Fortune's rocks_ a novel - Anita Shreve [166]
“Good morning, Mrs. Bolduc.”
“Good morning.”
“I have some documents here that I should like you to take a look at and identify for me.”
Sears shows her the first one, placing it in her trembling hand. “Can you tell the court what this is?”
“Yes,” she says, her voice barely audible. “Is certificate of guardian from orphanage.”
“And this one?”
“Is certificate from state to being foster,” she says haltingly.
Sears takes the two papers from her and hands them to Judge Littlefield.
“And, Mrs. Bolduc, can you identify these two photographs?”
“Yes,” she says. “This one? Is of my little Pierre and me when he is five months. And this one here, this is Pierre in wagon with chicken. He is one year.”
“Who took these photographs?”
“Is overseer in the mill who is being friend to me and Telesphore.”
“Thank you,” says Sears quickly, delivering the photographs to the judge, who studies them for a moment. Oddly, Sears seems abrupt with Albertine on the stand, perhaps uneasy with her obvious lack of education, a fact seemingly heightened by her broken English.
“Your Honor,” says Tucker, “may we see these photographs?”
“Yes. Clerk, give these documents and photographs to counsel for the relator.”
And Olympia will later think: There are some moments in life for which there can be no preparation.
The first photograph shows a seated woman holding aloft an infant in a long white dress. The woman’s arms are hidden inside the dress. Her face is wrinkled into a broad smile, a pretty smile, over even white teeth. She has on a blouse with a wide white collar and cuffs, and a skirt of a darker shade. The baby has what looks to be a necklace around his neck and tiny kid booties upon his feet. The baby, looking toward the camera, as the mother is, is also smiling broadly, a wide toothless grin. One can almost hear the baby’s laugh. The mother, though grinning, is looking at the photographer with sly delight, as if to say, What do you think of my marvelous treasure?
In the second photograph, a boy is reaching forward to try to touch a large rooster that has been harnessed to a tiny wooden wagon in which the boy is seated. Around them are long grasses and leaves, suggesting a rural setting.
Olympia thinks: He was such a beautiful infant, and I have lost all of those years already. No matter what happens here, I can never get them back.
Tucker, seeing Olympia’s reaction to the photographs, quickly summons the clerk to take them away.
“Mrs. Bolduc,” Sears says. “Tell us in your own words how it was you came to have the boy in your care.”
“My words?” she asks, confused. She glances up at the judge for help.
“In English, please,” says Littlefield, and there is some disgruntled muttering in the courtroom.
Albertine Bolduc squints into a ray of sunlight that has momentarily fallen onto the witness box. She moves her head to escape its glare. “I am married eight years and am not having any infants,” she begins. “And I am asking of the sisters about the orphanage. And they are telling me of how I will get a baby. For the doctor is telling me that I am not having any children of my own, which is big sorrow to me and Telesphore.”
“Yes,” says Sears. “Go on.”
“And in April of 1900, I am getting a visit from Mère Marguerite, who says there is a baby.”
“This would be Mother Marguerite Pelletier?”
“Yes, she come on Sunday afternoon to me. And she tell me that there is baby for me if Telesphore and I want. And I am saying yes, no matter what we have to do, we do want. And then Telesphore and me, we do not go to shift in the morning and we get the baby.”
“And what date was this?”
“Twenty-three April 1900.”
“And you signed the documents I showed you earlier.”
“Yes, I did.”
“And tell me about how you felt that day.”
“When I am seeing the boy, he is so tiny, I have love in my heart at once. And, Telesphore, he does, too, I can see this. And we take the boy home and we make a bed for him, and we are loving him all the hours of the day.”
Tucker glances at Olympia.
“Was the boy healthy?”
“Yes,