The Ariana Trilogy

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  I pulled out my mother’s scriptures and turned to Doctrine and Covenants 124:52. “‘And I will answer judgment, wrath, and indignation, wailing, and anguish, and gnashing of teeth upon their heads, unto the third and fourth generation, so long as they repent not, and hate me, saith the Lord your God.’” I paused to let it sink in. “You see, Paulette, you’re not in that category. You love the Lord. You have repented, and He has accepted your repentance. But that doesn’t mean He will change the consequences.” I launched into my examples and then reminded her of what Elder Tarr had told me so long ago: “The Lord loves those whom He tests. If He didn’t, why bother?”

  Paulette was crying. “This is too hard!”

  “So was losing Nette and Antoine.”

  She blinked twice, causing large tears to slide down her face in rivulets, and her mouth trembled as she caught her lip in her teeth, biting until the blood came as she had on the night Nette died. “He knew you could do it,” she said dismally.

  “As can you.”

  “How?” The question came out as a cry.

  “One day at a time. And we’ll be here for you.”

  “He loves me,” she whispered fiercely. “He loves me.”

  I nodded. “He does.”

  “I can do it!” Her voice was stronger, though still filled with an aching sadness.

  I glanced over to the door, where our husbands stood watching us. Their faces were full of heartache, yet the pain had been changed by hope.

  Paulette sat up alone and hugged me tightly, until my ribs begged for breath. “I love you.”

  “Then get well. You have a little girl who needs you, and a baby to help grow.”

  We left Paulette and Pierre, feeling we had done something good. Both Paulette and I had the faith we had lacked earlier, and already she was feeling stronger. The priesthood was healing her body, but my words—no, my father’s and Jean-Marc’s—had healed her mind and her heart.

  The day had been a long one for me, both physically and mentally. I drifted to sleep in the car and almost didn’t wake when Jean-Marc parked. He helped me to the apartment, undressed me, and then tucked me into bed tenderly. I felt his love, strong and sure.

  “Check the kids?” I asked.

  “They’re fine,” he said, snuggling in beside me.

  I knew they were and that my mother was curled up with Josette in her bed as she often was when sleeping over. But knowing and seeing didn’t mean the same thing to a mother. I slipped out of the warm bed and went to check on my children and Marie-Thérèse, leaving Jean-Marc to fall asleep.

  As he predicted, all the children were covered and slumbering with the peaceful abandon of the innocent. I kissed their rosy cheeks, feeling grateful I would be there tomorrow to see them wake. I considered Paulette one of the most righteous people I knew, but I didn’t want her trial, not even to become as close to God as she would be. I remembered all too vividly how savagely the refining fires burned. Even now, as I watched from a distance, my skin felt scorched by the blaze.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jean-Marc was in the kitchen when I awoke. My mother and Louise were serving a breakfast of juice and hot mush to the twins and Marie-Thérèse, who were seated at the table. The women’s eyes were tinged with red and swollen from yesterday’s crying, but today both looked happy. Lu-Lu had André on her lap and was spooning in his customary baby cereal.

  “Oh, Ariana, the blessing worked!” Louise said.

  “What?”

  “Pierre called this morning, nearly an hour ago. You got in so late, we didn’t want to wake you,” she explained. “Now we can finish our fast in thanksgiving, instead of asking for something.”

  André held out his arms for me, and I leaned down and kissed his cheek. At the table, the twins played a peculiar game with their hot cereal as Marie-Thérèse watched.

  “Pierre said Paulette looks much better this morning. They’ve taken her off the oxygen and everything. He says she got up to use the bathroom and announced she’s going home. They’re waiting for the doctor to come in this afternoon to see if he’ll release her.”

  Jean-Marc put his arms around me and gave me a kiss. “See what a little faith and fasting can do?”

  “Will you take me to the hospital?” Marie-Thérèse asked me.

  “Of course I will.”

  “I want to go!” the twins said in unison.

  “But then you won’t get to go to the park with me,” Lu-Lu said. “I’ve got suckers,” she added enticingly. The twins cheered.

  “I wish you could live with us always,” Marc said.

  “I do, too,” Lu-Lu said.

  Louise watched her. “I’ve been thinking of moving here myself. I think Paulette will need us.”

  Jean-Marc and I glanced at each other. For years we had been trying to get Louise to move to Paris, but she had always refused.

  “If you’re serious about moving here, Lu-Lu,” Louise continued, “Pierre said he could get you a job with his company. He said they could always use a good manager, and you have the training for it, having grown up working in our store.”

  “What, nepotism?” Lu-Lu said dryly. She sounded far more grown up than I had ever seen her.

  “Why not?” Jean-Marc said. “It worked for me.” We all laughed. “As for that, I could get you a job at the bank, especially since you’ve had a few years of college. We have a teller job open.”

  Lu-Lu appeared thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that. After all, this is the famous city of love, and I’m certainly ready for some excitement.”

  Louise frowned, but I was the only one who noticed.

  “What about Philippe?” Lu-Lu asked.

  Jean-Marc’s jaw tightened momentarily. “Him too,” he conceded. “I have a job lined up for him, if he wants it. He’ll have to cut his hair, shave, and wear a suit, but I’ll give him a shot.”

  Gratitude filled Lu-Lu’s face. “Thank you, Jean-Marc. I really think we’ll accept. I mean, I’ll have to talk with him, but we wanted to move here anyway. This will be the perfect opportunity. I can’t wait to tell him!” She stood and handed André to me. “May I use the telephone in the sitting room?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Jean-Marc smiled, and I knew he was grateful he had supported his sister, despite his disaffection for her fiancé. “Don’t worry,” he said to Louise. “It’s nothing with money, if that’s what you’re worried about. Philippe will be doing something with the paperwork after the tellers are finished with it.”

  She sighed. “I just wish I could get her away from him for a few months. That’s all it would take, I’m sure.”

  “How long have you been planning on moving to Paris?” I asked. I knew Louise wouldn’t have said anything if the decision hadn’t already been made.

  “Since I talked to Pierre this morning,” she said. “I’m going to give up my apartment in Bordeaux and live with Pierre and Paulette until an apartment in their building opens up. That way I’ll be close enough to help when—” she broke off, and I understood why. Now that Paulette was feeling better, it seemed like bad luck to talk about her dying. “I’m going back to Bordeaux today to arrange things, if Lu-Lu will come. I’d better go talk with her.”

  “But she’s taking us to the park,” Josette protested as Louise left. The children had been monitoring the conversation without much interest until their outing had been threatened.

  “I’ll take you,” my mother said.

  “Do you have suckers?” asked Marc.

  My mother smiled. “I can buy some.”

  “All right then,” he agreed.

  The buzzer in the hallway rang. “I’ll get it,” Jean-Marc said.

  “Go get dressed,” I told the children, seeing they weren’t going to eat any more. “Make sure it matches. Marie-Thérèse, you help them decide what to wear, okay?” They scrambled from their chairs and ran down the hall.

  I grinned at my mother. “You’ve been watching my children so muc
h, you might as well move in.”

  She grimaced and said softly, “I may have to.”

  “Nonsense. Father may be stubborn, but he’s not stupid.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said, heaving a sigh. André held out his arms for her, and she took him from me and held him tightly against her chest. “He certainly is a sensitive child.” My mother kissed his soft cheek. I agreed. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve such a compassionate little boy, but I was grateful.

  “Josephine,” my father’s voice came from the kitchen doorway. Behind him I saw Jean-Marc’s hesitant grin. I knew he had planned this meeting. I only hoped it worked out.

  “Géralde.” Surprise tinged with hope covered my mother’s face. She held André tighter.

  My father glanced briefly at me and then back at my mother. “I love you, Josephine. Please come back home.” He took the few steps between them and reached for her hands. She shifted André to her hip and let him lift her free hand between his. “I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he said. “I had no right to treat you that way.”

  I started to edge past him to join Jean-Marc in the hallway, but my father stopped me. “No. Ari, Jean-Marc, I want you both to hear this.” He turned back to my mother. “I had no right to treat you that way, Josephine,” he repeated, “though I do have the right to take steps to protect my family. I don’t want to lose you, and I feel that I will if you join this church. It will separate us. Please, come home and reconsider. Attend all you want but don’t consent to baptism. Remember, I love you. Isn’t that what’s important?”

  My mother let André slide to the floor. In her eyes, I thought I saw all of the things she would like to say, but she knew they were things my father wasn’t ready to hear. “I love you,” she whispered, “and yes, I’ll come home.”

  They held each other in a close embrace, with my father leaning over to bury his face in her neck. I took André’s hand and left the room.

  “You planned this,” I accused Jean-Marc in the hall.

  He shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “For now.” I knew that the issue had been shelved, not settled. Just as Jean-Marc and I had done to our own problems. Perhaps it was good enough.

  * * *

  Marie-Thérèse and I arrived at the hospital shortly before lunch. Pierre was in the hall, and he picked up Marie-Thérèse and whirled her around. “We’re taking Mommy home,” he said.

  She giggled. “I know!”

  He set her down, and she ran into her mother’s room. Paulette was standing, pacing the floor. Pierre grinned at me. “I can’t get her to rest. She’s like her old self again.”

  “Then maybe now you can get back to your normal self.” I patted his belly, which had shrunk noticeably in the week Paulette had been in the hospital.

  He grinned. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “Getting back to normal life, I mean. In fact, I’m going to have to go in to work for a while this afternoon. I’ve already taken three full days off as it is. I’m not worried about vacation time—I still have nearly my whole month’s annual vacation to take—but I left some important things unfinished.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll take Paulette home?” I said. “Then you can take care of whatever and meet us at your house.”

  “Would you?”

  I nodded, and he turned into the room to tell Paulette. I was about to follow when I noticed several nurses and doctors emerging from a room down the hall. Two of the nurses pushed a bed with a still figure on it, a blanket drawn up to obscure the face. I took a few steps down the hall to check the number on the door: room 301. The woman I had talked with last night was dead.

  “She died just a few minutes ago,” Giselle said, separating herself from the other nurses coming from the room. Her dark cheeks had tears on them, yet her eyes were happy.

  “She had AIDS?”

  The nurse nodded. “For three years now, she’s been fighting for life, though sometimes I wondered why. She was a mean, bitter lady. I often found it hard to take care of her.”

  “She was your patient then?”

  “Yes. But today she was different. This morning when she called for me, I thought she was going to complain about breakfast as she usually did. Instead, she told me she had seen an angel during the night.”

  I gulped. “An angel?”

  Giselle nodded. “At first she thought it was Death come to take her, but then she saw an angel with a flowing white robe who held her hand and told her God had forgiven her and loved her.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  Giselle’s even gaze met mine. “Paulette is better today after your husband’s blessing, almost miraculously so. It is easier for me to believe in an angel than to see her recover so quickly.”

  I opened my mouth to confess, but she shook her head. “Angels come in all forms, Ariana, both heavenly and earthly. Sometimes one doesn’t know when she will be someone else’s angel.”

  I knew then that she or one of the other nurses had seen me the night before, coming from the dead woman’s room. “What was her name?”

  “Madeleine. And she died happy, with a smile on her face. I had never seen her smile.” Giselle walked away.

  When I pushed open the door to Paulette’s room, she was waiting for me in the chair beside her bed, an unfinished blessing gown in her hands. It still made me smile in wonder at the idea of Paulette embroidering. It was an art I still had not grasped, though not for lack of diligence on the part of certain sisters from our ward.

  Pierre was nowhere in sight, but Marie-Thérèse stared out the window. The thick brown curtains had been drawn back to let in the warm sun. I focused on Paulette. She was still too thin, but her light brown eyes glistened with life.

  She nearly bounced from her chair. “Oh, Ariana, thank you so much! Because of you, I’m going home today. At least I will if the doctor ever gets here.”

  I thought of telling her about the lady in room 301 but decided against it. “It wasn’t me, it was the blessing,” I said.

  “Yes,” she agreed, “but you returned my faith to me.” She hugged me, and this time I no longer smelled death. She really was going to be okay—for now. I sighed in relief.

  “There now, Ari.” She patted my back, misconstruing my emotion. “Everything’s all right.”

  “I’ve missed you. I’ve been lonely. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Survive,” she said. “You’re good at that. We both are.”

  The door opened, and our conversation died. “Dr. Medard,” Paulette said.

  This was the AIDS specialist, my first time meeting him. He was a relatively young man of average height, and his face was plain. Nothing to set him apart from a million other faces in the world, except perhaps for his moustache and the compassion in his light brown eyes.

  Those eyes now stared at Paulette. “Back in the world of the living, are we?” he asked. He came closer to the bed, and I saw that his moustache hid a cleft lip, repaired in the days before such surgeries had been perfected. Somehow the defect seemed to give him a sense of presence, something that arrested the attention and made me understand he was a man to be admired.

  “I feel good,” Paulette said. “I’m tired, and my chest still hurts a bit, but I’m well enough to go home.”

  He frowned. “So it seems. I’m frankly astonished, but from all the tests and from the way you look and feel, I must say there’s no reason to keep you here. But I’m a little worried you’ll overdo things. Do you have someone to help you?”

  She nodded. “My husband’s sister and mother are coming to stay with me for a time. And even now, the sisters from my church are lining up at my door to bring meals and do laundry.”

  The doctor chuckled. “Good, very good. You have to take care of yourself. The next infection you get may be your last. I’ll want to see you every few weeks, of course, to make sure you and the baby are progressing well. At any hint of sickness at all, you must com
e in.”

  “Okay, okay,” Paulette said.

  “In that case, you can leave.” He smiled again and left the room.

  “What happened to your regular doctor?” I asked, remembering the man who resembled a basset hound.

  She shook her head. “He’s not equipped to deal with AIDS. I’m seeing Dr. Medard permanently now. He’s one of the best, and the only doctor around who takes care of pregnant women with AIDS or HIV.”

  “But he wanted to abort your baby,” I protested.

  “He wanted to do what was best for me,” she said. “Once I explained how important she is to me, he didn’t push. It was mostly Pierre.”

  “Love is an odd thing. Sometimes I don’t understand it.”

  “Me either,” she agreed, picking up a sturdy plastic sack packed with her things. She carefully folded the blessing gown and tucked it inside. “Shall we?”

  I proffered my arm. “Yes, we shall.”

  We sauntered out the door and down the hall, with Marie-Thérèse hopping after us. Under her breath, she hummed a melody as she moved from square to square on the linoleum. Unlike the other floors, this one had carpet only in the waiting room.

  “Marguerite!” Paulette exclaimed.

  I looked to see the robust woman striding down the hall. “But you’re all better,” she said, staring at Paulette in surprise.

  Paulette laughed. “Yes, I am.” There was a note of determination in her voice.

  Marguerite hugged her. “I’m so glad. Want to celebrate? I’ll buy lunch.” She glanced at me. “You’re still fasting, aren’t you? We can break our fast together.”

  Paulette shook her head. “No offense, Marguerite, but I just want to go home.”

  The older lady chuckled. “I understand completely.”

  “But since you’re here, there’s someone I want you to meet.” We were approaching the nurses’ station. Giselle stood near it, eyes fastened on a report in her strong hands.

  “I’m leaving,” Paulette said. “I’ve come to say good-bye.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone recover so quickly,” Giselle said to us.

  “I’m not surprised,” said Marguerite. “Ever since I joined the Church, I’ve seen many miracles. Why, the fact Paulette is alive today is proof enough.”