The Old Brown Suitcase Read Online Free PDF Page B

blue-patterned bedspread and a desk and chair under the window. Above the bed hung a cross, and next to it a picture of the Madonna in a sky-blue robe, her hands gracefully folded and her face demure and peaceful. I had seen such pictures in Poland in the homes of Catholic country folk. Most of all, my eyes were drawn back to the window. There, below the azure sky lay an emerald field, and beyond it swelled the hills, covered with dense forests.
    Between the field and the forest stood a white church, its steeple gleaming gold in the sun. I stood enchanted, remembering the farm in
Anne of Green Gables
, which I had read in a Polish translation. Marie tried to tell me something in English but I didn’t understand. I said, “No speak English,” amazed that I knew enough to say anything. But when she pointed at the bedpan under my bed, I nodded in recognition. Of course I had seen one of these before. Then she pointed to a wash basin and white enamelled jug standing on the desk. She explained in French that when I wanted to wash up, I could bring some water from the bathroom downstairs. I said
merci
and she smiled and said that she must go downstairs and get the dining room ready.
    Soon after Marie had left, Father came upstairs and announced that it was dinner time. I told him how well Marie and I had communicated, but I didn’t mention my first attempt at English, which still felt like sticky rubber in my mouth. The dining room had two long tables for the guests, who lived either in the farmhouse or in the nearby cottages. A girl about my age came up and said something in English, but I couldn’t answer, so she shrugged her shoulders and went away.
    “See, you’re going to have to try and learn English soon,” said Father watching us. Of course he was right.
    Dinner was meat pie, vegetables and potatoes, followed by ice cream with chocolate sauce. I was hungry and ate very quickly. I was glad that Ina wasn’t there to watch me.
    After dinner I wished that the girl would come over again. I tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t seem interested.
    Marie was busy clearing the tables. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair fell in limp wisps about her face. She looked over and smiled, and I wanted to go up to her, but instead I just sat there tied to my chair. If only I were as brave as that girl who came up to me before supper. So free and unafraid. All of a sudden Marie motioned me over to where she stood. Had she guessed my thoughts? She looked as if she could use a helper. I went over and offered myself. At first she hesitated. When I insisted, she gave me a tray and pointed to the dirty glasses on the table.
    In no time the dining room was cleared and set for breakfast, and Marie invited me into the kitchen for milk and cookies. Before I knew it, I was learning French phrases and grammar.
    “
C’est pour cela que je t’ai fait venir
,” said Marie. “Teach you
français
,” she added with a warm smile and closed the grammar book. Then she suggested that we go upstairs as it was getting to be bedtime.
    She took up a jug of water and waited as I washed up and prepared for bed. Just as I was about to climb into bed, she raised her finger, as if to say, not yet, and she lifted her eyes to the cross above the bed. She knelt next to the bed and motioned me to do the same. Then she crossed herself, and looked at me as if I should be doing likewise. I did it only so as not to offend her.
    Then she lowered her head and said, “
Prions.
”
    I began the Lord’s Prayer in Polish just as Masha had taught me when I was little, without my parents knowing. Marie looked at me with surprise.
    “What language?” she asked.
    “Polish,
polonaise
,” I said in both languages.
    “Oh …
polonaise
,” she exclaimed. “Je
suis canadienne-française, et vous êtes canadienne-polonaise.
”
    “
Pas encore canadienne
,” I replied.
    “
Pas encore canadienne, mais vous êtes catholique, n’est-ce pas?
”
    I felt numb and