A Time of Miracles Read Free Page A

lift a piece of wood that was crushing the legs of an old man. Around us, others were calling for help, but there weren’tenough of us. I was able to get two children out of the fifth car through a gap. That’s when I heard a woman call for help.”
    “
Ossecourédémoi!
” I shout in a high-pitched voice, trying to imitate a French accent.
Helpmehelpme!
    “Exactly. ‘
Ossecourédémoi!
’ I slipped through the gap.”
    I laugh, looking at Gloria. “You were as thin as a nail back then. You could squeeze through without a problem.”
    Gloria pinches my cheek. She makes believe she’s annoyed with me, but I know she’s teasing.
    “It’s true that I have put on weight, Monsieur Blaise. But let’s forget that for now. I slipped into the car and I crawled between the torn seats to the woman. She had rolled herself into a ball in a corner. There was blood on her face and in her honey-colored hair.”
    From this point on I never interrupt Gloria. Each word she says is of the utmost importance.
    “I came near her and discovered that she was holding a baby against her chest. She begged me with her eyes, and I understood what she expected of me.”
    Gloria puts her hand on my forehead. She smiles with a tenderness that breaks my heart.
    “This woman had a broken back; she could no longer move. I put my arm around the baby and took him. She made me understand that she was French and told me her name: Jeanne Fortune. Then she pointed to her son and whispered, ‘Blaise.’ That’s how I saved you. When Vassili and Zemzem came back with the tanker truck, I was standing under the pear trees. I was crying. The men began by putting out the fire, and then they took axes and chain sawsto cut open the cars and move the survivors out. I waited with you. You had fallen asleep on my chest. You didn’t see the men carry your mother away.”
    I shake under the blanket, my eyes popping out. I can see it all: my mother’s ashen face, her honey-colored hair matted with blood, her body as limp as a cloth. Her eyelids are closed. She is lying in the scorched grass. Is she dead? I always wonder.
    “She had only fainted, I’m sure,” Gloria goes on. “Ambulances came from town. I wanted to board the one that was taking your mother away, but the doctors kept me from doing so. There were too many wounded! I had to make room for them. Zemzem came near me. I showed him the baby. He put his hand on your cheek and said that you were a miracle. You opened your eyes then. Like you understood.”
    Night came a long while ago. I can hear the familiar noises of the Complex—voices in the hallways, footsteps on the floor above, as well as the vocal exercises of Miss Talia, a former singer in the national opera. I can’t feel totally sad when Gloria tells me about the Terrible Accident and my mother’s broken back. It’s as if she’s telling me about something that happened long ago, sort of like a legend.
    Gloria gets up and pours herself a last cup of lukewarm tea. My body is heavy on the mattress.
    I yawn. “You looked for my mother everywhere with Zemzem but couldn’t find her,” I say. “Her name wasn’t registered at any of the hospitals, right? And even if you had wanted to give me back, no one wanted to look after a baby. So you kept me.”
    Gloria sighs. I see that she’s tired, but she knows that I won’t leave her in peace until the end of the story.
    “Everything became complicated because the war started,” she goes on. “In fact, the train hadn’t derailed by accident. It was sabotaged. The orchard was requisitioned by the militia ‘for the war effort,’ or so they said. They took the house, the trucks, and even the trees! They left us only a shed. The army drafted Zemzem and my brothers. Before they left, each of them gave me a precious gift.”
    I know the list of precious gifts by heart.
    “Fotia gave you his radio, but he forgot the battery,” I say. “Oleg gave you his stringless violin. Iefrem, his green