Godfrey: Book Four

GODFREY: BOOK FOUR

  Adrien Leduc

  Copyright 2013. Adrien Leduc. Smaswhwords Edition. All rights reserved.

  (Leduc, Adrien 1987- )

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form than that in which it is published.

  DEDICATION

  For Lila Keyes O’Grady (originally from Vinton, Quebec), a woman with an infectious smile and a woman who cherishes friends, family, and Sunday dinners. God bless ya, Lila.

  SYNOPSIS

  It's the summer of 1926 and love is in the air. Or at least it seems that way. Godfrey’s just met Antoinette and he’s rather smitten. Only trouble is, Antoinette’s older brother, Henri Lapalme, doesn’t like the idea of Godfrey messing around with his baby sister. Can he convince Henri that he’s looking for more than just a girl to mess around with?

  Around town, Joe Campbell’s been sober. He’s got a truck for sale and Leo’s interested. Telford & Sons barbershop is still turning men into models and the Wainwright Hotel continues to churn out tender and juicy steaks for local bachelors. Blessed Sacrament is still full on Sundays - though Godfrey wishes he could take a week off.

  Down at the river, on a sunny July afternoon, things go awry for the Caron children when Simon falls in the river. Can Godfrey save the day?

  NOTES

  An “ * ” indicates the associated word/phrase is explained in the Author’s Notes section at the end of the book.

  Where possible, I have used the real names of places, business establishments, and people of the Wainwright area.

  CAST

  Antonia Messier: grown daughter of Herménégilde Messier and Rosanna “Rose” Tetreault of St. Hyacinthe, QC. Wife of Isaac Leduc

  Isaac Leduc: son of Leandre Leduc and Julie Pilon of St. Timothee, QC. Eldest Leduc brother of the three who moved to Alberta. Husband of Antonia Messier.

  Leopold Leduc: son of Leandre Leduc and Julie Pilon of St. Timothee, QC. Middle Leduc brother of the three who moved to Alberta. Unattached.

  Godfrey Leduc: son of Leandre Leduc and Julie Pilon of St Timothee, QC. Youngest of the three Leduc brothers who moved to Alberta. Boyfriend to Antoinette Lapalme.

  Henri Lapalme: son of Joseph Lapalme and Euphemie Sinotte-Loiselle of St. Dominique, QC. Older brother to Antoinette Lapalme. Husband of Diana Lapalme.

  Diana Lapalme (née: Benoit): sister of Angelique Pare (nee Benoit). Wife of Henri Lapalme.

  Antoinette Lapalme: daughter of Joseph Leduc and Euphémie Sinotte-Loiselle of St. Dominique, QC. Younger sister of Henri Lapalme.

  Prologue

  February 21, 1926. 2:28 a.m. Somewhere in Manitoba. A darkened passenger rail car. The forty-odd passengers on train CNR-06 are trying to sleep, despite the constant clickety clack of the train in the background. Antoinette is seated in her chair, face forwards, eyes closed. A grey blanket marked “C.N.R.” covers her. Beside her sits Gabrielle, a young woman from Rimouski who boarded the train in Montreal. She’s travelling to Regina to join a Grey Nuns convent. Antoinette’s happy she’s finally gone to sleep, having talked her ear off all day. Across from Gabrielle sits a teenage boy who boarded at Fort William. He wears a brown coloured flat cap, pulled down over his eyes, and he’s asleep. But every few hours he is seized by an awful coughing fit and he hacks and heaves and sprays spit in every direction. Thus far, Antoinette has managed to avoid the worst of it by covering her face whenever he has an episode.

  Between the noise from the train, the sounds being made by the other passengers and the teenage boy’s coughing fits, Antoinette is finding it nearly impossible to get to sleep. We zoom in on her as she shifts in her chair once more, trying to get comfortable.

  Suggested soundtrack for this segment: Clickety-clack sounds of a train.

  example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTj1YfdZahY

  Shifting in her seat, Antoinette tried to get comfortable. She was in desperate need of a good sleep. No. Not even. At this point, any kind of sleep would do. She just needed sleep.

  Of course it didn’t help that - in addition to a chatty Gabrielle and a coughing boy from Fort William - a giant Pole or Russian (Antoinette wasn’t sure of his nationality, but she guessed he was something of the sort given the sound of the language he spoke with his wife and son) was seated across the aisle from her and snoring like an engine. Nor did it help that the baby at the front of the car kept crying - though it had been quiet for a good stretch of time now - ever since they’d passed Winnipeg - and besides, one couldn’t fault a baby for crying.

  The sound of the train car’s door opening stirred Antoinette from her thoughts and she eased her eyes open. It took a minute for them to adjust to the dim light and then she saw the wife of the giant snoring Pole waddling in their direction, her most recent trip to the bathroom having lasted nearly half an hour.

  Poor woman.

  She’d been up and down to the bathroom all day. Gabrielle guessed she had diarrhea.

  “Poor souls,” she’d remarked. “Packed like cattle on those rickety old boats that bring them over. Must be all sorts of sickness running through them.”

  Across the aisle, the woman’s husband seemed to have woken and he balled his hands into fists and rubbed his eyes as his wife eased past him, her ample bosom brushing his face. When she was seated in her spot by the window once more, the man leaned over and gave his son a gentle pat on the head. Antoinette watched out the corner of her eye as the boy gave a mighty yawn and fell once more into slumber, envying the ease at which children could fall asleep.

  Next the man took a swig from a small flask, and soon after was snoring once more, the disconcerting sound echoing throughout the train car.

  Come on. Sleep. Sleep. Sleeeeeep.

  Antoinette shut her eyes.

  I’m going to look like death when I get there - nearly three days now and barely an hour of sleep!

  But she’d never been able to sleep sitting up and soon she was shifting and sliding and rotating, still unable to get comfortable. She recalled how when she was six or seven, her mother had arranged for her to visit her in New Hampshire. Her mother had sent Mathieu - a relation of some kind - a second cousin or something - to fetch her from St. Dominique. And for the entire duration of the train ride down to Manchester, Mathieu had insisted she sleep and not ask for anything. But she’d not been able to sleep - she’d been sitting upright just as she was now - and had spent the entire seven hour journey with her eyes closed and not moving. Now, here she was again - albeit twenty years on - back straight, eyes closed, head back, and attempting sleep - with no success.

  How on earth...

  She took a deep breath and allowed herself to sink back into her seat.

  There...now clear your mind and just...sleep.

  The giant Pole’s vigorous snoring changed tempo suddenly and he emitted a tremendous snort just as Antoinette felt herself beginning to doze off.

  Damn it.

  Would she not be able to sleep for even a minute? St. Dominique, Quebec to Wainwright, Alberta on an hour’s sleep? She’d be a nervous wreck when she arrived! Not to mention, her complexion would be awful...

  And that couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. Because she’d not even met her brother’s wife yet and what kind of first impression would she make if she showed up looking like some roughed up hussy from off the street, with her hair all out of order and her clothes askew and big grey bags under her eyes?

  Frustrated, Antoinette rotated her hips and positioned herself so that she now faced Gabrielle. To block out the Pole’s loud snoring, she had her cotton balls. Her cotton balls from
the night before when the porter had so kindly brought to her. And these she now removed from her pocket. Balling them up tight, she pinched one into each ear and, like magic, the clickety clack of the train - and more importantly the Pole’s snoring - disappeared. Well, mostly. Enough to try and sleep at least. Happy she was finally getting somewhere, Antoinette pulled her legs up onto the seat. But that wasn’t comfortable.

  Gosh, I’ll never get to sleep.

  Just then the young man from Fort William broke into another one of his violent coughing fits and Antoinette had just enough time to cover her face. She watched him suffer. For how could she look away?

  His face grew red - and taut - so that the veins in his forehead bulged dramatically. He hacked and wheezed and coughed - just as he’d done a dozen times since they’d left the small station at Fort William.

  To Antoinette, his coughing sounded terrible. Painful. Dreadfully so. That his face conveyed no sign of frustration or surprise suggested he’d been dealing with his ailment for some time. He’d grown used to it.

  She hoped it was just a bad cold - or at worst - a bout of pneumonia. If it were something worse - like consumption - then he was endangering the lives of everyone on the train.

  I shouldn’t be sitting this close to him...

  She shook the thought from her head. If it were consumption, he’d surely be at home, in bed, or at the sanatorium even. He wouldn’t be sat on a train headed out west in the dead of winter. Old Madame Plouffe had died of it last year. She remembered it well, thinking back. She’d gone to the funeral. With Lucille Papineau. Lucille had cried her eyes out for her godmother. Lucille who never cried - not even when her beloved Réjean died on the battlefields of Belgium in 1917.

  That was consumption. That was what consumption did. And slowly and torturously too. It wasn’t a quick death either. No. Old Madame Plouffe had been bed-ridder for months by the time she finally passed. She certainly wouldn’t have been fit to travel cross country...

  Antoinette eyed the young man closely as his coughing subsided. She didn’t see any blood. When Old Madame Plouffe would cough, there would be blood. At least that’s what Lucille had told her.

  The teenager’s hands moved to his cap and he pulled it down once more over his brow - it having been knocked askew by his violent coughing - and now it covered his eyes and all she saw of his face was the thin line of his mouth.

  Poor guy. So young...hopefully he gets better...

  She closed her eyes again as the car grew quiet once more.

  Sleep.

  The cotton balls were itchy now. Very itchy. Too itchy to bear, she thought, and she pulled them out.

  Clickety clack. Clickety clack. Clickety clack.

  Without the cotton balls, the train’s noises were louder - and the Pole’s snoring too - and then the door at the front of the car slid open and Antoinette opened her eyes to see a porter enter. He carried a blanket and after passing several rows, delivered it to someone. A whispered conversation passed between him and the passenger and then he left.

  Clickety clack. Clickety clack. Clickety clack.

  Just another couple days. Just another couple days and they’d be there. She’d be in Alberta - that place she’d heard so much about. She’d be with her brother - her brother that she hadn’t seen in a year.

  Clickety clack. Clickety clack. Clickety clack.

  Antoinette exhaled through her nose and tried to concentrate on getting to sleep.

  Was there a lullaby she could sing herself?C’est la poulette grise qui pond dans l’église...elle va pondre un beau p’tit coco…pour son p’tit qui va faire dodiche… No...that doesn’t work.

  The sound of the Pole’s snoring returned to her, filling her ears. The clickety clack of the train seemed louder all of a sudden. The baby at the rear of the car gave a small cry and that was it. She’d had enough. Completely frustrated, Antoinette rose from her seat.

  A coffee...and a bun...and maybe a bowl of soup, she thought as she made her way to the front of the car and pulled open the heavy metal door. There was a light on in the dining car - she could see through the windows of the adjoining car. She’d sit and eat. She’d sit and eat and if she wasn’t sleepy after all that, then by golly, she’d just have to show up in Wainwright looking all unkempt and disheveled.

  Chapter One

  June 26, 1926

  Woken by the wedge of light coming in through the curtains, Godfrey yawned and stretched his arms above his head. He’d slept well last night - surprising because he’d spent half of it thinking about Antoinette. He’d met her last week at the parish picnic and now he was going over to Henri’s to help at his worker bee*. Antoinette would probably be there and he was both nervous and excited to see her.

  Sliding out of bed, the young man made his way slowly towards his wash basin and splashed some cold water on his face. Next, he dried his face with a scratchy towel before examining his face in the mirror. He wanted to look good for Antoinette and that stubble was just a bit long; he’d have to shave. Setting down the mirror, he moved to the stove and put on a pot for coffee. Once the fire was lit, he headed outside, to the outhouse, to relieve himself.

  An hour later he was fed, shaved, dressed, and ready to go. Cheval, the horse he’d bought from Leo five years before, was itching to get out of his pen and Godfrey laughed as he swung the door open and the teenaged stallion bolted out and ran a lap around the house.

  “Someone’s happy to be out!”

  The young man watched the animal for a minute as he pranced and kicked at the ground.

  “Come on, boy. We’re going riding.”

  It was going to be a nice day, he thought, glancing up at the sky. The sun was already halfway up and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Miles in the distance, the North Saskatchewan River valley seemed to cradle the sunlight, its gentle slopes proudly displaying their greenery.

  After gathering his things and taking a minute to feed the chickens, Godfrey set out for Henri and Diana Lapalme’s farm. It was a nice ride. Not too far, not too close. Just enough for Cheval to stretch his legs and for Godfrey to get a good view of the latest happenings in the vicinity of his property - new windbreaks being planted by his neighbours, an overflowing creek, the presence of a herd of deer - he liked to know what was going on.

  He reached the turn off for the Lapalme’s a half an hour later and coaxed Cheval up the long driveway with a gentle jab of his heel. The horse turned obediently and they trotted toward the house. The worker bee was in full swing - much to Godfrey’s disappointment. He’d wanted to be one of the first ones. And being this late, he knew Leo would have words for him.

  “Well, well, well, look who finally rolled out of bed!” his older brother barked the second he was within earshot.

  Leo, in addition to a handful of others - some that he recognized and others that he didn’t - were already working on what appeared to be the frame for one wall of the barn. Some men were sawing, others were hammering, others were laying out new sections.

  “I slept in,” said Godfrey, unable to think of anything better to say.

  “I was thinking you would have wanted to get here early,” said Isaac, winking and motioning with a flick of his head toward the pretty brunette helping Diana set out snacks and pitchers of water on a nearby table.

  Antoinette.

  Godfrey blushed.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied, eager to get away so they wouldn’t see the red on his face. He flicked the reins and urged Cheval toward the pasture where the other men’s horses had already been let loose to graze.

  “Alright, boy,” he said once they’d reached the gate.

  He dismounted.

  “You’ve got the day here.”

  He clicked his tongue and led the animal to the gate. “Eat and run around a bit and before you know it, it’ll be time to go.”

  The horse snorted - pure coincidence - and Godfrey slammed the gate behind him.

  “
Grab a hammer and make yourself useful,” Leo growled the second he’d returned to the area where the men were hard at work.

  Godfrey sighed, frustrated with his older brother’s constant patronizing, and took up a hammer.

  “There’s nails in that bucket there,” said Henri between hammering, “and we’ve got to get these all together. Brackets for the straight angles, four nails per joint. Good?”

  He spoke in English - Godfrey presumed for the benefit of the other men spread out in and around the thirty foot layout of the frame.

  “Let me watch you for a minute,” he said as Henri knocked a nail clean into a board with a single strike of his hammer.

  “Sure thing.”

  Godfrey rolled up his sleeves like the others and spent a few minutes studying what Henri was doing. At one point he tried to steal a glance across the yard - hoping to see Antoinette - but Henri dashed any chance of that when he asked Godfrey to hold a beam steady while he nailed it to a support beam. Time flew quickly after that and before long Diana was clanging the triangle for lunch.

  “LUNCH TIME, FELLAS! COME AND GET IT!”

  “Lunch already?” Leo huffed as the others dropped their tools and made towards the house.

  But Godfrey wasn’t listening. He was too busy preparing himself for Antoinette.

  “Eh? Did you hear me?” asked Leo gruffly as Godfrey ran a hand through his hair and tried to think of what he was going to say to her.

  “No...what did you say?”

  Leo muttered something indiscernible and Godfrey knew he was in one of his moods. But he didn’t care. He was about to see Antoinette. His pulse quickened as they ascended the steps to the house, their heavy work boots clunking loudly against the wooden slats.

  “Over here, you two,” Diana called, waving them to the other side of the veranda where a table and chairs had been put out and where the others were already taking their seats. “I thought I’d set lunch out here,” she continued, gesturing to two empty chairs, “as I didn’t want eight grown men in the house with their boots on, burping and belching and carrying out Lord knows what other bad habits their wives have yet to train out of them.” She winked as she said this, but none of the men seemed to appreciate the remark. Godfrey nodded and threw her a polite smile before taking a seat beside Isaac.