GW Robichaux

"The Mass is ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

"Thanks be to God!" GW responded with the rest of the congregation. It was strange being back in the tiny church he'd attended Mass at every Sunday for eighteen years, and special occasions ever since. It held plenty of memories, good and bad. He'd been baptized here, (not that he actually remembered that particular event) and had his first communion and confirmation in this very church. Numerous weddings and funerals had taken place here, Sunday school was still taught in the church basement, and generations of his relatives were buried in the graveyard.

And now that they were done with Christmas Eve Mass it was time to head over to Tante Marie's home for the holiday meal. It was a long tradition in his family, ever since his great grandmother passed away when he'd been a small child, that the Robichauxs would gather at the family Matriarch's home for Christmas. Even his brother Luc, who lived in Baton Rouge these days, would be brining his family to Tante Marie's.

"George," Marie said with gentle censure, using the paper fan she held to try and create a breeze. "The service wasn't no longer than it usually is, you just ain't used to it no more. But we goin' home now, and I cooked a good meal for de holiday."

The old woman got to her feet, began to stump out of the pew and into the aisle. "Where Luc?" she asked, scanning the crowd. "Said he was gonna be here to meet us. Hope he ain't missed Mass. I worry 'bout dem boys of his. Dey act like dey never seen de inside of a church."

When she neared the doors, Marie extended her hand to Father Mollineaux, who'd been the parish priest for the last sixteen years. "Fine service you gave," she said with approval, thumping the tip of her cane on the floor. Her elbow nudged GW's side.

"Wasn't it a wonderful service, George?"

GW resisted giving his great aunt a murderous look. He might not attend Mass every Sunday, but a C&E Catholic he wasn't. "A fine service Father, I enjoyed de homily."

His mother was talking with one of her friends on the church's parish council, and his father was rounding up the various grandkids and younger members of the family. Jean-Bertrand Robichaux happened to overhear his aunt's remarks and spared his eldest child a sympathetic look. Marie worked in mysterious ways, and sometimes all the men in her life could do was grin and bear it.

Once they'd exchanged pleasantries with Father Mollineaux, GW responded to his great aunt's earlier question with a shake of his head. "Non, he said he'd meet us over at your house Tante, dey were gonna go to Church up in Baton Rouge, couldn't leave in time to make it here."

As to the state of religious education of his younger brother's brood, it wasn't his place to comment.

"Hmm, my memory must be slippin'," Marie said with a headshake. She made her careful way down the front steps of the church, looked up at the night sky. "Disappointed not to see Meredith with ya," she added, beginning the walk to the car. "But, reckon she got her own family to visit. Mebbe next year."

Her husband Charles caught up with them, opening the door for her, and as the drive back home began she said, "Plannin' to play somethin' on de fiddle dis year, George? Never did get to hear you play when I visited. De grandbabies might enjoy it, non?"

GW told his parents that he would ride with Marie and Charles, since it was obvious Tante Marie wanted to bend his ear some more. "Dat'd be fine with me Tante, if dat's what you want. Uncle Charles, he plays de fiddle better dan I do, mebbe he's still got a few tings t' teach me."

He'd always enjoyed Christmas, even if he'd never had the 'White Christmas' that was so ingrained in popular culture. Maybe if he went up to Meredith's next year...

That reminded him, he needed to call his girlfriend and catch up with her, he hadn't had a chance since he'd made it home. JR had been wanting to monopolize his time, and if it wasn't JR, then TJ wanted to go out running with him, or another of the brood of relatives that existed down here in Acadia Parish.

"How is she?" Marie asked, still looking out through the window at the houses as they passed by. "Meredith. She ever clear up dat business we talked about last time? Been t'inkin' 'bout her since we spoke."

The old woman's gaze remained on the scenery outside rather than on her great-nephew, but GW could probably still feel invisible eyes on him. Not that she could ask the real question in front of Charles, but both she and her favorite relative knew what she was talking about.

"She's doin' better, but turns out somethin' happened to dat friend o' hers. Not sure what, but he was lookin a whole lot better dan should be expected."

He was still a bit cautious with his aunt when it came to Meredith, not sure what the other woman was after. For all he knew she could be after him to provide her with a great-great neice or nephew, and there was no way he and Mere were ready to take that step yet.

The amazing return of Elian from the dead was something GW couldn't begin to understand, he just hoped he'd be able to help Meredith keep her sanity regarding the whole thing. It had taken a lot out of her.

Marie turned in her seat, looked at GW with a measuring gaze that cut through the shadows in the car without effort. "Whole lot better," she said, tipping her head to the side, then nodded. "Mmm. Well, dat good to hear. Bet Meredith real glad to see him, den. I know she was...upset."

Charles looked at her out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. He knew that tone as well as GW did. But like the rest of the Robichaux clan, he'd learned not to interfere with Marie once she'd latched onto something. He turned on the radio, the quiet sound of music coming through the speakers.

The old woman went back to looking at the Christmas decorations that were still up. There were many possibilities for what would make a man come back from the dead, and none of them were particularly appealing. She'd consult the cards later, once everyone else was in bed, see what she could suss out.

"Hope you brought an empty stomach wit' you tonight, George," she said, dropping the other subject as if she'd never brought it up. "I cooked enough food to feed a Marine battalion, me. You feel like eatin'?"

"Upset. Dat's one way o' sayin' it," GW allowed. "She hasn't seen him in de flesh yet, I'll tell ya about it later."

He was pleased she changed the subject and smiled broadly "Yes Ma'am," he could imagine how much food she'd cooked with the help of his mother and the other women in the family, they'd likely been at it for the last day or two. "I made a point to eat light."

The car ride came to an end in the elder Robichaux's driveway, and Charles let Marie out before unlocking the front door of the house. The old woman stretched briefly, then began to walk up the stairs. Inside, the smells of freshly-cooked food still lingered, and she smiled, proud of her latest holiday accomplishment.

"We talk 'bout dat other ting when ever'one else in bed," she said, lowering her voice before stepping into the kitchen. "Come he'p me set de table, huh? I glad you home, George."

"Glad t' be home Tante, if only fer a little while." He did as he was told, even though the house was rapidly filling up with other relatives from the extended Robichaux family that he hadn't seen in months if not years. The musician obediently followed his great aunt into the dining room and helped put extra leafs in the table before actually setting out her good china.

Once the table had been set to her liking, Marie took one last look at the meal she'd prepared. She was getting up there in years and couldn't get around as well as she used to, maybe, but she could still put out a damn fine spread for her family when the occasion called for it. She called in a couple of the younger girls to help her with the food, and the three of them began to set the dishes out on the table.

As the other members of the Robichaux clan began to take their seats at the table, the old woman watched them with a warm feeling of pride and accomplishment. They were hers as much as she was theirs, and none of their lives would be the same if they weren't able to gather together this way. She touched Charles' hand as her husband seated himself next to her, and he smiled at her with understanding.

"George, will you say grace, please?" she requested, turning towards GW. She intended to say a few words before everyone ate, but thanks had to come first.

GW looked more than a bit startled at that request. Usually one of the older generation said the blessing, but nobody would deny Marie her request and faces turned expectantly toward him.

He cleared his throat and bowed his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother snatch the baseball cap off of TJ's head and deliver a light smack to the back of the younger man's head. His mother hissed something quietly, and GW was fairly certain that it was something along the lines of: "Show respect, I raised you better dan dat!"

GW made the sign of the cross and began to pray, barely managing to keep the amusement out of his voice. "Dear Lord, thank you for dis day. We humbly ask you to please bless dis food, de people here today, and those in our thoughts. We ask dis in your name, Amen."

"Amen," the rest of the family chorused, and the volume immediately increased as family members resumed conversations and started loading up their plates.

"To all of ya," she announced, her voice becoming rough with emotion. "De ones who're here and de ones who ain't. Hope ever' one of us at dis table next year, keepin' each other safe an' warm. Merry Christmas, family."

She sat back down, having taken a sip of her cider. Charles handed her a handkerchief, and she dabbed at her eyes in silence before squeezing his hand. "T'ank you, chere."

Directing a more steady gaze down the length of the table, she smiled and said, "Dat's all. Let's eat 'fore it gets cold, huh?"