years. With strong features,
broad shoulders, ample proportions, and an abundance of feminine
curves, she would never have been described as pretty or dainty by
any man. Laron Boudreau knew her to be beautiful.
He nodded to her slightly in greeting. She
replied likewise.
"I have brought you supplies, Madame Shotz,"
he said.
"We are very grateful, Monsieur Boudreau,"
she answered. Unlike that of her children, Helga's French was
heavily accented with the guttural sounds of her native tongue.
Some might have found the sound harsh. To Laron it was an
intriguing, exciting sound. He found this woman endlessly
intriguing and exciting.
Laron crossed the room and moved beyond her
to the larder and began stowing the items from his sack. The
children near the fireplace were arguing. Elsa was now insisting
that her brother should smoke outside. Karl was loudly informing
her that he was not her hired man. And little Jakob was warning
both that the pralines were meant for him and him alone.
Squatting to reach the lower shelves, Laron
turned slightly and surreptitiously patted the ample backside of
Madame Shotz.
She slapped at his hand and blushed furiously
as he grinned up at her.
"Missed you," he whispered.
"I missed you, too," she answered. "How was
the fais-dodo?"
"Lonely."
She shook her head as if she didn't believe
him. "There must have been lots of pretty girls there."
Laron shrugged. "None of them was you."
Helga blushed with pleasure.
The sounds of the children's disagreement
increased in volume. Laron gave a nod in that direction.
"Difficult week?" he asked.
"One of the worst," she admitted.
"Your son is growing up," Laron said.
Helga nodded solemnly. "More than you
know."
He finished his unpacking, stowing all the
goods he'd brought in their rightful and familiar places. Finished,
he stood, taking a long leisurely stretch, his hands nearly high
enough to touch the ceilings before he nonchalantly took his place
beside her.
"Thank you for the supplies, Monsieur
Boudreau," she said. "I do hope you remembered to bring the salt. I
am out completely."
"I brought it." Laron leaned forward slightly
as if to get a better look at the abundance of pale green legumes
with their very black nubs. He whispered quietly into her ear.
"Sweet Madame, I have also brought something else, much more
exciting."
Helga covered her giggle with a hand to her
mouth.
Any more conversation was lost as the
children's disagreement increased in volume.
"You are mean and hateful!" Elsa declared
loudly.
"And you are stupid and ugly!" her brother
shot back.
"Mama make him—"
Elsa was not allowed to finish her complaint
as her mother held up her hand for immediate silence.
"Enough!"
The three quieted immediately, but her elder
children were still looking daggers at each other.
"I think it is time that you went to bed,"
Helga told the three of them in German. "Monsieur Boudreau is
probably tired and he did not bring his boat this long distance to
hear children quarrel."
"Oncle must put me in bed, no one else,"
Jakob demanded in French.
"I will put you in bed," his sister told him.
"It's my job."
Helga nodded. "And you must go right to
sleep, my baby," she said. "Remember tomorrow is Sunday, and since
Monsieur Boudreau is here, we shall have beignets for
breakfast."
Little Jakob licked his lips in anticipation
and then sighed with acceptance of the
good-night ritual. He allowed Elsa to lead
him to the loft ladder. The sounds of their feet overhead could be
heard before Helga spoke once more to her eldest son.
"You also, Karl. You need your rest as well
as the others."
The youngster continue to puff on his pipe.
"I am not tired," he said in French. Then in German he added, "And
I know exactly why Monsieur Boudreau has traveled in his boat this
long distance."
Laron did not understand the boy's words, but
from the tone of his voice and the shocked reaction on his mother's
face, he knew the comment had been hurtful. She lowered her
broad shoulders, ample proportions, and an abundance of feminine
curves, she would never have been described as pretty or dainty by
any man. Laron Boudreau knew her to be beautiful.
He nodded to her slightly in greeting. She
replied likewise.
"I have brought you supplies, Madame Shotz,"
he said.
"We are very grateful, Monsieur Boudreau,"
she answered. Unlike that of her children, Helga's French was
heavily accented with the guttural sounds of her native tongue.
Some might have found the sound harsh. To Laron it was an
intriguing, exciting sound. He found this woman endlessly
intriguing and exciting.
Laron crossed the room and moved beyond her
to the larder and began stowing the items from his sack. The
children near the fireplace were arguing. Elsa was now insisting
that her brother should smoke outside. Karl was loudly informing
her that he was not her hired man. And little Jakob was warning
both that the pralines were meant for him and him alone.
Squatting to reach the lower shelves, Laron
turned slightly and surreptitiously patted the ample backside of
Madame Shotz.
She slapped at his hand and blushed furiously
as he grinned up at her.
"Missed you," he whispered.
"I missed you, too," she answered. "How was
the fais-dodo?"
"Lonely."
She shook her head as if she didn't believe
him. "There must have been lots of pretty girls there."
Laron shrugged. "None of them was you."
Helga blushed with pleasure.
The sounds of the children's disagreement
increased in volume. Laron gave a nod in that direction.
"Difficult week?" he asked.
"One of the worst," she admitted.
"Your son is growing up," Laron said.
Helga nodded solemnly. "More than you
know."
He finished his unpacking, stowing all the
goods he'd brought in their rightful and familiar places. Finished,
he stood, taking a long leisurely stretch, his hands nearly high
enough to touch the ceilings before he nonchalantly took his place
beside her.
"Thank you for the supplies, Monsieur
Boudreau," she said. "I do hope you remembered to bring the salt. I
am out completely."
"I brought it." Laron leaned forward slightly
as if to get a better look at the abundance of pale green legumes
with their very black nubs. He whispered quietly into her ear.
"Sweet Madame, I have also brought something else, much more
exciting."
Helga covered her giggle with a hand to her
mouth.
Any more conversation was lost as the
children's disagreement increased in volume.
"You are mean and hateful!" Elsa declared
loudly.
"And you are stupid and ugly!" her brother
shot back.
"Mama make him—"
Elsa was not allowed to finish her complaint
as her mother held up her hand for immediate silence.
"Enough!"
The three quieted immediately, but her elder
children were still looking daggers at each other.
"I think it is time that you went to bed,"
Helga told the three of them in German. "Monsieur Boudreau is
probably tired and he did not bring his boat this long distance to
hear children quarrel."
"Oncle must put me in bed, no one else,"
Jakob demanded in French.
"I will put you in bed," his sister told him.
"It's my job."
Helga nodded. "And you must go right to
sleep, my baby," she said. "Remember tomorrow is Sunday, and since
Monsieur Boudreau is here, we shall have beignets for
breakfast."
Little Jakob licked his lips in anticipation
and then sighed with acceptance of the
good-night ritual. He allowed Elsa to lead
him to the loft ladder. The sounds of their feet overhead could be
heard before Helga spoke once more to her eldest son.
"You also, Karl. You need your rest as well
as the others."
The youngster continue to puff on his pipe.
"I am not tired," he said in French. Then in German he added, "And
I know exactly why Monsieur Boudreau has traveled in his boat this
long distance."
Laron did not understand the boy's words, but
from the tone of his voice and the shocked reaction on his mother's
face, he knew the comment had been hurtful. She lowered her
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