The pain in her back didnt stop her as she made her way to the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her damp hands, groaning from the ache, and headed for the entrance. A timid knock soundedalready the third time. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hallway. Behind the door stood a very pretty but pale girl with tired eyes.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room?
Those neighbors! Always sending someone my way! I never rent a room, never have.
But I was told you have three rooms.
And so? Why must I rent? Im used to living alone.
Excuse me. I was told youre religious, so I thought
The girl, fighting back tears, turned and began to descend the stairs slowly, her shoulders shaking.
My dear, come back! I havent refused you yet! Young people today are so sensitive, they cry over nothing. Come inside and well talk. Whats your name? Can we use first names?
Manon.
Manon? Did the sea call to you, little one?
I have no father. Im an orphan. No mother either. I was found in a building lobby by kind people and taken to the police. I was less than a month old.
Dont be upset. Come, have some tea and well chat. Hungry?
No, I bought a bun.
A bun! Ah, youth, you think of nothing but yourself, and at thirty you get stomach ulcers. Sit down, theres hot pea soup and a little tea to warm up. I have plenty of jam. My husband died five years ago, and I still stock for two out of habit. Well eat, then youll help me finish the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My head spins, Im scared of falling Im pregnant.
Well, thats my luck! Have you let yourself go?
Why jump to that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was called up to the army, just came back on leave. When the landlady learned I was expecting, she fired me, gave me a week to find new lodging. We lived nearby, but you see circumstances
Circumstances What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Pauls room, then youll take my room. I wont take any money from youdont even think about it, it would anger me. Go get your things.
I dont have far to go. All our belongings are in a sack at the base of the building. The weeks passed and Ive already visited several houses this morning with my stuff.
Thus they became a pair. Manon kept studying fashion for light clothing. MarieAntoinette had been disabled for years after a serious train accident, stayed home, crocheted lace doilies, collars, childrens shoes and sold them at the nearby market. Her wares sold well for their delicate, seafoam lightness. Money never lacked; part came from selling garden vegetables and fruits. On Saturdays they worked the garden together; on Sundays MarieAntoinette went to church while Manon stayed home answering Juliens letters, rarely attending Mass because her back and head ached.
One Saturday, while they were in the chalet finishing the harvest and preparing the soil for winter, Manon grew tired quickly. MarieAntoinette sent her back to the small cabin to rest and listen to the old 45rpm records they had bought with her husband. After raking, the expectant mother lay down to relax. MarieAntoinette tossed dry branches into the fire, lost in thought. Suddenly she heard Manon scream, Mother! Mother! Come quickly! Forgetting her own pain, MarieAntoinette ran to the cabin. Manon clutched her belly, crying. She persuaded the neighbor to help, and in the fastest possible Renault they sped to the maternity ward. Manon kept moaning, Mother, it hurts! Its too early, too early! Im supposed to deliver midJanuary. Pray for me, you can! MarieAntoinette wept, praying incessantly.
Manon was placed on a stretcher and taken from the reception while the neighbor left MarieAntoinette sobbing at home. She prayed all night to the Holy Virgin for the babys safety. The next morning she called the hospital.
The girl is fine. She kept calling for you and Julien, cried, then calmed down and fell asleep. The doctor says theres no longer a risk of miscarriage, but shell need to stay with us a few weeks. Her hemoglobin is low; make sure she eats and rests.
When Manon left the ward, they talked until midnight, Manon constantly mentioning Julien.
He isnt a found child like me. Hes an orphan too. We grew up together in the orphanage, friends from school, then lovers. Hes caring, more than love, I think. He writes often. Want to see his picture? Here, the second from the right, smiling
Beautiful boy MarieAntoinette didnt want to tire Manon. She needed new glasses, and the soldiers photo was tiny; she could only see vague outlines. Manon, why did you call me mother in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of fear. Its a habit from the orphanage everyone, even the director and the plumber, was a mom or dad. Ive almost shaken it off, but when Im stressed I call everyone mom. Sorry.
I understand MarieAntoinette sighed.
Aunt Marie, tell me about yourself. Why are there no pictures of your husband or children in the flat? You have no children?
No, none. I had a son, but he died before his first birthday. After the accident I couldnt have more children. My husband was like my child; I adored him, couldnt love anyone else. He was, for me, what your Julien is to youthe only person in the world. When I buried him I removed every photo. Though Im faithful and know hes with God, seeing his picture and crying was too hard. I hid them. He needs my prayers, not my tears. Maybe you could ask Julien for a larger photo to frame. I need a frame somewhere.
On Christmas Eve they prepared for the holidays, decorating, talking of the baby Jesus and waiting for the first star. Manon kept rising, sitting, rubbing the lower part of her back.
Youre not well, dear. You dont listen. Why are you fidgeting like a child?
Aunt Marie, call an ambulance. Im going into labor.
Sweetheart, isnt it still early?
Im sure Im wrong. Call quickly; I cant wait.
Half an hour later the ambulance was already at the hospital. On December25, Manon gave birth to a little girl. That day MarieAntoinette sent a telegram to the young father with the good news.
January was busy. The baby brought joy and also new worries. With Juliens permission, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette wept with happiness. Little Marie filled their days with sleeplessness, thrush, and whimshappy troubles that eased MarieAntoinettes many pains.
A particularly gentle winter day, MarieAntoinette went shopping in the fine weather. Returning, she found Manon at the door with a strollerthe new mother had decided to take the baby for a walk.
Enjoy the walk, okay, Aunt Marie?
Yes, Ill start lunch now.
Inside, MarieAntoinette glanced at the table and saw her husbands photo in a frame. She smiled, You finally found it. You chose a picture from his youth. Young people dont like looking at old things.
Soup simmered on the fire when Manon returned with baby Marie, a young neighbor helping with the stroller. The two women gently placed the child; her tiny nose slept peacefully. They slipped out quietly into the large room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said, smiling, how did you find Sachas photos?
I dont get why you say that.
This? MarieAntoinette pointed at the picture.
You asked me to have a larger photo of Julien. He went to a studio, I found the frame on the bookshelf.
MarieAntoinettes trembling hands took the picture. Only then did she realize it wasnt her husband. The young sergeant grinned mischievously at the photographer. She sat on the couch, pale, eyes vacant, staring into the distance. Turning to Manon, she saw her silently crying, a camphorscented compress in hand.
Mom, look at me! Look into my eyes! Whats happening, mom? Manon sobbed.
Manon, open the cupboard; the photos are on the top shelf. Bring them all.
Manon fetched several albums and framed pictures. From the top, a man smiled Julien?!
My God! Who is that? Is it Julien? No, an old photo. Who is this, mom?
Its my husband, Alexandre. Manon, dear, where was Julien born?
I dont know. He was taken to our Paris orphanage after a train accident. They told him his parents were dead.
Lord, such a terrible mistake! My little Michel, they showed me a body and I identified him. The shirt was the same as Michels, but the face was unrecognizable. My dear son, Michel! Youre alive! Your wife and daughter live with me, and I knew nothing. Lord, you sent Manon to me. My daughter, give me the photo.
Completely bewildered, Manon only knew to hand over the framed picture. MarieAntoinette covered it with kisses, crying, My Michel, my treasure, my child!
Julien, Manon whispered.
Whether its Julien or not, hes my son, Manonmy son! Look at his fathers photothe same face!
The young woman remained doubtful.
Manon, what about the birthmark? Is there a starshaped mark above his right elbow? When I identified the baby after the accident, I recognized him because the clothing matched his age. His arm was crushed, and I didnt find the birthmark. Why are you silent? Is it there?
Its there. It looks like a star. Mom, my tender mother, its there!
The two women embraced, weeping, oblivious to the small cry of Marie in the next room, calling for her mothers breast.
Despite the pain in her back, she perseveres as she approaches the door to open it.
