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Maelle noticed Madame Angeline before the woman noticed her.
She was standing across the small, cramped general store, examining a set of sewing needles on the shelf, casual as you please, as if her very presence wasn’t making Maelle feel like the floor had fallen away beneath her. Her hair was pulled back in the usual severe bun Maelle remembered her wearing, but her expression was calm and relaxed. Almost pleasant.
In Maelle’s memory, she always looked stern, angry, displeased, towering over her with a scowl. She looked like a different person now, without a frown on her face.
Maelle wanted to run.
Gustave was still with the store clerk, paying for the nails to repair the broken floorboard in the kitchen. She could see him counting out coins on the counter. Why was he so slow!? He needed to move faster! He needed to hurry up so they could leave, right now. She wanted to grab his hand and pull him out of the store. She could think up an excuse later. All that mattered was getting out of here, before—
“Maelle?”
Oh.
Maelle had dreamed about all the things she wanted to say to that woman. She had fantasied about telling her exactly what she really thought of her while she was packing up her meager belongings to go back to the orphanage, chewing her lips until they bled to keep from crying, because crying would let her win.
And then all it took was one word, and Maelle felt all the fight drain out of her. She was a pathetic, sad little girl all over again, her eyes locked on the dirty wooden floor even as she turned around.
“Hi, Madame,” she mumbled, unwilling or unable to raise her eyes any higher than the hem of her dress.
Angeline cleared her throat. It was a cold comfort that she seemed unsettled by the encounter too. “I, ah…I didn’t expect to see you here. You…look well.”
“Maelle?” Oh, now Gustave finished his errand. He was suddenly at her side, a warm hand on her shoulder. “Who is this?”
How could she possibly answer that question? ‘This is the woman who decided to foster me, because taking in a kid no one else wanted made her look like such a saint. And then she spent every day after that reminding me that I was unwelcome, that I wasn’t good enough, that I was a burden. She already had two daughters. She didn’t need me. I was there so everyone would tell her she was so good and kind, taking in someone like me. And then she had enough, and sent me back to the orphanage. That’s who she is.’
Angeline cleared her throat again, and Maelle watched her shoes step closer to Gustave. “I was Maelle’s foster mother, for a time.” Mother. That was a joke. Angeline always made Maelle call her ‘Madame.’ Never Angeline, and certainly never ‘maman,’ like her real daughters called her.
“I…see.” Gustave’s voice had gone cold. Maelle had never heard him sound like that in the nearly three months she had known him. The hand on her shoulder tightened.
The shoes turned slightly, facing Maelle again. “I am sorry that things didn’t work out with us, Maelle,” she said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I hope that you know we tried our best with what we had.”
“I know,” Maelle said, going through the motions automatically like a puppet in a play. Angeline and her husband had told her plenty of times how ungrateful she was. Three meals a day and a roof over her head, and there she was, causing trouble again. Didn’t she know how good she had it? Did she want to go back to the orphanage?
The dusty air of the general store felt thick and oppressive.
“That was your best?” Gustave said suddenly. There was the hard edge in his voice Maelle had never heard. “Because the orphanage told me you brought her back after only six months.”
Maelle dared to look up, just in time to see Angeline’s face getting red. “Young man,” she began, the sweetness from her voice gone, “I assume you know very little of the challenges of caring for multiple children. I have two daughters of my own, and my husband is very busy in training for Expedition 39. There was only so much we could do—"
Gustave’s hand tightened on Maelle’s shoulder, almost painfully. “Why would you take in another child, then? If you knew it was too much? Why would you put her through that?”
“I thought I was doing a favor for her last foster family. I know them, and they’re good people. And I know they felt just terrible when they realized Maelle wasn’t…a good fit for their family.”
What she actually meant, Maelle knew, was that the family before Angeline thought she was creepy. She heard them talking, before they gave her away. Wasn’t it unsettling, seeing Maelle sleepwalking through the house like a ghost haunting the place? And she’s so quiet and sullen. She doesn’t act like a proper child at all. And those nightmares she has…
Angeline gave a weary sigh, as if she was the victim in this affair. “I suppose it was my fault, trying to do too much. Best of luck to you with Maelle. What with her…unique needs.”
Gustave started to say something, but Maelle couldn’t stand it a second more. She shook off Gustave’s hand on her shoulder and bolted for the door, ignoring his startled voice behind calling her name.
She was out the door, around the corner, down the street, still running as fast her legs could take her, far away from the general store and far, far away from Angeline.
Her stomach churned, and she ducked into an alley, stopping behind a stack of crates and clamping a hand over her mouth.
She didn’t want to throw up. She really didn’t want to throw up.
She had gotten sick once, back at Angeline’s house. She had woken up after a particularly terrible nightmare, possibly made worse by the cold she had come down with that day. Angeline had no patience for the frequent nightmares Maelle had, the kind where she woke up screaming or crying, or the ones that made her sleepwalk all over the house.
That nightmare had been an especially bad one. There had been fire, as there often was, and it felt so real, and there was an awful smell in the air, like someone was cooking meat that had gone bad, and somehow she knew it was burning flesh—
She woke with a violent start, sitting bolt upright and shivering with cold as her stomach started to lurch. She had tried to get up, to run to the toilet down the hall, but she had been so dizzy and shaky. She ended up being sick all over herself and the bed.
Angeline had been furious with her, for staining the blankets and making a mess. Did you even try to get out of bed, you stupid girl?
Maelle clenched her eyes shut against the memory and the hard knot of shame in her stomach as she sunk down to the ground beside the crates. The nausea was passing, but she still felt like she wanted to sink into the cobblestone and disappear forever.
Maybe that would be doing the world a favor. No one wanted her. And it was only a matter of time before Gustave and Emma figured out that she was no good too. Everyone arrived at the same conclusion eventually. They’d probably be nicer about it than her past families, try to let her down gently, but sooner or later—
“Maelle!”
Her head jerked up despite herself. That was Gustave’s voice, worried and breathless. She heard fast approaching footsteps, and then there he was at the entrance to the alley, stopping himself mid-run so abruptly when he spotted her that he nearly stumbled over his own feet.
She saw the relief on his face as he bent over for a moment, hands braced against his knees as he caught his breath.
Maelle looked away, staring hard at the opposite brick wall of the alley. Had he been running around looking for her? She hadn’t been gone all that long. What was he so worried about?
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?” Gustave asked, straightening back up and brushing his hair out of his face. “For running? Don’t be. It gave me an excuse to get away from that horrible woman.” Maelle gave a little snort as he stepped closer and gestured to the dirty ground next to her. “Is this seat taken, mademoiselle?”
He waited for her to nod before plopping himself down beside her, right in the dust and dirt. He didn’t say anything for a minute. Didn’t push. Just sat with her.
“It wasn’t that bad, really,” Maelle said at last. She couldn’t bring herself to look directly at Gustave. “It’s not like she starved me or beat me.”
“There are more ways than that to mistreat someone,” Gustave said softly.
“It’s okay. I get it. I’m…difficult.”
She heard him exhale sharply from his nose. “Is that what she told you?”
“It’s just true. I’m…moody, and I have a bad personality, and I’m not good enough at anything to be an apprentice, and—” Maelle sucked in a breath, and suddenly the words started pouring out before she could do anything to stop it.
“I have bad dreams a lot, and I would wake up screaming, or I’d sleepwalk and wander into different rooms. It would wake up everyone in the house when it happened, and I get it. I get why they would get angry. Everyone was busy, they needed their sleep, and they didn’t have…have time to deal with me. And I got sick once after a really bad nightmare, and I threw up on a quilt. I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t know it was valuable, but it was, and Angeline was so mad. She made me scrub it over and over, but I couldn’t get the stain out. So she…she said I didn’t deserve blankets, if I was just going to ruin them, and took them all off my bed. I had to sneak towels from the bath to sleep with, after that.”
The flood of words finally stopped, and Maelle wanted to clap her hands over her stupid mouth before she could say anything else. Why did she have to say all that? Why did she have to tell Gustave that story? Pathetic. She sounded so pathetic.
“Do…do you still have those nightmares?” Gustave’s voice was tight, as if it was hard for him to get the words out.
“It’s fine,” she said sharply, feeling her face get hot. And it was. She could manage them. She didn’t wake up screaming these days, so no one had to know about it but her. Why did she tell him about that? It could have just been her secret if she hadn’t opened her mouth and let him know what a disaster she was.
Suddenly, Maelle just felt so ashamed of it all. “Sorry,” she said to her lap. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.”
From the corner of her eye, she could see Gustave’s good hand clenched into a fist against his thigh. She heard him take a long, deep breath, and the fist slowly uncurled. “Why not?” he said quietly.
She shrugged one shoulder. “It’s…stupid. And embarrassing.”
“Maelle. You don’t…you shouldn’t feel ashamed about having nightmares, or getting sick.” Gustave didn’t sound angry anymore. Now he just sounded so very sad. He sighed, and was quiet again for a long moment.
“Do you want to hear something much more embarrassing than all of that?” Gustave waited until Maelle gave a little nod. “I didn’t outgrow wetting the bed until I was a little older than you are now.”
“Oh,” Maelle said, and then, “you’re right, that is embarrassing. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a bedwetter.”
“Former, Maelle, please. I didn’t tell you that so you could make fun of me. There is actually a point to this. How often do you think my parents punished me over…that?”
Maelle paused to think. His parents must have had to do a lot of extra laundry for him over the years. They must have been frustrated about it. They probably weren’t as cruel as Angeline, so maybe they only punished him—
“Never,” Gustave said firmly, shutting up Maelle’s mental calculations. “Not even once. And that isn’t to say I was never punished. I got in heaps of trouble for participating in a food fight with the other engineering apprentices, and for staying out too late with my friends, and for the time I caught a frog and hid it in Emma’s desk.”
Maelle gave a surprised bark of laughter. “I’m surprised Emma didn’t kill you for that.”
“Oh, she wanted to!” he laughed. “She was furious! And I was grounded for a month. Em still says I got off too easy for that one.” His voice became serious again. “But I was never punished for wetting the bed, or for throwing up, or waking them because I had a bad dream. And do you know why?”
He didn’t wait for a response from Maelle before carrying on. “Because that is all part of caring for a child. If you agree to bring a child into your life, you’re agreeing to all of it. The good and the bad. Some of it will be hard. There will be extra work, extra cleaning, and lost sleep. But if you really want a child, it’s all worth it. It’s…it’s a labor of love, Maelle. It’s not a burden. You’re not a burden. And I’m so…so sorry that the people who should have given you that love and care have failed you. But you’re with me and Emma now, okay? And I promise, we’re going to take care of you. Whatever you need, we’re here for you. Okay?”
No one had ever said anything like that to her before. Not once, ever. No one had said it wasn’t a burden to care for her as she was.
Maelle nodded jerkily, staring hard at the brick wall again. Her chest was tight, and her eyes were stinging and getting blurry. She could feel her nose starting to run.
She felt Gustave shift a little closer to her. “It’s okay to cry, too.”
“I’m not crying.”
“I didn’t say you were. I just said it’s okay.”
“The alley’s dusty.”
“I know.” He turned, reaching for something in a pocket, and held out a handkerchief. “For the dust in your eyes, all right?”
Maelle sniffed hard, and took the handkerchief. There was a small grease stain in one of the corners, and it had the faintly sweet smell of the oil the engineers used. Gustave stayed quiet while she scrubbed at her watering eyes and sniffled and made herself take deep, unsteady breaths until she had calmed herself again.
Strange. She usually felt so ashamed to let anyone see her cry. It made her feel like a useless little kid. But somehow, it didn’t feel so bad with Gustave.
She gave her face one last good wipe and passed the handkerchief back to Gustave, who just waved it away.
“Keep it. I just remembered another errand we need to run, if you don’t mind hanging out with me for a little longer.”
He stood, brushing the dirt from the ground off his trousers, and extended a hand to her. He tugged her up to her feet, but didn’t immediately let go of her hand as he led them back down the alley and into the side street she had run down.
Maelle was nearly ten years old, and didn’t need anyone to hold her hand. She wasn’t a baby. But Gustave’s hand was really warm, and he kept his grip light, loose enough for her to pull away whenever she wanted.
She didn’t pull her hand away until they passed back into the crowds of the main street.
Gustave hadn’t given any indication as to the nature of this last errand, but he didn’t seem angry or sad any more. She followed him down the street, speeding up her steps to match his gait as they passed the florist, the bookstore and the pharmacy.
The warm smell of fresh baked bread and pastries wafted down the street as they approached the boulangerie. She followed him inside, still wondering what this errand was for, until he turned to her and said, “All right, pick out whatever you like.”
“I mean it,” he continued, when Maelle’s eyes widened, “anything you want. Just say the word.”
The wall behind the counter was filled with baskets of assorted bread loaves, but what caught Maelle’s eye was the display of sweets. Within the glass case were trays of macarons, madeleines, sweet croissants, all fresh from the oven and smelling delicious. Maelle felt her mouth start to water.
“Can I have a pain au chocolat?” she asked without thinking, and immediately regretted it. Chocolate was a rare and expensive treat in Lumiere. She had never tasted it before for that very reason. Angeline’s daughters were allowed chocolate for a special treat, of course, but such luxuries weren’t for Maelle. Selfish girl. Greedy.
“Ooh, that does sound good!” Gustave said brightly, and turned to the man at the counter. “Two please, monsieur!”
Just like that. No anger, no scolding. He just counted out the coins, took the two pastries wrapped in brown paper, and passed one to Maelle with a smile. It felt warm in her hands.
The weather was pleasantly cool and breezy as they found a park bench to sit and enjoy their treat, the temperature already starting to drop as the day drew to its end. The pastries must have just been pulled from the oven before they arrived, because a little puff of steam emerged when Maelle tore off a piece to pop in her mouth.
The bread was delicate and flaky, but the melted chocolate inside was even better than she had dared to imagine. She closed her eyes, trying to chew slowly and savor the treat.
“It’s good, right?”
Maelle opened her eyes again to glance up at Gustave. He hadn’t even taken a bite of his pain au chocolat yet. He was just watching her with a smile so soft, it almost made something in Maelle’s chest hurt a little.
She bit directly into the pastry this time in answer, earning her a little chuckle from Gustave as he finally started to eat as well.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.
“I want you to promise me something, Maelle. Promise me that if you’re ever sick or hurt, or you need help with anything, for any reason at all, you’ll tell me or Emma. Okay? It doesn’t matter if we’re busy. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night. I want you to…I don’t…” He floundered with the words for a moment, before rallying, “Just promise you’ll come to us for help when you need it. You don’t have to handle everything on your own.”
Maelle made herself look at him. His eyes were so earnest, it actually did make her chest hurt this time. Not a bad kind of hurt. It was an ache like a healing cut under a bandage, like something mending.
Instead of answering, she only said, “You’ve got chocolate on your mustache.”
Gustave’s hand flew up to his face, going a little cross-eyed to try to spot the offending blot of chocolate. “Ugh, where? Point at it for me. Actually, could you give me my handkerchief back?”
She laughed at the face he made, when she passed back the handkerchief and watched him try to scrub away the chocolate. He ruffled her hair in retribution for laughing at him. It felt…right, all of it.
For the first time in a very long while, she let herself hope that maybe this family would keep her for good.