Regine and Abigail

Régine and Abbigail
CHAPTER 1

    The sunlight gave a gentle glow on her bed. As she opened her eyes to greet the morning, she noticed the pink and orange tinge still tracing the horizon. It was early, but she was used to rising the moment the birds began to sing. With a stretch she pushed her sheets aside and climbed out of bed. Blinking, she made her way to the window; the sun was intense even at this hour. She was lucky; her window faced east, so she had the perfect view of the sunrise. She was the only one in her family to have a balcony outside her second story bedroom. She made regular use of it. She opened the door to the balcony and shivered slightly as her warm skin met the cool summer air. Already, she could feel the humidity creeping in. It was going to be hot later on; the perfect day for hanging out at the beach. “It was perfect, if you had a beach to hang out at”, she thought bitterly. How she dreamed of one day waking up to the sound of the rolling waves, and letting the sea breeze waft the ocean’s scent into her room.
    The view was not altogether disappointing; it looked out over a field speckled with trees. If the light was right, the landscape looked endless. Her backyard was directly below her, the fenced in area looking so small compared to the free running pasture that stretched out beyond it. She heard a call from somewhere in the house, letting her know the rest of the family was stirring. The air carried a charge this morning, it was clear a storm was coming soon, and she could feel her body reacting in the anticipation. For now, nothing but small white clouds graced the sky, the sun streaming down, filling every corner of her neighbourhood. She turned away from the balcony and returned to her room. The walls were bright the small crystal lamp shade that hung from the ceiling caught the light and reflected tiny rainbows about the ceiling. She looked at herself in the mirror, and pushed her long hair back off her neck into a ponytail. She sighed and grabbed her clothes from off of her chair. Once she was dressed, she headed down to breakfast.
   “Good morning Régine”, her mother said as she looked up from her coffee and the morning paper, as Régine entered the kitchen.
   “Et vous maman”, she answered taking a seat at the kitchen table. The kitchen was warm and bright; the atmosphere relaxed and comfortable. Her brothers were already up and eating, her youngest brother, Jean, was busily stuffing toast into his mouth. Her middle brother, Claude, was nosily sipping orange juice and chatting with their father about the latest baseball game. Neither one took their attention away from their present task when their sister sat down between them. Régine’s father had the chef’s hat out, but it was resting on Jean’s head. He turned away from the stove where he was making pancakes, spatula in hand and saluted Régine with it. Régine shook her head and laughed.
     Once breakfast was ready, everyone settled down a little and ate heartily. Once their meal was finished, Régine’s mother went off to have a shower and the boys disappeared out the back door leaving Régine and her father to clear up the kitchen. It didn’t take them long to finish. Régine sat at the table sipping a tall glass of orange juice, her father sitting across the table reading the newspaper. From outside came a series of battle cries. He peered over the edge of the business section at Régine, one eyebrow raised. Régine shrugged and shook her head. The two boys were busy tackling each other out in the yard. Judging by the pretend sword fighting and colourful sailor words, they were engaged in a lively game of pirates. The boys had imaginations without limits. He sighed, folded the paper and tossed it gently onto the table. Bemused, Régine watched as one corner sagged its way into her cup. Extracting it, she looked up to see the expression on her father’s face. He looked troubled.
   “Papa? What is it?” She asked him.
   “The boys. Look at the mess they’re making out there. Your mother is…”
   “NOT happy.”
    Both Régine and her dad startled and turned to see Andrée standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, towel on her head. She glared long and hard out the back door to the place where the boys were kicking up so much dust there was not much more to see than a brown cloud.
Unfortunately for the boys at that moment Jean came running to the door yelling. Once he reached the handle he stopped and folded his arms over his chest. Claude sidled up behind him and rolled his eyes. Jean looked up at his mom who towered over him from behind the screen. He hesitated for a moment and then began to tattle on his older brother.
    “Claude tackled me and shoved me in the dirt. I tried to fight him off but he’s bigger than me so I couldn’t stop him from making a mess. Now I can’t come in the house because I’m all dirty. Claude’s only sorta dirty. It’s not fair; he shouldn’t be allowed to come in either.”
     Claude shrugged, and then looked at his mother. Since no one had said anything yet Jean took another breath and launched himself into an account of all the things that Claude had done to him this morning. Rolling her eyes Andrée held out her hand to stop him. Eyeing the garden hose, she said:
   “Jean, that’s enough. I don’t want to hear any more whining. You’re both dirty and you’ll both rise off before you come in.”
Jean, who hadn’t seen anywhere to wash himself asked: “where are we going to rinse off? There’s no water out here and it hasn’t rained for days.”
Claude hadn’t thought about it either, and added: “Yeah. Are you going to give us a bucket?”
    “No”, she replied, “Régine is going to hose you down.”
Régine’s gleeful “whoop” sent both boys running from the door screaming. Her father winked at her so she ran out the back door, grabbed the hose and chased her brothers around the yard, spraying water everywhere. The ground dissolved quickly underneath their feet until all three of them were sopping wet and squelching through mud. Once they were sufficiently clean and toweled off, the kids spent the rest of the day playing quietly in their rooms.
    Once the evening settled in, so did the clouds. Downstairs the wind was blowing wildly through the open windows, sending small objects and loose paper flapping about like confused birds. When the rain started, all five family members ran through the house closing all the windows and retrieving wind-swept articles. The storm continued to build until it was raging right above the roof. The thunder bellowed through rooms, reverberating off the walls and echoing into every corner. Andrée found Jean huddled under his bed, scared to move. The family found themselves in the living room, all set to wait out the storm. There were candles and a lighter, two flashlights, a deck of cards, a bag of chips and some juice. Provisions, in case the power went out. Sure enough, with the next blinding flash of lightening and the boom that followed the lights blew. One by one, their collection of lights cast a warm glow about the room.
    “I have an idea”, Régine said once the boys had helped themselves to a snack, “Why don’t we tell stories?”
    “Go for it.”, said her father.
And so Régine, the master story teller that she was, began an epic tale of adventure and mishap in pre-electricity times.