The pain in her back didnt stop her as she moved toward the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her damp hands, let out a groan from the aching spine, and went to answer. A timid knock sounded, already the third time. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hallway Behind the door stood a very pretty, pale girl with tired eyes.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room? the girl asked.
Oh, those neighbors! Always sending someone my way! I never rent a room, I never have.
But I was told you have three rooms.
And? Why must I rent? Im used to living alone.
Excuse me. I was told youre religious, so I thought
The girl, trying to hide the tears welling up, turned and began to descend the stairs slowly, her shoulders trembling.
Sweetheart, come back! I havent refused you yet! Young people today are so sensitive, they cry over nothing. Come inside, well talk. Whats your name? Can we speak informally?
Manon.
Manon? Did the sea call to you, child?
I have no father. Im an orphan. I have 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 take offense. Come, lets have tea and talk. Are you hungry?
No, I bought a little roll.
A little roll, you say! Ah, youth, you think of nothing but yourself, and by thirty you have stomach ulcers. Sit, theres hot pea soup and well warm some tea. I have plenty of jam. My husband died five years ago, yet I still stock for two out of habit. Well eat, then youll help me finish cleaning the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My head spins, Im scared of falling out the windowIm pregnant.
Well, thats my luck! Did you let yourself go?
Why assume that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was called up to the army, recently returned on leave. When the landlady learned I was expecting, she fired me, gave me a week to find another place. We lived nearby, but you seecircumstances
Circumstances What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Pauls room, then you can take my room. I wont ask you for money; that would anger me. Go collect your things.
I dont have far to go. All our belongings are in a sack at the bottom of the building. The week is over, and Ive already visited several houses this morning with my stuff.
Thus they became a pair. Manon continued her studies to become a lightweightclothing designer. MarieAntoinette had been disabled for years after a serious train accident, stayed home, and crocheted lace doilies, collars, childrens slippers, selling them at the nearby market. Her wares sold well for their delicate, seafoamlike lightness. Money never lacked; part came from selling garden vegetables and fruit. On Saturdays they worked together in the garden; Sundays MarieAntoinette attended church while Manon stayed home, reading and answering Juliens letters. She rarely went to church, complaining of back and head pain.
One Saturday, while they were at the shed after the harvest, preparing the soil for winter, Manon grew weary quickly and MarieAntoinette sent her back to the small chalet to rest and listen to the old 45rpm records theyd bought with her husband. After raking, the expectant mother lay down to relax. MarieAntoinette tossed dry branches onto the fire, lost in thought. Suddenly she heard Manon scream, Mother! Mother! Quick, come! With her heart racing, forgetting her aching legs and back, MarieAntoinette sprinted to the chalet. Manon clutched her belly, crying out, Mother, it hurts! Its too early, too early! I should deliver in midJanuary. Mother, pray for me, you can! MarieAntoinette wept, praying nonstop.
A neighbor was summoned, and in the fastest Renault a old woman could muster, they sped to the maternity ward. Manon kept moaning, Mother, Im in pain! Its too soon! Pray, please! The staff placed Manon on a stretcher from the reception while the neighbor left MarieAntoinette sobbing at home. She spent the entire night praying to the Holy Virgin for the babys safety. The next morning she called the maternity ward.
The baby is fine. She kept calling for you and Julien, cried, then settled and slept. The doctor says theres no longer a risk of miscarriage, but shell need to stay with us for a few weeks. Her hemoglobin is low; make sure she eats well and rests.
When Manon left the hospital, they talked until midnight, and she kept mentioning Julien.
Hes not another 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? Hes the second from the right, smiling
Handsome boy MarieAntoinette didnt want to tire Manon. Her glasses needed replacement long ago, and the soldier photos were tiny; she could only make out outlines. Manon, why did you call me mother in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of habit. In the orphanage every adultdirector, plumberwas a mom or dad. I almost shook that habit, but when Im stressed I still call everyone mom. Sorry.
I understand. MarieAntoinette sighed sadly.
Aunt Marie, tell me about yourself. Why are there no photos 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 loved him completely. He was, to me, what your Julien is to youthe only person in the world. When I buried him, I removed all photos. Though Im faithful and know hes with God, seeing his picture and weeping was too hard. I hid them. He needs my prayers, not my tears. Could you ask Julien for a larger picture so we can frame it? I need a frame somewhere.
On the eve of Christmas, MarieAntoinette and Manon prepared for the holidays, decorating, speaking of the infant Jesus, awaiting the first star. Manon kept getting up, sitting, rubbing the lower part of her back.
Youre not well, dear. You dont listen to me. Why are you fidgeting like a child?
Aunt Marie, call an ambulance. Im going into labor.
My dear, isnt it still early?
I must be mistaken. 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 happy news.
January was busy. The baby brought joy and also new worries. With Juliens consent, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette was moved to tears. Little Marie filled their days with happiness and minor troublesinsomnia, thrush, whimspleasant concerns. MarieAntoinette felt her many pains lessen.
It was an especially gentle winter day. MarieAntoinette took advantage of the nice weather to run errands. Returning, she found Manon at the door with a strollerthe young mother had decided to take the baby for a walk.
Enjoy the stroll, okay, Aunt Marie?
Yes, enjoy it, Ill start preparing lunch.
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 look at the old.
The soup simmered nicely when Manon came home with little Marie, assisted by a young neighbor with the stroller. The two women gently placed the baby, whose cute nose rested peacefully. They slipped out quietly into the large room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said with a smile, how did you find Sachas photos?
I dont get it, why do you say that?
This? MarieAntoinette pointed at the picture.
You asked me to photograph Julien larger. He went to a studio, I found the frame on the bookshelf.
MarieAntoinette took the photo with trembling hands and realized it wasnt her husband. The young sergeant grinned mischievously at the photographer. She sat down on the sofa, pale and distant, staring ahead. When she turned to Manon, the girl was silently crying, a camphorscented compress in her 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, its an old picture. Who is this, mom?
Its my husband, Alexandre. Manon, sweet, 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, what a terrible mistake! My little Michel, they showed me a body and I identified him. The shirt matched my Michels, but the face was unrecognizable. My dear, my 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 picture.
Confused, Manon handed over the framed photo. MarieAntoinette covered it with kisses, weeping, My Michel, my treasure, my child!
Julien, Manon whispered.
Let it be Julien, but hes my son, Manonmy son! Look at his fathers pictureits the same face!
The young woman still hesitated.
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 and the age fit. His arm was crushed, and I never saw the birthmark. Why are you silent? Is it there?
Its there. It looks like a star. Mom, my dear mother, its there!
The two women embraced, crying, forgetting the soft cry of little Marie from the next room, who was still calling for her mothers breast.
