“La Capricieuse” was among the first French steamships to sail to Montreal since the 18th century. It reached its destination in late spring of 1863 amidst weak cries of thanks. The languishing immigrants forgot the atrocious conditions they had endured, and saw only the hope and promise of the new world. Among the travellers was the Lemay family, not only weak and hungry, but like many others stricken by tragedy. Their beloved father, Nicholas, had perished just two weeks into the voyage from pneumonia, leaving behind his beloved wife Genevieve, and their four sons, of which Alexander, at age 13, was the eldest." 

- Alexander Lemay's journal dated April 17, 1863

            Twenty-eight days aboard La Capricieuse and my dream of freedom is fading.  My father is dead, my brothers and I orphans, my mother a widow.  What of Michelle, what of Paul, what of Sebastien, who is to care for my brothers? They are children and my mother is weak.  It is night and I stand on the deck of the steamship, more alone than ever before.  I turn to gaze upon the stars for comfort, but there are no stars only darkness.

            Daybreak, Sunday, and alas the kind heart of a stranger aboard the ship rekindles my courage.  He sympathises with my tragedy and offers my family sanctuary at his home in Montreal. I accept. I have not slept for days, since my father’s death.  That night I sleep under the warm blanket of his words.  Tomorrow we sail through the Saint Lawrence, and to our final destination, Montreal.  

Upon arrival at the Charette family farm in early May, the boys were inundated with work, long days spent tackling the arduous task of turning forest into farm, and restoring the Charetes’ stone house. Alexandre, was by far the most driven. He woke his brothers long before dawn, and swiftly got them to the fields, where they would be until dark. He felt a certain responsibility towards his mother, and assumed a father figure in the household, determined to make things work. However, that fall , tragedy struck, and all the crops were killed by a harsh, unforgiving frost. Alexandre panicked, knew that the family would perish during the long, hard winter on the horizon, and, desperate for a solution, slipped away during the night, pledging to salvage what was left of their hope & spirits.

The remaining Lemays, always survivors, prevailed against the winter by cutting and selling their wood to the sawmills, leaving only four maple trees, framing the house with their thick foliage, flourishing to remind them that they would never give up, beacons of their new life. Although the family endured, their was a sadness among them, waiting for the revered Alexandre to return. Genevieve prayed to see her son’s face again, and would sit pressed up against the frosted windowpane for hours, hoping to see his silhouette against the horizon, coming back to what was now their home.

Five years passed, the boys became men, and Genevieve had all but lost hope that her Alexandre would come back. They mourned their loss on his 18th birthday, the twenty third of December. On that day, every year, they would sit by the fire, reminiscing about their lost son and brother, telling stories, each one desperately trying to keep him fresh and alive in their minds, the fire of his spirit, his charm, his smile. They laughed outwardly, but even the warm hearth could not rekindle a part of them that had died inside.
That night, Genevieve dreamt of Alexandre. A beautiful man leaning against the most magnificent of the maple trees, both tall and dignified.  Her son looked up and saw her, and her heart soared when she saw the familiar twinkle in his eye, the curve of his smile, his strong arms welcomed her embrace. She put her face in her hands and wept with joy, and when she turned her face up to look at him, she awoke, unsatisfied and disconcerted. 
Genevieve woke up the next morning with a heavy heart. As she waved the boys off to the fields, she heard a soft whistling in the distance, a lullaby from the Old Country that she had sung to the boys as children:

Ma chere comme tu es belle quand tu reve
Je te laisse a traverser tes pays clandestins
Et de satisfier toutes tes defis
Mais si la nuit est injuste je suis toujours ici

            Alexandre was walking towards her, like a vision. He returned like a martyr, his brothers gathered round him in awe. He had made a fortune far away, trading in the mountains. The family, reunited once again flourished and basked in his presence. As the brothers rejoiced, Genevieve stood back and glowed with happiness.  Like the maple trees they had salvaged, the Lemays were still standing strong and proud, prevailing over any obstacle that came their way. She beamed with pride in her heart, and she swept the boys in the house to be together again.

            Today, the trees still stand , a symbol of hope, of courage, of love. They never waver, but in fall they shed their leaves like tears in honour of a family thats love still remains, hovering over us like an angel.