Miracleville Read Online Free PDF Page B

over denim overalls. She does look kind of crazy.
    I offer her my spot in front, next to Dad, but Tante Hélène refuses it. “Don’t go treating me like an old woman! I’m only seventy-five,” she says as she hops up into the backseat.
    Maxim’s got a jug of lemonade. “Gramma’s special recipe,” he says.
    â€œI added some mint from my herb garden,” Tante Hélène explains. I must say that for someone her age, Tante Hélène’s in pretty good shape. Maybe it’s all those herbs. “The combination of lemon and mint has a wonderful purifying effect on the digestive system,” she says.
    â€œAnd thank god there’s no garlic in it,” Maxim says, winking at Colette and me.
    Tante Hélène ruffles Maxim’s hair. “You’ve got your grandfather’s sense of humor. He used to tease me too, though he never complained about my throat tonic.”
    Colette is sitting next to Maxim, who is balancing the lemonade between his feet. She rattles off all the food Mom’s packed in the picnic basket. “Tuna salad and egg salad sandwiches on whole wheat. Which do you like better, Maxim—tuna or egg? Most people like tuna better. Mom also made sandwiches with cream cheese and Dad’s crabapple jelly. Then there’s Dad’s homemade coleslaw, potato salad from the IGA, fruit salad—but there aren’t any mangoes in it, in case you like mangoes. Ani’s allergic. She once ate some mango ice cream and her lips got swollen. Then her throat started to close up. She was choking and everything! There’s another dessert too, but I’m not saying what. And don’t you try to make me!”
    Colette moves in so close to Maxim their thighs are touching. I think she likes being pressed up against him. I can’t imagine behaving that way or feeling so free.
    â€œC’mon, tell me,” Maxim says.
    Colette doesn’t even pretend to put up a fight. “Okay then, I’ll tell you. Dad made strawberry bars—with strawberries from Île d’Orléans. They taste like heaven.”
    â€œAre you giving away family secrets again?” Dad asks from behind the wheel.
    Iza is waiting in the parking lot when we get there, and Mom drives up five minutes later. There are a lot of tourists here today, judging from the license plates. In the ticket line, we hear people speaking Dutch and Italian and Spanish.
    â€œ ¿Cómo estás? ” Maxim asks a pretty girl with thick black hair and turquoise sneakers. She has the smallest waist I’ve ever seen.
    â€œ ¿Hablas español? ” she asks, smiling, but it turns out ¿Cómo estás? is all Maxim can say in Spanish. Still, using sign language, Maxim offers to take a photo of the girl and her family using their camera. They want to pose by the giant plastic woodpecker near the front entrance.
    â€œHis grandfather was a ladies’ man too,” Tante Hélène says as Maxim snaps the photo. She makes it sound like a compliment.
    Colette tugs on Maxim’s sleeve before he can ask for the Spanish girl’s email address. “C’mon,” she says. “Let’s go see the falls!”
    The woods are dense, and we have to hike to reach the waterfall.
    â€œDoesn’t the air smell divine?” Tante Hélène sniffs at the air as if she wants to eat it.
    Mom turns her face up to the sky, closes her eyes and smiles. She has the same look on her face she gets at Sunday Mass.
    Maxim makes a show of taking his grandmother’s arm. Tante Hélène giggles as if she’s in high school too. Colette is on her other side, asking her all about herbal cures.
    â€œYou see those birch trees?” Tante Hélène says. “Birch bark tea is excellent for treating arthritis. And you can make a paste with it that helps fight warts.”
    At this rate, it’s going to take forever to get to our picnic spot.