“I want you to help me plan my wedding.”
What! When she had talked about marriage the night before, I had assumed she meant months from now. “When are you planning it for?”
“Next week.”
“What’s the hurry? Are you pregnant?” I regretted the words immediately as I saw her eyes narrow defensively.
“Of course not!” Then more calmly she said, “Paulette’s dying,” as if that explained everything.
“So you have to get married now?”
She stood up and paced in front of the sofa. “She’s going to die. It could be me. It could be Philippe. We have to use what time we have left.” She sounded hysterical.
I stepped closer and put my hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes. “Lu-Lu, you can’t live in fear. None of us can. That’s not the Lord’s way. Fear is of the devil. Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t marry Philippe, but you need to give us all time. Especially your mother.”
“She doesn’t want me to get married.”
“She’s just had a severe shock. Her son and daughter-in-law are going to die within years and possibly the baby will, too. Besides us, you’re all she has for certain, and by marrying out of the temple, you’re going against everything she’s ever believed is right. Look at her; she needs time. You need time. Don’t rush the most important decision you will ever make.”
“What if there is no tomorrow for Philippe and me?”
“That’s what’s so miraculous about marrying in the temple,” I said. “Tomorrow will always be there for you, whether in this life or the next.”
“So you won’t help me?” she asked, her jaw tightening.
“Of course I will. But let’s give it more time and do it right. Let your family get through this first crisis. You owe us that at least.”
Her face wrinkled in sudden understanding. “Oh, Ari, I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”
I smiled. “Yes, but I understand. I remember how I felt when I first thought I was in love.”
“With your first husband?”
“Yes. It was a desperate sort of love—quite different from the stronger, more assured love I have for Jean-Marc. It’s . . . well, it’s eternal. It’s hard to explain. Things aren’t perfect, but I’ll never give up.”
Lu-Lu’s expression was thoughtful. “I guess we could wait a few months. That would give Mother time to come around.”
“And time for us to get to know Philippe. Perhaps we could even get him to listen to the missionary discussions.”
“I’d never dare ask!”
That made me laugh. “Silly Lu-Lu! Here you are, all set to marry a man who doesn’t even know what you believe in. Never mind—you forget that your family has three returned missionaries. We’ll teach him ourselves.”
She hugged me. “Thank you, Ari. I’m so glad I can count on you.”
“There’s just one thing,” I said. “I’ve noticed a change in you. Some of it I think is good, but some of it—” I didn’t know how to continue, so I blurted it out. “Lu-Lu, are you taking drugs?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I tried it,” she said hesitantly. “But since I found out about Paulette . . . don’t worry, I won’t do it ever again.”
I believed her. Relief hit me, clean and pure in the midst of turmoil. “I hope not,” I said, just in case. “That’s one thing none of us can tolerate. It’s too dangerous.”
“I know that now.” Her voice was a whisper.
I left her and went to shower and change. In the bathroom, Louise was still washing the children’s heads. “Well, did she tell you what she was planning?” she asked.
I nodded. “But she’s agreed to wait for a few months.”
Louise sighed. “Thank heaven!” Then she shook her head and blinked her eyes as if trying to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t know what to do, Ari. It seems as if I’m losing everything. What am I going to do?”
I grabbed her soapy hands. “Believe, for one thing,” I said. My own tears began in my sore eyes. “I don’t know the answer to everything, like why Paulette and Pierre have HIV, but I do know God lives and that families are eternal. Let’s just cling to that for now.”
She held my hands tightly. “But what about Lu-Lu?”
I set my jaw as stubbornly as Lu-Lu had set hers. “We have to give Philippe a chance, for Lu-Lu’s sake. We’ll teach him so much that he’ll be baptized or be scared away!”
Louise laughed through her tears. “Of course. Of course,” she said.
The children laughed with us, without knowing why. All but Marie-Thérèse, who simply watched us. My heart ached for her, but I didn’t know how to soothe her hurt.
After the bath, Louise and Lu-Lu took Marie-Thérèse for a short visit with her parents. I knew I should go, but I was afraid of seeing the death in Paulette’s eyes, so I simply made the excuse of having no one to stay with the children. Louise, Lu-Lu, and Marie-Thérèse returned in time for dinner. I served cake for dessert and was rewarded by a smile from my niece.
I had expected Jean-Marc to come home early that night, but he didn’t. The children were long in bed, as were Louise and Lu-Lu, before he arrived. The rain had fallen steadily, sounding out a steady and comforting beat on the window. It washed the world clean, as it had me for a brief time that afternoon.
“Hi, Ari.” Jean-Marc took me in his arms.
“How did work go?” I decided not to badger him about working late. He was dealing with things in the way that fit him best. I could at least give him that much.
“Good. We settled the Augustin account. And you?”
Unbidden, tears came to my eyes. “We danced in the rain.”
His gaze was tender. “You did? I wish I could have been there.”
“Me too.”
Chapter Nine
Twin shouts filled the silence of the early morning, awakening me from a sound sleep. I yawned and reached out to touch the space beside me. It was empty. The sound of water in the shower, echoing like a torrent of rain, came to my ears so I knew Jean-Marc couldn’t hear the twins’ complaints. I stretched again and opened my eyes, squinting slightly against the white light streaming in from the curtained window. In the streets below, I could hear the occasional car passing our building.
It seemed too quiet outside, contrasting with the loud children’s voices coming from the hall, and a shiver crept up my spine. I snuggled down in my soft blankets, but the warmth didn’t take away the sinister chill that seemed to shroud my heart.
The screaming had diminished, but a loud bumping sound forced me out of bed and into the twins’ room next door. What had they done now? I sighed when I saw that Marc had pulled the small bookcase down upon himself. Sometimes that child was impossible.
“Marc yelled at us,” Josette said, holding tightly to Marie-Thérèse’s hand. “And he threw books on the floor again.”
I saw that he was unhurt. “Marc Perrault—” I began, but Louise came to his rescue.
“I have breakfast ready,” she said, entering the room. “And Pierre’s on the phone for you.” She looked at the mess of books on the floor. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of this right now.” She stared at Marc purposefully, and his ever-ready grin vanished.
“But I hurt myself,” he protested.
“You’re really going to get hurt if you don’t pick up those books,” Louise threatened mildly. She was used to little boys’ excuses and didn’t have memories of my brother to cloud her judgment. I tried to hide a smile as Marc quickly grabbed a handful of thin books.
I escaped down the hall and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Ariana, can you come to the hospital?” Pierre’s voice was calm and oddly detached, yet I could tell he was agitated. There was a quiet desperation inside that rang out as clearly as if he had been screaming.
“What’s wrong?” I felt the chill in my heart return.
“It’s Paulette; she’s taken a turn for the worse. Please, can you come? And bring Mari
e-Thérèse.”
“We’ll be right there,” I said without hesitation. Paulette was my best friend, and she needed me.
I dressed hurriedly in the white dress of the day before, not stopping to shower or put on makeup. After a quick family prayer, I kissed the twins and André and left them with Louise. Marie-Thérèse held my hand, and with the other she carried the ever-present rag doll. On her face was a wistful smile.
Jean-Marc rode with me in the elevator. “Call if you need me,” he said, kissing me good-bye.
“I will.” But I completely dismissed the thought. Most likely I wouldn’t be able to reach him.
When we entered Paulette’s private room, I was sorry I had brought the child. Paulette’s condition had noticeably worsened. She lay once more on her side, eyes clenched tight, breath rasping in and out in a grisly pattern, despite the oxygen tube. Marie-Thérèse’s smile dimmed, and her large eyes became frightened again.
Pierre stood up and met us halfway across the room, swooping up his little daughter and hugging her. “I missed you,” he said, rubbing his unshaven face against her cheek.
She didn’t smile. “I missed you, too.” She glanced over his shoulder at Paulette. “And Mommy. When is she coming home?”
Pierre sighed. “I don’t know yet, honey.”
“Is something different today?” I asked, choosing my words carefully so as not to frighten Marie-Thérèse any more than necessary.
Pierre didn’t mince his words. “It’s the baby. Dr. Medard thinks he could treat her much better if she weren’t pregnant. He says her only chance might be to abort the baby. He thinks her life expectancy would be better.”
I stared at him. Abort the baby! How could it come to this? “And if she doesn’t?”
Pierre hugged his daughter close as he replied so softly I scarcely heard the words. “He’s afraid she’ll never recover from the pneumonia.”
Before I could fully digest his words, a feeble voice came from the bed. “Marie-Thérèse?”
“Mommy!” The little girl wriggled from her father’s grasp and ran to her mother. Paulette reached out her thin arms and hugged Marie-Thérèse the best she could in her reclining position, struggling to control her grimace of pain.
“How’s my baby?” Paulette asked.
“I’m not a baby!”
Paulette smiled. “I can see that. Did you have fun at Aunt Ariana’s?”
Marie-Thérèse nodded. “We played tiger with Uncle Jean-Marc yesterday, and last night we had cake and played princess. Do you think I’m pretty as a princess, Mommy?”
“No, you’re much prettier than a princess.”
Marie-Thérèse smiled, the first real one since we’d danced in the rain the day before. She climbed onto the chair and sat swinging her legs.
“Are you being a good girl?” Pierre asked.
Marie-Thérèse nodded. “I played in the rain, though. I forgot to tell you yesterday.”
“If Aunt Ariana let you, then I’m sure it’s all right,” Paulette said.
Marie-Thérèse beamed. “I love you, Mommy.” She leaned forward and touched her mother’s lips with a tiny finger and then closed her fist and put it against her little chest.
“I love you, too. So much.” Paulette touched Marie-Thérèse’s lips and brought the hand to her heart.
Both smiled. I recognized this as a ritual they had done many times before, perhaps at bedtime. The twins had gone through a similar phase the year before, and it had intensified when André was born, as if they needed reassurance of my love. Marie-Thérèse needed such solace now.
“Hey, do you want to go get an ice cream with Daddy?” Pierre asked, patting his rounded belly. “There’s a vendor on the corner, and I need to stretch my legs.”
Marie-Thérèse nodded. “I’ll be right back, Mommy. Don’t worry,” she said.
Paulette laughed weakly. “Okay, I won’t. But don’t be gone too long, or I’ll miss you.”
Marie-Thérèse’s face crinkled in a wide smile. She waved and put her hand in her father’s.
I walked to the bed and sank to the chair. Paulette looked at me as I took her hand. Thanks to Giselle and the booklet I had devoured over the past few days, I was not so fearful of contracting HIV. Casual touching would not pass the infection. Not even tears or kissing had ever been known to communicate the disease. I had worried for nothing.
“Did Pierre tell you?” she asked.
“About the doctor wanting to abort the baby?”
She nodded. “How can I do something like that? The scriptures say ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ I feel this baby moving. I know she’s alive. And I love her!”
“It sounds like you’ve made your decision.”
Her face seemed more gray than white, as if she had aged in the past week. “I did a lot of things before I joined the Church, Ari. But never murder. I thought I had been forgiven—perhaps not, in light of this disease—but how could I ever be forgiven for killing my baby? I won’t do it.”
“Not even to save your life?”
She snorted. “I’m dying anyway, Ari. It’s only a matter of time.” She turned her face into the pillow and hiccupped softly. I smoothed her long hair, wishing I could soothe her pain instead.
“Pierre wants me to do it,” she said.
I started. “What?”
“He wants me to abort the baby. He says I need to stay with him and Marie-Thérèse for as long as I can. How can he say that?” Her voice had tears in it, though her eyes were dry. “I don’t want to leave them.”
“He loves you. He’s afraid of living without you.”
She nodded slowly. “And perhaps of dying without me. I would be even more afraid if he weren’t here.” Her face had softened, but now it became resolute. “But he’s not thinking about the baby. She deserves a chance to live. How can I take that away? Then they tell me the odds are high that she’ll have HIV and that I’ll spare her the suffering later. That’s what everybody says.” She gave a short, bitter laugh. “Kill her now so she won’t suffer later. It doesn’t make much sense to me—especially because there is still a chance she won’t be infected. I know they’re afraid I’m going to die right away if I don’t do this, but I can’t kill her. I won’t.” She looked up, eyes pleading. “You’ll support me, won’t you? You understand.”
And I did. “I think I might do the same thing,” I said. But how hard it would be! To sacrifice some of my remaining time with my children and husband on the chance of a new life that could be as damaged as my own. “It’s the only choice you could make.”
“That’s what I think,” she said. “And I’ve had a lot of time to consider it.” She shifted her position slightly, grimacing, but staying on her side. I knew the doctor was worried about the blood supply to the baby and had ordered Paulette off her back, but the side position was more painful for the pleurisy in her chest.
“You know, the irony of this whole situation would be that the baby will have HIV and I will have killed her anyway, as I have Pierre. In that light, I am already a murderer.”
“No, Paulette. No!” I squeezed her hand tightly. “You didn’t know you had AIDS; how could you? You wouldn’t have infected any of your family if you’d had a choice. It’s not the same as murder. Some things we simply can’t change, and it’s no one’s fault. It just is. Like Antoine’s death and even Nette’s. Nobody wanted them to happen.”
“If I hadn’t done drugs, none of this would be happening, would it?” Her voice was bitter. “And now it’s too late.” Tears slid down her cheeks, sluggishly, as if afraid to reach the sharp curve of her jaw. My own face was wet, though I didn’t know when the tears had begun. “It’s like the scriptures say,” she added. “The sins of the parents will be visited upon the heads of the children. My poor baby!”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Paulette. I wish I did. But one thing I know is that the Lord loves you. Can you try to hold on to that?”
She nodded. “I’ll try. But I’m so afraid
. Please,” she tightened her grasp on my hand, “don’t let me give in and agree to abort the baby! It’s not worth it. Please talk to Pierre.”
“I will. You just concentrate on making yourself well enough to go home. We’re all pulling for you.”
As if she hadn’t heard me, Paulette lay with her eyes open, staring into space and saying nothing. Then she abruptly focused on my face. “Your tests. Louise told me they were negative. Were they really, or was she just trying to protect me?” Her voice held dread.
“They were all negative.” I was afraid to show my happiness at the fact because it only seemed to emphasize her tragedy.
But Paulette gave a cry of relief, and a fresh batch of tears erupted. “Oh, thank God! Oh, thank you, God!” Her eyes shut tight in prayer, squeezing out more tears. Her reaction proved what kind of a person she was. In her position, I might feel embittered that my friend was free of the disease while I had to suffer. Paulette’s honest face showed no such lowly emotion.
“I’m so sorry, Paulette,” I said. “I wish more than anything that you didn’t have to go through this.”
The torrent of tears seemed to abate slightly. “I know, Ari. I know. I’m so grateful I won’t have to do this alone. And that my little girl is taken care of and loved.”
“She is and always will be,” I promised.
“Thank you.”
“No, don’t thank me. We are friends, sisters. There’s nothing more to it.”
I stayed with her until she drifted off to sleep and then went to find Pierre. I didn’t know what I would say to him, but for Paulette, I had to try.
I found him on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. Both Marie-Thérèse and he were leaning against the rock and cast-iron fence surrounding the perimeter of the hospital grounds, finishing their ice cream. Pierre had only the sugar cone left. Marie-Thérèse had nearly the whole thing but worked at it steadily. She giggled at something her father said, and I smiled wistfully; she was too young to lose her mother and father both.
The afternoon sun was warm against my back, and the cloudless blue sky showed no sign of rain. The sidewalk had few people on it; most would be at their jobs. The traffic seemed heavy as usual, though without the intensity it usually projected. In all, it was a beautiful day in Paris. If only . . .
The Ariana Trilogy Page 28
