* * *
Jeanne knocked softly on the closed door.
In the desolate abyss that was the churning wake left behind by his father and brother, she and her mother had embraced, released with their shared survival, two soldiers rising from a desecrated battlefield.
Jeanne had tried to apologize but her mother"s ravaged and bruised face had stolen all words from her tongue. Adelaide had kissed her lips, left the room, and closed her bedchamber door.
Contrite daughter had waited anxiously for her mother but could wait no longer; the words of regret clogged her throat like a half-chewed piece of food and she longed to spew, ridding herself of the choking guilt.
“Maman?” she softly called, knocking once more, this time cracking open the door without waiting for words of encouragement.
Adelaide la
