The ache in her back didnt stop her as she moved toward the door.
MarieAntoinette wiped her damp hands, winced from the pain, and headed for the entrance. A timid knock soundedalready the third time. She was busy cleaning a window and hadnt yet stepped into the hall when a young, very pretty but pale girl with tired eyes appeared behind the door.
MarieAntoinette, I heard you might rent a room? the girl asked.
Ah, those neighbors! Always sending someone! I never rent a room; I never have, MarieAntoinette replied.
But I was told you have three rooms.
And why should I be forced to rent? Im used to living alone.
Excuse me, I was told youre religious, so I thought
Tears welled up in the girls eyes. She turned and began to descend the steps slowly, her shoulders shaking.
Sweetheart, come back! I havent refused you yet! Young people today are so sensitive, they cry over everything. Come inside, well talk. Whats your name? Can we be on a firstname basis?
Manon, she answered.
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 wasnt even a month old.
Dont take it personally. Come, lets have tea and chat. Hungry?
No, I bought a roll.
A roll, you say! Ah, youthnever thinking of themselves, and at thirty you get stomach ulcers. Sit down, theres hot pea soup and some tea to warm up. I have plenty of jam. My husband died five years ago, and out of habit I still stock for two. Well eat, then youll help finish the window.
MarieAntoinette, may I do something else? My head spins; Im afraid Ill fall out the windowIm pregnant.
Ah, thats my luck! You let yourself go?
Why jump to that? Im married. Julien, from the same orphanage as me. He was called up for the army and just returned on leave. When the landlady learned I was expecting, she fired me, giving me a week to find a new place. We lived nearby, but you understandcircumstances
Circumstances What am I to do with you? Well move my bed into Pauls room, then you can take my room. I wont take any money from youdont even think about it, it would anger me. Go gather your things.
I dont have far to go. All our belongings are in a bag at the bottom of the building. The week has passed, and Ive already visited several houses this morning with my things.
Thus they became a pair. Manon continued her studies to become a lightclothing designer. MarieAntoinette, disabled for years after a severe train crash, stayed home knitting lace doilies, collars, childrens shoes, and selling them at the nearby market. Her wares sold welldelicate as sea foam, light and ethereal. Money never lacked; part of it came from selling garden vegetables and fruit. On Saturdays they worked together in the garden; on Sundays MarieAntoinette attended church while Manon stayed home, replying to letters from dear Julien. She rarely went to mass, complaining of back and head pain.
One Saturday, while they were tending the chalet after the harvest, they prepared the soil for winter. Manon grew tired quickly, and MarieAntoinette sent her to the small cabin to rest and listen to the old 45rpm records they once bought with her husband. After raking, the expectant mother lay down to relax. MarieAntoinette tossed dry twigs into the fire, lost in thought. Suddenly she heard Manon scream, Mother! Mother! Quick, come! Ignoring her aching legs and back, MarieAntoinette sprinted to the cabin. Manon clutched her belly, crying out. MarieAntoinette persuaded a neighbor to help, and at top speed in an aging Renault they sped to the maternity ward. Manon kept wailing, Mother, it hurts! Its too early, too early! I shouldnt give birth until midJanuary. Pray for me, you can! MarieAntoinette wept, praying constantly.
Manon was placed on a stretcher from the waiting room while the neighbor left a tearful MarieAntoinette at home. All night she prayed to the Holy Virgin for the babys safety. The next morning she called the maternity ward.
The girl is fine. She kept calling for you and Julien, cried, then calmed and fell asleep. 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, they talked until midnight, Manon endlessly mentioning Julien.
He isnt a found child like me. Hes an orphan. 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 trouble Manon. Her glasses needed replacing, and the soldiers photo was tinyshe could only make out silhouettes. Manon, why did you call me mother in the garden?
Oh, I forgot, out of fear. Its an orphanage habitevery adult is a dad or mom, from the director to the plumber. Ive almost stopped it, 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 apartment? 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, knew only how to love him. He was, to me, what your Julien is to youthe only person in the world. When I buried him I removed every picture. Though Im devout and know hes with God, it was too painful to see a photo and weep. 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 Christmas Eve, MarieAntoinette and Manon prepared for the holidays, decorating, speaking of the infant Jesus, awaiting 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?
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 same day MarieAntoinette sent a telegram to the young father announcing the good news.
January was busy. The baby brought joy and new worries. With Juliens consent, Manon named the child Marie. MarieAntoinette wept with happiness. Little Marie filled their days with sleeploss, thrush, tantrumshappy troubles. MarieAntoinette felt her many pains lessen.
One particularly mild winter day, MarieAntoinette took advantage of the nice weather to run errands. Returning home 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, enjoy it; Ill start preparing lunch.
Entering the room, MarieAntoinette glanced at the table and saw her husbands photograph in a frame. She smiled, You finally found it. You chose a picture from his youth. Young people dont like looking at the old.
The soup simmered nicely as Manon came back with baby Marie, assisted by a young neighbor with the stroller. Both women carefully placed the infant, whose cute little nose was deep in sleep. They slipped out quietly into the main room.
Manon, MarieAntoinette said with a smile, how did you find Sachas photos?
I dont understand, why do you ask?
This? MarieAntoinette pointed to the picture.
That? You asked me to get a larger photo of Julien. He went to a studio for it. I found the frame on the bookshelf.
MarieAntoinette took the picture with trembling hands. Only then did she realize it wasnt her husband. The young sergeant in the photo grinned mischievously at the photographer. She sank onto the couch, pale, gaze distant. Turning to Manon, she saw her silently sobbing, a camphorscented compress in her hand.
Mom, look at me! Look into my eyes! Whats happening, mom? Manon wailed.
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 photo. Who is that, mother?
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, what a terrible mistake! My little Michel, they showed me a body and I identified it. 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 picture.
Completely bewildered, Manon could only hand over the framed photo. MarieAntoinette covered it with kisses, weeping, My Michel, my treasure, my child!
Julien, Manon whispered.
Even if its Julien, hes my son, Manonmy son! Look at this picture of his fatherthe same face!
The young woman still doubted.
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 and age matched. His arm was crushed, and I didnt find his birthmark. Why are you silent? Is it there?
Its there. It looks like a star. Mother, my dear mother, its there!
The two women embraced, crying, oblivious to the faint cry of baby Marie in the neighboring room, still longing for her mothers breast.
Despite the pain in her back, she presses on towards the door, determined to open it.
