Two Testaments (42 page)

“So … what do you want me to do? About us?” He watched the moon so luminous, sitting high and white beside the steeple of St. Joseph.

She sighed again. “I don’t know. How can I know? I only know this hurts very badly. Can that be right?”

“Love will hurt, Gabby. A lot. The hurting doesn’t make it right or wrong. It’s just so hard to know.”

“Yes. So I guess we should just wait and see. Good night, David.” She touched his cheek and walked back to Mme Leclerc’s apartment.

Because it was expected of him, David went to see his father in the hospital each day. This morning Roger Hoffmann looked much better. He flirted with the nurse who took his temperature and cracked a joke with another who checked his pulse. He was clean shaven. The man looked again like his father, and David felt uncomfortable. He had not seized the opportunity to talk while his father was vulnerable. Perhaps it would not come again.

After exchanging a few banal words, he returned to St. Joseph. Haunted by Gabby’s words, he hadn’t slept much. Maybe they were all crazy. Maybe he just needed to get away from this place, go back to the States, let his mind clear.

The one thing he knew was that as long as he was still here, he was going to help Mother Griolet. He had asked to see her at eleven, and she was waiting when he knocked on her door. The old nun did not look well, but her eyes sparkled as she welcomed him into her office.

“There now, David. You look much better today. What a relief to have you back among us. And how is your father?”

“He is resting well. His condition has stabilized.”

“You must have been surprised to see him in Algeria.”

“To say the least.”

“I hope you were able to settle your differences with him, David.”

The way she spoke made him squirm the slightest bit in his chair. “Perhaps that will come one day. But I don’t want to talk about my father. I’ve heard rumors that this place may close.”

“Yes, we’ve had quite a time. First it was the exchange program. Then the overcrowding at the orphanage.” She pointed to several neat stacks of papers on her desk. “Angry parents, angry superiors, angry townspeople. So much anger around here!”

“Dear Mother Griolet. I’m sorry I caused you such problems. Perhaps it was foolish for me to return to Algeria. In the end it has only made matters worse for everyone.”

She shook her head. “No, David. Don’t second-guess yourself. People just look for opportunities to complain and bicker. But we trust that God was leading you. We can’t see the whole scheme of things as He does.”

“I’m afraid I don’t see much the way He does.” David grimaced. “What I want to know is how I can help you.”

“What are your plans, David?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I guess my real reason for being at St. Joseph is over. But I’m perfectly willing to help you with the children through the end of the summer. I never realized what fun it could be.”

She breathed in deeply, then smiled. “Yes, that would be a great help.” Sitting back in her chair, she continued, “After the heart attack, I realized I needed to slow down. Hand over the baton. I was planning to retire gradually. I was going to ask you to consider directing the exchange program.” She cleared her throat. “But now, well, it seems that question is settled.”

“I’m very sorry to hear it.”

Mother Griolet closed her eyes. “I had it all worked out in my mind. You would direct the exchange program and Gabriella the orphanage. Such plans! But it seems the Lord has something else in store for us.”

David sat forward in his chair. “Mother Griolet, you must get some rest. I’ll teach the children as much as you need. It will be a refreshing change from the college students. There are many things yet to be decided, but you mustn’t worry about the children. Between Gabby, Anne-Marie, the Sisters, and me, they will be in good hands. You must rest.”

“We have only three weeks left, David. I’ll be most obliged if you can stay on until then.” She frowned. “It’s not the way I wanted it to end, but God knows best.”

David thought he saw a tear in the nun’s eye.

She continued, “So often the things that seem like the worst mistakes in our lives turn out to be the stepping-stones to something much better, something that will bring God glory. Exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think.”

She closed her eyes, and David watched her wrinkled eyelids flutter.

“That’s from one of my favorite verses. Third chapter of St. Paul’s epistle to the Ephesians. God has proven it again and again. Don’t give up on Him yet.”

David listened intently to her words, feeling that he must keep them in mind to help him sometime later. He stood awkwardly. “I’ll stay as you ask. You have nothing to worry about.” He helped her stand and led her back to her bedroom. “You must rest, Mother Griolet. Everything will be fine.”

He pulled the door closed, and as he did, the old nun whispered, “Don’t give up on Gabriella, David. She needs you more than she will say.”

David walked up the flight of steps and let himself into his classroom. From his window he watched the children playing in the courtyard. He counted them. Fifty-eight. Something had to change, and quickly. Perhaps it was best for the whole place to shut down. Mother Griolet certainly did not have the strength to continue.

He sat down at his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a thick stack of white paper. Slowly, deliberately, he began folding the paper, relishing the feel of it as he creased it carefully with his fingers. The bell rang for lunch. Satisfied, he left the room, looking back at seven paper airplanes, each a different model, sitting neatly on his desk, waiting for eager little hands to give them flight.

25

Eliane Cebrian went over and over the phone conversation in her mind. David Hoffmann, the man she had met at the port in Algiers, had called five days earlier to give her news. Rémi was still in Algiers. Amar and Abdul had helped in rescuing them from the Casbah, and Madira had tended to them as a nursemaid. Rémi would be there soon. But Moustafa was gone.

Dear, proud Rémi, staying until the end. She did not let the children see the worry lines on her face, but at night she cried into her pillow, terrified that Rémi would wait too long and he too would be lost. She tossed and turned in her bed. It seemed that her prayers were bumping against the ceiling and falling back upon her, hollow, unanswered.

The next morning as she hastened to nurse José before he woke up Samuel and Rachel with his crying, a thought struck her as if she had seen it painted on the dull-gray wall in front of her.
Weep with them that weep.
Anne-Marie was grieving a real loss. Anne-Marie was the one who needed help.

St. Joseph was merely thirty minutes away by bus. After breakfast she dressed the children and pulled them close around her. “Today we are going to bring sunshine.”

Samuel wiped his brow. “It’s hot enough, Mama. Why should we bring any more sun?”

Eliane laughed. “You’ll see.”

David sat in the back of the café-bar at “their table.” He had taken a great risk, slipping the note into Gabby’s grammar book. All it had said was
vendredi 13h00
, plus a reference to some lines from Byron.
A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love …
What had he been thinking? What if it just made her all the more angry? Would she even show up?

Then he saw her, and he stood as she approached, bowed slightly, and pulled out a chair for her. “Thank you for coming,” he said softly.

“How could I resist when you tempt me with stories of passionate kisses?”

She blushed, and David felt a spark of hope that the old ease and playfulness they had shared might return. He leaned forward, raised his eyebrows slowly, and said in a husky voice, “So, what are you doing for the rest of your life?”

Gabriella laughed. “I have no idea. What about you?”

“Well,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “I don’t know, but I have several ideas.”

“Name one,” she countered.

“A walk through the gardens of Versailles hand in hand with a knockout redhead.”

“Hmm …”

“A long, passionate kiss in the gazebo leading to Marie Antoinette’s hamlet.”

“Intriguing.”

“An evening at the opera, maybe
La Flûte Enchantée
, and then a late-night dinner at Maxim’s.”

“Very nice.”

“And then …” He reached across the table and took her hand. “Standing in the rain in front of Notre Dame, the young man whisks his lady into his arms and dashes down a flight of steps, where they find refuge in the galleys of the Métro as a lone violinist plays Vivaldi’s “Spring.” Wet and shivering, they walk back in the foggy night to their hotel …” As he spoke, he lightly stroked her finger. “… where they spend a night of youthful bliss.”

She stared at him, then caught her breath. “David! You’re embarrassing me.” She said it too loudly, and several men at the bar turned in their seats.

David took her hands again, then reached over and brushed a strand of her hair. “I was just trying out an idea, if ever … if ever I needed to convince you of anything. What do you think? Pretty good,
n’est-ce pas
?”

“Pretty good. Although there are many more things in Paris to see, and you didn’t describe the hotel at all.”

“Good point,” he reflected. “I guess that’s because the hotel itself was of little significance, as long as there was a room and a bed.”

“David! You’re sounding like a modern-day Chaucer.”

“I beg your pardon. In my tale it’s all very moral. After all, they are married.”

“Well, you didn’t say anything about that part.”

“No, I haven’t quite imagined how it could happen.”

“I see. Just a small detail.”

He closed his eyes, concentrating, then opened them to look directly at her. “Someday, I promise—” He paused. “Someday I hope I’ll have an answer to that.” Suddenly he reached for her hand and stood, pulling her with him. “Let’s get out of here. Can we go somewhere to talk, Gabby?”

“Talk?” She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve heard that line before.”

“Silly girl. I have so much to tell you if you want to hear it. A hundred things to share and know before I can plan the future.”

“Well … if it’s talking you want to do, I know just the place.”

They sat in the little stone alcove in the tiny street behind St. Joseph and told each other story after story of the months they were apart. Gabriella wept as David described the horror of the war. He held her close, wiping a tear off her cheek. She felt that her emotions were raw and exposed, but today she did not care. The David she knew was back, and he was going to be okay.

“David. I know you don’t want to talk of it, but Moustafa … did he leave anything, say anything for Anne-Marie?”

“There was a letter, but it was in the trunk. The one Hussein came over in.”

“That boy! He scares me.”

“He’s a terrified kid, another casualty of war. There’s no reason to worry about him now.”

She bit her lip, not wanting to broach the next subject. “What about Anne-Marie? I didn’t want to hear anything you said the other night. I was so hurt and so angry.”

“You had every right to be. I’m sorry. I wanted to explain, but I did it all wrong. Please hear me out, Gabby.” He rose, massaged his temples, and offered Gabriella his hand. “Can we walk for a while?”