Children's folk tales
Read a Chapter
Charles sat in his favourite chair in the living room of his
house. It was basically an empty house
now. His wife Marie had been dead for
four years. The book he’d been reading
lay unnoticed on his lap as he remembered the first day he’d seen her.
It was in Paris in the spring a year before their
wedding. She was sitting by the lake in
one of the parks with some of her girlfriends.
The sun shone on her chestnut hair and her almond-shaped eyes sparkled
with laughter. She had looked up and
smiled at him from behind her parasol and he’d felt as if he could fly.
The next time he’d seen her was in December of that same
year. It was just before Christmas and
she was skating across the ice of the lake.
The same lake in the same park, he realized now. If his memory served him correctly, he’d
skated over to her then and, without a word spoken by either of them, became
her partner. They had spent the rest of
the day together. That evening she
introduced him to her parents and soon after, they announced their
engagement. In April of the following
year, they were married in Notre Dame Cathedral and went to Rome for their
honeymoon, where they stayed until July.
The next two months at the chateau in Orynx – the tiny
kingdom where Charles had been born and where they would always live – were
joyous for them. They spent every moment
together. In September, Marie had
celebrated her sixteenth birthday and what a party he gave her! The whole village had been invited! The ten-year difference in their ages went over
well with the local minister, who had come at Charles’s insistence, and
everyone thought they made a perfect couple.
A few weeks later, he was called to London on urgent
business. He was gone until the day
before Christmas Eve. When he arrived
home, he wrapped his bride in his arms and apologized for staying away so
long. She smiled at him and he noticed
there was a special glow in her eyes as she said –
“Don’t worry, my love, I know you’ll always come back.”
Two days later, while she unwrapped the numerous presents
he’d given her, she handed him a small package wrapped in blue tissue with a
pink ribbon.
“Open it,” she coaxed.
He obeyed but said the name of the object aloud in a puzzled
tone.
“It’s a silver spoon.”
“For our baby,” she said with a smile. “Granny says it’s due in May, either the
first or second week.”
“Is she sure?” he asked, for lack of something else to say.
Marie nodded. True to
her Granny’s word, on the eighth of May the following year, a girl was born to
the proud parents. On the day of her
christening, all the guests commented on how sweet and tender the child was,
with such a pleasant disposition. She
was baptized Ella Marie Elizabeth, but everyone called her Ella. As Ella grew and the years passed, these
early compliments held true. By the time
she turned five she was her parents’ pride and joy, but she wasn’t spoiled.
Shortly after her child’s birthday, Marie fell sick. The physician said it had something to do
with her lungs. He gave her all sorts of
medicines and potions to take, but nothing worked. By September she was so weak she couldn’t
lift her head without an effort. When
summer turned to fall, the Minister came and gave her the Last Rites. That night she’d sent for Ella and held her
in her arms for the last time.
“Always remember, my love, that if you need me I’ll be
there. I’ll always help you,” she told
her, but it was barely a whisper.
The next morning the physician came again but it was too
late. Marie had died in her sleep a week
before her twenty-second birthday, but there was a smile on her lips when
Charles found her as if she’d been having a pleasant dream. She was buried a week later behind the house,
in the yard she and Ella had played in and where they’d grown up together.
But all that had happened four years ago. Ella was nine now and growing more and more
beautiful every day. How she amazed
him! Even during the saddest of times,
she had the sunniest disposition of anyone he’d ever known. Marie’s death had taken a toll on him, yet
Ella took it all in stride. Of course,
she’d cried when her mother died, but it wasn’t long before the laughter was
back in her brown eyes. Nothing could
keep her sad long!
Charles wondered how she would react to the news he was
about to tell her – the news that in a month he’d be getting married
again. It wasn’t that Ella was a problem
because she wasn’t. She was the
sweetest, most obedient and good-natured child he’d ever encountered. But she was getting older and was nearing the
age where she would have to learn certain things that would be important in her
adult life; things that only a woman could teach her. And, besides, at least now she would have two
playmates; the woman he was going to marry had two young daughters just one and
two years older than Ella. Marguerita,
the elder, was eleven and her younger sister Ophelia was ten. He had seen them once and to him they
appeared a bit awkward, but in a few years, they’d most likely blossom into
elegant, proper ladies with the right training.
He looked now at his pocket watch – the watch Marie had
given him for their first anniversary.
It was engraved – “To my dearest Charles, I love you, Marie.” The hands, which now read 8:15, were gold, as
was the watch itself. After a moment, he
put the book aside, stood up and went to the semi-circular stair in the entry
hall.
“Ella!” he called, “Ella, would you come down here a moment
please. I have something I want to talk
to you about.”
In her room, Ella was playing with her dolls. For a child of nine, she had the largest doll
collection of any child in Orynx.
Wherever Charles went on his travels, he would bring her home a
doll. Then, for his reward, she’d
smother him with kisses and his heart overflowed with love. She was all he had left in the world, his
parents dying when he was a young man and then losing Marie when Ella was five.
She was a lovely child with long chestnut hair that hung in
soft curls about her shoulders and wide brown eyes that always sparkled with
laughter. She ran now to the head of the
stairs with one of the dolls in her arms.
“Coming, Papa,” she called back, “I’ll be right down.”
She ran back to her room, put the doll on the bed and
scampered down the semi-circular stair to her father’s side. By the time she got there, Charles had
already resumed his seat.
“What is it, Papa?” she asked when he remained silent.
He looked up after a moment and smiled and took her small
hand in his.
“Ella,” he said slowly, “I have a wonderful surprise for
you.”
“Oh, I love surprises!”
“I know you do.”
Again, he paused, trying to pick his words carefully, trying
not to upset her.
“And I know, too, how lonely you’ve been since your
mother….”
His voice trailed off as a lump rose in his throat. This will never do, Ella thought, I have to
cheer him up.
“I’m not lonely, Papa,” she said brightly, “and the only
time I am is when you have to go away…”
And she threw her arms around his neck to prove that she
meant it, then she continued.
“…but I know you’ll always come back.”
He gathered her in and held her tightly in his arms. It was the same thing Marie had told him
their first Christmas together. There
were tears in his eyes as he said –
“Oh, Ella, you are my greatest joy!”
“Truly, Papa?” she asked, teasing him.
“Truly,” he replied and nodded, then continued –
“But now for the surprise.
Next month I’ll be getting married and my
new wife has two daughters who are very close to you in
age.”
Her eyes grew wide with excitement.
“You mean I’m going to have sisters?!”
“Yes, indeed. Are you
pleased?” he asked.
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed, “When can I meet them?”
“Not until the wedding.”
She pouted slightly.
“Not for a whole month?
What shall I do until then?”
“Why not plan what you’d like to do with them?” he
suggested, “As I said, they’re very close to you in age. Maybe you can find something you have in
common, eh?”
He paused slightly to look again at his watch – it read
8:30.
“Now,” he continued, “I think it’s about time you went to
bed, don’t you?”
“All right, Papa, but what are their names?”
“Your step-mother’s name is Vera,” he told her, “and your
step-sisters are Marguerita and Ophelia.”
They talked a few minutes more and then he carried her
upstairs and tucked her in bed.
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