Go outside and play for a while."

"But Mama, did you bring Charlotte?" I ask.

She opens her small suitcase and out comes my doll.

She still wears the very dress knitted by Mama's hands, and the apron I made with my godmother.

I hug Charlotte.

How I have missed her!

I take her outside on the swing.

Together we fly high into the sky.

At last, Mama comes out of the house.

She's looping her silk scarf around her neck, her chin high, her face shining.

Now I remember, that's how she looks when she is happy!

At last it's time to take Mama to see what I love most ...

the Christmas creche in the church.

"Look, here's the Baby Jesus and his mother and father and the ox and donkey.

The animals breathe on the baby to keep him warm."

The statues are almost as big as real people.

Mary gazes with loving eyes at her baby.

He holds out his arms and smiles at all the world.

I wish I could pick him up and hug him, kiss his fat pink cheeks.

But Mama looks at it all, then looks away.

I've made a terrible mistake!

How could I forget she doesn't like things like this?

She can't get out of the church and down the steps fast enough.

When we're back on the street, Mama breathes a sigh of relief.

"It's so dark and musty in there!" she says.

"It's like an old lady's room, crowded with knickknacks."

Mama likes the bakery better.

She can't take her eyes off the giant brioche.

"White bread is impossible to get in Paris," she says.

I show her the window of the general store too.

"Look at the wool!" Mama says. "So many colors!"

I remember the game I used to play in Paris with Sarah.

If I had my choice of one thing from the general-store window, would I pick the wool for my mother to knit?

My eyes move to a silver rosary with pearl beads.

It's so beautiful.

Maybe I'd pick that.

I study them both.

Suddenly, I feel my mother's eyes on me.

"Let's move along now, Odette," she says.

She steers me away from the shop window.

Oh, dear, I've done it again!

There must be something I can show Mama that she'll like.

I know, I'll take Mama to my school.

Creeks crisscross through snowy meadows.

Here and there is a small farm with smoke trailing from the chimney.

"It's so beautiful!" Mama says.

But when we arrive at the school, she won't go past the gate.

All I can show her is the cross and the pretty statue of the Virgin Mary outside.

"I don't understand all this fuss over crosses and statues,"

she says.

"But one day, if I come here to live, I suppose you must teach me everything.

No one must guess that I'm not a Christian."

Mama?

Here?

Could she really come here and stay?

I know all the saints and holy days, and when to stand and sit and kneel in church.

I know every single prayer by heart too.

If she comes, I'll teach Mama everything.

Country Ways.

On the way back from the school, I name all the trees I've climbed with Jean and Jacques.

I name all the fish I've caught with Monsieur Raffin, all the mushrooms I've picked with Madame Raffin.

"I even know which ones are poisonous," I tell her.

Mama is happy that I know these things.

She has lots of questions.

"What do you drink at dinner?"

"Apple cider," I tell her.

"Where do you get the water for cooking and washing?"

"From our garden well."

"What do you do for heat?"

"We use the fireplace in the kitchen. The stove too.

Grandmother Raffin opens the oven door and puts her feet up on the stovetop when she's cold.

We heat bricks in the oven too.

At night, we put them in our beds to keep warm.

Warm feet are important here."

Mama says she thinks the villagers are clever.

"Oh, yes," I agree.

"When we have a fancy meal and dessert is served, we clean our plates with a piece of bread.

Then we turn them upside down and use the bottoms for dessert plates."

"I must try that for myself," says Mama.

"And you know what else the villagers do that's clever?" I say.

"If someone has a loose tooth, they don't go to the dentist.

Oh, no!

Madame Raffin ties a long string around the tooth.

She ties the other end to the handle of the back door.

Then she slams the door shut.

One scream and the tooth is out."

Mama doesn't say if she'll try that herself.

I change the subject back to food.

Mama's always interested in that.

"The day after Christmas the pigs are slaughtered.

That's the day women gather to make sausages and hams.

They smoke the meat by the fireplace.

Then, the best part of all!

They take all the leftovers and cook them together.

They say it's delicious."

My mother looks at me, shocked.

Her parents were strict Jews.