Two Testaments (28 page)

“I can’t wait to go there and be with Jesus. Bribri says in heaven there is no more crying or war or bad men.”

She wants to go to heaven, and I will send her there with one pull of the trigger.

Hussein aimed. He touched his finger to the trigger. Everything in him trembled, and tears ran down his face. “I can’t do it,” he said aloud, and a wave of relief ran through him. He dropped the gun in the grass.

“Can’t do what?” Ophélie turned around to face him. “Go to heaven? Oh, Hussein. Don’t worry. Jesus loves you. He’ll take you to heaven when you die, if you ask Him.”

She walked over to him. She was like a ghost or an angel, standing there in her white nightgown. Her fine, small features looked so fragile and delicate. A soft breeze blew through her hair. Hussein stared at her, trembling, crying.

“Whatever is the matter, Hussein? Don’t you find it beautiful?” She wiped a tear from his face. “Oh, I know. It’s like Bribri says. Sometimes people cry with happiness. Sometimes your feelings get all mixed up, and you can’t think if you are sad or happy or both.”

Suddenly Hussein laughed out loud. She was right, this little girl. His emotions were all over the place. He was terrified at what he almost had done and equally terrified that he had not done it. But mostly he was relieved and ecstatically happy that Ophélie still stood before him, alive.

“We’d better go in now,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Aw … well, okay. I’ll get the chair.” She ran over to a corner of the courtyard. As she did, Hussein stooped and picked up the revolver, tucking it back into his pants. He had the strangest feeling that the heavens were blinking down their approval.

“One of the children has been playing with my chair again,” Mother Griolet commented good-naturedly. “Right under the bathroom window. Dear me, I hope none of the new children are trying to run away. You could hardly blame them if they did.”

Gabriella picked up the wicker chair and brought it into the shade of an olive tree near the courtyard wall. “Sit down, please, Mother Griolet.”

“Thank you, child.” She leaned over and touched a pansy. “Poor thing. It’s getting too hot for them now. They’ll soon be dying out. Ah well, they’ve been so very helpful, haven’t they? Got us through the winter cheerily, with their bright splashes of color.”

Gabriella brought a chair from the dining hall into the courtyard and sat down beside Mother Griolet. “I wanted to talk to you while the children are out on their walk about … about your offer.”

“
Ah, oui, ma fille.
Of course.” She spoke with difficulty, as if her mind were on something else.

“Are you still interested, Mother Griolet? I’ve been thinking about it a lot—praying too, of course. It scares me to death. I don’t possibly see how I could do it.” She turned her hands in her lap. “But I’m willing to give it a try.”

Mother Griolet said nothing, staring lamely in the distance. Gabriella watched her carefully. She had expected the nun to be ecstatic, or at the least enthusiastic.

“Are you all right, Mother Griolet?” She touched the old woman’s hand.

The nun looked around and smiled at Gabriella, but her eyes were filled with tears. Gabriella thought that perhaps she had not heard her. She started to speak again, but the old nun began talking.

“Forgive me, dear. A bit reflective these days. Thank you, Gabriella. Thank you for being willing to stay. You are a spunky young woman. The Lord will do many things through you, I have no doubt.” She patted Gabriella’s hand. “But I am not sure it will be here.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriella had wrestled with this decision for two weeks. “Are you saying you don’t want me after all?”

“Of course not, Gabriella. No, that isn’t it.” She shook her head slowly. “We’ve been receiving a lot of disturbing mail lately, and it seems the church and the government agree that this place should be closed down.”

“What? There’s not a better orphanage in all of France. And the exchange program! What about that?”

“The parents are withdrawing their support. You must understand that a good deal of the funding comes from a handful of wealthy Americans who have supported this program since its inception. Without their money, it can’t go on.”

“But why are they withdrawing support?” She answered her own question. “It’s Caroline, isn’t it? She wrote her dad.”

“Yes.”

“And all those important businessmen believed her? That’s crazy!”

“Her father is very influential. I’m afraid little St. Joseph has gotten caught up in a political game of power that really has nothing to do with us.”

“And the orphanage?”

“The townspeople have worked up a petition demanding that the Arab children be sent away. They are no happier about the pied-noirs, but what can they say? The church feels that the place cannot stay open without the town’s support—they do provide a good bit of the financial backing. Some of the more prominent families have always been extremely generous … until recently.”

“But they can’t just close it down! What will happen to the children?” Gabriella felt faint, angry.

“Some will be adopted, the rest sent to other orphanages. The harki children will doubtless go to the refugee camps that are being set up in the region.”

“And you can’t do anything?”

Mother Griolet laughed. “I am not a very popular person in the higher echelons. People have put up with me, but few will be sorry to see me go.”

“Go! Go where?”

The nun shrugged.

“It’s impossible! I won’t let it happen! Surely Sister Isabelle and Sister Rosaline can do something! No! We won’t give up. It’s not like you to give up.”

“My fiery little redhead! I appreciate your zeal. Of course I don’t want to give up. But it seems God is closing the door.”

“He can’t be. Not when I’m ready to step through it.” Gabriella stopped herself, realizing that she had been shouting. She lowered her voice. “Aren’t you the one who said to trust? That God always provides? You’ve said it to me a hundred times. Please don’t give up.” She grabbed the nun’s hands. “Please teach me. Teach me everything. School will be out in a week. I’ll have all my time to learn. All summer to see your files, to understand how you have done it.”

“I don’t deserve you, Gabriella. If you wish, I’ll show it all to you. But I can’t promise you or David a job for next year. Our Lord can do as He pleases. He’s got my attention now, and I’m not sure where He’s leading.”

“I’m not afraid of whatever comes. You’ll be here to show me. I’m sure God will do the rest.”

The talks about oil were leading nowhere, and Roger Hoffmann had a strange feeling that they never would. He could not put his finger on it, but something was amiss. For the past two days he had felt sluggish, unable to think clearly. His flight was scheduled to leave tomorrow, to his immense relief. His suitcase was packed, and official good-byes had been said. He decided to find a taxi and ride to the airport tonight to make sure nothing changed his plans.

Suddenly his hotel door was forced open and two hooded men rushed in. Before he could even speak, one of them hit him hard across the face and sent him reeling.

“What in the—?”

“This is a message from the OAS, Hoffmann. No more dealings with the FLN. You shouldn’t be here. We’re going to make sure you never come back.”

The letter from Anne-Marie had come through his friend Luc at the épicerie just this morning, and Moustafa tore open the envelope with trembling hands. A letter from Anne-Marie. He knew that he was grinning foolishly. He couldn’t help it. Today he had two reasons to celebrate. He grabbed David by the shoulders, shook him hard, and laughed. “It’s a miracle! Mother has agreed to leave with my sisters! And here’s a letter from Anne-Marie. Maybe your God is smiling down on me today.”

David patted him on the back. “Go enjoy your letter,
mon ami
.” He raised his eyebrows. “And afterward, I want to hear all about it.”

Moustafa stretched out on the mattress in the bedroom, letting his eyes soak in the reality of Anne-Marie’s penmanship in her first three words:
My dear Moustafa
. The doubts that had plagued him for the past two months seemed to fade away.

I am happy and safe in this little haven. It is so perfect, and yet I am sick for missing you.

The future was suddenly bright with possibilities. Anne-Marie knew they could make their love work if only he would come to her, she said. Then she wrote about Ophélie and about Hussein arriving. Moustafa frowned at the news of the lost trunk. That meant she had not received his letter.

Gabriella is becoming a true friend, Moustafa. You will like her.… All the adults at the orphanage read the Bible for themselves. Even Ophélie can quote verses from the Holy Book and explain them to me. I hope I am not shocking you, but I am reading it too, just to see. These are things we will discuss when you are here.

Moustafa shook his head in wonder that Anne-Marie was also discovering the Bible. It made a chill run down his back, as if maybe Allah, or whatever this God’s name was, actually wanted them to be together. How he longed for a safe place, away from the suffering, away from the pain.

Maybe she was right. Maybe there was a life for them in France … if only he could get there!

Rémi Cebrian had another trunk at his farmhouse. But Moustafa knew one trunk could not conceal his brother and him. There was talk blowing around, his mother had whispered to him this morning, that a French officer was renting a whole ferry to take his harki troop, of which Moustafa’s brother was a member, to France on July 3. If his brother could secure two places on that boat, they would be guaranteed safe passage. But one boat was only a drop in the bucket for the hundreds of thousands of harkis and their families who needed to escape. He had two and a half weeks to find a way.

A knock came on the front door, and by the sound of David’s voice, Moustafa knew it was the Arab girl calling. Two weeks to the hour. He tucked Anne-Marie’s letter under his mattress and came into the den. The girl and the turbaned man nodded politely.

“We’ve come to see if Fatima will be able to leave with you.”

“I’m sorry to be unable to give you more information. We are in the process of working things out with a friend,” David explained. “Could you come back in a few days? The details should be firmed up by then.”

Moustafa shot him a glance. “Yes, is there a way to reach you in a hurry, in case it comes together quickly?”