Madame Brunet (LingeringDesire & CharmSnake)

She nodded, knowing he'd mentioned the paddling thing before. She worked as well as she could have and as hard as she could but sleep evaded. It seemed as if he was calling her lazy in a way. Something she wasn't, inexperienced was a better word for her.

Her hand lifted and wiped away her tears after the first few, she was upset and he didn't seem to notice, or care. Jacquelyn wasn't used to this sort of life or this sort of way of being treated. His question was soft, she glanced up at him. "I'm not crying because of that... you hurt me. I am sore and I hurt, I am tired, sore and upset at all of this." She buried her head in her hands and cried a bit more.

"I am tired, sore and upset at all of this."

All of this. He did not take it as an insult as knew the house wasn't exactly luxury How was she to know that she could have done a lot worse in this land? Europe was a far away dreamworld that he would never know but he was pretty sure that not everyone there lived on marble and silver all their lives even if it was evident that his young bride was once of a higher class. As yet, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know just how high.

"We will get a better house," he assured, "but for the next winter at least, maybe another, this one will have to do."

She sat across the table overwhelmed and weeping into her palms, sniffling quietly as birds warbled outside. The fly returned to the window, thumping against the pane in blind futility. A cinder popped in the belly of the stove. André's voice was calm.

"You can cry if you like but there will be tougher days than this," he said before taking another bite of bread and plums. He may have been on the brutish side but he had the decency to keep his lips closed as he chewed and swallowed. "When you choose to stop crying you will realize that you are still here and still alive and well." The table creaked as he leaned his elbow upon it.

"We will make it."

André did not want to live like this forever. He wanted a stone floor, a proper bed, a plentiful garden. He wanted five months next to a warm stove in winter instead of five months on snowshoes in the bush, and he wanted a family to look after one another in times of sickness and hardship. Certainly with all this there would be less hardship as the years passed. The first step was the bit of money that he had saved. The next was using that money for the plot of land. The third step was Jacquelyn. He continued to assess his wife.

"Where did you learn to make this bread?" he asked.

The words she heard through her tears and sobs did little to console her as she knew what he meant was true. The part about tougher days then this one floored her, she didn't think it was possible. he'd pressed his advantage as her husband the night before and now things would get worse. She honestly didn't see how. She wondered if the other man, Tremblay, would have been just as bad.

His words were clear but she added things to them. Still alive and well and here WITH HIM, the one that caused all of this misfortune. Her stomach lurched violently and she rose abruptly, scrambling to get outside before the food from the night before came up in a pile at the edge of the weeds. Using the edge of her dress she wiped her eyes then moved slowly back to her home.

Using a cloth she wiped her face well and then sat, sipping at her water her words came. "The cook we had growing up showed me and my sister how to fix bread, it was the only thing Papa allowed us to learn to make. He insisted that we would have an education and refinery and cooking was a frivolity. He claimed I'd have servants to do such mundane things when I married." Her eyes looked over the shanty in the light of day. God, was her father ever wrong.

"The nuns showed me how to make broth and soup, but that was simply because it was cold and it warmed us up." Her eyes flitted over her husband, he didn't get much better than the house. He was rough and more than JUST around the edges. He needed his hair trimmed and his whiskers shaved, his clothes needed patching, but most importantly... she wished he was kinder with her. "I know how to sew, I can clean... I just, I just need a bit more help with cooking... sorry Andre."

She shot up from the little table, her hems in swirling eddys about her calves as she rushed to the door. André remained unflinching to the sound of his wife's guts convulsing, throat coughing and spitting into the grass. He took the moment to finish the last bites of his breakfast. She returned hollow, humiliated and exposed, and sheepishly retook her seat. André reached back, shut and latched the door.

"If you are going outside to vomit, close the door so the mosquitoes don't come in," he advised. "And you should stop vomiting so much. You return more food than you keep. You will not regain your color that way."

The silence was monolithic. A fly buzzed and stopped. A cacophonous murder of crows voiced its chaotic displeasure in the distance. Then that too quickly faded. Not even the ticking of a clock could be heard to pace the monotony. André thought that she looked as if she were about to break down into sobs again, but nonetheless refocused on his appraisal.

"You can sew?" he pressed. "How well?"

She bit her lip as he reprimanded her, nodding her head she looked away and sipped her water more, easing the taste of bile in her throat. "I'm sorry..." She whispered. He scolded her like she had a choice in the matter, she was ill from the ship and vomiting was all she had done. "I'm ill, the priest told you that I was sickly." She said softly.

Jacquelyn sat there and ate her bread in silence. She wanted to curl back up in bed and sob. All she was prepared for was a life of ease. The sounds of nature perturbed her and with out it was too silent. Her eyes met his as his questions came. "I sew well. Is there something you wish to have sewn Andre'?" She asked softly.

The bread was delightful, flavorful without being over powering of the plums. She wished she had paid more attention in the kitchen. Maybe later she could bake a pie, show off her skills a bit for him. Glancing at the pantry, she knew she'd need sugar to do that and she had none.

Jacquelyn resumed her breakfast rather easily so André deduced that her stomach could not have been too upset.

"There is a needle here, but not much for thread," he said. In fact the needle he had was not suited for clothes and better utilized for cinching burlap sacks with twine and the like. "I can get you some things."

The fly kept thumping himself against the window. Another cinder crackled in the stove.

"I have been down to Québec, with its stone walls, shops and fat people in fine clothes drinking tea under parasols and all that," he said. "Perhaps this is how it is in France, but not here. This is not France."

A horse whinnied in the distance.

"You live here now," he emphasized. "Everything we need is here, but one must do all the work himself. The sooner you accept this, the better."

The bread helped settle her stomach as he spoke, needle but no thread... her eyes lifted to his. She didn't understand how she was supposed to sew with no thread. "So you will get me some thread and maybe a proper needle and some buttons?" She asked him hopefully. Jacquelyn wasn't sure what he could want from her.

Her eyes lifted to his, to hear him speak of the city rang with disgust and disdain. If only he knew that she was a part of the fat people's world... of stone buildings and sweet cakes and finery... but alas, those days were gone. "I know this is not France, I never imagined it to be."

She shook her head, she wished she didn't live here and in fact questioned god with the fact that she wasn't already dead, like the rest of her family. She turned her head from him, staring out the window for a moment. "And the sooner you accept that I am trying, the better as well." She rose, gathering the dishes and began to clean up. She had to dust and sweep as well as laundry and lunch, then dinner. She wanted to curl back up in the bed and sleep away her miserable little life, but her husband wouldn't allow it, this much she knew.

"So you will get me some thread and maybe a proper needle and some buttons?"

"Yes, I can get these things," he assured.

She peered up and made eye contact with him. It was the first sign that she would come out of this malaise. Perhaps it was all the strength that she had for the moment before her attention averted to the daylight of the window, but it was still a positive sign.

"And the sooner you accept that I am trying, the better as well."

André nodded in contemplation as his wife rose to collect the dishes. He slapped at a mosquito on the back of his neck before getting to his own feet. It was time to get the day going. He fetched a pair of stockings, retook his seat and began to wrap up his boots.

"For now all that really needs to be done is the laundry," he said. "The washboard is there with a lump of soap. The tin box has clothes pegs."

He took a small coil of twine and stepped outside, taking care to shut the door. The sun was bright and warm. It was the first day of nice weather since the fall, hence it was time to rehang the clothesline. A hook stuck out of the house between the window and the door. He tied one end of the twine to it. Then he paced over to the dead tree perhaps fifteen yards away. Most of the branches had been removed and it resembled a twisted worn grey post. He looped the other end around it and knotted it tight. He made sure that the height of the line at the tree was not out of reach of Jacquelyn's short stature, but the height of the hook at the other end could not be helped. She would just have to stand on an upturned bucket when closer to the shack.

When he finished, he returned inside and packed his fishing gear into his sack.

"I will return some time after mid day with dinner and supplies for the pantry," he said. "I will talk to Munier about some fresh straw for the bed but it may be too early in the season." He gestured towards the rifle over the door. "You will have no use for that, you will only hurt yourself. There is nothing out there that can hurt you except maybe a bear and I haven't seen one since octobre. If you see a bear just walk back into the house and close the door. Bear is lazy. He would rather dig in the garden than force a door, and the door will hold easily. If anyone calls you do not have to let anyone in. You can tell them to return when I am home later."

He threw his pack over his shoulder. It was not heavy as he was not going terribly far.

"This is your house as much as mine," he said finally. "The house will keep you as well as you keep it." Then he donned his hat and opened the door. "And shut the door when you go in and out. Don't let the mosquitoes in."

He turned towards the door and gave her one last glance in case she had anything to ask.

Jacquelyn was thrilled that he would get her the things she needed, thread and needle and maybe more items for their pantry... since he was going out. She flinched when he slapped the bug on his skin. turning she gave him a little smile when he told her about things she already understood. Watching him through the window she saw him hang the line for her. Busying herself with heating the water and then shaving soap into the wash bucket she hummed softly.

By the time he was packed, the dishes were done and sitting on the table to dry upon a towel. She sat and began to dry them, listening to her husband. Hearing he would return with dinner was a horrifying thought, what if it was something she didn't know how to fix. Swallowing hard she simply nodded and turned toward the rifle, praying she'd never have to use the thing.

She rose as he rose and watched as he moved toward the door. "I will do as you asked. Please," She looked up into his face now as she moved closer. "Be safe." She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. After all, he was her husband. Turning, she began putting the dishes away and would then warm water for laundry, but would drag it outside to enjoy the sunshine a bit and to keep the mess to a minimum.

The effort it took for her to stand on her toes, stretch her little body, almost climb his shoulder to put her lips to his cheek, caught him off guard. He paused a moment. He was not accustomed to this. Then he nodded assuringly even if quite gingerly, as if to concede that this was acceptable. Then he felt silly about it - about his discomfort with such affection. He was unprepared for this and had no comeback and so remained awkwardly silent. There was little to no wind to rustle the branches outside. A bird twittered. André felt the need to get on with the day before she noticed his moment of weakness. That's what it seemed like.

"I will return soon enough," he said. Then he pulled the door closed and headed off down the path and into the trees.

His silence at her actions, accompanied by his slight nod was awkward. Long after he'd gone she pondered them. Dragging the tub outside she proceeded to carry water out to it, only one hot and one cold was enough to wash their clothes, although she put another on in case the water was so soiled. Searching through the basket she started with the lightest color of the items and worked her way up towards the darker ones. She felt rejuvenated in the sunshine and with the house secure behind her , knew her place as his wife was forming.

Sad and lonely she looked out on the day as she knelt and scrubbed at the items on the scrub board that had seen better days. Grinding the cake of soap into the stains she found. The wet items moved to the basket, having dumped the soiled ones onto the ground. She moved toward the water and dumped her water then scooped up fresh cold water to rinse. Jacquelyn pinned the items to the rope tethered between the house and the tree. working her way up towards the house so the line would sag and she'd be able to reach it. It worked.

Carrying the tub with some water into the house she knew scrubbing the walls, table and counters was another task on her list. With it being spring, cleaning was a necessity. Though she had to be careful not to make it too wet otherwise the mud would defeat the purpose of the cleaning. Silently she opened the pantry and made some bread for their noon day and evening meals. Leaving it on top of the stove to rise she pulled out a brush and an old cloth and scrubbed down the walls and anything she could think of. Then she wiped the water away with a cloth, she would speak to Andre about wax to seal the wood.

Reorganizing the pantry and shelves she put everything out on the table and counter then put it back in a way that made sense to her. She surveyed the lower pantry and smiled, at least now she could see everything. After she did this she checked on the bread and began to bake it in the stove, before checking on the clothing on the line. It was almost ready so she took the blankets and pillows out side and gave them a good shake before laying them out in the sunshine on the line after she took down the clothes. Folding them and putting them in the right spots. All her mending hung in a cloth sack.

She shook out the rugs, swept the dirt floor clean of debris then made the bed and finally sat down to relax. He hadn't mentioned for her to feed any animals, she wasn't sure what kind of farm it even was. Sighing she sat down and sipped some water, she looked at the bed and thought of taking a nap, though her husband wouldn't approve. So she began the mending with the too big needle.

The day took a bit longer than expected. He had been delayed getting things at Chabot's farm when he asked for needle and thread. This had perked Madame Chabot's interest and she became very excited that Brunet's new bride had finally arrived and peppered him with cheerful inquiries.

"What is her name?"

"What is she like?"

"Where is she from?"

"Is she young?"

"Is she doing well?"

"What are her measurements?"

She then proceeded to busy herself gathering a care packet. Selecting a couple of needles from her pin cushion and pinning them in to a small square of linen she muttered with joy, listing all that would be necessary, adding them to the square and rolling it all up. Then she opened the bottom drawer of a small armoir in the corner where she kept a collection of rags, muttering away as she selected an appropriate assortment for Jacquelyn, apparently her new favorite neighbor that she had not yet met.

While this went on, Jean-Phillippe Chabot fetched the rest of the order. Brunet placed it all on his sack at his feet as Chabot handed it to him.

"Quart de crème," said Chabot. He had three cows and one bull. André wanted a cow of his own but it would have to wait until he had a barn or a stable. Until then he would have to continue to buy cream. He put the clear corked bottle full of white cream down into the sack.

"Douzaine d'oeufs." The eggs came three-by-four in a small wooden egg tray with a top and bottom held together with little metal hooks. Brunet exchanged him a simlar empty tray set. Chabot had ample hens and André would definitely acquire some within a couple of months as a chicken coupe was a much simpler and less demanding structure to build.

"Du miel." Chabot also kept a beehive. Brunet placed the two half-pint jars of honey down into the sack with everything else.

"Demi-livre de l'avoine." It was a small burlap pillow sewn shut with coarse thread.

Then Madame Chabot brought her tied up bundle of chosen rags and set it carefully into the sack, reminding André to take care of pins and needles wrapped inside.

Brunet had a tab of sorts with Chabot. He had tanned some hides for him last year in exchange for goods as he required. He bid the Chabots au revoir and went on to Munier's. The stop there was much shorter. Munier had no straw yet. Spring had arrived quite late. There may not be any for quite a while.

On the return home it was time to stop at the lower lake to use his fishing line. The lake was maybe 150 feet across and fed the creek that passed near the house. He would follow it home. It took some patience but sitting on his usual rock with a simple hook and line and a couple of moths for bait he managed to catch two small perch - enough for dinner and possibly some leftovers. Again he was delayed as the mosquitoes were so disruptive that he couldn't stay still enough to entice the fish.

"Bonjour," he said as he opened the door to the cabin. Looking around, things had been rearranged but were neat and orderly. The bedding still hung on the line outside and gave the mildly soapy odor of cleanliness. Inside it was warm. He smelled bread baking. André shut the door to keep out the bugs, set the sack down next to the chair and sat. Laying the two fish on the table he unwrapped his boots and relaxed.

"Everything all right while I was away?" he asked.

Then he removed the goods from the sack one by one and set them on the table, the oats, the honey, the eggs and the cream. Finally he produced the bundle of rags and extended it across the table to his wife.

"Things for sewing. From Madame Chabot," he informed. "Some sharp things inside. Be careful."

Jacquelyn looked up, smiling, when the door to the cabin opened. "Bon jour, Andre." She said warmly, glad for his return. She stared at the fish he laid out on their table, next to the clothes she was mending. Nodding she grabbed a long pan and placed the fish on it before wiping the table clean. "Yes everything was fine. I cleaned and straightened." Silently she watched him put away the items he purchased while he was out. Oats, honey, eggs and cream, plenty of things to bake with.

She sat in her seat once more and smiled at him as she took the bundle. "For me... thank you." excitedly she untied the bundle of scrap fabric. A patchwork dress would be a lovely thing but inside she found a few yards of one fabric, enough to sew a dress and a shirt for herself and Andre. "I will need to write a letter of thanks to Madame Chabot..."

There were tears in her eyes as she waded through the pins, needles and thread. Lifting the seam ripper and scissors for him to see. "She is too kind, all of these will come in handy." Rising she pulled a small basket out from under her chair and added the new items. "My sewing basket, I found it in the corner... I hope you don't mind." It looked like a discarded fishing basket, the hinged lid helped contain it all, though all she'd been expecting was the thread and needles. "Thank you Andre... these things mean so much to me."

Joy sprung to life on her face as she flitted about putting the precious items away. "Andre... can you show me how to work with the fish?" She asked softly. Poor thing really didn't know.

"I will need to write a letter of thanks to Madame Chabot..."

A letter. The thought made him grimace, perhaps even visibly. What was the point? It's not like les Chabots were hundreds of miles away. People with their documents couldn't talk to a man face to face. All the lawyers, bankers and governors in New France thought that their fancy ink and parchment was enough to outsmart a man like he. Brunet was no fool even if he couldn't read.

"With what paper?" he dismissed gruffly.

Then she brandished the scissors and looked towards him. The steel sheers and her wet eyes glistened together in the light from the window. André's face hardened. He was not expecting something so extravagant. They seemed to be of good quality. Some needles and thread were one thing, but a pair of scissors needed to be paid for. He sighed a breath and was about to speak.

"Thank you Andre... these things mean so much to me."

He relented and said nothing. She had claimed them. They were hers. It was not as if his wife was not worthy of good things, he had just been hoodwinked by Madame Chabot. He would deal with it himself and leave Jacquelyn out of it. She set about placing all the new things into the basket.

"Andre... can you show me how to work with the fish?"

"Ouai," he responded in his crude Québec accent. "Bring the knife and the board, and two small pails. Fill one with water. I will show you."

Jacquelyn dismissed his gruff response, he had been away since early on. She smiled at him, but held back on running to him with a kiss. She was not so foolish to remember he had hurt her the night before. Biting her lip she remembered it was her duty, pushing away the bit of bitter feelings she felt before she moved to gather the items he stated to show her the fish.

To the table she brought a rough cutting board, a knife and two pails, one filled with water. She slid into her seat and faced him, blue eyes wide. She feared she would be ill, the smell causing her to be a bit queasy. But she pushed it aside, eager to please her new husband.

If anything Jacquelyn wanted to be a good wife and she was trying. She glued a tentative smile too her face and began to watch.

Brunet laid the first fish out on the board, steadying it by the tail with his left hand and then took the knife in his right.

"First, you chop off the head," he said as he raised the knife approximately chin high. "Right behind the gill, like this," and the knife came down quickly and easily. Thock! It was a smooth motion rather than brute force, with perhaps a flick of the wrist, and the head separated neatly from the body. "Most importantly, don't cut yourself," he instructed. "You don't need to hold it by the tail if you don't want. It should stay put."

"Then you slit it open," he said and turned it with the tail towards himself. "Like this," and he poked the tip of the knife into the anus and slit it straight down the underside. Once it started, it slit rather easily, although the bit between the fins required a little sawing motion.

"Then you fold it open and scrape out the innards." The carcass wasn't spreading willingly. "If it is difficult, chop off the tail as well." Thock! With the tail fin removed he spread the fish open, exposing the guts, and used the knife to gently but quickly scrape the insides onto the board, leaving only the meat and bones.

"Then wash," he said before picking up the fish, dunking it into the bucket of water and swishing it around for several seconds. "Important to wash it good."

Finally he laid the fish on the table, tossed the head and tail into the empty pail and scraped in the rest of the guts from the board as well. "When we are done, we dump all of this into the river," he said. "Always into the river, never around outside the house or garden. The smell will invite the bears." The board was a bit slimy. He put the knife down next to it.

"Now you can try."

Each cut of the blade made her stomach lurch and she could feel the blood drain from her face as he scraped out the guts onto the board. Her head felt a little light and the world spun until he sat up and looked at her. Instructing her on how to empty the remains into the river. She nodded and lifted her apron to wipe the beads of moisture off her face. It was a cold sweat.

She grasped the knife, her hands shaking as she grasped a fish. It was slimy and slippery. She held the tail and chopped at the head. Having less strength than her husband, Jacquelyn aimed and struck a few more times. Finally the head was free, hanging by a few strands. Strands she severed with a saw of the knife. Laying her hand flat on top of the body she sawed into it's belly slowly. Instead of chopping off the tail she sawed it off.

Opening the flap of belly she lurched, head spinning as she closed her eyes. It took her a minute to recover but once she did she scraped the guts into the waiting pail instead of onto the board. Quickly she swished the fish in the water, back and forth, taking longer than Andre had.

Once she thought it was clean she put it with the other and dropped the head and tail in the pail. Feeling more confident she smiled at him and handed the knife back. "Thank you. Could you handle the rest while I see what we have to cook them with, unless you have an idea." Her stomach was still queasy, the smell horrendous and rapidly filling the little house, she was afraid she would be sick.

((OOC: I just saw this, I apologize!))

Her skill was lacking but her determination made up for it, as she hacked and sawed away at the fish, pausing for composure every few moments. She appeared a bit uneasy on her feet albeit relieved that she was done.

"It will get easier," he assured her. "The chopping is not so much about strength as it is technique. The more you get used to the knife the technique will become natural."

She smiled back at him as she handed him the knife.

"It is easy to cook," he said. "Just fold it open with the meat side down in a greased pan until it's soft and flaky. The scales will peel off when it's cooked."

André rose from the table and took the pail of fish guts out to dump in the river. When it was done he returned to the cabin to split some kindling. He didn't want to because of the mosquitos, but it had to be done in the next couple of days so he resolved himself to the chore. He picked up the hatchet but put it down again when he heard a horse come up the path. It was les Chabots on foot with Louise's short stout figure leading the way with eager steps. Not far behind Jean-Philippe led his dark brown mare bearing a pack of what was undoubtedly gifts.

Marc-André's shoulders slumped with relent. It was not that the hospitality was not appreciated, but Brunet was a proud man who had received enough charity for that day.

"Bonjour Monsieur Brunet," she beamed.

"Bonjour."

"I hope we are not imposing."

He helped jean-Philippe tie up the horse and then opened the door, letting them in before him. He couldn't very well turn them away.

She nodded to her husband, listening as he instructed her on the ways to cook them. Smiling as she watched him finish up and then leave to dump the guts. With her stomach queasy her face was pale. Digging around in the pantry produced a few piddly potatoes, but for just the two of them it would work along with some of her left over bread.

She washed the potatoes and sat them aside to work on the fish just as the door opened. A man and a woman entered her home. biting her lip she looked at the couple standing with her husband, waiting to be introduced. However, the woman wouldn't have it.

"Oh dear, let me look at you!" the woman clasped her hands tightly and pulled the younger woman closer. Close enough that the woman's full breasts brushed against her stomach as the woman rose up on her toes to look at her more closely. "Andre she is exquisite and look at her, making dinner for you already... very efficient, your bride. Tell me, are you with child already?" The woman touched her cheek and brushed her fingers along the skin. "So pale. Are you ill?"

"No madam, I am not with child or ill... I've just learned to gut fish and I fear I'm not so good at it." She confessed quietly.

The woman burst out laughing, "My dear, no one is well at that. It takes a stomach of metal to handle that task." She smiled at her, taking her hands and touching her at the waist. "I have some dresses for you that I cannot use... I wonder if you would be the right size..." She pondered, going to the package her husband held.

"I couldn't possibly..." She bit her lip looking up at Andre and then the couple. She didn't want to hurt their feelings, but already she'd received so many gifts. Jacquelyn knew how Andre felt about charity and already he was close to his breaking point. She wasn't sure how she'd get out of this.

"These are my very own plum preserves and my apple-pear preserves, I'd be happy to share the recipe if Andre approves of them." She said handing the other female the jars and offering her and then Andre a smile. "Then these are the dresses... fatten you up and they'll fit perfectly..." She cooed pulling out a deep blue dress with a softer blue trim, she held it up to her. "It makes her eyes sparkle... just lovely."

Jacquelyn laid it on the bed, the dress was well made and didn't appear to have ever been worn. the fabric was soft and it was thicker. It would be good in winter.

"This other one... Oh my." It was a rose colored dress trimmed with a bit of cream around the neck. She held it up to the girl again. "It's a lovely addition..."

"Thank you..." She said, glancing from the woman, to the man, to Andre. "I will put these away for winter. Please, won't you join us for dinner?" She offered with a sweep of her hand over their meager offerings.

"Tell me, are you with child already?"

Was she with child? It had only been a day and a half. She could give him a chance, he thought.

Then the dresses came out. André inhaled deeply but grudgingly kept his lips tightly sealed. As uncomfortable as he was he would not cause a scene. His wife appeared to be downplaying her excitement. This gave him significant relief. However, laying the garments on the bed to avoid the fuss of trying them on, she could not conceal her admiration as she spread them out with care. André turned his attention to Jean-Philippe.

"I would offer a drink but at the moment but I have none," he said. "Perhaps some tobacco?"

"Oui, merci."

"We will step outside," he said and took his small smoke box from his pack against the wall, then led Monsieur Chabot out and shut the door to keep the bugs out.

"They are getting along well," said Chabot. "Your wife is very pleasant. Very well mannered."

"Merci," said Brunet as he opened his smoke box and offered it to his neighbor. "I am happy with her so far. She is a good learner." He knew that the compliment go could further but that was all that he was willing to admit openly. Chabot took a pinch and stuffed his pipe. André did the same, striking a match and holding it to Chabot's pipe within his cupped hands. Smoke puffed out and the rich sweet odor enveloped them.

"When will you build that chicken coop?"

"Soon," Brunet answered between puffs as he lit his own pipe. "Perhaps I will start tomorrow." He held the smoke in savoringly and then exhaled slowly. "Right over there," he pointed behind Chabot next to the path which he had arrived on before slapping a mosquito on his shoulder and flicking it away. "Then I need to start digging a proper latrine somewhere over there," he gestured past the garden. "And I want a stable. Maybe I can start it before winter." He inhaled another puff and the embers in the pipe glowed orange. "Once that is all done I can build the new house over there," he extended a hand to an area on his left along the edge of the thick trees on the north side of the clearing. "With a cellar and proper stone floor, but I will need to trap for at least one more winter to pay for it, maybe two."

"This will be a very nice place when it is done," said Chabot swatting at a mosquito buzzing near his ear. "If you need any help you know who to ask."

"You help me very much," Brunet replied. "You're a good man. I am grateful."

"Good men help each other," said Chabot. Brunet offered him another pinch of snuff. He graciously accepted and the two men enjoyed their pipes in the dipping evening sun.

Jacquelyn smiled at the woman who finally introduced herself as simply Louise. She wanted to ask many questions, the first one being would it get easier. Life felt so hard for the new bride. A husband to please in bed and at the stove, a house to keep and so many things to do. But she kept quiet letting the woman prattle on about this and that.

Since the men had stepped outside she tucked the dresses away in her trunk, carefully folding them into the bottom, the trunk would protect them from the mice and from any other damage.

"It is a hard life, being the wife of a trapper... but more than that, being a new bride to a man like ours. Andre... he is a good man but it will take him time to open to you. But he will. Children will come along and you two will grow close, you'll see." Louise said peeking into their cupboard.

She stood at the foot of their bed, her eyes soft. This woman was so wise. Turning her head she could see Andre, a small smile lifted her mouth as she watched him smoke with the ladies husband. Could he truly ever love her, would he hold her close and speak softly to her. These were the simple things she longed for, not the roughness of the night before with drink on his breath and pain in his touch. She blushed, turning her head away from how she stared at him.

Her eyes found the other woman watching her. "I'm sorry." She said dipping her head.

"My dear it is alright, he is your husband... if you didn't look at him that way, then I would worry. You sit and work on your sewing, let me cook for us." She smiled at Jacquelyn and shook her head when she tried to protest.

Resigning to sit against the wall and work on her mending she watched as Louise worked with the largest pot they had. Adding water and several herbs from the selection drying on the rafters overhead. She watched her add items and stir then taste and finally take it to the hearth to cook. The fish she had wrapped in cloth and put in another pot of water near the fire but not on top of it.

Next the woman kneaded up a bread and put it on the hearth to cook. Then the lady cleaned up the mess and began helping with the mending. She showed her a few tricks as they worked. In the midst of mending a pair of pants the lady rose drained the fish water into the pot and began cooking the fish in the bottom of the same empty pot with a bit of oil and herbs.

The smells wafting from the fire were delicious and caused her stomach to rumble. Jacquelyn cleared the table and put her things away. Together they set the table and dished out the stew covered by a piece of flaky fish.

The woman opened the door and invited the men in to eat. "Wash up and join us for dinner." She came inside and sat forcing the men to sit next to their wives at the table.

Jacquelyn felt her heart beating hard against her chest, nervous for Andre and his reaction to the food. But more nervous about what would happen when the nice couple left.

The two husbands returned into the house to the tasty smell of seasoned fish. The table was already set. A bottle of wine stood in the middle.

"Where did that come from?" asked André.

"What's a nice dinner without en peu du vin?" answered Chabot. "It's from some that I made last year with blueberries."

The men joined their wives at the table. André reached for his fork but stopped when les Chabots clasped their hands in their laps and bowed their heads. He grudgingly complied.

"Dear Lord Jesus we thank you for blessing us with this bounty and these strong friendships," he prayed lowly. "We thank you for also now bringing Jacquelyn into our lives as you already done with Marc-André. We offer our humble gratitude. Amen."

"Amen."

Jean-Philippe poured the wine into four battered tin cups and the meal began. The conversation moved from how delicious the food was to the myriad of small fine bones to watch out for when eating lake fish to André's plans for a henhouse to the best way to poach an egg to good fishing spots to Jean-Philippe's recipes for wines made from various types of berries. When the plates were empty Madame Chabot fetched the jar of apple-pear preserves and opened it quickly with experienced hands. As she dished out the portions she looked to Jacquelyn fondly.

"Dear, if you wait until winter to try on those dresses your belly could be out to here," she smiled leaning over her madame Brunet and holding a hand several inches above her new friend's tummy.

"S'il vous plait, Louise," her husband admonished her.

"Oh," she dismissed her husband with a wave and sat down.

After dessert the women began to clear the table and André helped Jean-Philippe with his pack and lit his lantern. It was dark and time for the neighbors to return home. André untied the horse and everyone hugged and shook hands farewell. Once the lantern faded and disappeared down the road behind the trees André took his wife inside and shut the door. Taking a seat he slumped back in the chair and relaxed.

"Good people," he admitted.

Jacquelyn hadn't seen Louise produce the wine, but it was there. She noted the manner with which her husband sat and worried he had reached his limit for niceness that day. Clasping her hands she followed suit of the prayer led by Monsieur Chabot. Such a lovely prayer, she thought before digging into her food.

She was almost ashamed of the battered tin cups, not that she longed for nice things, but she knew wine was best out of glass. The metal effected the taste a bit. Not that she planned on doing all that much drinking. She dismissed her wayward thoughts as she sipped her wine and attempted to follow and add input to the conversation.

The best part of the conversation was when it turned to Andre's plans for their property. She could imagine the changes in her head, they brought a smile to her lips. She continued eating, hoping everyone got their fill.

Louise rushed and gave them each some of the preserves. Her words shocked Jacquelyn. Her lips parted, she glanced at Andre blushing. "I will try them on before winter.... I promise." She said softly, her hand reaching for her napkin to dab at her lips.

Soon she was washing dishes and handing them to Louise to dry. The women working quickly and then hurried out after their husbands waiting on the front lawn. She hugged Louise and bowed to Monsieur Chabot quickly, before pulling to her husbands side. Close enough to touch him, but not touching him, even though she wanted to lean against his strong frame.

She felt his hand grasp hers and then off they went, inside their small home. She watched him slump into a chair as she moved to the bed to ready herself. "Yes, they seem so." She unbuttoned her dress and then worked it off her shoulders. She stood in her chemise and panties. "I'm sorry about the dresses, and the talk of babies. I didn't put her up to it... I want children but at the lord's will and not my own."

She moved to the side of the bed and pulled off her chemise and then pulled on her night gown. "It was a long day today, are you ready for bed?" She brushed out her hair and tilted her head his way, a soft smile playing on her lips. Tonight would be different, she prayed and hoped.

He watched his wife undress near the bed, removing her chemise, exposing her bony ribs and tiny waist. She appeared in better color than yesterday at least. Her modest breast hung free and jiggled with the movements of her body, her skinny arms pulling out of her clothes and into her nightgown.

"They didn't have to come unannounced," he said as he unwrapped his boots and removed his socks. "But you enjoyed their company, tu n'es pas?"

He loosened the laces on the front of his shirt and leaned back as Jacquelyn brushed her hair out into gold waves shimmering in the lantern light. He sat comfortably with knees apart and feet square on the ground.

"Come," he called quietly.

She didn't know that he watched her, turning her head she caught a glimpse of him. Silently she wondered what it was he was thinking. She bit her lip, knowing if they asked to come Andre would have likely turned them away. Jacquelyn was a smart woman and knew he would have ignored their request, so a surprise visit was the best.

Nodding her head she smiled at her husband. "I did, Louise is so spirited and lively. I think she has much to offer in her years of experience running a household. It shall be like learning at the feet of a master."

At his bidding she gathered her gown in one hand and padded across the floorboards to him. "Yes, do you require my assistance tonight." She asked him softly, fearing the same treatment from the night before would be her fate again.