Трейси Шевалье - The Virgin Blue

– How are Petit Jean and Jacob and Marie? she asked. Isabelle smiled back.

– They want to be outside. They don't like staying in so much. Back at home it wasn't so cold. Now they fight more.

– This is your home now, the woman corrected gently.

God will look after you here. He has given you a mild winter, this winter.

– Of course, Isabelle agreed.

– God keep you, Madame, the woman said as she stepped away, loaves tucked under her arms.

– And you.

Here they call me Madame, she thought. No one sees my red hair. No one knows about it. Here is a village of 300 people who never call me La Rousse. Who know nothing about the Tourniers other than that we are followers of the Truth. When I walk away they won't talk about me behind my back.

For that she was grateful. For that she could live with the rough, steep mountains, the strange crops, the hard winters. Perhaps she could even manage without a chimney.

Isabelle often met Pascale at the communal oven and at church. At first Pascale said very little, but slowly she became more talkative, until eventually she was able to describe her past life in detail to Isabelle.

– In Lyons I worked in the kitchen as much as I could, she said as they stood among the crowd outside church one Sunday. But when Maman died from the plague I had to start serving. I didn't like being around so many strange men, touching me everywhere. She shuddered. And then to serve so much wine when we are not meant to drink it, it seemed wrong. I preferred to stay hidden. When I could. She was silent for a moment.

– But Papa, he loves it, she continued. You know he hopes to take over running the Cheval-Blanc if the owners leave. He stays friendly with them, just in case. In Lyons the inn was called the Cheval-Blanc too. He sees it as a sign.

– And you don't miss your old life?

Pascale shook her head.

– I like it here. I feel safer than in Lyons. It was so crowded and full of people you couldn't trust.

– Safe, yes. But I miss the sky, Isabelle said. The wide sky you can see all the way to the edge of the world. Here the mountains close up the sky. At home they opened it.

– I miss chestnuts, Marie announced, leaning against her mother. Isabelle nodded.

– When we always had them, I didn't think about them. Like water. You don't think about water until you are thirsty and there is none.

– But there was danger back home too, yes?

– Yes. She swallowed, remembering the smell of burning flesh. She did not share this memory.

– Their round caps are funny, don't you think? she said instead, gesturing at a group of women. Can you imagine wearing one on top of your headcloth?

They laughed.

– Maybe one day we will wear them, and new arrivals will laugh at us, Isabelle added.

From the crowd Gaspard's voice boomed out: – Soldiers! I can tell you two or three things about Catholic soldiers that will make your hair stand up!

Pascale's smile faded. She looked down, body rigid, hands clenched. She never talked about their escape, but Isabelle had already heard Gaspard describe it in detail several times, as he was repeating it now for a new friend.

– When the Catholics heard of the massacre in Paris they went crazy and came to the inn ready to tear us apart, Gaspard explained. Soldiers burst in and I thought: The only way to save ourselves is to sacrifice the wine. So quick as that I offered them all free wine. Aux frais de la maison! kept shouting. Well, that stopped them. You know Catholics, they love their cups! That's what gave us good business. Soon they were so drunk they had forgotten why they came, and while Pascale kept them busy I just packed up everything we had, right under their noses!

Abruptly Pascale left Isabelle's side and disappeared behind the church. How can Gaspard not see that something is wrong with his daughter? Isabelle thought as Gaspard continued to talk and laugh.

After a moment she went to find her. Pascale had been sick and was leaning against the wall, wiping her mouth shakily. Isabelle noted her paleness and pinched eyes and nodded to herself. Three months along, she said to herself. And she has no husband.

– Isabelle, you were a midwife, yes? Pascale said at last. Isabelle shook her head.

– My mother taught me, but Etienne – his family would not let me continue when we married.

– But you know about – about babies, and -

– Yes.

– What if – what if the baby vanishes, do you know about that too?

– You mean if God wills the baby to disappear?

– I – yes, that is what I mean. If God wills it.

– Yes, I know about that.

– Is there something – a special prayer? Isabelle thought for a moment.

– Meet me in two days at the gorge and we will pray together.

Pascale hesitated.

– It was in Lyons, she blurted out. When we tried to leave. They had drunk so much. Papa doesn't know about -

– And he won't know.

Isabelle went deep into the woods to find the juniper and rue. When Pascale met her two days later, among the rocks at the top of the gorge, Isabelle gave her a paste to eat, then knelt on the ground with her and prayed to Saint Margaret until the ground was red with blood.

That was the first secret of her new life.

Their first Christmas in Moutier Isabelle discovered that the Virgin had been waiting for her.

There were two churches. Followers of Calvin had taken over the Catholic church of Saint Pierre, burned the images of the saints and reversed the altar. The canons had fled, closing the abbey that had been there for hundreds of years, witness of many miracles. The chapel attached to the abbey, l'Eglise de Chalières, was now used for the parish of Perrefitte, the tiny hamlet next to Moutier. Four times a year, on the festival days, the Moutier villagers attended morning services at Saint Pierre and afternoon services at Chalières.

That first Christmas, dressed in black clothes lent to them by Pascale and Gaspard, the Tourniers pushed into the tiny chapel. It was so crowded that Isabelle stood on her toes to try to see the minister. She soon gave up and looked above him at the murals in green and red and yellow and brown covering the choir walls, of Christ holding the Book of Life on the curved ceiling, the twelve Apostles in panels below him. She had not seen decoration in a church since the coloured glass and the statue of the Virgin and Child of her childhood.

On her toes again to look at the figures painted at eye level, she stifled a gasp. To the minister's right was a faint image of the Virgin, staring sadly into the distance. Though Isabelle's eyes filled with tears, she kept her expression dull. She watched the minister, now and then her glance darting to the mural.

The Virgin looked at her and smiled for a moment before resuming her mournful expression. No one saw but Isabelle.

That was the second secret.

After that she always hurried to Chalières on festival days to stand as near to the Virgin as possible.

Spring sun brought the third secret. Overnight the snow melted, forming waterfalls that plummeted from the surrounding mountains and flooded the river. The sun reappeared, the sky turned blue, grass sprang up. They could leave the door and windows open, the children and the smoke escaping outside, Etienne stretching in the sun like a cat and smiling briefly at Isabelle. His grey hair made him look old.

Isabelle welcomed the sun, but it also made her vigilant. Every day she took Marie to the woods and inspected her hair, pulling out any red strands. Marie stood patiently and never cried out at each spark of pain. She asked her mother to let her keep the hair, hiding the growing ball in a hole in a nearby tree.

One day Marie ran to Isabelle and buried her head in her lap.