C'est La Vie

Chapter Seven

C'est La Vie

Chapter Seven

Jeanne walked a familiar path down toward's the farm, bonnet held firmly in her hands and Jeremie trailing a few steps behind her. It felt odd, usually she was the one that was trailing behind him, always ready to do whatever he requested of her. 

The travel to the farm was nearly sufficating, and Jeanne knew that Jeremie must have felt it too. He had grown rather restless, though he never said anything about it. Jeanne could tell that whatever he felt, you either read it on him, or you simply didn't know what he was feeling. But, the ride with Jeremie was quickly moving to the back of her mind as her home came into view. 

Nothing changed, it all looked the same. Yet, it felt different. She paused just outside the entrance, glancing towards Pierre's house. It was larger and a little bit more nicer than the homes on the property. Jeanne heard Jeremie come to a stop beside her, Jeanne glancing at him as he looked towards the house also. 

"You have a nice home," he remarked, Jeanne fighting the urge to smile at him and laugh. 

"That is not my home," she said, continuing to walk.

She followed the path back towards the fields where a few other small houses were located, a few familiar faces greeting her with crestfallen expressions or confused glances towards the man at her side. 

Esme was outside when Jeanne approached, another farmhand pausing in her conversation with her to stare at Jeanne and Jeremie as they approached. Jeanne stopped within a few steps of them as her mother turned around to face her, her eyebrows furrowing. 

"Oh, Jeanne," she said, shaking her head, "I had told you in the letter not to-"

"Maman, please," Jeanne said, "Henri is dead, I have come to say goodbye. He would have wanted me to."

Esme seemed like she wanted to argue, but she then noticed Jeremie standing behind Jeanne. Her mouth dropped into a deeper frown, her eyes growing hard. 

"You brought an audience?" she asked, turning her steely gaze to her daughter. Jeanne could tell that she was growing upset, which was what Jeanne expected. Esme looked away from her when Jeremie moved from his spot, approaching her. 

"Pardon my presence," Jeremie said, "I was asked to escort your daughter at the request of my father, I apologize for any ill feeling that this has caused you. I shall wait for your daughter back in the carriage if you wish."

Jeanne glanced up at him, a little surprised at the gentle tone he was using. She was expecting him to be insulted at her tone, but he seemed...understanding. She glanced back at her mother, who was looking up at him too. She seemed to study him for a few moments, then glanced at Jeanne. 

"You may stay if my daughter wishes for you to be here," she remarked, turning her gaze from her daughter to Jeremie.

Jeremie turned to look at Jeanne, who kept eye contact with him for a few moments before looking back at her mother. 

"I only wish to see Henri," she stated, her voice a little shaken, "it does not matter to me who's company I am with."

Esme nodded her head, a sad expression crossing her face as she placed a hand on Jeanne's forearm. 

"Come, Henri's grave is behind the house," she said, leading the two of them behind the house. Jeanne could feel her stomach clenching, but her mother's hand on her arm was comforting enough. 

It was if she never saw the grave, maybe she could pretend that Henri wasn't dead. Yet, there it was, the mound of freshly overturned dirt with a cross made of sticks sticking out of it. Jeanne came to a stop in front of the grave, her hands folded in front of her.