Secrets of the past--Love stories wonderful and sad, span six generations in this Kindle series......The scent of lilacs drifted over Paradis on a sunny June morning in 1847. Zacharie Gauchere dit Reneau, the Seigneur of Paradis, drove his cart toMoreSecrets of the past--Love stories wonderful and sad, span six generations in this Kindle series......The scent of lilacs drifted over Paradis on a sunny June morning in 1847.
Zacharie Gauchere dit Reneau, the Seigneur of Paradis, drove his cart to St. Isidore Church. The cart had been lime washed and decorated with branches of lilacs. His sixteen daughters paraded behind, their petticoats floating in the morning breeze, buttercups in their dark hair. It was Zacharies wedding day but they did not seem to care. They whined and sniped at each other about who should ride in the cart with Papa.Over the years the name Gauchere fell out of use and the habitants, dressed in their brightest colors and wearing their shoes, lined the Route de Rivière, waving and shouting, Bon jour, Monsieur Reneau.
Congratulations on your marriage.Once he passed however, they whispered to each other. Poor Monsieur Reneau. Certainly he is a fertile man, two wives, sixteen daughters, yet no son. The Reneau seed is cursed, some surmised but others held out hope for their Seigneur. Perhaps this third wife will give him a healthy boy, eh?More determined than joyful, Zacharie did not smile on his wedding day. Will this new wife give me sons? he wondered.Papa, Barbe called from behind, Im tired of walking.
I want to ride in the cart.Me too, Papa, Euphrosine whined, Why does only Genevieve ride with you?He glanced at his sister who rolled her eyes in tired resignation, but he did not answer them. It was no use. What one girl wanted they all wanted, no matter how small or trivial. The couple of young men whod tried to call on his older daughters soon learned that. Overwhelmed as every girl tried to outshine the other, they quickly made excuses to escape his house and never returned.The thought of living with sixteen whining women for the rest of his life was not a happy one.
Sons, he thought, I need sons, and he urged the pony into a trot.