Posted by Captain Marceau Renault (Commanding Officer) in Memory: First Year Summer Vacation

Posted by Lieutenant Helena Laursen (Helm/Nagivation Officer) in Memory: First Year Summer Vacation

Posted by Captain Marceau Renault (Commanding Officer) in Memory: First Year Summer Vacation
Posted by… suppressed (6) by the Post Ghost! 👻

(snip)
Helena grinned, “Come on. Time to head home, and the bus will be warm.” Helena led him to the back of the bus away from the draft of the doors where it would stay warm. “We’ll be making Laufabraud, or leaf bread, when we get back. It can be a bit overwhelming, it’s detailed, but not really hard. But you don’t have to help unless you want to.”

“I will help.” Marceau replied. They had been kind enough to let him come, to lend him clothes. He could help with leaf bread.

When they arrived back, Dúnna smiled and called from the kitchen. “You kids have a good time?” Helena shrugged out of her coat and went in. “We did. We saw your new piece on display. It’s gorgeous like always.” Dúnna laughed and kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Go change and then you can come help.” The kitchen was already covered in bowls and flour and dough.

“It was beautiful,” said Marceau, about Dúnna’s art piece. “And the gardens too!” And then he went on for a whole about the gardens Helena had taken him too, and the ice cream, and some of the other sights and shops. Then he headed upstairs to change.

On Marceau’s bed was a stack of clothes from moisture wicking undergarments, to thermal layers, thick socks, a better fitting coat, gloves, hat, pants, shirts and a gorgeous Icelandic lopapeysa sweater. It was a dark grey with white/light grey/black/dark grey chevron pattern along the collar, cuffs, and hem.

Helena

When he entered the guest bedroom, he saw the stack of clothes. It was as Helena had said. Clothes of all different kinds were left for him. Warm, and in his size. The beautiful sweater was one of the first garments in the stack and he was instantly enamoured with it. He set it aside on his suitcase, and then looked through the rest of the stack. A moment later, “‘Elenaaaaa, aidez-moi, s’il vous plaît!” He sounded a little embarrassed and hadn’t realized he’d said it in French. The French was, though in the formal tense, spoken a little informally, translating to, ‘help me, please.’ There were just too many clothes! He wanted Helena to help him choose.

~ Marceau

Helena had no idea what he said other than ‘please’ and made her name sound like ‘Elena’ with his accent. She walked across the hall, knocking on the door. “Hey. Everything okay?” She spotted the stack of clothes. “Oh.”

Helena

Marceau was holding up two of the moisture wicking material clothing pieces. “What should I pick? Your mom seems to have found all the clothes in town.” He said and chuckled a little.

~ Marceau

Helena nodded, “Well, I would just keep them all for now. She can pass them on to someone else when we leave.” Helena looked at the clothes and shrugged. “Those are thermals. They will keep you very warm, and if you exert yourself at all, you will sweat and they will get damp and heavy. Those” she pointed to what Marceau was holding, “are moisture wicking. They do two things. The first is quickly moving sweat to the fabric’s outer surface, and the other is drying rapidly so that your sweat doesn’t saturate the fabric. Damp wet clothes can make you colder once you stop sweating. You always wear those next to your skin and then layer on other pieces. Depending on the weather. It seems like a lot but they are all necessary depending on the weather of the day.”

This knowledge would explain why, even on the really cold nights, Helena was never cold. She was probably wearing similar items on their training mission.

Helena

Marceau looked bewildered and confused. He muttered something in French, which would translate to confusing clothes and being glad he didn’t live somewhere so cold. “So I wear these under those?” He held up the moisture wicking ones and then pointed to the thermals. “Or those under these?” Then he pointed to a third piece, “And that goes on top?”

~ Marceau

Helena recognized his frustration because he was speaking French. “Here.” She went to the dresser and opened a drawer. She set the moisture wicking in first and next to it the thermals. Then in the next drawer the shirts and pants. “One, two, and down here, three and four. The drawer beside those she placed the hat, gloves, scarfs, socks, etc in. “After you wear them for a day, you’ll know how many layers are too many or not enough. If you aren’t sure, you can always ask my dad. He was born in Holland and didn’t grow up with this. He always says that learning how to dress was the hardest part for him. He probably has some good tips.”

Helena

Marceau helped by handing her the clothing off the bed as she sorted it. The organizational system made it easier, all he had to do was look through and decide how many layers for the day. That was easier. He smiled and gave Helena a quick friendly hug. “Merci. Thank you. I will ask him.”

~ Marceau

Helena nodded, “Of course. Now let’s go make Laufabraud.” Traditionally a holiday undertaking, it was made because Helena loved it and her being home was declared, by her mother, to be a holiday. It wasn’t overly complicated, just time consuming, once you started cutting and designing the patterns. Marceau was gently but persistently dragged into the family unit. It started with Helena’s mother simply showing him how to make the bread. As the afternoon wore on stories about Helena and her brother as children were shared and laughed over. Like the first time Helena was allowed to help make the bread, instead of cutting out designs, she cut whole strips of dough and tried to eat it before being fried. Helena had not been a happy 3 year old. Her parents even shared stories about themselves. Marceau was asked about his own family and memories but never pressured to share more than he wanted. It didn’t take long for her family to move on and to focus on his last year of schooling and his time with his mentor René Benoit.

Helena

Marceau enjoyed the stories about their family while he helped with their bread. They made sure he was included as long as he wanted to be. It was strange for Marceau, like he didn’t belong sort of. It wasn’t them that caused his feelings, it was his past. When they asked him about his family, he wouldn’t share much. Mostly about his school. Still, there were signs in his stories of how his upbringing had been, topics he skirted around more carefully than others. He spoke more about his mentor, but he still did not share a lot. Helena would know he was holding back. There were things he had told her that he wasn’t mentioning now.

~ Marceau

No one pressured him for more information, but it wasn’t hard for Helena’s parents to fill in the blanks of what he wasn’t saying. Edílon was curious but a look from Torben kept him quiet and polite. Helena knew a lot of the missing pieces, but she didn’t offer to fill them in, explain or make awkward changes of subject. It just was, Marceau was accepted for who he was. The rest was just fluff. Soon the Laufabraud was ready to be fried and the smell of warm bread filled the house. Dúnna had made meat soup, which had its base from lamb. It was warm and filling and perfect for a cold day. And she was sure Marceau had found the weather very chilly.

Helena

Marceau didn’t like talking about it. Some of their questions seemed to make him uncomfortable, and he seemed to appreciate when they did not press. Marceau had definitely found the weather chilly, in fact he felt like it was winter right here in the end of May/early June. The warm meal was appreciated and he thanked them for cooking. When he was finished, he thanked them again and mentioned how good it was.

~ Marceau

Dúnna smiled over his profuse thanks. “Je vous en prie. Je préparerai les déjeuners pour demain, mais dis à Helena si tu en as assez. Elle s’enthousiasme pour les parcs. Elle oublierait le temps et resterait dehors et gèlerait.” Torben said good night, kissing Helena’s cheek and shaking Marceau’s hand, then chased Edílon out of the workshop and to bed. Muttering about an early start the next day.

Dúnna hugged Helena, “There is hit cider in the kitchen, and hot chocolate if you want it, Marceau. I will make a thermos tomorrow too.” That made Helena grin and she hugged and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Then Dúnna in true mother mode, hugged Marceau tight, kissed his cheek, “Nous sommes très heureux que vous soyez ici,” and let him go. “Sleep well, kids.”

Helena