The Farmer's Daughter

To new acquaintances and old friends

"Philippe, c'est Tim. Le nouvel ouvrier agricole de papa," I introduced them. "Tim, this Philipe. My friend." The silence that followed after was awkward. The morning breeze had started to get warmer as the sun ascended higher in the sky. Time was ticking by while both boy unsubtly sized each other up. "Bonjour, Philippe!" Papa strutted up to me and Philipe, making me step away from him. They shook hands briefly before looking at Tim. "Are ya ready, Timmy? Did Annie show ya yer chores 'round the farm?"

Tim nodded his head, placing his hands behind his back. "Yes, sir, she did." Papa stroked his beard inquisitively. "Have ya any questions, boy?" Tim shakes his head. "No, sir." Papa nodded approvingly, sending me a small smirk. I had to hold the urge to roll my eyes. Papa loved it when he was called 'sir'. It gave him a sense of importance that I never understood. "Good, good." I think it might have had something to do with the fact that he planned on having a son one day with mama. So, in a strange way, Tim automatically became what he wished for. Come to think of it, I didn't even know what they talked about the night before. I was curious but I refrained from asking.

"Annie? Are ya still plannin' on goin to town?" Papa's voice halted my thoughts, bringing me back to the present conversation. My eyes met his. "Yes, papa," I answered, "I need a new dress. And he'll need another pair of trousers and a clean shirt since he's staying with us." Papa nods in agreement as I smiled in satisfaction. My true intentions were hidden at the moment, but I really couldn't wait to go to town. "Est-ce qu'il restez ici?" Philippe asked me in a low voice. Is he staying here? I took a peak over at Tim and felt all bubbly inside. Just then, it hit me! I developed my first ever love. Et, oh, come il était beau! Philippe's face came to mind at that very moment, bursting whatever thoughts I was having of Tim in a snap. "Oh, papa! I will also be visiting Madame Moreau to see if she has any work for me." Papa ran a hand through his shaggy hair and sighed. "If you must." Great, merci papa.

Papa handed me a small punch with the coins I needed to buy the things I wanted. "Here ya go, girl. Take Cletus." I groaned at his request mumbling obscenities in French. "Don't take that tone with me and take the damn horse!" My spine stiffened, the way it usually does when a parent scolds you. I think about the walk back from town and the inevitable frustration that I will feel with the parcels of clothing in each hand. I sigh, "I relent. I'll ride Cletus into town." I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and run off. "But don't expect me to be back in time for dinner!" I heard him shout behind as I dashed away to the barn.

* * * * *

I had always been a shock coming into town. The hustle and bustle of people seemed so loud to me. I couldn't get used to it. Everyone was so busy, rushing to and fro throughout the day. No one ever seemed to stop and stay in the moment. People had places to be, people to meet. I led Cletus to the wooden post and tied his reigns in a manger tie. "I'll try to be quick, Cletus." I patted his back as I strolled into the chaos that was Pierre-mont. My hands clutched the bag of coins papa gave me, making my way down the main streets with the many shops. La boucherie, la boulangerie, la patisserie. Aha! La boutique de Madame Moreau. The only high-end dress shop in Pierre-mont.

Before I left, I tidied myself up. My hair was dutifully styled in a charming braid going down my back with little wisps of hair flying around with the wind. Unfortunately, my best dress was ruined so I had to put on an older dress of mine. It's a tab shorter and even drabber. Subconsciously, I ran my hands down the skirt. Not paying attention to where I was going, I accidentally walked into someone. "Oh, desole!" I swiftly turned around to look at the poor bystander. "Je suis desole, madame. I did not notice where I was going, I apologize."

The lady was elegant, proper and tidy. Rich, most of all. The big stones on her necklace and her earring are the biggest telltales. Her blue eyes roamed up from my dirt caked shoes to my golden braid. With a sharp drop to my collar bone, she stared my locket. "I must go, madame. But are you hurt? Are you missing anything?" The lady met my eyes with the most intimidating look. "Non." That's all she answered. I opened and closed my mouth, unsure of what to ask next. The situation had gotten curious. She kept looking at me as if I had the answers to all her questions. I panicked. "Erm, bonne journée, madame." I backed away as she quietly nodded, releasing me from this uncomfortable interaction.

I rushed towards the boutique. Just as I was walking up to the door, another customer marched out. I hold the for her before calmly entering Madame Moreau's étalier. A tiny bell rang loudly as the door slowly closed behind me. Rolls of tulle and expensive clothes line the walls and tabletops. There's a beautiful lavender dress on a wooden model. It was beautiful. "Bonjour," I called out, "Madame Moreau?" Complete silence welcomed me. Where'd she go? A customer just left. I stepped deeper in the shop.

The soft, shiny materials looked stunning compared to the ones I was wearing. "Madame Moreau? Êtes-vous ici?" A crash is heard from somewhere in the back, startling me. "Est-ce vous, Marie-Annette?" I chuckled at her. "Oui, madame. It is I." She finally emerged from the back room where she keeps her accounts and many of her other supplies. "Ouf, ouf!" She exclaimed, waving her hands in the air. "'Madame', why 'madame'? Drop the formalities!" Her heavy French accent made all she said so much better. I adored her. "Your mother would turn over in her grave!" Her raven hair is tied back in a clean knot with a few tiny streaks of gray beginning to grow in. Yards of colorful cloths and silks draped over her arms and shoulders.

"Mama would appreciate my attempt of formality with my elders." I walked over to one of her many shelves full of precious clothes. "Je ne suis ni vieux ni madame pour toi, ma chérie." I am neither old nor a madame to you. I rolled my eyes. Madame Moreau was an old friend of my mama's. My self-appointed godmother, of all things. The dramatics this woman has is never ending. "So," she dumped all of the things in her hands onto the only other empty tabletop before turning to me, "what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to ma boutique?" I sighed, ripping my eyes away from the unattainable dresses. "I need two pairs of trousers et un chemise," I swallowed nervously as I prepared myself to utter my next words, "For a boy." 

Madame dropped her heavy hand on the wooden table, sharply turning her head to me. I did my best to avoid her questioningly glare. "Qu'est-ce que tu entends par garcon?" I turned my back to her walking away from her. "I said what I said. They're for a boy. I am in need any of your old fabrics that you may have as well." Madame tapped her fingers slowly, waiting for me to explain. But I refuse to. "My only suitable dress got ruined yesterday. I am also in search for work. Do you have any idea if Monsieur Jacques's pub nee-"

"Non!" I jumped in fright. "Tu ne travialles pas dans ce trou a merde!" 

"Well, it is the only place that would hire me without question," I shrugged in defeat. Madame shook her head in disappointment while I tried, but failed, not to grin at her disgusted face. "You irk me, girl! Your mother would never forgive me if I let you work as a wench." She snatched my bag of coins that I had clutched close to my chest. "And do not think that I did not know what you were doing, Annie." I was smiling as widely as I possibly could as she walked to the back of her shop. "You shall work for me. It's what your mother wanted."