“Do you really believe that?” Lu-Lu asked.
The question startled me. “Don’t you?”
“I—I guess so. I just didn’t realize how important it was. When Philippe and I were planning to get married, I just thought about now and about how much I loved him. But take your parents. They’ve been together so long, and yet they nearly broke up because of their different beliefs. I wonder if that’s what would have happened to Philippe and me.”
“You never know. But it seems likely, given his attitude toward the Church.”
“I could never imagine choosing the Church over a man I loved,” Lu-Lu said. “But maybe I was wrong. I mean, like with Paulette and Pierre, their love will go on forever. Had Philippe and I been in their position, our love would have been over, with no hope.”
“Do you have a testimony of the Church?” I asked.
Lu-Lu paused in thought. “I don’t think I did, or I would never have settled for marriage outside the temple,” she said. “But I believe now.”
“That’s a beginning,” I said. “Now what are you going to do about it?”
“What do you mean?”
I laughed. “Don’t look so startled. All I mean is that a secure knowledge of the gospel always leads people to want to help others. Do you remember when my father decided to be baptized? Well, when I found him in the cemetery that day, I thought I might have to stop him from jumping up on a park bench somewhere and proclaiming the gospel with one of those loudspeakers.”
“Really?” Lu-Lu giggled at the idea.
I nodded. “It wasn’t a bit like him. Do you know he passed out a Book of Mormon to everyone at the bank?”
“He didn’t!”
“He did. The board members weren’t too happy when they heard.”
Her eyes grew wide. “What did he do?”
“He gave them each a long overdue raise—and a Book of Mormon!” The idea of him doing so made us both laugh.
“Shhh, you two,” my father whispered. “It’s beginning.”
I turned to say just one more thing. “Family is one of the most important things we preach in the gospel,” I said. “I never realized how important family was until I went on a mission. It was then I knew that the best work I could ever do was at home, with those I love. Don’t settle for what won’t make you happy in the long run. It’s not worth it!”
She nodded. “I think I’ve been luckier than I deserve,” she said. “My family has always been strong. I wonder if I . . .” Her voice drained away. “Thanks, Ari. I’ve got some thinking to do.” She turned to listen to the speaker.
A short time later, when my father emerged from the water, I knew I had never been happier in my entire life. We did it, Antoine, I said silently. Our family is whole!
Jean-Marc met my gaze from where he stood in the font, waiting for my mother. I love you, he mouthed.
Life was sometimes hard but so worth it.
* * *
When we arrived home, Pierre met us at the door with tiny Pauline asleep in his arms. His face was worried.
“What’s wrong?” I asked anxiously, checking Pauline for any visual signs of sickness.
“It’s Simone,” Pierre said.
“What?”
“The clinic called. She’s supposed to be here or at work, but when they were doing random checking, they found out she’s not at either place.”
I frowned. “Oh, no! For over two months she’s been without drugs. Two months! What if . . .” My voice trailed off.
“I don’t believe it,” Jean-Marc said. “She was doing so well.”
“Was she?” I asked. She had been upset at Paulette’s death but less than I expected. Perhaps stark realization had finally struck. “I have to find her,” I said.
Jean-Marc nodded. “Pierre and I will stay with the children.”
“No, I want to go with Ariana,” Pierre said.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” I didn’t try to keep the surprise from my voice.
He nodded once, decisively. “Yes. She’s Paulette’s mother. It’s time I took responsibility for my family and their happiness.” He handed Pauline to Jean-Marc and knelt near Marie-Thérèse. “I’m going to find Grandma Simone, and when I come back, you and I are going to have a talk.”
Marie-Thérèse beamed. “What if I’m asleep?” she asked, her smile fading.
Pierre kissed her nose. “Then I’ll wake you right up.”
“Thank you, Daddy. And I love you.” Her arms went up around his neck.
“I love you, too.”
I bade farewell to the twins, and Jean-Marc blew me a kiss. I grabbed it in mid-air and slapped it on my cheek. Pierre pulled on a cap over his bald head and opened the door.
We started by searching the bars and cafés near Simone’s house and then near ours and the clinic. We found nothing. It was embarrassing entering the places reeking of alcohol and smoke, but we plunged doggedly on. We began checking the small stores lining the streets, though many were closed for the Sabbath. The afternoon sun began to fade.
“Where could she be?” Pierre said.
I shook my head. In his eyes I saw the same guilt I was feeling. If only we had been more supportive, if only we had paid her more heed. “It’s not our fault,” I said. “It’s her choice to change or not.”
“Like it was mine to reject my daughter.”
I said nothing, just watched him.
“You were right all along,” he continued. “You and Paulette. That baby is a gift from God.”
“Shall we pray?” I asked.
He grinned, and I could see the old Pierre shining through. “I’ll offer it.” We stood together and prayed in a little alleyway off the main street. Afterwards we walked on.
“Now, where might she go?” I mumbled. I couldn’t help feeling that the answer was within my grasp.
“She wouldn’t try to hurt herself, would she?” Pierre asked. “Like throw herself in the Seine or anything.”
I grabbed his arms. “The Seine, yes!”
Without explaining, I propelled him back to the car. I drove straight to the Quai de Montebello and the booksellers’ stalls. We left the car and hurried to the stone wall overlooking the Seine, eyes searching through the thin crowd of tourists.
“There!” Pierre pointed, and I saw her, looking out over the water.
“Simone!” I cried. She turned her head and watched our approach.
“Where have you been?” Pierre asked. “We’ve been searching everywhere.”
She turned her gaze back to the gentle waves below. “I’ve been watchin’ the water. And wonderin’ how God made it.”
“What?” Pierre said, but I smiled.
Simone focused on Pierre. “Ya thought I went to a bar, didn’t ya? Or back to drugs?” Pierre nodded, shamefaced. There was no trace of substance abuse in Simone’s manner. She laughed. “Don’t feel bad. I almost did.” There were tears in her voice. “I was missin’ Paulette and thinkin’ about yer little baby. I got depressed and planned to go to a bar and order a vodka and a couple joints to begin with, but then I stopped here first. A man came up to me, and we got to talkin’ about how water is made—you know, them molecules and stuff. He told me how the world always has the same amount of water in it, and how it recycles. It evaporates, goes up and comes back as rain, or people use it. It was so fascinatin’, such a perfect system. I knew God made it.” She glanced my way briefly. “So I prayed.” She stopped.
“And?” Pierre asked anxiously.
“He answered, of course,” Simone said. “I guess I’ll be seein’ them missionaries of yers after all. And don’t be shocked, but I ain’t too sure if I won’t go back to school, study science or somethin’.”
Pierre hugged her. “Paulette would be proud.”
“Proud?” Simone asked doubtfully. She thumbed heavenward. “More than likely, she’s up there askin’ what the h—, uh, beans took me so long.”
We took Simone back to the clinic. She had to u
ndergo a drug test, but given the circumstances of her daughter’s recent death, the personnel were understanding—especially when the tests came out negative. Pierre and I went home, exhausted but happy.
“We have been blessed,” Pierre said to me. “Don’t let me ever forget it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
After his baptism that Sunday, my father threw himself into church work like a man starved for any touch of the Spirit. Through his efforts, the genealogical line I had been sporadically working on doubled in size the first week. My mother blossomed with her newfound happiness. “I’ll never ask for another thing,” she vowed. “The Lord has been so very good to me.”
My parents were the only ones newly baptized, but they were not the only ones who began a new life. That day it seemed we all started anew—learning from the past, throwing out everything that held us back, and holding on to only that which made us strong and sealed us as survivors.
Pierre’s budding relationship with Pauline healed something inside him, something none of us had been able to reach. It made him stronger physically, as though the love inside helped fight the cancers that ate at his body. Even with his growing strength, he didn’t return to work full time. He wanted to spend whatever moments he had left with his little girls, building memories to last them the rest of their lives. He unearthed the videotape recorder Paulette had made him buy, and we spent outrageous sums on videotape in order to record every moment we wanted to hold dear.
In November, when Marie-Thérèse turned five, we celebrated at the house. At nearly four months, Pauline was still too small to go out in the cold weather, so we contented ourselves in having a family party with more presents than any little girl had a right to. Josette couldn’t hide her envy, but Marie-Thérèse was more than willing to share her bounty.
One of Simone’s presents turned out to be the best. She had carefully wrapped a certificate the bishop had filled out for her baptism that coming Sunday. She had originally planned to wait until her drug program was complete, but she decided that having the Holy Ghost with her would make the last six weeks in the clinic easier to bear. She had been clean for four and a half months.
Marie-Thérèse handed Simone a money bank I had given her. “Then you’ll need this,” she said. “To save money for a trip to the temple.”
Simone hugged it to her body. “Oh, thank you!”
“Well, that’s all the presents,” I said, stooping down to gather wrapping paper from the floor in the sitting room.
“I have an announcement,” Lu-Lu said suddenly. She had been bursting with a secret since she arrived, and I felt dread at hearing it, fearing that Philippe had come to his senses and wanted to marry her after all.
“I’m going on a mission,” she said brightly. “I’m tired of waiting for something good to happen. I’m going to be like Ari and go out and try to make a difference.” She turned to Jean-Marc. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll meet my future spouse on my mission, like you did.” We hugged her, offering congratulations. I saw sharp relief on Louise’s face. She, too, had been worried by the impending announcement.
My father stared at Lu-Lu enviously. “I wish I could go.” Abruptly his eyes glazed over, and he seemed far away. “Why, I can go! Not yet, perhaps, but retirement is not too far off.” He faced my mother. “What do you think?”
She laughed. “You? Retire? I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You’ve got another ten years before you can even think about retiring,” Jean-Marc said.
My father’s eyes glistened with a fervor which before I had only seen him demonstrate toward his work. “It’s not too soon to begin planning,” he said. We laughed. To think that less than four months ago, my father had never even read the Book of Mormon! A miracle had happened before our eyes.
“Enough of this,” I said. “Who wants cake?” A chorus of voices shouting “I do!” followed me into the kitchen.
Lu-Lu helped me serve. “So what made you decide to go on a mission?” I asked.
“I want to help people understand how much God loves them,” she replied. “It’s like you said. Once I began to understand how important and true the gospel is, I wanted to share it.”
“Kind of like a virus, ain’t it?” Simone said inelegantly. “Ya know, catchin’.” I wasn’t sure I liked the analogy, but she had a point.
The phone rang. “It’s for you, Lu-Lu,” Jean-Marc said.
“I’ll get it in the sitting room,” she said. “There’s too much noise here.”
When she had left, Jean-Marc came up to me. “It’s Philippe,” he said quietly. “On the telephone.”
I groaned and closed my eyes. “Not now.” I went into the large entryway where I could see Lu-Lu talking in the sitting room. When she put the phone in its cradle, she was crying.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“He wanted me back,” she said. “And I wanted to say yes. I still love him. But I know the Church is true. If he wants me, he’ll have to come on my terms. I’m not trading eternity for what I can see right now. Like you tried to tell me when your parents were baptized, it’s not worth settling. There’s too much at stake.”
“I’m proud of you,” I said.
She came to me and buried her face in my shoulder. “I’m all right. I really am. It just hurts because I know Philippe won’t be changing any time soon.”
“I guess it’s good you’re going on a mission then, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “Yeah, I guess so.”
A feeling of love pervaded the room, drying Lu-Lu’s tears. I knew there would be hard times yet ahead of her, but more than half the battle was already won. We joined the others for a beautiful evening of family togetherness. Love and laughter filled the apartment as never before.
“Happy?” Jean-Marc asked, pulling me close in a tight embrace.
“Oh, yes,” I said. I knew that our happiness was ever so much more precious because it hadn’t come easily.
The evening had gone well, but later, long after the children were in bed, I started from a sudden sleep, my heart pounding frantically. I hurried out of bed and into Pauline’s room. Had she become sick? She had seemed so well earlier. Not my baby! I cried silently. Not yet—it’s too soon!
Jean-Marc was already in the room, staring down at a sleeping Pauline. “She’s all right,” he whispered. “The crying isn’t coming from here.”
Now that I knew Pauline was safe, I smiled in wonder that Jean-Marc, who had once slept so soundly, had awakened before me. Pauline certainly had us all trained. “Let’s check the others,” I said.
We met Pierre coming from the girls’ room. “It’s Marie-Thérèse,” he said, wringing his hands. “She’s crying. I can’t get her to stop.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, and in the dim light I could see the tears. “She’s calling for her mommy.”
I pushed past him and into the room. Marie-Thérèse was sitting up in bed, clutching her rag doll and rocking back and forth, whimpering.
“Mommy! Oh, Mommy, where are you?”
I sat on the bed and drew her unresisting body onto my lap. “I’m here, Marie-Thérèse. I’m here for you. It’s going to be all right.” She clung to me and the whimpering stopped, but her little chest still shook with silent sobs. I held her, not knowing what to do. I had thought she had accepted her mother’s death, but it seemed that acceptance was not a complete healing.
After a long time the shaking subsided, and Marie-Thérèse spoke. “I can’t see her anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“In my mind, when I close my eyes. She’s not there. Her face isn’t there. I don’t remember what she looks like.”
I had experienced the same thing myself. At times I could see Paulette so clearly, but at others I could only remember the way she had made me feel.
“Are you afraid you’re going to forget her?” I asked. Marie-Thérèse gave a large sniff and nodded. I hugged her. “You know, sometimes when we’re not with
a person, we can’t remember too well what they look like. But that doesn’t stop us from loving them. Not ever. We can hold them in our hearts, even if we can’t hold them in our minds. Our hearts will never forget.”
Then I had an idea. I picked up Marie-Thérèse and carried her into the hall. “We need a picture of Paulette,” I said to the brothers who hovered anxiously near the door. “And a flashlight.”
“I’ll get the flashlight,” Jean-Marc said.
I glanced at Pierre. “I want a good picture,” I said. “A large one we can hang near Marie-Thérèse’s bed.”
He disappeared, and I carried the little girl back to her bed. Soon the others were back. We hung the picture and gave Marie-Thérèse the flashlight. She turned it on, shining it onto her mother’s face. It was the large picture from Pierre’s own room, taken at the time of Marie-Thérèse’s birth. Paulette was staring down at the new baby with love etched unmistakably on her face.
Marie-Thérèse nodded, her expression solemn. “Now I won’t forget.”
I pointed to her chest. “Remember what I said. You won’t ever forget her in your heart, even if you can’t remember her face.”
She nodded and then reached out a finger and touched my lips, closing her hand tightly and lifing it to her heart. “Thank you.”
Her special link with her mother, and she had used it with me! For a moment I could only stare, marveling at the miracle. Then I brought my own finger to her lips and held it to my heart. “I love you, Marie-Thérèse,” I whispered.
She smiled, and for a moment I saw Paulette in her face. “I know,” she said simply.
I kissed her and stood up to leave. Jean-Marc did the same, but Pierre settled on the floor beside the bed. “I’ll stay here for a while, until she falls asleep.”
The rest of the night passed quickly, with only Pauline’s feedings to break it up. When it was my time for one of the three nightly feedings, I checked in on Marie-Thérèse, but she slept soundly. Pierre was asleep on her floor, and I covered him with an extra quilt.
Early in the morning, I heard someone enter Pauline’s room. I listened to the monitor but heard nothing more, so I arose and went in. Marie-Thérèse stood on the bathroom stool near the crib. The bright morning light streaming in through the windows made an aura of light around her body, bringing out the highlights in her hair like a halo. In her hands, she held the cloth doll Paulette had made.
The Ariana Trilogy Page 44
