“What we want you to do is to make a list of ten friends or family members by the time we visit you this week,” Elder Jones said. “People you love or those you feel might be open to hearing the gospel.”
“And you don’t have to worry that we’re going to beat down their doors,” joked Elder Perrault, as if reading my thoughts. “We just want you to have the names on paper so we can discuss them and what steps you can take to make their introduction to the Church a positive one.”
“Will you do that?” Elder Jones asked each of us in turn. We all committed ourselves.
I struggled with my list that week, taking their challenge seriously and prayerfully. Though I had many friends in the Church, I hadn’t reached out to any nonmembers since Nette’s death. Marguerite and Jules were already at the top of my list, but I was plagued with doubts about who to put next. To make things worse, it rained all week because of a sudden warming in the weather. I was reminded forcefully of Nette and Antoine and spent much of the week crying alone in the night.
Luckily, I had school and work to keep me busy. I was in my second year of accounting and enjoying it thoroughly. Soon I would be looking for a job in my field and leaving the café behind forever. That was one of the reasons why Marguerite and Jules were on my list. I owed them so much and yet couldn’t find a way to share with them the most precious gift I could—the gospel.
The rest of my list grew slowly: Jeanne and her husband; Dauphine, the girl who worked the café in the mornings; a certain regular at the café; and one girl at school. This brought me up to seven people. And there it stayed. I knew deep down who at least two of the remaining three people should be, but I couldn’t write their names. Not yet.
“Well, let’s see that list,” Elder Perrault said to me on Friday afternoon, when he and his companion appeared at the appointed time at the café where I was taking a break.
I gave it to him reluctantly. “I’ve only got seven so far,” I confessed. “But I want to have more.”
He smiled at me and ran a hand through his thick, black hair as if to push it back, forgetting that it was already cut very short and no longer needed such attention. “We’ll work on it, Ariana,” he said. “That’s what we’re here for.” The way he said my name seemed caressing, but he was unaware of it—or of how my heart beat so quickly when he was near. I was surprised to find myself reacting to him that way. It was the first time such a thing had happened since Jacques. Not one of the men Monique had introduced me to had made me feel anything similar.
Instead of pressuring me about the rest of the list, Elder Perrault talked with me about Marguerite and Jules and what I could do to help them. “You love them, don’t you?” he asked me after we had gone over the steps of missionary work.
“More than anyone alive, besides Monique,” I said.
“Then you have already finished many of the steps. Now you need to prayerfully decide how to approach them. Remember, the only thing they can say is no. It shouldn’t change your relationship.”
“So should I ask them to meet with you?”
Elder Jones shook his head. “Maybe try something else first. How about asking them to church? They believe in God, don’t they? Church is a good way for them to feel the Spirit without being threatened.”
“All right, I’ll do it,” I said determinedly. It did seem a lot easier to ask Marguerite and Jules to church than to ask them to listen to the discussions. After the elders left, I began fasting with a goal to ask them to go to church with me on Sunday. But the rain continued, and I felt despondent. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t seem to find an opportunity to ask them. When Saturday evening rolled slowly to a close, I knew that it was now or never.
“Uh, Marguerite,” I began hesitantly as we finished putting away the food. I could hear Jules in the office, putting the day’s proceeds into the safe. “You know, you and Jules have been like family to me these past two and a half years . . .” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know how to continue.
“As you have been to us, Ariana.”
I plunged on. “Well, after Nette’s death, I found my church, and I know you thought I was jumping into things. But I’ve been very happy there, haven’t I?”
Marguerite nodded. “Yes, I think I was wrong. It’s been very good for you.”
“Well, I wanted to know if you and Jules would come to church with me tomorrow. I think you might enjoy it there. And it would be nice to spend some time together outside of work. What do you think?” I stopped talking and held my breath. I was so afraid she would say no.
“That sounds nice,” Marguerite said, as if it were the most natural question in the world. “I think I’d enjoy going. Jules and I haven’t been inside a church since we buried our Michelle. Maybe it’s time we go back. I’ll tell Jules about it, but I’m sure he’ll come.”
I wanted to tell them what to expect, to prepare them for the difference from their own church, but something stilled my tongue. Maybe it was something best experienced.
The next morning the January sun shone weakly but insistently over Paris, and my depression had completely lifted. Jules, Marguerite, and I all went to church in Jules’s car. There they were greeted with the same love and enthusiasm I had experienced more than a year before. I saw the amazement on their faces at the simple beauty of the chapel and the services. Afterward, I proudly introduced them to the elders.
“I do believe you can do anything you set your mind to, Ariana,” Elder Perrault said to me privately. I thought again that his deep voice was tender, and I blushed like a child. Seeing my discomfort, he grinned. But he didn’t understand that I was reacting to him and not his compliments.
Things went quickly after that, with the missionaries giving Marguerite and Jules the first discussion the very next day. The elders also began to come daily to the café for lunch, where Marguerite clucked over them like a mother hen and Jules regaled them with stories of his youth. Two weeks later, the elders and I taught the Geoffrins the fourth discussion. As they heard and understood how families can be eternal, I knew for certain that they had finally accepted the gospel.
“You mean we can be sealed to Michelle?” Marguerite asked. “We will see her again and be a family?”
I nodded. “It’s part of the plan our Father has for us. We’re all going back to live with Him someday, if we are worthy, to become more and more like Him and to inherit His kingdom.”
Her gaze was intent. “Then everything you used to tell little Nette about being a queen someday was real,” she said with sudden insight. “She is going to be a queen someday, isn’t she?”
Tears came to my eyes, and I couldn’t speak. But Elder Perrault said softly, “Yes, just like her mother.” My eyes flew to his in surprise. How could he know how I struggled to act as a queen would, to be worthy of raising my baby one day?
“Based on our worthiness, we will all be like our Heavenly King,” Elder Jones added. “But first we have to live our lives in . . .” He continued on, leading the conversation away from the doctrine that was generally hard for investigators to understand. But I knew instinctively that he was wrong in this case; we all needed to know about Nette and how my dreams for her would come true, even though she was dead.
A week later, Marguerite and Jules were baptized, and attending the special meeting were the next five people on my list. The missionary spirit burned in my soul, and suddenly it was easy to share the gospel. I felt the Lord really did bless those who opened their mouths despite their fears and insecurities.
Over the next month, our member missionary team worked hard to bring the gospel to those on our lists. We began baptizing new members every few weeks, to the surprise of the other teams who had not yet gotten so involved. In the first week of March, after working almost daily with Elder Perrault and his companion, we baptized the rest of the seven people on my list, along with some of their friends and family members.
“You’ve done better than you expected, haven’t you?” Elder Perr
ault asked me that Sunday.
I smiled. “Yes. I was scared at first, but now it seems to come easily.”
“You’ll make a good missionary,” he said with a special light in his eyes. His companion beside him nodded in agreement.
I stared at him in wonder. “Me?” In the last few months I had often longed to go, but because of my past, I didn’t think they would let me. Even so, my desire to serve a mission had increased as my twenty-first birthday grew closer. Now it was little more than a week away.
“Why not, Ari?” Elder Perrault asked.
His sudden use of my old nickname froze me in my place. For a long moment I couldn’t breathe as I stood and stared at him. Finally, my throat loosened up, and I could speak. “Ariana,” I whispered hoarsely. “Not Ari. Still not Ari.” And despite my efforts to the contrary, I began to cry. I turned and fled out the door, with the elders staring anxiously after me.
Rain drizzled slowly but incessantly the next day when the elders came to see me at the café. It was my day off, but we had planned to meet because of the missionary team. As usual, Marguerite fussed over them and introduced them to everyone who came into the building. But at last I was left alone with them.
“How are you?” Elder Perrault asked with concern. He looked as if he had not slept well the night before, and since he refused any food, I knew he was fasting.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m sorry about yesterday. There are just some things I haven’t told anyone about . . . about my family.”
The elders and I were seated at a table in the corner of the nearly deserted café. Elder Jones pulled out his notebook and retrieved my sheet of names. The last three spots were still blank.
“What about your family?” Elder Perrault asked me, indicating the list in his companion’s hands. “Why aren’t they on this sheet?”
I sighed and closed my eyes for a minute. The rain fell softly against the window in a continual assault, and I wanted to scream at it to stop. “I hate the rain,” I said suddenly. “Why does it have to rain so much?”
Elder Perrault stared at me, his expression sincere. He was going to say something, but his companion beat him to it. “It doesn’t rain all that much here,” Elder Jones said. “You ought to see how much it rains in Washington, where I’m from.”
I didn’t care in the slightest how much it rained in Washington, so I sat there silently.
Elder Perrault looked hard at his companion before turning to me. “It has been wetter than in past years, so I’ve been told. I think—”
“I guess I just notice it more than others,” I interrupted bitterly.
Elder Perrault didn’t even blink at my retort but sat watching me. His handsome face was calm, his eyes caring. When he spoke, his voice was soft yet compelling. “Tell me, what happened to make you hate the rain?”
I took a deep breath. I found that I wanted to tell him. I wanted to bury myself in his arms and tell him everything. Of course, I couldn’t throw myself at him, but I could at least explain. “I had a brother once—Antoine,” I began before I could change my mind. “We’re twins. My parents tried for many years to have a baby, and finally they did. Only they had two instead of just one. Antoine was everything I ever could want in a brother. Everyone adored him, my parents included. He had a way with people, yet he never abused his gift. I loved him so much.” Tears rolled slowly down my cheeks, and I brushed them away impatiently. “He used to call me Ari. Everyone did. Three years ago, he died on a rainy day like this one. My parents shut down inside themselves, and I felt that Ari was gone forever, buried in the earth with Antoine. I went crazy for a while but finally settled down and had Nette. Then she died.” I paused and gave them a watery smile, trying desperately to stifle the sobs that threatened to burst from my throat. “It was raining that night, too.”
“And you never see your parents?”
“Once, a few months before Nette died, and again at her funeral.” I looked at them seriously. “I know they are supposed to be two of the last three people on my list, but I don’t know if I am able to contact them or if they even want me.”
“How could they not want you, Ari?” asked Elder Perrault with tears in his eyes. The eyes suddenly widened when he realized he had called me Ari again. “I’m sorry. You just look like an Ari to me. Over the months I have thought of you as such, though no one ever used the name. I finally decided to see how you liked it. I’m very sorry. I won’t do it again, if you don’t want me to.”
I smiled slightly. “It doesn’t hurt so much today, now that you know about my brother,” I said, surprised to be telling the truth. “And if there ever was anyone to call me that, it should be you.” Now I had to choose my words carefully, because he was still a missionary and I wouldn’t compromise his calling for anything. “You are very special, like my brother was. You are very similar.”
“Then that makes two of us,” he replied. “You are also very like you described Antoine.” He paused and added softly, “So what do you think he would do in relation to your parents?”
I laughed shortly but without real mirth. “I knew you would ask that. I’ve asked myself the same question almost every day for the past year. Maybe it’s time for me to talk with them. Maybe I can finally do it.”
“You can, Ari. I know you can.” Elder Perrault looked so confident that I felt I really could succeed.
“Did you mean what you said about me being a missionary?” I asked suddenly. “Would they accept someone who has been married and had a child?”
“It does happen,” Elder Jones said. “You’ll have to talk to your bishop, of course, to get things going.”
“You’ll be wonderful!” Elder Perrault smiled at me, and I felt myself tingle all over in a way that I, a woman who had been married and given birth, barely recognized. “And I’ll write to you every week.”
My eyes met his. “Really?”
“I guarantee it.” His eyes were full of promise.
* * *
The next morning the sun was shining brightly again, making my spirit warm. Eagerly I went to see my bishop at his work without calling first. He was a supervisor at the local telephone company and was in his office most of the day.
“I want to go on a mission,” I blurted out the second his secretary left the room. “Can I go? Even though I’ve been married before?” I didn’t mention that I’d also had a baby; Bishop Rameau already knew my history.
He was silent for a moment, and I held my breath, fearing his answer. “Oh, Ariana,” he said finally. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. You will be an exceptional missionary.” His face was so sincere that for a moment I wanted to cry. “But I think because your divorce took place after your baptism, you will need an interview with a member of the Area Presidency.”
“What! Why?” I asked, nervous again at the thought of actually talking alone with a General Authority. They were men to be revered.
Bishop Rameau seemed to read my mind. “They are people, as we are, but with a special calling. There’s nothing to be afraid of. As to why you need to see him, it’s Church policy for youth who have been divorced or who have had moral transgressions. But I think you will enjoy the encounter.”
I didn’t agree but nodded anyway. “So how soon can I do this? I want to go on my mission as soon as possible.” I knew that even once the interviews were completed and the papers sent, I would have to wait weeks, maybe months, for my call.
He smiled. “I’ll bring the papers to the café this evening. It won’t take long to fill them out. I’ll make an appointment with the stake president for Sunday, and he’ll make one with the Area Presidency for whenever one of them is available. I’ll tell him how anxious you are.”
I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but I thanked him and left.
As promised, Bishop Rameau brought the mission papers by the café that evening. By Sunday, two days before my birthday, they were completed and ready to go, and I wa
s interviewed by my bishop and the stake president. I was happy and content that they were both excited and positive about my decision.
But as I walked out of the room where the stake president had held my interview, I was startled to see an American man in a dark suit. By his very posture, I knew he was a General Authority, though I didn’t recognize him personally. Bishop Rameau was at his side and introduced the man by name. I heard only “Elder”; the rest of the name escaped me.
“He came today because I told him how anxious you are to go on your mission,” the stake president explained as I shook hands with the tall man. “He is flying to Utah tomorrow to counsel with the Brethren and won’t be back for several weeks. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it today, but he did.”
I smiled faintly. I was happy I wouldn’t have to wait weeks for my interview but felt mentally unprepared for it today. “Thank you,” I said mechanically.
The man smiled and motioned to the room we had just left.
“You don’t want a translator?” Bishop Rameau asked.
“I think not,” the man replied in heavily accented French. “Thank you.” He gestured again, and I went inside. He followed me and closed the door. I gulped audibly; I was alone with a General Authority.
He began our interview by asking me brief questions about my life and my desire to serve a mission. His French was bad and my English worse, but somehow we communicated. He was well-informed about my past, thanks to Bishop Rameau, who spoke fluent English, and it made things easier for me. Even so, I was in tears as I told him about my baby. To my surprise, he was also crying. I watched as large tears rolled slowly down his long face, and I wondered that he could feel so much for me, someone he didn’t even know. It reminded me of how the Savior loved. Truly this was a man of God!
“Ariana,” he said after we had talked for more than an hour, “I feel that your Father in Heaven loves you very much and is pleased with the way you are living your life. In His estimation and in mine, you are worthy in every way to serve a mission.”
The Ariana Trilogy Page 12
