Under the Oaks, Beside the Bayou

Zanaide De Brummette

On May 6th year of Our Lord, 1816, Zenaide De Brummette was born to loving and proud parents. They were older folks, devout Catholics, and had waited and prayed to God for a child. They were graced after years of god-fearing and decent living and were delighted with their healthy baby boy.

Reserved and studious, Zen, as he was dubbed by his small community of St. Martinville, Louisiana, was a dutiful child. He studied under the Jesuits for 6 months out of each year, making excellent grades. The other six months he helped in the fields and his parents' General Store that sat in the heart of their tiny, picturesque town, situated along the banks of Bayou Teche. It was idyllic, calm, and peaceful. Occasionally, tension rose between settlers and natives to the area, and news from areas closer to rowdy New Orleans, brought rumbling of slave uprisings on distant plantations, but St. Martinsville and her citizens were happy and relatively untouched by such affairs.

Zen was happy, and content to be the son of well-respected parents, and he worked hard to contribute in any way he could. He took over the store's books at the early age of thirteen, gifted in mathematics and accounting, and the business slowly grew. By 18 he was traveling to New Orleans on buying trips, establishing business accounts with wholesalers, and handling paperwork with the banking establishments. He was an impressive figure,

A tall young man by this time, extraordinarily handsome with dark brown hair, fair complexion, and dark gold eyes, he was oddly mature for his age; he cut quite a figure as he maneuvered negotiations in his favor against men twice his age. His reputation became assured by 21 and his parents retired, resting comfortably in the knowledge that their son would provide.

Their only worry was that he could not find a wife. There were many parents who approached them with offers, but Zen had shown no interest in anyone since the age of 15. He had been inseparable from a young girl, Matisse. They were both huge readers and had bonded deeply over novels. They both spoke and read in French and English, went to the same church, and had the same values; and the families both entertained excited hopes for the young couple. Then tragedy struck when Matisse fell from her horse and her neck was broken. The witnesses said the boy had rushed to her side, inconsolable, He wept for days in his room and when he emerged, he was quieter, less lively, and more prone to stay at the store and less likely to attend social functions. He seemed satisfied with his life and politely declined any marital approaches. He liked his simple existence and guarded his heart thereafter.

As time passed, the interest in him as a marriage alliance dwindled. He was glad. His parents, his store, and his community were enough for him. He liked his solitude. He could eat when he wanted and read while he dined, and go on trips without worrying about a wife and infants at home.  He often found time to practice his piano.

He did not have to risk his heart again.

Zen was not bitter. He did not become a recluse. He had almost daily contact with someone from every home in town. Not only that, but he knew all the gossip, entertained by the daily news as he wandered out to join the elders as they sat under the huge Evangeline Oak tree, dripping with Spanish moss, that stood serenely at the edge of Bayou Teche. He found himself identifying with the lady in the legend. The gentlemen gathered on benches there, they dressed in their second-best suits, some bent over and using walking sticks. They would talk about old times, when uncertainty and sorrow filled their hearts, as they and their families were forced from their homes in Canada and shipped to this warm, remote, and frightening new location, full of alligators, snakes, and scorpions. He felt pride in their determination to stay and thrive, especially when given no choice in the matter. These were men he admired and hoped to be like as he aged.

When Zen was 32 his father died of a heart attack as he tended to his prized azalea bed. His mother followed in less than a year, and Zenaide knew she just could not live without her spouse.

After his period of mourning, he opened the store again and seamlessly ran it in the De Brummette tradition of friendliness, honesty, and caring for the community. He carried on traditions. A gift was chosen for every newborn and another, sure to be waiting on each little one's birthday. A small, treasured keepsake for every wedding. An anonymous basket of food for a family in hard times would always find its way to their front stoop.

One morning, things started out fine, until a flock of gulls winged their way through town. They were in a hurry, driven inland by something. A small family entered and Zen smiled a greeting. They had not been in for several months and were discussing the odd appearance of the harried birds. The mother looked tired and was heavily pregnant, and their 9-year-old son, a youngster named Yon Aubert was at her elbow constantly, ready to support her as the father gathered some basic staples. Zen had a small package of chocolate cake waiting and a bag of marbles. It was the kid's birthday and it was time for a present for Yon. The father and son were looking thin and Zen pulled out the ledger and jotted the few purchases down.

"I did not make it to the bank, Monsieur Aubert. I am afraid I have no change today. Pick up anything you need, and we can settle up next month after trapping season starts. I have a customer who needs pelts and I will take them in trade after you gather a few. It would be a great help to me." He knew the young father would do all in his power to settle the bill. A look of relief flashed over the parents' faces, and they gathered a few more things. Zen noticed some more expensive items he knew they might need but were avoiding, and he surreptitiously slipped them into the baskets. Then he motioned to Yon to come to the counter.

"I hear it is your 9th birthday today. I have some presents for you."

The child was beautiful. A slender boy with an incandescent smile that never stopped. Grey eyes and curly black hair. His eyes were dancing in expectation.

"Oh thank you, Monsieur de Brummette. Thank you!"

"I hope you like chocolate cake?"

Yon's eyes filled with amazement. "I do. I have only had it once, and it was the best thing I ever ate!"

"Good. There is enough there to share with your parents."

He handed the bag of marbles to Yon, whose grin threatened to split his face as he pulled open the drawstring.

"Nobody has aggies like these, Monsieur De Brummette! Nobody. They are just beautiful!" The child's parents smiled their gratitude, and Zen waved a hand as if this was nothing.

"My pleasure. You have a fine son, and I am sure the next will be just as wonderful."

They all stepped out together and Zen looked up to the southern sky. Some dark clouds were just beginning to how on the very distant horizon.

"You had better hurry home. There is a storm coming I believe."

Monsieur Aubert nodded in agreement. "I will see you in a month with the season's first brace of mink." The men shook hands and Zen grinned as Yon extended his hand as well. He quickly composed his face and shook the small paw with gravity.

"Take care of your mother, young man. She will soon have her hands very full!"

"Yes, sir!" the child called back over his shoulder. The late afternoon sky was beginning to darken already.

He shouted out to the father. "Why don't you all stay the night? The storm is moving very quickly."

The father waved and yelled back, "We will be fine. It's not that far outside of town." And they disappeared into the forest.

On August 10th, year of Our Lord 1856, Zenaide De Brummette began to shutter his store then moved from the storefront and shuttered the great house it was attached to. He filled his tall, glass lamps to the brims with oil and each room held two to light as the dark began to encroach, and he could hear the wind pick up. He looked at a storm gauge behind the counter and the atmospheric pressure began to fall a small bit. People were running in to gather supplies. It paid to be cautious this time of year.

Zen and his neighbors were still peaceful and calm, but it would be the last day like it for a while, this year that Zen turned forty...the year of The Great Storm.