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Authors: Danielle Steel
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great-aunt’s farm for the past seven years, he knew better than anyone how much it meant to her.
And finally, an hour after she arrived, she got up and had to leave for school, but she promised to come by the following morning.
They saw a lot of each other during her college days, far more than either of them had expected. The commute ate up her time, and she eventually got a job in town as a waitress in a local diner on the weekends, which helped her with expenses, and allowed her to repay the book money she’d borrowed from the foreman. Her Aunt Carole had always refused to give her any money, and told her that if she wanted it badly enough, she’d work for it. But in spite of that, and the chores she still had to do on the farm, she managed to stop and see Billy daily. He came to the diner for a meal occasionally, and now and then they even went to a movie.
During her sophomore year, Billy had a girlfriend, but he always made it clear to Marie-Ange that she was far more important to him than any other girl and always would be. Their childhood friendship had blossomed into a bond like no other, and she even liked his girlfriend, but by Christmas that year, Billy had tired of her. She didn’t have the spark or fire of Marie-Ange, the energy, the brains, the style, and bored him in comparison. Marie-Ange had spoiled him. He turned twenty-one as Marie-Ange started her junior year, and it was a hard year for her. Aunt Carole was sick much of the time, she seemed to be getting old and frail and slowly failing. She was seventy-nine years old by then, and in many ways, she seemed as tough as ever, but it was more bravado than real these days, and from time to time Marie-Ange felt sorry for her, although Billy said he didn’t. He had always hated the way she treated Marie-Ange, her hard heart, and mean spirit. Marie-Ange knew by then that her father had not been wrong in his assessment of her. But she was used to her, and grateful to her for taking her in, and she did her best to help her while she was sick. She would prepare food for her late at night, and leave it in the morning, so she would have something to eat all day, and she was far more generous with her portions than Carole had been with her throughout her childhood.
Carole wound up in the hospital at Christmas with a broken hip that year. She had fallen out of her wheelchair when she hit an icy patch on her way to the barn, and for the first time, Marie-Ange spent the entire holiday with Billy. It was the happiest Christmas she’d had in years, and she and his siblings had a grand time, decorating the tree, and making presents for each other, and singing. She brought Aunt Carole a turkey dinner in the hospital, and it saddened her to see that her great-aunt felt too ill to eat it. Her polio didn’t make her recovery any easier, and she seemed frailer than ever.
Marie-Ange spent New Year’s eve with Billy too, and she and his brothers and sisters laughed and danced and sang and teased each other until long after midnight. One of his sisters got a little drunk on white wine and asked Marie-Ange when she was finally going to marry Billy. She said that Marie-Ange had ruined him for everyone else anyway, and what was he going to do with all that French he’d learned? Unless he married her, it was useless. And something about the way she said it, though all in good fun and well meant, made Marie-Ange feel guilty.
“Don’t be silly,” Billy said, later that night, when she said something to him about it. They were both sober, and sitting on the porch, talking, after everyone else had gone to bed. It was freezing, but they were wrapped up and warm, as they looked up at a starry sky and chatted. “My sister doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You haven’t ‘ruined’ me, Marie-Ange, you’ve helped me. Besides, our cows love it when I speak French to them. I was going to write a paper about it for school, I swear they produce more milk if I speak
And finally, an hour after she arrived, she got up and had to leave for school, but she promised to come by the following morning.
They saw a lot of each other during her college days, far more than either of them had expected. The commute ate up her time, and she eventually got a job in town as a waitress in a local diner on the weekends, which helped her with expenses, and allowed her to repay the book money she’d borrowed from the foreman. Her Aunt Carole had always refused to give her any money, and told her that if she wanted it badly enough, she’d work for it. But in spite of that, and the chores she still had to do on the farm, she managed to stop and see Billy daily. He came to the diner for a meal occasionally, and now and then they even went to a movie.
During her sophomore year, Billy had a girlfriend, but he always made it clear to Marie-Ange that she was far more important to him than any other girl and always would be. Their childhood friendship had blossomed into a bond like no other, and she even liked his girlfriend, but by Christmas that year, Billy had tired of her. She didn’t have the spark or fire of Marie-Ange, the energy, the brains, the style, and bored him in comparison. Marie-Ange had spoiled him. He turned twenty-one as Marie-Ange started her junior year, and it was a hard year for her. Aunt Carole was sick much of the time, she seemed to be getting old and frail and slowly failing. She was seventy-nine years old by then, and in many ways, she seemed as tough as ever, but it was more bravado than real these days, and from time to time Marie-Ange felt sorry for her, although Billy said he didn’t. He had always hated the way she treated Marie-Ange, her hard heart, and mean spirit. Marie-Ange knew by then that her father had not been wrong in his assessment of her. But she was used to her, and grateful to her for taking her in, and she did her best to help her while she was sick. She would prepare food for her late at night, and leave it in the morning, so she would have something to eat all day, and she was far more generous with her portions than Carole had been with her throughout her childhood.
Carole wound up in the hospital at Christmas with a broken hip that year. She had fallen out of her wheelchair when she hit an icy patch on her way to the barn, and for the first time, Marie-Ange spent the entire holiday with Billy. It was the happiest Christmas she’d had in years, and she and his siblings had a grand time, decorating the tree, and making presents for each other, and singing. She brought Aunt Carole a turkey dinner in the hospital, and it saddened her to see that her great-aunt felt too ill to eat it. Her polio didn’t make her recovery any easier, and she seemed frailer than ever.
Marie-Ange spent New Year’s eve with Billy too, and she and his brothers and sisters laughed and danced and sang and teased each other until long after midnight. One of his sisters got a little drunk on white wine and asked Marie-Ange when she was finally going to marry Billy. She said that Marie-Ange had ruined him for everyone else anyway, and what was he going to do with all that French he’d learned? Unless he married her, it was useless. And something about the way she said it, though all in good fun and well meant, made Marie-Ange feel guilty.
“Don’t be silly,” Billy said, later that night, when she said something to him about it. They were both sober, and sitting on the porch, talking, after everyone else had gone to bed. It was freezing, but they were wrapped up and warm, as they looked up at a starry sky and chatted. “My sister doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You haven’t ‘ruined’ me, Marie-Ange, you’ve helped me. Besides, our cows love it when I speak French to them. I was going to write a paper about it for school, I swear they produce more milk if I speak
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