Blanche woke with a delicious sense of peacefulness. Yellow light touched her face like a flower's caress, reminding her of the earthen garden she had discovered the evening before. Now more than anything she desired to return. As she dressed and bathed her face, she considered how she would slip there beyond her stepmother's notice.
Before she entered the corridor she fastened her mother's locket around her throat and admired its glimmering cheer.
In its glow was the semblance of flames, of wood and blowing ashes. A madman wobbled backward, viewing his work with satisfaction.
That afternoon Blanche found occasion to visit the abandoned garden when she was done with her chores. She kept quiet company there with birds and insects till the sun descended and she hastened back down the dusty road past Jean's house.
This time she paused to look, no longer absorbed in her discovery of the garden. His tall, lean form was blocked against orange light: he continued working after a perfunctory wave in her direction.
"Mr. Julliard," she cried in greeting, "have you forgotten me? Will I be put upon to attend the fair alone?"
He regarded her bold words with surprise, fingering his rake with bemusment. "If I had a mind to take you there, Miss du Brule, it would all be for naught. Your ban sidhe of a stepmother wouldn't let me twenty feet of you. "
"How then will I ever catch a husband, Mr. Julliard?" she asked with mock displeasure.
"Any man with eyes to see twenty feet before him would surely have you."
"Is that so? I am remarkably unpopular for that." She smiled at him again, conjuring both the childhood that was between them and the bitter years of separation imposed by each family's difficult circumstances. The she left, but not before unfastening a lace-trimmed handkerchief from her basket and leaving it to float to the road and catch in the weeds near Jean's fence. He said nothing, continuing to rake the field but his face grew burned as though sun-scorched.
Only when Blanche was long out of sight and the sun almost completely down did he reach to retrieve the scrap of white fabric caught on barbed wire.
She entered the house even more elated than the evening before. After months of brooding she had invented enough nerve to speak to Jean, her old friend, whose look now brought a warmth to her cheek. More than that, she had sent him opportunity to see her, though it was completely against her stepmother's wishes.
As she entered the house she called out for Muriel several times, but the older woman was nowhere to be found. She moved questioningly from room to room, till she came to her own room and saw a short garment lying on her bed. Her mouth opened with surprise as she lifted and beheld the marvelous corset.
"Happy birthday," Muriel said from the doorway.
Blanche turned to her, almost speechless. She had little knowledge of dates and did not know her birthday: Muriel had never celebrated any with her.
Her hands quivered as she unfolded the corset. "This is for me?" she asked.
"You're growing into a young woman now," Muriel said. "It's fitting you should have something to make you look decent." Her voice was hoarse and her eyes burned as she spoke, but Blanche scarcely heard her as she lifted the corset to her chest and looked at herself in the mirror.
"It's a two-person affair," Muriel said. "I'll help you on ooccasion. You'll wear it for Sundays, but not otherwise. When you marry, your husband can tie you into it."
Blanche's head swam as Muriel spoke of marriage. She had never thought Muriel would release her from bondage to her.
She slipped her gown over her head and folded the corset around her waist at Muriel's directive, then waited as Muriel laced it. Tighter and tighter it grew. Blanche dizzied considering how Jean would look at her garmented so finely, till she could think of nothing at all. She could scarcely breathe. She wished to ask her stepmother to loosen the laces, but she didn't want to offend her or impose on the unexpected kindness.
Lights flashed before her eyes, but still she remained silent, gripping the bedpost, staring forward. Before she fell unconscious she whispered Jean's name in a plea.
Sent from Amanda's Treo @-'-,--