An opportunity arose in June. Grandmama was soon to celebrate the eightieth anniversary of her birth, and given her status as matriarch of not only Melanson Village but all the Acadian communities along the Annapolis River, a huge celebration was planned to coincide with the summer solstice. It was to be held at our settlement. The day of the event, fishing boats and schooners transported hundreds of families along the river to our village opposite Goat Island. They arrived early in the day and set up tents to accommodate those who would stay overnight. Many came from as far as Gaudet Village, twenty miles up the river, and Belle Isle, Paradise, and, of course, neighbouring Annapolis Royal.
It was a perfect day for the festivities. A hovering cloud of pink apple blossoms formed a brilliant backdrop above the village; a warm northwest breeze sent an intoxicating aroma from the orchards on the hill, wrapping everyone in a cloud of delirious floral scents. The cloudless sky was a deep blue, and the sun shone well into the evening, welcoming the summer solstice.
Grandmama appeared younger than her eighty years, with her youthful spirit defying her aging body. She paraded proudly through Melanson Village, the settlement she had helped found, stopping to chat with each of her descendants and friends, never forgetting a single name, always spreading her pearls of wisdom as if she had an endless storehouse of experience to convey. Sometimes she feigned a scolding manner, if only to make the children laugh.
The day was filled with fine food placed on tables in everyone’s front garden. Games were played in the streets, and the music that accompanied the singing and the dancing seemed to emanate from every corner of the village. On such a day, everyone was united and filled to the brim with the warmth of the Acadian community.
The evening was ignited by a huge bonfire at the water’s edge, and the young and the old danced about the fire to the music of violins, spoons, triangles, and jaw harps. As midnight approached, it was my turn to pay tribute. I chose to sing the song I had learned on Grandmama’s knee when I was a small child. A silence came over the crowd as I began to sing the first notes of “À la claire fontaine,” a song about that magical place in Provence and lost love.
À la claire fontaine, m’en allant promener
J’ai trouvé l’eau si belle, que je m’y suis baigné.
Il y a longtemps que je t’aime,
Jamais je ne t’oublierai.
That evening my voice soared hauntingly over the night visitors, surprisingly casting a spell on all those present, especially the guest of honour. By the light of the fire, I could see the tears in my grandmother’s eyes, noticing she was not the only one. It was the first time I had felt the power of my singing voice. And it was the first time I noticed Jeanne, staring mysteriously into the bonfire as I sang. She appeared to be in a world of her own, quite separate from the hundreds of people humming to the sound of the music. It was then I knew she was my destiny.
Destiny, however, requires persuasion. Jeanne Gaudet was not someone I knew. She lived as far up the Annapolis River as one could sail by boat. If I was to make an impression on her, I would have to use all the resources I could muster. It was necessary for me to seek the counsel of someone who was acquainted with her. Then I had to arrange a face-to-face meeting.
All those participating in Grandmama’s celebration seemed to evaporate by noon the following day. One of my cousins who had been seated beside Jeanne the previous evening told me her name and the name of her parents.
I solicited Benjamin’s help, hoping he might assist me in tracking her down. It was far easier than I could have hoped for.
“I know her father, Bernard Gaudet, very well,” Benjamin volunteered. “He and his brother Denys are managing the timber construction on my father’s new house in the lower town. I work with them daily.”
You could imagine my excitement at that moment. I saw this as an unexpected opportunity. The first steps in my plan to court Monsieur Gaudet’s daughter would be to acquaint myself with her father and then to garner his favour.
“The Gaudet brothers are masters of timber construction, which we call la charpente bois,” Benjamin continued. “My father knew of their expertise and hired them to construct the timber frame for the roof of the new house. I am responsible for the stonemasonry below. Their uncle, Pierre Gaudet, did the charpente bois construction on the fort. Bernard and Denys were his apprentices.”
“Could you use an assistant mason?” I asked with a wry smile on my face. “I learned some lessons in masonry from Uncle Pierre and your father at Grand Pré.”
Benjamin understood my intentions immediately. “I would enjoy your company and, of course, I would appreciate your assistance.” He then proceeded to laugh uncontrollably.
Chapter 8
Overnight I became a mason’s assistant. I joined my brother Charles and Benjamin the following morning and sailed into the harbour at Annapolis to begin my quest. Charles proceeded to the shipyard while Benjamin and I walked to René’s building site in the lower town. When we arrived, Bernard Gaudet and his brother were already directing the workers where to place the large pieces of timber. Benjamin hesitated to interrupt them, but the Gaudets were vigilant enough to note the presence of a new worker on the site. Before we could utter a word, Bernard Gaudet spoke.
“Bonjour, Benjamin. It is a perfect day for laying stones. I see you have a new assistant. Young Pierre Belliveau, I believe.”
I could barely contain my surprise. I stood there motionless.
“You made quite an impression the other evening. Your grandmother was much pleased with your gift of song and, I would say, exceedingly proud. Allow me to introduce myself and my brother. I am Bernard Gaudet and this is Denys.”
We shook hands, and he continued, “I knew your father very well when we were young boys. He was a very courageous man who ended his short life a hero. You look very much like him.”
The only response I could muster was, “I appreciate your kind words, monsieur.”
That being said, we proceeded to do our work.
As the day progressed, I realized I had the situation and the goal but not the plan. How was I going to manage an introduction to Jeanne Gaudet? When we finally completed our work for the day, I took the opportunity to question Gaudet about his family.
“Monsieur Gaudet, did your family accompany you to my grandmother’s celebration or did they remain in Gaudet Village? It is quite a distance to travel.” My tone was intentionally one of casual interest.
I noticed a quizzical look come across his face, perhaps in response to a question that appeared to come right out of nowhere. But his response was congenial.
“Indeed, my wife and children all sailed downriver for the occasion. Living so far away, we do not often have the opportunity to attend large community gatherings. They thoroughly enjoyed themselves and now have returned home. You may have noticed them and not known who they were.”
Benjamin smiled but remained silent. Gaudet began to sense something from the conversation, and he certainly noticed my cousin’s knowing look.
“Perhaps you caught sight of my three beautiful daughters.” He paused to study my reaction. “Isabelle is the most beautiful by any standard. Perhaps, if you are unmarried, you might be able to wait a few years and court her.”
The unfamiliar name left me speechless. I began to feel uncomfortable.
“In twelve years you will be how old? Thirty, perhaps? Isabelle is only seven years old. For certain every girl grows to be a woman. Are you in any particular hurry to find a bride, young man?”
At that point, I was aware that I was being trifled with, but with a playful spirit. This fed my courage. I thought at this point it probably would be the best policy to be honest about my intent. That should be evidence of my good character and honourable motives.
“I