An Inheritance

Chapter 8

Lauren wondered what she should do with all of the books.  Maybe there is a historical society here in Slidell that would be interested in them?   A few she would keep, she knew, but if the rest could be used as an early example of life here, it would be best to share them.

Lauren went on to the first large plastic container and pulled off its top.  Inside were college books from LSU.  Oh, great more books!  She covered the box back up and went to the next.

The next contained papers, binders and thesis books, evidently all from Labeaux children.  The ones on top were from her cousins and further down some from her mother and aunt.  Pushed to the side Lauren recognized even some high school papers that she and Danielle had written.

Lauren pulled herself up and replaced the lid.  This is going to take forever.  I had no idea that Mom had sent things down here.  Grand-mere was something of a pack rat and must have kept everything ever sent to her.

She then eyed the first of three narrow cardboard dressers.  They had multiple shallow drawers and must have been from the ‘60s as they all had bold psychedelic-colored paisley swirls painted on the surface.  I should at least have an idea of what is in everything and come up with a plan on how to attack all of these things she’s kept.

Pulling out the first drawer, Lauren found envelopes neatly filed.  Pulling out the one in front, she saw it was addressed to her grandmother at a PO box.  From the post mark, Lauren could see that it had been sent decades ago from Baton Rouge.  She only paused briefly before opening it up and extracting the pages within.

It was a letter from Armand, her grandmother’s son.  He was telling her about how he was settling into college life at LSU.  He wrote excitedly about his classes and teachers and not so excitedly about his dorm or roommate.  He lamented that he missed her cooking and even his pesky little sister, Adelaide.  He was humorous and earnest; everything a young man should be at that stage of his life.

Lauren folded the letter and placed it back into the drawer, then scanned the other envelopes.  By the postmarks, she could see that he wrote to his mother at least every week, sometimes more.  She pulled out random letters and read them.  Armand had been doing well with his classes; he had changed roommates and liked this one much better.  He had even gone to a few dances and socials and had met someone he really liked, but “don’t’ worry ma mere, I know I am much too young to get serious, we just both have so much in common.  Her family lives outside of Baton Rouge in an area that sounds so much like home.”

Then there was a span of months that Lauren realized were the summer months, and Armand must have been back at home.  The next group of letters from college sounded more mature and serious.  He was deeply involved in his science classes, and from the sound of it, his main interest was in botany.  Armand would ask questions of his mother and reply to what must have been hers in previous letters.  Another girl was mentioned, and this time he didn’t try to temper any of his mother’s fears about getting serious, because evidently he was.

Near the end of the drawer was a partition, and Lauren pulled out the letter right in front of it.  The date indicated it was in the middle of February in what was Armand’s sophomore year.  The beginning was pretty upbeat, his tests had come back and he had done very well.  He was excited that he and a few friends would be going to Mardi Gras in New Orleans to celebrate.  

“… don’t worry ma mere.  I know you wish me to stay inside my room for  the festivities.   I have always heeded your warnings, but I know your fears this time are unfounded. I will be with friends and do not plan on driving or even drinking too much.  I promise to come home at the end of this semester, which is only a few months away.  Please do not worry, I will be back with you shortly.

            Your loving son,

            Armand

There were no more letters from Armand.  This must have been the last letter her grandmother’s only son had sent her. 

Behind this last envelope were two folded pieces of newspaper.  Unfolding the first, Lauren smoothed out the wrinkles and read a small article from the New Orleans newspaper, The Times-Picayune.  In the article it described a terrible accident that had happened the night before.  Four LSU students were walking down Bourbon Street when a car traveling at high speeds jumped the curb and plowed into them.  Two were killed outright, the third was taken to a nearby hospital and the fourth received only minor injuries.  The names had not been released, pending notification of kin.  It appeared the car’s gas pedal had gotten stuck and the driver could not slow the car down.  A terrible, freak accident. 

The second clipping was from the Slidell Sentry.  It was a long and heart-felt article about Armand;  how he was an outstanding athlete and student, how his family had been instrumental in the early years of Slidell and how much the community would miss him as they had high hopes of his return and the good he would have brought back.

Lauren was more than a little ashamed of herself.  All of this time she had thought this uncle had been a carouser, someone who may have drifted into some unsavory situations.  But Armand was just a student, one who evidently cared deeply for his mother and his community and had planned to come back.  He had thought he had his entire life in front of him and it was horrible it was cut so short.

Lauren had just opened the next drawer to find letters written by her Aunt Adelaide, when Abigail jumped up onto the window sill and stared her down.  Lauren could see it was getting late and Abby was probably getting hungry although she wasn’t quite at the whining stage yet.  Enough for today.

Heading back to the hotel, Lauren went over all of the things she was finding out about her family.  She had always felt that there was something missing, something intangible that had left an emptiness inside of her.  Since coming down to Slidell and finding more about her ancestors, she realized that those feelings were not as evident.  What has taken their place is an excitement and a feeling of belonging. 

Reading those letters was very time consuming and Lauren admitted to herself that she really hadn’t done as much as she should have in getting her grandmother’s affairs in order.  She became resolved; each morning would be spent cleaning and organizing, after lunch she would return to the letters.  That only seemed fair.