joined the army right as the war began and is a prisoner in Germany. The other is trying to finish his studies. They were very careful with their things, and we’ve kept them.”
Moses let out a whoop. They could be children again. He and Jacob threw themselves onto the floor and started pulling the figurines out one by one. Their eyes shone with a happiness that momentarily flushed the sadness out. The pharmacist smiled and got down on his knees as well. The three of them played at the Napoleonic wars until they heard the door open.
Mrs. Magné looked younger than her husband. Her heart jumped at the scene before her. Time had rewound and there were her husband and boys giggling and playing on the floor. She did not interrupt. She watched a moment, then went to the kitchen and started heating up the food. She returned wearing a white apron and intending to send the boys to take a bath, but she just watched them for a while instead. Finally, she interrupted. “Boys, you’ll need to wash up before supper.”
Jacob and Moses looked up, smiling and relaxed. A pretty woman in an apron was telling them to get cleaned up, and they felt as if they were with their mother again. But Mrs. Magné was thinner, her hair dark brown, and her face a darker complexion. She was not their mother. “You may call me Marie,” she said, her smile lighting up her face.
“I’m Jacob, and this is Moses.”
“How about I help Moses with his bath, and then it’ll be your turn,” she said, still smiling. Moses looked to Jacob for confirmation. At his brother’s nod of approval, he took the woman’s hand. It was soft and warm, like a mother. He gratefully let himself be led to the bathroom and saw the large white tub. Marie put in something that made bubbles form under the faucet and let the warm water fill high. Moses made little clicks of excitement, his eyes dancing as he watched.
Marie helped him undress, then picked him up and gently let him down into the tub. The brief moment of being lifted in the air recalled the muscle memory of his parents, the enjoyment of being held by someone who loved him. The water seemed too hot at first, but the bubbles and steam worked their way into his bruises, cuts, and all the pent-up tension, relaxing him.
Marie washed his white skin like fine china. Moses could sense her tenderness. A gentle touch spoke more than a thousand words of cheer, the language coming through fingertips and the thrill of nerves that respond, alive again. Moses closed his eyes and let his breath out. Time had stopped for him in that forgotten spot in France, halfway to his destiny, yet still so far from his parents. He opened his eyes to see the woman’s face right in front of his, tears coursing down her cheeks in transparent rivulets.
“Are you all right?” the boy asked. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.”
“Dear, you couldn’t bother me even if you tried. It just makes me remember taking care of my boys when they were young. It’s hard work to be a mother, but very gratifying. We give everything we’ve got for the new life, and then we have to learn to let it fly away. Real love means letting your children go.”
Moses could not follow her train of thought, but her words sounded pretty, like a summer sunset when the sky seems to burn up until the darkness cools the flames.
Moses stood, and Marie helped him get out of the tub. She dried him thoroughly, her eyes drinking in every detail of his face. “Mothers are alike, my boy. It doesn’t matter that you aren’t my son. I can’t not take care of a child who shows up and needs help.” She helped him get into a white nightshirt and asked him to call his brother.
Jacob entered, hesitant. He was twelve and knew how to give himself a bath. Marie smiled knowingly and, as she got up from the wooden stool, said, “Never fear, I just wanted to tell you to take advantage while the water’s hot. Here’s a clean towel. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”
Jacob looked at the tub and had to rub his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real. After Marie left, he got in slowly, leaning back and closing his eyes. Time passed, and he thought of