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French to them when I milk them.” He was smiling at her, and teasing, and they were holding hands as they did sometimes. There was always something warm and comforting about it, although they both insisted it meant nothing.
    “You have to marry someone eventually,” Marie-Ange said practically, but there was a tinge of sadness in her voice as she said it. They both knew that one day their lives would move on, but neither of them was ready for that yet.
    “Maybe I’ll never marry,” Billy said simply. “I’m not sure I want to.” She knew he wanted to marry her, they both knew that, but if he couldn’t, he wasn’t willing to settle for less than he shared with her. Their friendship was too honest and too deep to make either of them want to settle for less from other partners. And Marie-Ange wanted no one at all at the moment. She liked the life she led, going to school, and sharing all her thoughts and dreams and secrets with Billy. But she was still determined never to confuse or spoil their friendship with romance.
    “Don’t you want to have children?” Marie-Ange asked, surprised by what he’d said, although she understood the reason for it.
    “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. I’m going to have a lot of nieces and nephews. They’ll drive me crazy enough, maybe I don’t need kids of my own.” He looked at her quietly as he said it. All he really wanted was to be with her, and he didn’t like the thought of anyone interfering with that. “You’ll have kids one day. I’m sure of that. You’ll be a wonderful mother.”
    “I can’t even imagine it,” she said honestly. She could barely even remember what it was like living in a real family, as she had when her parents and brother were alive. Her only taste of it was when she visited Billy. She loved being there with him, and sharing the love and laughter in his family, but it was no longer part of her life now. In many ways, she felt like a very solitary person.
    They talked late into the night, and she spent the night at his house, sharing a bedroom with two of his sisters. And she went back to visit her aunt at the hospital again the next morning. Her recovery was long and slow. And it was nearly a month before she left the hospital, and another two months before she left her bedroom. She didn’t seem quite as daunting anymore. Her frailty was growing more visible, and even her meanness seemed to have less force behind it. In a way, she seemed to be shrinking. Marie-Ange did what she had to for her, but the two rarely spoke, and the things Marie-Ange did were more mechanical than driven by any feeling for her.
    Carole turned eighty at the beginning of summer, shortly before Marie-Ange turned twenty-one, and it was a major blow to her when her foreman Tom announced that he was retiring and moving to Arizona to be near his wife’s parents. His wife had been commuting to see them and care for them all year, and it had just gotten too hard for her.
    “Old people like that should be put in a home,” Carole growled at Marie-Ange after Tom had broken the news to her. She was obviously upset, although she had hardly said anything to him, and told Marie-Ange that foremen were a dime a dozen. He had recommended his nephew to her for the job, but Marie-Ange knew that Carole didn’t like him. And Marie-Ange was sorry to see Tom go. He had always been kind to her, and she liked him.
    Marie-Ange worked full time again that summer to make money to pay for her expenses at school, and she nonetheless managed to spend a fair amount of time with Billy, who had yet another new girlfriend. And this time, Marie-Ange thought it might turn serious if he let it. She was sweet and devoted to him, and very pretty. She had been one grade earlier than they in school, and their families had known each other for years. They could have a very nice life together. And at twenty-two, Marie-Ange thought he was ready. He had been out of high school for three years, finished his