Acadian Star (13 page)

She told me if we ever found the other half, we'd be friends forever.

Meg stood stunned. She reached into her pocket and drew out her own oyster shell. The fissure had turned and stopped partway across the shell. Tante Perle's note slipped out with it. It blew out of her hands with a sudden gust of wind.

The paper flicked upwards and danced above the heads of the soldiers. One reached up to grab it, only to have it graze his fingers. It slipped gently over the ship's railing and fluttered down into the sea. Meg stared as it rippled in the ocean, the crisp white paper turning to a dampened grey.

“Move!” The soldier levelled his rifle, pointing it at her.

Meg sandwiched the two shells together and wrapped them in the handkerchief before slipping the bundle in her pocket. She took one last look at the Acadian landscape and started down the ladder of the hatch.

The darkness of the lower deck swallowed her whole.

Chapter 19

M
EG GRASPED THE SIDES OF THE LADDER
and was soon enveloped by a murky gloom. Her feet searched for each rung as she journeyed down into the dim space, but no matter how many steps she took, it seemed another rung took its place.

She took yet another step, hoping to soon be reunited with the Haché-Galland family. But to Meg's horror, instead of the solid deck floor, her foot met only a vast emptiness. Where was the bottom of the ladder? Meg wondered in horror. She lunged upwards and clutched the ladder, desperate to hold on. The shells in her pocket jammed into her hip.

She listened. Not a sound. The smells, the cries, the sound of the ocean—they had all vanished.

What was happening? Where were the others?

“Geneviève!” Meg yelled.

To her surprise, the sound of her voice seemed to split in two. One voice got lost in the immeasurable blackness, the other hung in front of her in sparkling tones, frozen just past her lips.

Meg rubbed her eyes and turned her head to try to make sense of what was happening. But as she turned, an echo of her body seemed to peel away from itself.

She stared down at her hands, which were grasping the rungs of the ladder. Her translucent skin seemed to lie like a shimmering gauze over another set of hands. She looked up. A familiar face smiled back, lit by the glow of her new luminescence. Meg stared back at the girl on the ladder beside her, an exact image of the iridescent form she now inhabited.

It was Marguerite. Meg wasn't sure how, but she understood at once. It was as though Marguerite's essence had separated from hers.

Marguerite gazed at Meg for a long moment, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She started down the rungs of the ladder, leaving Meg's luminescent form behind.

“Wait!” Meg yelled.

Marguerite turned up to look at Meg one last time before continuing, then mouthed a simple word:

Merci
…

Meg's heart rose to her throat as the last fragment of Marguerite dissolved into the darkness below.

In the same moment, the rungs of the ladder evaporated from her formless grasp. With nothing to hold on to, Meg plunged into an abyss of blackness. Air rushed by her ears as she fell. Shards of blue, red, and white light burst from her shimmering form and radiated against a canvas of darkness. The dizzying spectacle of lights swirled in the wake of her fall and disappeared into the void.

Soon only a small, yellow slice of light remained, caught in the fluid folds of her apron. Meg reached for it, as if drawn by its force, and willed herself to hold on to it despite the sharpness of its edges.

Then, as though fanning a flame, the yellow light flickered. It burst and spun from Meg's hand, creating a powerful vortex of swirling light through which all motion and sound were absorbed.

Meg froze in place.

Her breath stopped at the shock of the sudden stillness. She felt a cold, hard surface beneath her. A brilliant white light surrounded her. As she blinked away its harsh glare, bit by bit, her senses crept back into her consciousness. The brightness turned to colours, the blankness turned to shapes. Her ears hummed with muted sounds.

Meg sucked in a lungful of air and struggled to focus her senses.

Someone stroked her cheek.

“Can…hear me?” the voice spoke in murmurs.

Meg reached out her hand, still bleary-eyed from the sudden burst of light. She felt the air in front of her for a face.

“Geneviève?” she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper.

“Meg, it's me,” the voice replied.

The voice had called her Meg.

“Nève!” Meg's eyes focused on her friend's worried gaze. She braced her hands on the cold, hard surface.

Tile. Wet tile. Like the Picasse Bay parish hall washroom.

“How did I get here?” In her confusion, Meg wondered if she'd actually said the words out loud.

“Are you okay?” Nève asked.

“I…uh…” Meg tried to make sense of what was happening.

“How long have you been lying here?” Nève helped her sit up.

Meg looked around. She was sitting on the floor of the broken washroom stall, her backpack at her side.

“I don't…I'm not sure.”

Nève pulled back a few strands of Meg's hair and grimaced. “Yowch, does that hurt?”

Meg struggled to stand and stumbled out of the stall to the washroom mirror. From the look of the huge welt on her forehead, she must have fallen pretty hard. She caught a glimpse of Nève in the mirror and turned to her.

“What time is it?” Meg asked as she held her aching forehead in her hand and tried to sort through her thoughts. How long had she been passed out on the washroom floor? Was this all part of the unbelievable journey she had just been on? Was she really back in Picasse Bay? Had she ever left? And where was Tante Perle?

“You missed the announcement!” Nève said.

“What announcement?” Meg asked.

“They just declared the winners. That's why I came looking for you. We won!”

“We did?” Meg gasped in disbelief. It was everything she and Nève had worked for. All that practice, all the hoping and dreaming—and now it was real.

“It looks like you're going to Halifax,” Nève said.

Finally the fog cleared and Meg's senses focused. “Me? But what about you?”

Nève stayed silent. After all she had gone through to keep Geneviève and Marguerite together, had nothing changed? Or…had she really travelled to the past at all? Meg brought a hand up to her forehead.

“So it's true? You're really moving to Fort McMurray?”

“Yes.” Nève lowered her eyes. “And I'm really sorry about the way you found out… Véronique told me that she told you.”

Meg rushed to Nève and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Nève, I'm so sorry. There's so much we need to talk about!”

Nève pulled back from her embrace.

“I know, but let's talk later, okay? It's time for the finale. Everyone's waiting!” Nève rushed her out the washroom door.

“But…”

“Meg,” Nève stopped at the base of the stairs leading to backstage, “this might be our last chance to perform together. Let's just enjoy it and forget about all that other stuff for now. You in?”

Meg took a deep breath.

“I'm in.”

Chapter 20

M
EG FOLLOWED
N
ÈVE THROUGH THE GROUP
of Évangeline and Gabriel dancers waiting backstage. A din of chatter and scraping chairs sounded from the audience beyond the stage curtain. Meg drew back the velvet fabric just enough to scan the crowd for her parents, but only the first few rows of people were visible in the low light.

Was Tante Perle with her mom and dad? Had she gone to get Tante Perle after her solo or had she fallen and hit her head before then? Snippets of memory swirled in Meg's mind. The trip in the past had just been a crazy hallucination; that much was for sure. And Nève was still moving to Fort McMurray. Beyond that, which bits of memory were real and which were imagined? Meg wondered.

Gertie's face brightened as she looked Meg's way. She scurried onto the stage and leaned in to whisper something to the announcer. He nodded and took the microphone in his hands.

“
Mesdames et messieurs
, we apologize for the delay.” The crowd quieted as he spoke. “Now that we have all of our performers, we can get on with the show.”

Meg's whole body prickled with excited energy as the reality of the moment hit her. This was it. She really was back in Picasse Bay. She caught Nève's eye and beamed. Her cousin smiled back.

“Now to kick off the finale of Picasse Bay's first ever Acadian Star competition, singing our Acadian anthem— Meg and Nève Gallant!”

Nève grasped Meg's hand and led her onstage.

Uncle Vince began with a lively reel on his fiddle. The piano joined in, followed by the rest of the band. As Meg and Nève took their places at the microphone, the tempo of the music slowed. The stage lights dimmed to a soft hue, casting a mixture of coloured light at the girls' feet.

Nève leaned into her microphone and turned to Meg. An unmistakable melody filled the stage.

“
Ave, maris stella, Déi mater alma
,” Nève sang.

The simple purity of the Acadian anthem made Meg's heart ache. She squeezed her friend's hand, and leaned into her own microphone to join in with the harmony.

“
Atque semper Virgo, Félix caeli porta
…”

The tone of their voices blended with the clarity of the fiddle. Meg turned to the audience as she sang. A sea of faces mouthed the words along with her.

From near, from far,

You hold onto me,

My heart is Acadian.

My heart is Acadian
.

Meg closed her eyes and got lost in the moment. She couldn't imagine a time when she wasn't doing what she loved most: singing and dancing with Nève, her best friend, her Acadian sister.

Acadia, my homeland,

I live your history,

I owe you my pride,

I believe in your future.

I believe in your future
.

The music from the band faded as the song came to an end, leaving only Uncle Vince on the fiddle. The microphone grazed Meg's cheek as two stagehands hustled past her, clearing the stage.

Dancers streamed in from the wings and took their places behind Meg and Nève. The boys in Gabriel costumes took the hands of the Évangeline girls and stood in position.

The drummer joined in with the fiddle, thwacking his tipper against the bodhrán drum's taut skin. Uncle Vince's bow flew across the strings to meet the beat.

Toe-heel-toe. Toe-heel-toe.

Meg's body pulsed with the music as the dance flowed out of her legs and escaped through her feet. She and Nève stepped and kicked, each movement merging in perfect unison. The whole stage shook with the rhythm of the dancers as the other girls and boys followed behind them.