Acadian Star (14 page)

The fiddle played faster and faster.

Tap and roll.

The familiar sizzle burned from the soles of Meg's feet as the tempo of the music accelerated. The sidekick run sent the audience into a frenzy of applause.

Sweat trickled down Meg's temples as her feet matched the pounding of the drum. Hadn't she just danced this same dance with Geneviève, moments before?

No! Meg reminded herself, that wasn't real.

She caught a glimpse of Nève out of the corner of her eye and willed herself to stay focused as the last run of steps wound up the dance.

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

The frenzied music, the click of their shoes, the dazzling lights—everything merged into a perfect moment at the perfect time.

Snap!

Meg and Nève stamped their right feet down in unison for the big finish. They linked hands and raised their arms to the air.

The crowd erupted in applause. Meg's chest heaved to catch her breath. She blew a curl from her eyes and smiled widely.

The stage lights swept back and forth in a dizzying spectacle as Nève pulled Meg into a deep bow.

As soon as the stage curtains swept to a close in front of them, Nève grabbed Meg and they jumped up and down as they hugged.

“That was amazing!” Nève squealed. “And you…” she pulled back and held Meg's shoulders. “That right foot was smokin'!”

Meg let out a huge sigh of relief and smiled at her friend. “I can't believe this might be the last time we ever perform together,” Meg shouted over the roar of the crowd.

“Let's not even think about that until after our encore!” Nève shouted back.

With that, the curtains swept open once more, to the delight of the spectators.

Chapter 21

T
HE HALL BASEMENT BUZZED WITH THE CHAOTIC DIN
of kids reuniting with their families after the show. Nève had ducked into the washroom to change but Meg waited with the crowd, finally spotting her parents as they descended the stairs.

“Is this where all the superstars hang out?” Monsieur Gallant teased.

“Mom! Dad!” Meg wrapped her arms around them. Her mom gave her a kiss on the cheek. Wineberry Red #115. Meg smiled and brought a hand to her face.

“We're so proud of you,
chérie
! But are you okay?” Madame Gallant pulled back a curl from Meg's forehead and winced. “Everyone is talking about the tumble you took in the washroom.”

“I'm fine. It's nothing, really.” Meg searched behind them, hoping to see someone else. “Tante Perle? Is she with you?”

“You mean you didn't go get her?” Madame Gallant asked.

Meg bit her bottom lip. A stirring of doubt threatened on the edge of her thoughts.

“I meant to, I really did. But then I fell, I guess…and then I don't remember…” What did it mean if Tante Perle wasn't there? “I hope she's okay.”

“Well, I'm sure Tante Perle is fine. I'm more worried about you.” Madame Gallant's face creased with concern. “Should we take you to the hospital?” She fussed with Meg's hair and surveyed the bump on her forehead.

“No, no. I'm okay. It's just been…well, a really long day.”

Madame Gallant seemed to understand and pulled Meg into a hug. “Aunt Dini told us about the move before the concert. I'm sorry.” She stroked her daughter's hair.

“Hey, why don't you get yourself changed and meet us next door at Chez Tuck's?” Monsieur Gallant asked. “Our Acadian Star deserves a bit of a celebration, don't you think?”

“Sure.” Meg managed a smile and waved goodbye as she headed into the washroom with her backpack. She glanced at herself in the mirror—same old Meg. In fact, the washroom was exactly as it had been hours before. Drippy pink hand soap. Empty paper towel dispenser. Water splattered all over the floor. No wonder she'd slipped. That made sense. That was real.

And of course her mom was right. Tante Perle was fine. To think she'd believed she had been transported through time on some wild quest. Crazy, Meg thought.

Mireille popped out of one of the washroom stalls. “Ugh, I couldn't wait to get this thing off.” She balled the woollen skirt up and shoved it into her bag. “Oh, Meg! I'm so happy to see you. Can you believe we're going to Halifax?!”

“We?” Meg shook her head, trying to make sense of what she'd just heard.

“Well, with Nève off to Fort McMurray and me runner-up…ooh! I'm so excited! Hey, we can drive to Halifax together! Maybe we can be roomies!” Mireille squealed and headed for the door. “Well, bye! See you next door. It's time to ce-le-brate…”

Meg cringed as she entered the busted stall to change. She could still hear Mireille shrieking as she snapped the door latch shut. A familiar pair of shoes peeked out from the next stall.

“That you?” Meg asked.

“Mm-hm,” Nève said.

“You hear that?”

“Yup.”

“Isn't this just
so
unfair?” Meg pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt from her bag and untied her apron.

Meg listened for an answer. She could hear Nève zip up her backpack. The door squeaked as her cousin stepped out of the stall.

“You okay?” Meg asked.

Nève let out a chuckle. “I'd cry if it wasn't so funny.”

“What?” Meg asked.

“I was just wondering who's got it the worst. Me, because I'm moving, or you, because you might get stuck in a car talking about licorice root tea with Mireille all the way to Halifax.”

Meg snorted a laugh as she folded her apron. She was about to stash it in her bag when a bundle of white cloth slipped from the pocket.

Meg gasped.

“You ready to go?” Nève asked. “I hear there's a party next door.”

“Oh!” Meg jumped. “Um, I still have to change. You go ahead.”

“You sure?” Nève asked.

Meg picked up the cloth and stared at the bundle in her hands. It was the handkerchief Geneviève had used to wrap the shells on the ship. Meg needed more time to sort out what all this meant.

“Yeah.” Meg did her best to mask the alarm in her voice. “Tell my mom I'll be right over.”

“Okay. Hurry up, though.” The washroom door whooshed to a close as Nève left.

With trembling hands, Meg pulled the cloth away. The two parts of the oyster shell had fused together as if they had never been apart.

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

So it was true.

All of it.

A rattle rang from within the oyster shell. Meg held it up to the light. A tiny pearl lay inside.

“Tante Perle,” Meg murmured.

Meg raced from the parish hall, thoughts still whirling in her head as she reached Tante Perle's shack. Earlier that day, she couldn't wait to get out of that shack, not wanting to believe the crazy story her great-aunt was trying to tell her.

But it wasn't a story. It had all been true. Meg really had travelled back in time to the Deportation and so had Tante Perle.

Meg pushed the door open and braced a hand against the door frame. The cool evening air burned her throat as she tried to catch her breath.

“
Ma tante
?” she gasped into the darkness of the house.

Only the smallest bit of light glowed from the hurricane lamp sitting on the table by the stove. Meg rushed to it and turned the wick up to light the space.

“Tante Perle?” She tore around the shack, swinging the lamp's light over the shadows. “Tante Perle!” No answer.

Meg collapsed into a chair. A teacup sat on a saucer in the middle of the table. Meg dipped a finger into the amber liquid. Cold.

Where was Tante Perle? What if she was still stuck in the past looking for her friend Ginette?

The irony rose as bitter bile in the back of Meg's throat.

She should have believed Tante Perle when she tried to tell her how important the quest was. She should have tried harder to get her to come back when they spoke in the barn. And she should have never made fun of her, just like Nève had said.

Meg buried her face in her hands and soon her whole body shook with sobs. What if she never saw Tante Perle again?

Thud! Thud!

Meg's head popped up. Where was that sound coming from? She stood and searched the shadows.

Thud! Thud!

The soles of Meg's feet vibrated at the sound of the noise. The cellar! Meg scrambled to the floor and pressed her ear against the cold wooden planks.

Ma…belle!

Tante Perle!

Meg raced out of the shack, lantern in hand. Her heart thundered in her chest as she rounded the corner of the house to the backyard and raced to the cellar door. A stab of pain pricked her finger as she fumbled with the latch. Finally, she freed the metal bar from its clasp and yanked the door open.

“Oh,
ma belle
!” Tante Perle hobbled up the stairs. “I'm so glad you're here.”

The scene brought Meg back to earlier that day when Tante Perle first emerged from the cellar. It seemed like years ago, so much had changed since then.

“Tante Perle!” Meg cried.

“Did you do it? Did you keep Geneviève and Marguerite together?” Tante Perle asked as Meg helped her up the stairs.

“Yes! They're together now. Or…they were together,” Meg corrected herself, trying to distinguish the present from the past.

Tante Perle's eyes glistened in the light of the lantern. “That makes me very, very happy.”

Meg stroked her great-aunt's shoulder. “You don't look happy.”

Tante Perle looked up. Tears ran down the creases of her wrinkled skin. “I wasn't so lucky, I'm afraid to say.”

“You didn't find Ginette?” Meg asked.

Tante Perle's eyes squinted with sadness. “I guess some things can't be undone. Nothing's changed.”

“Oh, Tante Perle. I'm really sorry. Things didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, either.” Meg's thoughts turned to Nève, then back to Geneviève. “But, things
did
change. You should have seen the look on Marguerite's face when I left. She looked so peaceful.”

Tante Perle considered this for a moment and smiled. “
T'as
raison
. And I guess that should be enough.” She chuckled and brought a hand up to Meg's cheek to pat it.

“Hey,” Meg said. “Why don't you come to Chez Tuck's with me? They're having an after-concert party.”

“Oh,
non, non
.” Tante Perle waved her hand as if to shoo the invitation away. “I couldn't keep up with you young people, anyway. I'm just an old lady.”

Meg offered her arm to her great-aunt. “Oh, come on. Aren't you the same Tante Perle who threw herself over the side of a ship?”

Tante Perle's eyes crinkled as she took Meg's arm. “Oh,
beau Dieu
. Don't start spreading tales like that! People around town will think you take after Squirrelly Perley.”