“Just cut it all off,” Marcus said.He produced a knife and began to slice off clumps of hair, not an easy matter, as the child wriggled and squirmed.
Tessa tried to distract her by playing “pat-a-cake” which only bewildered the child, and then ’splash’ to which she caught on quickly.Soon Tessa, laughing, was damp from head to foot with dirty water.
“I’ll need a bath too after this,”
In the meantime, clump by clump, strand by strand, Marcus carefully cut the matted hair from the little girl, tossing each bit in the fire as he went.It hissed and then as it dried, shriveled and burned.The room filled with the smell of burning hair, but soon it was done.
Tessa stood her up in the bath and Marcus carefully rinsed the child using the last can of water.
“She really does look like a plucked chicken, but at least now she’s a clean one,” Tessa commented, as she lifted the child out and wrapped her in a drying cloth.
“That hair,” Marcus said thoughtfully, “is going to be very blonde when it dries—as blonde as yours.”
Tessa gave an absent nod.What did it matter what color her hair was?She was going to be their daughter.A daughter!For years she’d prayed for a child, and now, she had one, a child who needed her, needed them desperately.Needed love and care and a home.And a family.
Just what Tessa needed too.
And oh, she had so much love to give.She gave her a gentle hug, kissed her, carried her to the hard little bench and settled her into her lap.The little girl gazed up at her, bemused.
“That’s better isn't it, Blossom?”Marcus said, gently running his fingers through the ragged remains of her hair.
“Is that what you want to call her,” Tessa asked.“Blossom?”
He shook his head.“I hadn’t actually thought of it as a name, but we do need to call her something other than ‘the child.’The blacksmith never told me her name.Or her mother’s.You don’t like Blossom as a name?”
“Not really.It’s all right as a term of endearment, but as a proper name, people will think it’s odd,” she added, jiggling the little girl on her knee.“And having been christened Theodosia I know what it’s like to have a peculiar name.Why Blossom?”
He shrugged.“I hadn’t really thought about it.Possibly because she was clutching some flowers when we first saw her.”
“Then how about Flora?”she suggested.
“Flora, Flora,” he repeated.“Yes, I like it.It suits her, doesn’t it Flora?”he added to the little girl.She smiled up at him.“And see, she likes it, too.”
Tessa laughed.“She has no idea what you said.”
“But she likes it anyway,” he said firmly.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of two boys, who lugged out the bath and dirty water, followed a few minutes later by the landlady.She was carrying a tray filled with two bowls of delicious-smelling stew.“Lapin” she explained.
“Rabbit,” Marcus translated.As well, there was half a loaf of bread, some cheese, half a bottle of wine and a cup of milk.
Noticing the child, she beamed, threw up her hands, and turned to Marcus with a flow of French.He responded, and they had quite an exchange.Not for the first time, Tessa wished she understood French.Finally, the landlady gave a brisk nod, Marcus handed her some money, and she hurried away.
“She’s going to bring us some food suitable for a baby,” he said, “and she’s sending Clothilde to fetch clothes for Bl—for Flora.I told her our baggage was lost, and though you and I can manage until we get to Genappe, we need things for the baby.”
“Oh, that was clever,” she said.“I hope Clothilde knows what she will need.”
He snorted.“She can’t know less than we do, at any rate.Now, eat your food while it’s hot.”He dipped a crust of bread in his stew, blew on it, then gave it to Flora to gnaw on while they ate.
A few minutes later the landlady returned with a soft-boiled egg for Flora.Without asking, she took the baby from Tessa, and sat down to feed her, clucking and making soft motherly sounds.
Flora ate greedily, much to the woman’s delight.She kept up a stream of conversation, which Marcus tried to follow and respond to, in between mouthfuls.
