Madeline, a French farm girl

The room was bright. Light poured in through the thin blinds, birds chirped outside. For once, it seemed, the sun had broken through the thick smoke. Even in the country it was hard to see the sky most days. That was just one of the changes caused by the war. It didn't matter who claimed the land they were on- sometimes Germany, sometimes French partisans, most of the time it was both. Either way, the laws that mattered to her were the same. ‘To encourage population growth’ they said on the radio when it came in. Mama cried and held onto her, Papa just paced, worried. As long as she was with them though, she knew she would be safe from ‘use’.

She rolled out of the covers, the sun in her eyes. She listened to the generator rumble outside, to the busy footsteps downstairs, and the sweet chirping birds.

“Madeline!” A voice called from downstairs, impatient.

Outside, a car door slammed.

It can’t be today, right? She asked herself, running to the window. A black car was stopped outside, an old one. Only the rich had a car like that out here. In the country some big tractor was more useful than a car, and a motorbike was cheaper.

The door flew open. Charles was next to her at the window in a minute, watching the man get out.

“A top hat?” Muttered Madeline, half an exclamation. She giggled at the man. Charles clapped his hand over her mouth to shut her up.

“Madeline!” He whispered harshly. “He might hear you.” She thought he was sounding a bit like mother.

Madeline turned from the window, opening her small closet to find something to wear. There wasn’t much space in her room with her bed, not that it was a particularly large bed. It was the best room in the house, Papa had made sure she got it. Now he was making sure she married well- into money, that meant.

“Madeline, pick something.” Charles said, pulling her blinds shut. “And hurry. Don’t keep Mr. Marquette waiting. Please.”

She grabbed out a blue summer dress with white flowers. Charles closed the door as he left.

“Ah, mademoiselle.” Mr. Marquette said, rising, as Madeline came down the stairs. Seeing him in their living room, standing by the patched up chair, dressed in his marvelous black suit, Madeline couldn't help but think her father had worked some miracle. “You look beautiful. I’m Antoine Marquette-”

“I know.” She whispered, with a shy smile.

He smiled back, reaching out and kissing her hand. “How do you do?”

“I’m good.” She said. He was a handsome man. She struggled to meet his eyes. She didn’t have much experience talking to men other than her brothers and Papa.

“Please, sit.” Papa said, and Mr. Marquette obliged. Mother was gone, but her four brothers were lined up behind her and Papa. Madeline sat by Mr. Marquette.

“Your father says good things about you.” Mr. Marquette said, smiling at her. She looked away, blushing. “His praise was… well you are truly exceptional, mademoiselle.”

“Thank you, Mr. Marquette.” Madeline said.

“Antoine.” He softly corrected. His eyes never left her. “And you are?”

She didn’t understand, but she was almost to nervous to ask. “Excuse me?”

“How old are you?”

“Oh.” She said. I’m stupid, I should have known, she thought. “Today is my birthday, Mr.- Antoine. I’m eighteen.”

He continued to look at her, smiling. His eyes went lower, to her small breasts beneath her sundress, and then even lower to her hips.

“Truly excellent.” He said again. Madeline looked at Papa, who looked away.

Antoine stood, extending a hand to her father. “I’ll take her.”

Papa stood, struggling to smile. He suddenly looked so unsure, but he shook his hand. “That’s terrific, Mr. Marquette. She is a beauty isn’t she?”

The way he sounded so proud filled Madeline with warmth. She couldn't help but smile.

“Indeed.” Antoine agreed. He went to the door. Somehow Charles was there to open it for him. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” He looked at her. “Pack your things, mademoiselle. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Madeline said. He had become so… so… blunt. By the end she had felt like a product in a business deal, not like the girl in a marriage proposal. But she supposed it was a business deal, and in all truth she was the product.

Mama was back, sitting by Madeline. Her eyes were red.

“Mama what's wrong?” She asked, giving her a hug.

Mama hugged her back, letting out one last sob. “I just don’t want you to leave.”

“No one does, dear.” Papa said. Charles closed the door. “Madeline is marrying well. Right?”

“Yes.” Madeline said, though without any confidence. She was swept off her feet, and back on in an instant.

It was late when they finished dinner. It always was in the spring on the farm. It was planting season, ‘the beginning of good times’ Papa would say. Madeline was back in her room. The smoke had retaken the sky, so she layed in bed, reading, her bedside lamp the only light in the room.

The door creaked open. It was Louis. She could tell by his tall frame. He was only two years older than Madeline, but certainly the biggest of her brothers.

“Louis?” She whispered. The others were probably sleeping. He sat down on her side of the bed, silent. “What's the matter?”

“Mr. Marquette.” He said, reaching for Madeline’s hand. “I don't like the idea.”

“Of marrying him?” She asked, bewildered. “It's not for me, Louis, it’s for the family.”

“I-” He stammered. “I know.”

Louis’ hand shifted to her bare thigh. She was wearing only her nightgown.

“It’s not that.”