shaking fingers, I brushed a lock of hair back off my face. Would he recognize me, so thin, with such short hair?
“This is Max’s teacher Mademoiselle Slack, a saint I assure you, who has cared for this child through the most trying circumstances.”
Max stood between the desk and his teacher. My pulse quickened seeing him there. He resembled Afon and looked so grown up, taller and thinner, his baby fat and golden curls gone. A handsome child, but with a certain hardness. Had he been mistreated? It was all I could do not to run to him and gather him up, to tell him how I missed him, how sorry I was I’d left him.
With a guarded look, Max gazed at each one of us in turn, with no change of expression.
I longed to reach out, but held back. “Hello, my little one.”
His eyes met mine and I searched for a spark of recognition.
Max stepped to the desk and laid his cheek against the wood.
Tears flooded my eyes. Of course, he did not remember me. It had been years.
“He’s just tired,” Eliza said.
Madame ran her fingers through her hair. “This child is always tired.”
Eliza turned to me. “Did you have a pet name for him as a baby? One he would remember?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
Madame rubbed Max’s back. “He is not feeling good about this, I’m afraid.”
From the outer office came the sound of the door opening and Eliza glanced toward it.
“They tell me my son is here?” Varinka called.
Varinka stepped into the inner office, an overstuffed valise in one hand and a full pillowcase in the other. She wore my mother’s coat over her peasant clothes and looked ready to run out of there at any minute, her eyes wide.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
Varinka stared at me. “I came to pick up my boy.” She reached out her hand to Max, but he hid behind his teacher’s skirt.
“He’s just overwhelmed,” Varinka said. “Would you all stop staring at him? This is too much for a young child.”
I stepped toward her. “I will say what’s too much for him. Being stolen from your family certainly is.”
“What do you know?”
“I’m his mother, Varinka.”
Varinka turned to Madame Fournier. “I don’t know this person. I need to take my son and go.”
I stepped closer to her. “Why, Varinka?”
“Come along, Max.” She held out her hand for Max and the boy stepped farther behind his teacher.
“Why did you take him? I was so good to you.”
“Good? That’s not the way I remember it. The countess was a cruel woman.”
“So you stole my child?”
“Shots were flying that night. I saved him. Though you were ready to leave for Paris without me.”
“I—”
Varinka shook her finger at me, a red flush creeping up her neck. “Don’t deny it. You all packed your things. Leaving me behind, never to see him again. Call that kind?”
“Please. Your feelings were hurt so you stole my son from me?”
“You barely cared about him—I could see. You only cared about your husband and your clothes and shoes. I loved him. Taught him things.”
I held out my hand. “Give me my mother’s coat.”
Varinka took a step back. “Who says it’s not mine?”
Eliza stepped forward. “I can attest to the fact.”
“Take it off.”
She paused, and then slid out of the coat and tossed it on a chair next to Eliza.
“He doesn’t want to go with you,” Madame said. “Can’t you see?”
“I took the best care of him.”
“So, it is true you took another woman’s child?” Madame asked.
“You don’t understand.”
Madame turned to Mademoiselle Slack. “Please fetch the officer outside. Tell him we have a criminal here.”
Varinka glanced at me, fear in her eyes.
Everything about me tightened. Why not let the girl suffer for what she’d done to us all? She and Taras tried to take everything from me. But life with Taras seemed punishment alone.
“No,” I said. “Let her go. On the condition you leave Paris and don’t return.”
Varinka wiped her eyes with her apron. “I’m leaving today.”
Madame Fournier stepped toward Varinka. “You and your husband must not enter the school grounds again.”
Varinka stepped to the door, arms crossed over her chest. “He’s not my husband, but don’t worry, I won’t be back.” She crouched down to Max’s level. “Goodbye, Max.”
Max pressed himself tighter to Mademoiselle Slack.
Varinka stood and turned to me. “Please don’t tell him I was a terrible person. His owl is in the pillowcase….”
I kept my gaze on the floor. “Just go, Varinka.”
“And he’s not safe in Paris. Taras says he