A long way from home (Slow updates)

Chapter 2

Weeks had gone by. Marguerite watched as her mother continued to deteriorate, her body becoming more lifeless by the day. The garden was not going well either; their harvest was lower than the year before. They wouldn’t have much for winter. It was becoming habit for them to have less and less food. And their mother had noticed.

Which was why she had called Marguerite and Jean, to tell them what they were to do. The room was dark and dimly lit, making everything more serious. Louis, Helene and Marie were all sent to bed when their mother had painstakingly made her way out of her room, to see her children. She knew her time was coming, and she wanted to see her home one last time.

“Maman.” Jean started.

“Jean.” She smiled at her son, the oldest of her children, her first. “My strong boy.” She reached and took his hand in hers, before reaching for Marguerite’s her oldest girl. “My brave girl.” She smiled, proud of the two of them. They were so young, taking on their mother’s burdens. “I know you have been working so hard.” She sighed. “France is changing my children. There is sickness spreading over the country. The soil is poor here.”

“Maman, what are we to do? We cannot get through this winter unless we have more food.” Marguerite did not want her siblings to feel hunger, but there was little they could do. They had little money saved, but it was for dire uses only.

She smiled sadly. She wished it hadn’t come to this. “Do you remember your uncle Guillaume?” Her children shook their heads. She didn’t expect they would. He had been gone a long time. “Your uncle Guillaume left France years ago. He believed he would have better opportunity there. And he did. Sadly, he was taken from us. But not before getting married and leaving her an auberge.” Marguerite was confused. What did it matter if she remembered her uncle Guillaume? Her concern was her mother in her critical state.

Suddenly, her mother began to cough violently, painfully. Marguerite leaned in, grabbing a small square of linen on the bedside table, and holding it to her mother’s mouth. She held it there until the coughing subsided, pulling the linen back when she finished. “Maman, please rest. We can continue tomorrow.”

Their mother nodded, closing her eyes. Marguerite tucked her mother in tighter, noticing the chill in the air. Then she stood up, pushing a loose hair back into the knot in the back of her head, and shut the door quietly. Jean was waiting for her in the main room of the house by the fire. “Does she sicken more each day?” Jean spent very little time with his mother, in order provide for his family.

“She does.” Marguerite squeezed her eyes shut. “Jean…the linen I held to her mouth…it contained blood after she coughed.”

“And?” Jean didn’t know much about illness either. He worked outdoors, and had little time nor patience to understand it. “Marguerite, what does it mean?” He tried to be a little gentler with his sister. He tried to remember that she was working as much as he was. It didn’t help that he felt so trapped within his family, stuck in farming like his father did, barely producing enough food. Jean craved to start his own life, to take on a trade. Not parent his siblings.

Marguerite sighed, trying to be patient with her brother. She knew he was tired, and working hard. But so was she. “It means she is dying Jean. I know not what to do.”

“Nothing was taught to you about this?” Jean knew his sister had learned from their grandmother before her passing simple healing tricks and herbs. There must have been something she could use!

She shook her head. “Nothing. There is nothing to cure it. We can ease the pain…but nothing else.” She sighed, looking deep into the fire. She didn’t know what they were going to do.

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The next night Marguerite and Jean were once again called to their mother’s room. Their mother still looked as sick as the night before, weak but smiling. She was so proud of her children, and she loved them very much. “I will continue my story.” She said as soon as the two entered the room, Marguerite sitting on the bed and holding her mother’s hand, Jean standing by her head. “You Uncle Guillaume met your aunt Jaqueline shortly before he left France. They were farmers as well, but Guillaume was swayed from farming when he heard of New France.”

“New France?” Jean’s ears perked up. “The Colony?” He had heard of the small colony founded by Champlain. When he went to the village he heard word of ships leaving for the new world.

“Yes.” Their mother croaked. “He married Jaqueline and then left for the new world. And then he opened an auberge.”

“Maman…” Marguerite was wondering where this was going.

“You know I am not long for this world.” Their mother smiled. She had known she would not recover from her illness. But she didn’t want her children to be sad for her. “I have lived a good life, my children. But it is time for me to leave this world. It is time for you to carry on without me.” She sighed. She could feel the coughs coming on. “You must leave for New France.”

“But where will be go there? What will we do?” Marguerite could not even think of leaving France. She had no idea what they would do. Their life was here.

Their mother smiled. “I have made arrangements.” She sighed. This would be hard for her children to accept. “I will not be long for this world. But you both, and Louis, Helene and Marie have your lives ahead of you. And you need a mother to help you. Not one who is invalid. I have written to the nunnery, and they will keep me-”

“Maman!” Marguerite couldn’t believe her mother. “We cannot leave you.”

“We will not abandon you.” Jean took his mother’s hand.

“You will not be abandoning me. You will be going to live with your Aunt Jaqueline. She will take care of you. You cannot stay here surrounded by death and despair. After I pass, that is all you will feel in this house. It will forever be clouded for you. I have arranged everything, including your passage.”

“When did you do all this Maman?” Jean wondered aloud. He hadn’t seen his mother out of bed for months.

“As soon as I became ill, I knew my illness. It was the same illness that took your father. And I needed to prepare my family for the hard road ahead of them as much as I could. My children, there is nothing for you in France. Illness, hunger and poor crops ravage through the country. You must go to the new world, and start a new life. Without me.”

A little bit of termonology:

Auberge: A hotel/restaurant. An inn.