Jean, Hannah, and Etienne were sitting by the fire while Susanne cleared the last of their bajanas, the same chestnut soup Isabelle had served her father earlier, and dark, sweet-smelling bread. All four froze when Isabelle entered.

—What is it, La Rousse? Jean Tournier asked as she stood in the middle of the room, her hand once more resting on the table as if to secure her a place among them.

Isabelle said nothing but looked steadily at Etienne. At last he stood up and moved to her side. She nodded and he turned to face his parents.

The room was silent. Hannah’s face looked like granite.

—Isabelle is going to have a child, Etienne said in a low voice. With your permission we would like to marry.

It was the first time he had ever used Isabelle’s name.

Hannah’s voice pierced.

—You carry whose child, La Rousse? Not Etienne’s.
—It is Etienne’s child.
—No!

Jean Tournier put his hands on the table and stood up. His silver hair was smooth like a cap against his skull, his face gaunt. He said nothing, but his wife stopped speaking and sat back. He looked at Etienne. There was a long pause before Etienne spoke.

—It is my child. We will marry anyway when I am twenty-five. Soon.

Jean and Hannah exchanged glances.

—What does your father say? Jean asked Isabelle.

—He has given his permission and will provide the dowry. She said nothing about his hatred.

—Go and wait outside, La Rousse, Jean said quietly. You go with her, Susanne.

The girls sat side by side on the door bench. They had seen little of each other since they were children. Many years ago, even before Isabelle’s hair turned red, Susanne had played with Marie, helping with the haying, the goats, splashing in the river.

For a while they sat, looking out over the valley.

—I saw a wolf out by the cleda, Isabelle said suddenly.

Susanne stared, brown eyes wide. She had the thin face and pointed chin of her father.

—What did you do?
—Chased it with a stick. She smiled, pleased with herself.
—Isabelle—
—What is it?
—I know Maman is upset, but I am glad you will live with us. I never believed what they said about you, about your hair and— She stopped. Isabelle did not ask.

—And you will be safe here. This house is safe, protected by—

She stopped again, glanced at the door, bowed her head. Isabelle let her eyes rest on the shadowy humps of the hills in the distance.

It will always be like this, she thought. Silence in this house.

The door opened and Jean and Etienne emerged with a flickering torch and an axe.

—We will take you back, La Rousse, Jean said. I must speak with your father.

He handed a piece of bread to Etienne.

—Take this bread together and give her your hand.

Etienne tore the bread in two and gave the smaller piece to Isabelle. She put it in her mouth and placed her hand in his. His fingers were cold. The bread stuck in the back of her throat like a whisper. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14