in small groups exchanging news and gossip and visiting with friends they had not seen all week.  The farmers discussed the progress of their crops and the prices they expected from the sale of their livestock, particularly the hogs and sheep.  Few had many head of cattle--most of these were kept to increase the size of their herds.
    Marie-Anne joined her family who wished her a belated happy birthday.  Birthdays were seldom celebrated in a special way, particularly if they occurred in mid-week.  No one had time to neglect the work to be done.
    Her father teased her.  "Marie-Anne, my little one, another year has passed and you're not married yet."
    Marie-Anne wrinkled her nose.  She was a bit annoyed.  "Oh, Papa, I'm getting too old for that kind of teasing."
    He laughed and leaned toward her, placing his lips next to her ear.  "An old friend of yours is back in the country.  He's been asking about you."
    "Who's that, Papa?"
    "Someone who left five years ago.  Now he's back from the 'pays d'en haut'.  Do you remember Jean-Baptiste Lagimodière?  I think he's a couple years older than you."
    "Of course I remember him.  He was always teasing me and pulling my pigtails.  What's he doing back here?"
    "Well, to tell you the truth, I think he's looking for a wife."  Her father chuckled and his eyes twinkled.
    "He's come to the wrong place.  I'm the only old maid left.  Is he at Mass?"
    Her father slowly surveyed the knots of churchgoers, and finally he spotted what he was looking for.
    "See. He's over there, talking with the Bergeron boys."
    Marie-Anne followed her father's glance.  A medium height, stocky man with newly-trimmed light brown, almost blond hair, stood in lively conversation with several other young men.  He was waving his arms and hands vigorously and seemed to be telling an intriguing story to his attentive audience.  When he had finished, the group exploded into laughter.  Several slapped him on the shoulders in appreciation.  He had not changed much in five years--perhaps he had filled in and was more mature.  The upper part of his face was sun-tanned and windburned as if he spent a great deal of time outdoors.  He was clean-shaven, but the lower part of his face had a pallor that indicated that he recently removed a beard.  He wore a black felt hat with a high crown, and he looked uncomfortable in the white shirt with its starched collar.  Even the wide cravat at his neck seemed out of place.  Marie-Anne could not see the rest of his clothes, but they seemed new and not yet fitted to his sturdy body.
    At that moment, he swung around, and their eyes met.  A shadow of a smile played around the corners of his mouth as he turned back to the men he was talking to.  Marie-Anne could feel her cheeks become hot, and she was sure that she was blushing.
    Her father whispered, "Well, what do you think of him?  He seems to have prospered in the West.  He tells me there are many opportunities there.  The North West Company and the English company...what's the name?...oh, yes...the Hudson's Bay Company is always looking for good men.  It seems they need canoeists, hunters, trappers, and traders.  Jean-Baptiste has been working for the North West Company.  The wages have been good, and now I think he's ready to settle down."
    "Oh, Papa, are you that eager to get rid of me?  You know I'll only marry someone I love."
    "Would you like to meet Jean-Baptiste?  I'll ask him over for dinner.  Today, even."
    Her brothers and sisters were all in favour of the idea and indicated their agreement noisily, much to Marie-Anne's discomfort, for she feared the young man would hear what was going on.  She nodded in agreement; her father smiled.

   Jean-Baptiste was an entertaining fellow: throughout the meal he amused them with tales of derring-do on the trail, with humorous incidents among the Indians of the West, and stories about the strange buffalo of the Plains.  A smile was never far from his lips, and his eyes twinkled in merriment.  He appeared to be a man who was happy with his lot in life.  Many times that afternoon  Marie-Anne felt his clear blue eyes on her; she felt flattered.  He obviously was interested in her, and her family did not fail to notice it.  The younger ones giggled and shyly looked from Marie-Anne to the exciting voyageur from the far West.
    As the late afternoon shadows lengthened, Marie-Anne turned to her father.  "Papa, I'll soon have to be going back to the presbytery.  You know, it's a good hour drive."
    Usually they had an early supper, and then her father would drive her back to the village in the early evening.
    Jean-Baptiste spoke.  "If you don't mind, Monsieur Gaboury, I'd like to drive Marie-Anne home."
    "Jean-Baptiste, that's up to Marie-Anne, and I'm sure Pierre won't mind being your chaperone."
    Pierre was Marie-Anne's older brother who spent two years in the West as a voyageur for the North West Company.  He had not found the work to his liking so he returned to his father's farm.
    Pierre turned to Marie-Anne.  "I'll go hitch up the horse and buggy.  It won't be long."

    In the next months, Marie-Anne saw Jean-Baptiste often, for it soon became apparent to the whole community that he was attracted to her.  Throughout the winter, he was a regular Sunday visitor in the Gaboury household.  Since he came from a good local family, his attentions were not discouraged by the family.  As for Marie-Anne, she was not sure of her feelings toward the gallant and audacious hunter from the West.
    She had to admit that she enjoyed his attentions, and as she got to know him better, she realized that she found him attractive.  He was a pleasant, happy, jovial man with a strong sense of humour and a ready smile.  Everyone liked Jean-Baptiste Lagimodiere--the young men his age, the older men, the older women, and, as well, many of the younger girls.  It was apparent to Marie-Anne that he had the choice of almost any woman he wanted.  But he seemed to prefer Marie-Anne.
    As the new year arrived, Marie-Anne knew that soon Jean-Baptiste would ask her to marry him.  She would have to make a decision.  She liked Jean-Baptiste--she liked him very much, but she was not sure she loved him.  A number of things about him bothered her.
    The third Sunday in March was a warm day with the deep snows of winter beginning to melt.  Marie-Anne , as usual, spent the afternoon at the family farm.  That evening Jean-Baptiste drove her, with the horse and cutter, back to the presbytery.  Dusk came early at this time of year, and the moon and stars shone crisply from the brilliant sky.  The air was sharp as the horse trotted smoothly along the narrow trail leading to the village.
    Throughout the day, she had noticed that Jean-Baptiste was more subdued than usual.  Her intuition warned her that something was on his mind.  As they approached the village, it bothered her so much that she turned to him.  "What's the matter, Jean-Baptiste?  You've been very quiet today.  Are you angry with me?"
    He stammered hurriedly, "No, no, Marie-Anne, you've done nothing.  It's I...I've been doing some thinking."
    "My, it must be serious to make you so quiet."
    "I must think of my future.  Soon it'll be time to go back to the West.  The brigades will be leaving as soon as the ice has left the rivers, and I must decide whether I'll join them or look for a place here in Maskinonge or someplace nearby.  I've enough money saved to buy a small farm and become a settled 'habitant', but I'm not sure that's what I want to do.  Marie-Anne, I've an important question to ask you.  Your answer will help me to make my decision."
    "Well, Jean-Baptiste, I hope I can help you.  What's your question?"
    Jean-Baptiste looked straight ahead to the back of the cantering horse.  The jingling of the harness bells were pleasant music to his ears, and the crunch of the iron shod sleigh runners added their counterpoint to the bells.  The silence between them became tense.  Finally he turned to her and said in a low voice, "Marie-Anne, would you do me the pleasure of becoming my wife?"
    There was a long pause.  "Jean-Baptiste, I like you very much.  In fact, I think I love you.  But I must know your plans before I answer you.  If you plan to run away to the West, I don't think I can marry you.  I don't want a husband who's never at home.  That's not a home."
    "You see, Marie-Anne, that's my problem.  If you'll marry me then I'll look for a place here; if you won't marry then I'll go back to the West.  There are more opportunities there than here.  You see, everything depends on your answer."
    "I cannot answer you tonight."
    The next week was a tense one for Marie-Anne.  Jean-Baptiste had not been pleased with her answer, but she decided that she would not be married in name only.  She wanted her husband to be with her.  That was the way God had planned marriage to be--two people living together as one, like her parents.
    Each day she hoped Jean-Baptiste would come to her and tell her that he was prepared to settle down in Maskinonge, but he never came.  She realized that she loved him.  He was never very far from her mind.  She could see his smiling face and hear his musical voice, deep and resonant.
    On Sunday she expected to see him at her parents' farm, but he did not appear.  He was not at Mass either.  She wondered if he had already left for the West.  When she asked Pierre, he replied, "He told me he was going to Montreal to see about his old job with the North West Company, but he also said he was going to look at a farm not far from Montreal.  What did you tell him?  He told me that he asked you to marry him, but you wouldn't give him an answer.  You know, Marie-Anne, he's a good man.  I'm sure he'll always take good care of you.  He loves you very much."
    Marie-Anne looked at Pierre solemnly.  "Yes, I'm sure of that, but I don't want a husband who's always away from home."
    The following Monday afternoon Marie-Anne was called to the door of the rectory.  To her surprise, there stood Jean-Baptiste.  He was dressed in his Sunday best.
    "May I speak to you, Marie-Anne?" he asked quietly.
    "Of course, Jean-Baptiste.  I'm very happy to see you.  I missed you greatly yesterday."
    "Oh, I had business in Montreal."
    "So Pierre told me.  Did you get it done?"
    "Yes and no.  I can have my old job back anytime I want it.  But I was looking for a farm as well.  I'm not sure I'll get it, but it looks promising.  Marie-Anne, have you thought of my proposal.  Will you marry me?"
    "Jean-Baptiste, I thought of it a great deal.  I've spent several sleepless nights because of it.  But I've made my decision."

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