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They each had their own room. When their closets got full, so they couldn't hang any more clothes in them, her mother would give them each a box. They each had to take out at least ten outfits. They took them to a homeless shelter. She had a hard time deciding what to give away, but it always felt good to see the faces of the girls when they looked in the box. To them they were bright new clothes! They would look in the box, fascinated by the colors. The church worker told the orphans they could each pick two things. They would sit on the floor, not saying anything, just looking in the box, like they were afraid to reach inside. She would notice tears in her mother's eyes. She was usually very proud, but when she saw the way the girls acted, the way they hesitated, like they didn't deserve them, she would almost break down. She was good at taking charge of things, especially when she felt uncomfortable.. "Jessie. Brianna... Stand up right now... You pick out what will fit them."... It sounded bossy, and made the poor girls jump back from the box, but Brianna knew she just didn't want to cry in front of them. She would always apologize later... "Sorry, if it sounded like I was yelling, but sympathy doesn't do any good by itself... Sometimes you just need to give someone what they need... That's true compassion." Brianna would ask one of the younger girls her favorite color, since she was so small. She'd pull out a dress and hold it up in front of her. The girl usually backed away like she wasn't allowed. Brianna would hand it to her and ask if there was somewhere she could try it on. She'd ask the volunteer if that was alright before she'd even touch the dress. She'd run down the hall and come back looking like a different girl. They were well fed and clean, but some of them wore torn clothes. Her mother would say she looked like an angel, and the girl would start to cry, hugging all three of them and thanking them for caring about her. Brianna would say, "You like the one I chose... Now you choose something."... She would wipe her eyes and reach into the box, not afraid of the nice clothes any more. They went every month or two. One girl was there several times. They were having trouble finding a home for Lynnette, since she only spoke French and was umcomfortable around people. She was a dark haired twelve year old beauty and would stand near Brianna, just looking at her. She would say something in French, the same words each time, but Brianna didn't know what she meant. Her mother told her the second time on the way home that she was calling her "sister."... She said that she wished she could take her home with her, but she didn't see how she could do that, since she wouldn't be able to make it in school. Brianna said she could help her... The next time when Lynette called her "soeur" she said "sister." "Moi sister?" "My sister." They hugged each other... "See Mom?... I can help teach her English."... She was ready to cry. "But you're going to leave for the Academy soon, and I think she needs to find a family that speaks a lot more French than I do."... She knew some, so she would talk with her a little each time. Lynette liked to hear that, and would sometimes repeat things, to correct them. Her mother didn't mind. She just called her a "teacher." The next time they went, her mother asked if it would be alright if they took her to dinner with them. They went to a French restaurant. They couldn't read the menu, so Lynette placed the order. It was all her mother's idea, to let her feel good about herself. While they were waiting for the food, her mother talked with the hostess and called the owner. She talked with him for a few minutes, and while they were eating, he came to meet her. Lynette was so shy she barely looked at him when he spoke English. He said something in French, and she looked up. Her mother repeated it for her and Jessie, with her voice shaking... "Would you... like to have a... a new home?" Lynette was wearing one of her dresses. Brianna remembered when she got it. She had pointed at the color and repeated a couple words, over and over. She loved dark maroon colors... She stared at the owner for a while, and just said, "Qui."... She looked down at her hands, holding the napkin. He asked, "Is she always like this? Does she ever get excited, or believe what she hears?" "Not much... She likes it when we bring clothes. She likes to see Brianna, but they can't really talk to each other... They just play... She's like a little girl, shy." "Please stand up, Lynette."... She looked at him... He said it in French and motioned. She stood up, holding the edge of the table, not wanting to look at this man in a tie and white shirt. She didn't like these interviews. She had been rejected too many times. He put his hand on her shoulder and spoke to her in French. He repeated it in English for the three of them... "I told her that I know it's hard to be without parents. That it must be really difficult not to know the language or the customs. I said I'd help her to learn English if she'd be willing to help out in the kitchen... I said I'll talk with my wife to see if she can live with us. I'll tell people she's my niece, from France." There was a long pause, as Lynette looked at him. She was studying him. He was smiling, and she didn't believe what he'd said... even though she had understood the words. She thought about it, while he folded his hands and waited for her to answer. She just nodded. He put his hand on the back of her head and said something. He hugged her, running his hand down through her hair. Brianna saw her blink a tear down her cheek. She had never seen Lynette so animated, not even when she chose her first dress. She babbled in French all the way to the orphanage, and when they got there she hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks, saying it over and over... "Sister... sister... my sister."... They held each other and cried together. The owner showed up ten minutes later. Lynette looked scared, like she was afraid he'd changed his mind. Maybe he didn't want to have her after all. She ran to her room, crying, and didn't hear what he said. Brianna said, "I think she thought we were all family... I think she thought she was going with me."... She was crying too. He talked with her mother. He said that he'd spoken with his wife. He'd explained the situation, and they wanted her to move in with them. He told her mother she was guaranteed a place in Heaven. He and his wife couldn't have kids, and he said that he owed her a great debt for getting them together. He wrote on a business card... "This family may eat free any time."... He signed it. He asked Brianna to help her pack. She didn't have much. It all fit in one box. Just clothes and shampoo, and some pictures. She put them in the box quick, with her lips trembling. Brianna knew they were her family. She didn't know how she knew it, but she believed her family had all died, leaving her behind. That was when Brianna started to learn French. She would visit the restaurant once or twice a week, sometimes just to talk with Lynette, while she prepared the vegetables and sauces. Sometimes she'd join them for dinner, like a family. She had learned quite a bit of English within a month. She told Brianna... "You have been best sister anyone could have... I never forget what you do for me... You keep this... from my mother."... She pulled a necklace over her head. It held a small locket with her picture inside. Brianna tried to give it back, but she put her hands behind her and wouldn't take it... She hugged her little French sister, and they cried. The next time Brianna gave her one, with a picture of her with her mother and Jessie. They talked on the phone almost every night. After three months they played a game. Lynette had to speak English and Brianna had to speak French. That way they both learned even faster. Lynette was fourteen now. They had been friends, or sisters, for over two years. Besides her job at the restaurant, she went to the church orphanage on weekends. She had learned her second language so well that she would tell the girls stories while she helped them clean their rooms. Some she'd read, some she'd heard, and some were from her own life. She always made a point of telling them never to lose hope, since sometimes everything can change overnight. She made a lot of friends, just because she had been lonely and sensitive all at the same time. And now she wasn't lonely any more. She had found her voice... They liked to hear her stories, both because she had an accent, and because she acted them out a little while she told them. She had learned so much English that without the accent, she would've seemed like an American. The volunteers who had known her before couldn't believe she was the same girl they'd known. She looked the same, but she had an entirely different personality. She was able to reach some of the orphans in a way that was truly remarkable. When she met a girl who was isolated like she once was, she would always tell her the story about the lonely caterpillar. It was one that she'd made up, and it got longer every time she told it. She would wrap herself up in a blanket when she talked about the caterpillar hibernating, and she'd flap it around her at the end of the story, making them all laugh. They asked her to tell the story in church, and the congregation loved it so much that she had to go back once a month, to tell a new one. The quiet, shy girl had blosssomed into a butterfly with heart shaped wings speckled with gold and dark maroon hues. Her stories were printed in the church bulletins, in a continuing column, called...
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