Famille Bastille (excerpt)
The Bastilles attend a church function for an elderly member. #BastilleTuesdays
Hello to the new eyeballs, and welcome back to the older ones. 🤓
For today’s installment of #BastilleTuesdays, I’m posting an excerpt of a short story where all of the Bastilles attend a church function celebrating an elderly woman who used to babysit all of the Bastille children except Dominic and Nicollette. This story takes place before BFC: Camille and was originally the introduction of them all. When looking over the original, I saw some discrepancies in later stories that I probably need to address, but I go back and forth on whether to do so. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!
As always, this and anything else I write is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are the products of my imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Famille Bastille (excerpt)
© 2014 Tiffany M. Davis
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
FAMILLE BASTILLE (excerpt)
by Tiffany M. Davis
© 2014 Tiffany M. Davis
“I don’t know why we have to go to this dinner,” Theodore “Ted” Bastille grumbled as he tugged at his necktie. “This is not how I like to spend the rare time that I’m able to get home to New Orleans.”
“Mrs. Alcide used to watch you when you were babies,” Lillian Metoyer Bastille replied as she led her family to the entrance to the church basement. “She knew your grandfather. And she has given a lot of her time and energy to the Church.” She gazed at the fourth of her six children with critical green eyes. “It would mean a lot to her that you came.”
“If she knew Grandpére, then we definitely should bail,” Ted mumbled under his breath. Grant Bastille, the eldest of the six siblings, poked him in the ribs to silence him.
“I’m with Ted. She probably doesn’t even remember us,” Camille Bastille, the second-born and eldest Bastille girl, added.
“Mrs. Alcide was already in her late forties or early fifties when Camille and I were in preschool,” Grant commented.
“I always gave her one of your school pictures,” Mrs. Bastille replied. “She was at your high school graduation, Grant, remember?”
“Not really.”
“Well, she was there. That was right before she had her stroke.”
“We definitely don’t remember her,” Dominic Bastille, one of the youngest Bastille children, chimed in. His twin sister, Nicollette Bastille, nodded in agreement.
“She retired shortly before you were born,” Jacques Bastille, father of the Bastille clan and a retired general surgeon, answered. “Your mom decided to leave her job as a registered nurse and stay at home with you two, so we didn't need Mrs. Alcide to watch you.”
“I’m surprised Mrs. Alcide’s not dead,” Sheridan Bastille, the third-born, replied in her usual blunt manner.
“Shut up, Sheridan!” her siblings exclaimed.
“Sheridan Bastille, that is a terrible thing to say!” her mother admonished.
“I’m just saying.” Sheridan shrugged. “She has to be pushing ninety, at least.” She and her father exchanged identical light-brown glances; she didn’t miss the slight quirk at the corner of his lips as he struggled to hold back a smile at the antics of his most outspoken child.
“Still, that’s not the proper thing to say.” Lillian Bastille was only slightly mollified by her husband’s arm draped across her shoulders. Of all her daughters, Sheridan was the one who had refused to take any of her mother’s instruction on how to be a proper Southern lady. She was the one who came home from school as a child with hair askew, clothes soiled, and hands and face to match. She was also the one who was caught fighting the neighborhood boys--and winning the fights--much to her dismay.
“Sure you want to go into that church, Sherry?” Ted teased Sheridan. “The roof might fall in.”