A sacred Place

A sacred Place

A Chapter by Rory CJ Frankson
"

on a mountain, in a valley. A lttle past FairyRock, syrup flows nectar from the Gods.

"
 

The Maple grove was winter fresh and lovely, there was a real feeling of almost peaceful tranquility there, like it was indeed...

A sacred place.

Yevette, had an amazing shared knowledge in the gathering of the sap and how it was that the trees were tapped. There was a small shed built there in the grove as well in a small clearing that stored all the items and tools, that were kept there year round and when they arrived. Yevette took Kate to collect a number of buckets, and to have put a large core drill in her stack of buckets. Explaining, that she wanted to show Ben and I, a working example of just how the the maples were tapped and so armed. They happily set off into the grove itself, puffing morning frigid air.

Poor Ben, it wasn’t hard to find him and had been kind of wondering around looking sort of lost. He told them that after coming here, he was given a stack of buckets and then, abandoned. To be told that Yevette’d show up soon, and well. He motioned, there she was... here to lead them through a days work.

It wasn’t difficult to see that throughout the grove, there were at least two buckets on each tree and sometimes three on the larger older trees. Again, it wasn’t hard to imagine that these buckets were collected and these others. To take their place. There were pathways through the snow, that ran throughout the grove, reflecting just how much. This was a very regular process. Still, there was the last night’s snowfall to break fresh trails to each tree.

Ben, had been very interested. When Yevette showed him how the trees were taped with the large hand auger she’d brought along for an example. Approximately four feet up the trunk, they bored two holes at a thirty-degree angle, to almost the center of the tree depending on its size. Adding that her father and brothers, knew exactly the angle and how deep... to bore into the tree. Then these wooden spouts were pounded into the bored hole and, the hook at its end. To hang the baskets was attached. Ben as was his way, making comments like ‘that’s ingenious’ and ‘well that is, most interesting’ as he really did think it so, and when he praised Yevette’s family’s enterprising ways. Yevette shone like the sun, with pride for them.

She, then proceeded to show them how to check the buckets and, how full they needed to be to be replaced, with a new bucket. Each person up here, had their own area of the grove to do this work in and the O Grady's were helping with Yevette’s part of the grove. She was then, only eleven and had been working this her part of the Maple grove, for as long as she could remember. She pointed down the trail and when they had two buckets in each hand, there was a tank behind the tool shed. They were to pour their buckets in it and so on, and so forth. With that the lesson was over and the work began, and Yevette skipped away. To do her share.

It was turning into a very crisp clear morning and the suns gaining warmth, now out fully in the grove and making the crisp snow magically sparkle. The grove almost carved itself, into what was in a small beautiful snow covered valley, of its own. The mountain views from across the valley were breathtaking, and Kate. Periodically took pictures of it all, thinking that she might want to paint some of this wonder for her self and put her meager skills, to canvas.

Kate found that it wasn’t hard work and indeed, on a day such as it was. With the sun shinning and snow a glisten around her. Found it to be quite a pleasure. As well, the ten-minute trips back and forth to a new tree, affording the opportunity to marvel at the natural beauty of the area. There was a very strong feeling of history, to this place as well and Yevette. Had earlier explained, that the original native people of the area. Had actually shown her ancestors, how to make the syrup and in the beginning. It was a source of sugar and that they had made beet sugar, as well. From their summer garden crops. Yes, the area fairly oozed a sense of being very old, and in a way. Spiritually giving of its self.

At the shed, noted the small narrow road off through the grove and down the mountainside, where a truck would likely come and collect the full barrels of sap. On occasion, Kate would see a person doing the same work as herself and they’d wave and diligently keep on with the job they were performing. On one such occasion. Kate had run into Jeanne at the shed and waited, as she emptied her collection. When she was finished had back away for Kate to do hers, but didn’t right away leave. She’d asked Kate politely, “and so, how do you find our maple grove. Does the work suit you”? Her tone wasn’t condescending at all, as the statement may have seemed and continued, “I trust that Yevette has shown you in her way. How things are done here and knows her grove very well, does she not?”

Oh yes,” Kate replied happily, “she showed us how the maples are tapped and it was very informative, for my husband. Ben especially, he loves that sort of thing. Well, men and tools and all,” to which, Jeanne laughed with knowing agreement, “Yevette, also showed me Fairy Rock… on the way here,” and Jeanne’s eyebrows, went up. On that one.

She did, did she? Did she also inform you that only women, were to be there and was your husband Ben. Taken there?” These were very direct questions, although not really unfriendly. Kate thought, only that they demanded an answer to and hoping Yevette, were not in any sort of trouble because of it?

No,” she’d replied quickly, “no Ben, was sent on ahead and Yevette did tell him in no uncertain terms. That it was, for woman only!”

Jeanne seemed to relax, “this is good. You see, that spot is a sacred place where woman’s ceremonies were held by the local native people and their women. They still go there and hold to them, faithfully,” to smiled at Kate pleasantly and explain further. “Yevette has been to some few of these ceremonies and it was the native women, That told her about the fairies and that the little people live there in the caves and that place, is known as… Fairy Rock.” Her eyes sort of looked out and away somewhere questioning. Then decided to carry on, “there is one old woman elder in particular, who comes to be sure that Yevette is included. She calls her, Little Sparrow Hawk,” with that Jeanne laughed again and smile hugely. “It suites her as well, I think. That old woman, has said other things as well, and some… are quite startling, and why. She believes, that Yevette must attend and build her protection,” she took another short pause, before going on, “I don’t pretend to understand what it is they do there, but I let her go and the native women. Just love her to pieces, and well. That I can understand, very well. My Yevette… is very precious, little girl!”

Kate would have to agree with that, and thought she would really like to know, what these native woman had to say about Yevette. Jeanne, excused herself and told Kate that in a half hour or so, or by her next trip. The group, would all be having a nice hot tea together and she moved off down her trails and disappear into the grove. Well she thought, a hot tea would be perfect about then and went off in her own direction to collect her next set of buckets. These just might be their last, as more and more of her checks revealed job already done, as it was three of them were doing Yevette’s part of the grove. To be finished, well before the others would be.

When she’d got her own two more, it was proven, as Ben approached he told her that there were no more full buckets and he thought they were done. Yevette came along with only two buckets, to happily say the same. Ben took the two away from Kate and back to the shed they went. Kate telling them, tea was on the way. Yevette smiling saying, “yep, it’s about that time,” and swinging her to buckets gently, with a slight skip added to her step.

Taking at least ten minutes to arrive there, Kate called to Yevette. ‘So your name is Little Sparrow Hawk… I’m told,” and Yevette laughed though a plumb of steam.

You’ve been taking to Momma, it would seem,” she had replied and slowed her step, as the path had widened there to allow it.

Yes she told me about the native women and more about,” she motioned over her shoulder at Ben, and said conspiratorially. “You know about that place and you going there with the native women?”

Yes I have, Mrs. O’Grady. I can’t really tell you, more than that,” she looked as though she were considering something of great importance, then continued. “You see, it is secret and the things shared there, are kept there.”, she’d moved in slightly and lower her voice. “The little people they keep these secrets and keep bad magic, from coming to us. So well, that’s really as much as I can say. I hope you can understand,” looking seriously to her, for confirmation.

Kate smiled at her integrity, to say, “certainly, that is a very sacred trust you have been given Yevette. You know Ben and I, have quite a lot of native friends as well.”

Her eyes went somewhat wide and asked, “you do?”

Yes,” she affirmed, “we go fairly regularly to ceremonies, and we have a friend that holds a sweat lodge. Lee is what they call a Pipe Carrier, and is sort of a holder of his peoples sacred knowledge.” Kate paused to see what her reaction might be and, it seemed as though Yevette was very much interested. Their walking together had slowed somewhat, with this sharing.

I’ve heard of that,” Yevette stated, “I’d like to someday go to a sweat lodge and I really do love native people,” again, came that deep sort of consideration. “You know native people have worked side by side with our family, for a very long time”. She looked around the grove, “this was their place in the beginning, and in the end. They willingly gave it up to the French, and well. In particular, our family”.. Yevette seemed as though, she didn’t know how to feel about that exactly. “It is a beautiful place and to see it in the summer and fall… you would just die. The wildlife love it here too, and in the fall the color of the maples. Just takes your breath away,” they were nearing their destination now, and Yevette had time for one more comment, “I told old Mildred Fletcher, she’s my elder. That there is an old native chief, that watches over this grove and in the fall. I come up here and talk to him and I thank him every year. For the use, that his people have kindly given us. Such a precious thing this gift… the spirit, of their maple grove!”

Kate, watched her as she turned and admired the look of reverence on her face, as she had made that last statement. This little girl understood, as the native people do. That the land, is a living thing and to find that center, is to hear the harmony... of its song. Be aligned with its spirit and discover the balance, in all things. Yevette already held an awareness of radiant spirit. Like a natural spring and her acceptance of this as a reality, was a rare thing in deed. Kate prayed, that the reality of condition would not harden her spirit and rob her, of such a precious vision. That she would find purpose, in the woman that she would become. In a world, that was in sore need of again finding the direction, to that spring of everlasting hope. ‘Yes,’ Kate thought ‘the world will need hope, in the darkness that will come. Perhaps this little girl, will have the strength to endure,’ and she walked down into the yard. With hope in her heart, to still… the fear of her vision.

They were now at the shed, and each of them took a turn. At relieving their last buckets into the barrel. In deed the group, was assembled and there was a battered old green Coleman stove hissing away and tea was on the way, as well a large shopping bag full of different kinds of sandwiches. To go with their tea break. On the other element of the Coleman was another pot bubbling away and Yevette noticed, that Kate had seen it and her grin grew huge.

Now you two, are really in for a treat,” Yevette smile as Jeanne took the pot off the flame and put it sizzling to rest in the snow and move it, every couple of minutes. As everyone had their tea and sandwiches and when the time seemed right. Jeanne took out a large ice-cream scoop, now Kate’s interest was really peaked. Thinking, ‘what ice cream cones out here in the winter?’ She was almost right, Yevette did come out with cones and her Mother dipped the scooper, into some fresh untouched snow and put the resulting snowball on top of a cone. Then took the pot out of the snow and poured the maple syrup sugar, onto the snow ball and hand it to Kate. With a healthy grin, say, “and this, you must try… hmm!” And repeat the process all the way round, to many smiling faces.

Kate took a tentative bite and her taste buds told her why, they were all smiling so. It was a truly delicious crystallized, sweet maple sugar treat. Yevette laughed to see her more than pleased expression accompanied by sounds, of scrumptious delight, “Ah, you see”, she pointed to her treat. “You have now, have had a true snow cone… eh!” Kate saw that Ben, was just as enamored with this desert. As he’d finished it rather quickly and there was enough syrup, left in the pot for him to have another. Ben was the first finished, so Jeanne took what was left and offered it to him, in another cone. Well he was not shy and gladly accepted for himself, another short lived snow cone.

Yevette, knowingly offered some historic sort of description to this. “This would be a modern version of a maple snow cone,” she explain. “In the old days, they would just pour the syrup into fresh snow, and when it cooled. The children, would then gobble their crystal treats”, and she laughed to mimic. Just how fast, gobbling really was. “It is true and when I was little, Papa would do that for us, and then. We would gobble it right up and cry hard, for more. But you know, he would just say no and that too much of this treat, would just rot the teeth right out of our heads,” again Yevette laughed even harder. “Well one time, my brothers and I had a plan and whip out our tooth brushes, brought with us and try that angle. For more of a thing we just loved and would eat a ton of it. If we could! But this trick wouldn’t budge him either and he’d said, there was a whole winter’s worth coming and well. Which proved out to be true. All things in moderation, he lectured us. One more of a long line of Papa’s lessons. Isn’t that right, Mamma?”

Jeanne backed that right up, and admitted. That her children, just loved their snow cones, “and yes Yevette, your Papa. Is a very, very wise man. See just how perfect your teeth are now and that, because he would not give in even once. To spoil his children. How every night, he bugs you to remember to brush. His lessons are all very wise, baby girl!” Her Mother pat her on the head as she sat right between the two of them. Jeanne her mother on one side, and Kate her personal guest on the other. “Well I’m so glad that you enjoyed our families, traditional treat,” she said directly to Kate and then the topic turned, “I see that Yevette’s part of the grove is done,” and turned to Yevette for confirmation of this and her daughter nodded say, that indeed it were true. “Well then,” she slapped a knee, to say with finality. “Take the O’Grady’s, down to the Syrup Shed and show them just what comes next… eh!” Again to pat her daughter on the head and give her a loving hug. “That’s my girl and no doddling now, hear” and pinch her cheek, “you know Momma loves you, eh baby girl. Now go!” Her eyes so full of love, for her special little wonder.

Yevette to say respectfully she wouldn’t think of doddling, and that yes. She knew Momma loved her, more than the whole world. They made their good byes, to the rest of the group and set off for the almost half hour walk back down the mountain, to the Syrup Shed and the trip back seemed to take no time at all and to fly right by. The walking too, was appreciated. Although the hot tea and other treats, were great. To be up and moving reminded Kate, just how freezing cold it was out on this mountain. It was probably around twenty Celsius below and sitting too long, was to experience the effects of such cold. In a short while the walk got them warmed and the day again, a winter wonderland... there on that mountain, in the Laurentian’s of Kate's memory.

It was this particular happy circumstance, that made their choice to come to this place in Quebec, worth every second. All the way down, Yevette was a literal chatterbox and Kate couldn’t even retell just what she’d talked of. Except, everything under the sun. Mostly, it was about her mountain. The game that lived there and Kate thought, the girl had an amazing almost encyclopedic knowledge of the types of birds that were there. In fact, she noted that many winter birds flew round and passed them and sang prettily. It seemed, right to Yevette...

Even Ben had said later, that he’d never really seen birds do that before and he’d observed a whole life full of wilderness experience. Some of these birds Yevette even whistle back to in exactly the warbles, they had sent her. It was uncanny. While Yevette didn’t seem to think anything of it, To her, it was a natural everyday thing… to love her birds. Her mountain! That they would just love her right back, and yes. Even a whole mountain, could love her she made quite plain to say to them with convinced passion. “Yes. A mountain, is a living thing!”

Ben was purely taken with her statement, and agreed with her whole-heartedly and the rest of the trip down. He’d told her about climbing them and that he held much the same view. That yes… a mountain. Is a living thing! To which, Yevette turned to Kate with a look like, ‘well I did tell you so, and see. Ben agrees.’ To turn and the two of them right into more, about living mountains. This was when Kate felt that this child, could just as well have been theirs. Watching the way Yevette was talking along with her husband.

Ben would have been an ideal father and the patients that he was exhibiting with this child. In his interest, in every word she said, brought tears to her eyes. For the rest of the trip down Ben held Yevette’s imagination, with his talk about loving mountains and Kate only observed. She studied Yevette’s every nuance, the way she walked and held her carriage. Her way of speaking her mind, with such authority. The multitude of faces she made, as she talked.

Due to the fact Ben and her were waking holding hands, one hand being occupied. While the other, wheeled through a multitude of expressions all of its own. Kate snapped off a few pictures as the lighting and time of day, perfect for photography. Many of these pictures would end up on their lodge’s walls, that at that time. Were only half built. Kate knew in her spirit, that this experience, would never fade and that Yevette. This child, that glowed so brightly. Would never leave her phyci and stay with her forever. There was a something about her that was magic, mystic and although she couldn’t put a finger to, directly as fact. Kate knew, that the world needed this child... in it. To be an essential and integral part, of its unfolding!

Well of course, they spent the afternoon learning about the making of Maple Syrup and its bottling and packaging. Which really, Ben found a lot more interesting than Kate did. But Kate joined right in on the work, as she did over the next three days. As the both of them agreed, that it would be a great way to spend the rest of their vacation. They had already had a week of skiing the mountain, before meeting the Richade family, and now...

The Richade family. Would take up the remainder, of their vacation.

That evening Jeanne had courteously invited them for supper and by the time the syrup shed was shut down for the day, it was already dark out. Yet, both Kate and Ben knew how fast evening arrived in the mountains in wintertime. Ben had spending some time studying the log construction outside the home, then came in to settle himself before a beautifully made stone fireplace and enjoy its glowing warmth. This he studied very thoroughly as well and some of that very design, was incorporated right into the final construction of their lodge’s stone fireplace and began. Just as soon as they returned home.

Meanwhile, Kate would not take no for an answer when it came to helping with supper and was working away in their kitchen. The three of them, mother daughter and herself and when the rest of the family came in tired from a long day logging they were shortly introduced, before they went off to wash and ready themselves for supper. Kate quite intrigued, when two of the brothers turned out to be almost identical twins. All three of their boys, were big strapping young men and there being quite a gap in ages, between them and Yevette.

All with out exception hugged they’re Mother and Yevette on coming in the door. Martin, the eldest had twirled Yevette around the kitchen and almost smother her giggling with kisses. It wasn’t hard to tell that she was his favorite and Martin hers, as she laughed hard and yell for him to put her down and not mean it. Finally when he did, announced to Yevette that he must go and clean up for supper and off he went, at a run. With Yevette chasing him to the slamming bathroom door, “almost got me,” he yelled in French from the other side of the door, and her laughing. To come into the kitchen and go back to busy work, “and I did too,” she laugh to Kate.

Kate could smell the forest and sawdust, on them from the chainsaws they used for making a living. It was a healthy smell and she could see right away, that the Richade family were a hard working people and in most respects. Work, came first in the day to day of their lives.

Kate noted that even some of the meal, was already prepared and she wondered just where in the day Jeanne, would have time for it all and was certainly to be admired for being a very organized woman. The supper being prepared was the fare of everyday life and they weren't shown any special sort of treatment. It was a refreshing sort of feeling to be so readily included into the Richade’s family routine, and be busily going about this very practical day-day functioning in their exceedingly orderly processes. Of the making of their world of country life, go round.

At one point Jeanne shew her out of the kitchen and told her no offense, but she wasn’t needed and was quite at that point… in the way. Well she didn’t take offense and knew the feeling. The woman needed the kitchen to herself, to get everything done that was needed to be doing and she’d sent them off, to set the table. Their dinning room, was maybe the largest room on the main floor and in looking around, at the tidy clutter that surrounded the table. It was obviously a major place, where their world revolved around. Kate could see it was used for a multitude of things, including Jeanne’s sewing and that being quite a lot of that clutter, surrounding it.

After she helped setting the dinning room table for the eight of them and, it handled that many settings easily. Yevette grabbed her almost immediately and begged, to take her upstairs to show off her bedroom. Kate looked to Jeanne, who nodded that it would be all right and Kate allow herself to be dragged forcibly off to discover, the little princess’s inner sanctum.

The stairway to the top floor was narrow and quite steep, and knew, that it was built that way to conserve on space. On the way up, she heard Ben enter into a conversation with Yevette’s Papa, who’d introduced himself simply, as Marcelle. They were well onto the topic of log house building and judging by the sound of it, those two would get on just fine. Men and tools, and all. They would talk a lot in French, over the next three days about log building, and Ben. Garnered a lot of usable information on the craft of log building that Ben considered, a cultural Art Form. That went directly into the Lodge and would greatly aid them, in finishing it with Marcelle's input.

Although Yevette’s room, was quite small. It was very well laid out and her closets and whatnot, were all built right into the wall. Surprisingly, there was an eight paned windowed door and Kate, went and looked out onto a small balcony. “Papa made the balcony, especially for me,” said Yevette, standing just behind her, “he said, it was because of my birds and I could sit out there and listen to them sing. Out, in the lower meadow,” and Yvette, point out its location.

Kate could see there was a wonderful view of this meadow and it was indeed, very close to the house. She turned back into the room and there was a large Queen sized four-poster bed, with a canopy that filled most of the room. “Papa built that too and Mama, well she sewed the canopy and all the skirting for it!” Obviously, Yevette was very proud of this fact and it reflected... just how much they indeed loved this, their only daughter. It was reflected, in these very details.

She went to the end of the bed and there was a very old travel chest, to say with pride. “This belonged to my Grandmother, my mothers mother, from Paris. Mama said that they traveled quite a lot and she’d brought her things over with her when Papa met her, were married in France”. It was opened with reverence and Yevette brought out what she treated as her prize possession. It was a very old hand carved wooden doll, in a beautiful frilly gown. They both sat on Yevette’s bed to have a good look, at this obviously very special doll. Yevette ran a loving hand over its velvet dress and said “Momma made the dress, the other one got so old it just fell apart. This doll is very old Mrs. O’Grady, see all the joints are hinged and move as well,” she lifted the hem of the gown and showed her, “it belonged, to my Great Grandmother in France, and I couldn’t tell you just how old that might be. I know, that it is a family treasure and that I must take very good care of it and if I ever have a daughter. I must pass it to her. That’s what Momma has told me, and the way it has been in the Cartier family. From Mother, to daughter!”

Yevette carefully passed Kate the doll for her to have a better look and she could see, that a master doll maker had constructed this doll. Antique Dolls, being somewhat of a hobby for Kate. She had the odd feeling, that she had maybe seen pictures of this very doll. She carefully lifted the dress and looked on the dolls lower back and really could not believe her eyes. The doll was stamped by a known logo. It was a Pierre de Fraurelle, who was indeed a Master doll maker and in fact. Made dolls almost exclusively for the children, of the royal families of France. His wife being a seamstress, and had made gowns for royalty and herself, was very famous. She also made the elaborate gowns, for her husband’s dolls.

Yevette was digging around in her chest and came up with an original picture of the dolls gown and it was almost identical, to the one that her mother Jeanne had remade for her daughter. The mystery, that was Jeanne deepened. This doll was indeed very, very old. Kate may have not seen this exact doll, but had seen many similar to this one. Knew they were worth a small fortune and many, were held in the world’s museums.

They were sitting on the bed as Kate was studying the doll, and Yevette Turned to her. To be said very seriously. “Mrs. O’Grady,” to which she spoke up almost immediately that she call her Kate, and Yevette. Looked kind of unsure. “I don’t think my parents would like that very much and think, that I was being disrespectful." Kate, thought a moment about that and tried another approach and that maybe she could call her ‘Aunt Kate’ and pretend. That was so. Yevette really thought hard on that one and announce with a smile. “Yes, I could try that,” and tried that out on her tongue. “Aunt Kate… I had a dream about you last night and there was a beautiful man here in my room and he told me, to give to you something special!”

This had really taken Kate by surprise. Was this child a dreamer... as well? She asked intrigued, “really, and this man Yevette. What was it, he told you to give to me. Yevette?”

She reached around her neck and undid a clasp and slipped a thin gold chain off of herself and hand the delicate necklace, to Kate. She received it with grace and in her hand held a solid gold St Christopher’s medallion. The stamp of it was again very old and she turned to Yevette to say, “I can’t accept this Yevette, it looks to be very old and where did you get it from?” She knew for sure, that this was absolutely precious and whom ever had given to her. Well likely, they wouldn’t be very pleased about giving away, such a precious icon.

Yevette looked anxious, “well it is true, it is very old. But when I told Momma about the dream which I’d had and that the beautiful man, who was I thought The Christ. As he did glow. Well in my dream, he told me that if I were to give you this medal… that you would,” at this juncture she paused and looked toward the ceiling, then point. “He was right up there, Aunt Kate and it was very strange. It was as though, I was not really sleeping? Like he really was… right, there. So he said twice. That if I give this to you. That you will really watch out for me, and that you were special. That you had… the gift?” This really seemed to puzzle, her eleven-year-old mind. “I don’t know exactly, just what that might mean. I knew, that you were to come here Aunt Kate. I knew it when I saw you and Ben, in the Cafeteria. I felt really funny and like, I had known you all my life!” She threw her arms around Kate, and sobbed. “So, you must take the medal. Even Momma says that you must, and that she too. Believes it was Jesus the Christ, which appeared to me. Please, Aunt Kate I know, that you are a gift… come to me!”

Well… what could possibly be said to that, “of course I’ll receive this most precious gift from you Yevette, and I promise. That I will forever watch out for you precious in my prayers,” Kate handed the delicate chain and St Christopher’s medallion, back to Yevette. Who now was looking into Kate’s eyes, with real relief. “But… only if you put it on me with your own hand, and I promise. On my life... I’ll never take it off,” and Kate.

Never did.

 

Once again the story took a pause, most of the last part had been revealed almost verbatim, with only slight editing. And again, Yevette’s eyes were leaking tears and Kate pulled back her blouse. “You see Yevette, I never have. Taken it off!”

The medallion was there gleaming at her breast, “and I have prayed for you and your protection, for a very long time. Although I’m not Catholic, I looked up a prayer of St Christopher and use it… a lot. There isn’t a day that goes by, that I don’t think of you. How could I not, after such a gift. As this,” she rubbed it, “that you had passed to me, and held such a powerful request? Given by a holy soul… that a simple soul, like me. Watch out for you, and your Spirit!”

Well again, there came plenty of real tears. Yevette thinking that it was horrible of her to have forgotten, or not really thought of these things. For so very long. Yet in listening to the telling of this story, it all flooded back to her… and yes. She had really forgotten that night, that she felt the Christ had appeared to her with that very message. She knew as well, that the ancient doll wait for her at the end of her bed, in that very trunk. With so many other of her precious things… forgotten. Her soul, now only feeling all the more broken.

She looked across the table at this woman, of such fortitude. With long vision and insight. She knew Kate now and knew her to be as close, as her own life’s vein. She choked out, “Aunt Kate, how can I ever forgive myself. For the things I’ve let go, to have forgotten and what... dismissed?” Yevette again got up and went to Kate and drape her self over the woman’s shoulders and sob uncontrollably. “Can you forgive me, can you?” Yevette, just sobbed and sobbed.

Aunt Kate, just let her. For a time, a healing times, a time...

Neither Ben or Troy, knew what to think of any of this any more. Fairies, and now, visions of the Christ? They were both looking at each other and knew, they were thinking the same thoughts. This was no longer a story, for all of them. This was for Yevette and, her only. Not that they didn’t believe this part of it. They just knew that the two of them, were to continue this on their own, and that then... more could be said.

Both could see that Kate, had been holding herself back. So they said nothing and left the room and went looking for a stiff drink... in Ben’s office study. A room, which Troy knew at that point, he’d be perfectly comfortable in and... he did need a drink. Rather badly. Troy knew also, that he needed to talk with Ben, rather badly.

In all of this and it was still, only late afternoon.        

Troy felt.

It was much much later, than that.



© 2014 Rory CJ Frankson


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A chapter with a very depth, heart-warming to the point of bringing tears to my eyes - a real hankie part to me :) Now the mystery is more centered around precious Yevette's mom Jeanne. Who was she - did she come from a good line - of noble descent?! And if so... many questions arise. Such a beautiful part this is ... would love to taste a true snow cone... In Quebec I once got to taste freshly cooked maple syrup on a wooden spoon that got dipped into the pot ... pure delishhhhhhh...Mmm... You got me so envious here of your characters :)

And now what does Troy needs to talk about with Ben?
Great part!

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

A chapter with a very depth, heart-warming to the point of bringing tears to my eyes - a real hankie part to me :) Now the mystery is more centered around precious Yevette's mom Jeanne. Who was she - did she come from a good line - of noble descent?! And if so... many questions arise. Such a beautiful part this is ... would love to taste a true snow cone... In Quebec I once got to taste freshly cooked maple syrup on a wooden spoon that got dipped into the pot ... pure delishhhhhhh...Mmm... You got me so envious here of your characters :)

And now what does Troy needs to talk about with Ben?
Great part!

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on October 15, 2010
Last Updated on October 26, 2014


Author

Rory CJ Frankson
Rory CJ Frankson

Vernon, British Colombia, Canada



About
It's all about the music really. I'm a Writer / Musician. Write On / Right On! Peace... Romon in Review Out Post & Creative Standard Productions. Romonx Associated Artists Rory CJ Frankson .. more..

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