Two Testaments (44 page)

Jessica and Henrietta were the first through customs, waving and giggling shyly. They looked older, as if this year had matured them indeed beyond the adolescents they were when she had left. They were tanned, with their long, thick hair falling over their shoulders. Henrietta’s was blond, Jessica’s auburn.

“Gabriella!” they both exclaimed at once and rushed to embrace their sister.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” she answered, laughing. “You both look great.”

“It sure feels good to be off that plane,” Henrietta complained, scooping her hair up into one thick strand and holding it off her neck. “But it’s like an oven in here.”

“Wait till you go outside! Welcome to the Midi!”

“Ugh! I prefer the climate of Senegal.”

Jessica lowered her voice. “Is that him over there?” She glanced in the direction of David, who stood a little ways off.

Gabriella could not suppress a smile. “Yes,” she whispered. “But please don’t stare!”

Jessica laughed, turning her back toward David and mouthing
Wow!
without making a sound. “I would never have expected it of you, Gab.”

Gabriella rolled her eyes. “Thanks a lot.”

Then her parents came through the doors, pushing a flat trolley filled with suitcases and duffel bags.

“Mother!”

Rebecca Madison looked ever the same—tall, poised, gracious—her long auburn hair pulled back in a thick braid that fell down her back.

“Gabriella,” she said softly, her voice cracking the tiniest bit with emotion. She hugged her daughter to her breast.

Then Gabriella was in the arms of her father, tall and sturdy with his own curly shockingly red hair. He picked Gabriella off the ground with his hug. “Sweetheart! So good to see you!”

They talked about everything and nothing, until Gabriella motioned to David and M. Vidal to come over. “I want you to meet two friends of mine. They teach at the exchange program. This is Jean-Louis Vidal. He teaches European history.”

The balding man pushed his glasses up on his nose, reddened, and extended his hand.
“Enchanté.”

“Yes, very good to meet you,” Gabriella’s father replied in French. “I’m William Madison. This is my wife, Rebecca.”

“And this is David. David Hoffmann. He teaches the Visions of Man course I told you about.”

David smiled stiffly and shook hands. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “I have greatly enjoyed having your daughter in my class. She’s spoken often of you.”

Gabriella sighed with relief. At least he was behaving in a charming, civil manner.

David then took the hand of Jessica and said, “Let’s see, you must be Jessica.”

Gabriella noted with amusement that Jessica’s face went quite red.

“And Henrietta. Good to meet you both.” Still in perfect control, David stood alongside the trolley. “Shall we get these bags to the cars?”

“I hope they’ll all fit. Or perhaps we should call a taxi?” her father suggested.

“No, I think we’ll be fine. We’ve brought two cars.”

The ride back to Castelnau was a blur. Her father rode in the front seat with David. Jessica and Henrietta were in the backseat, hemmed in by luggage. Gabriella accompanied her mother and M. Vidal in his car. Her eyes never left the pale-blue
deux chevaux
in front of them. She wished with all her might that she could hear every word between her dad and David.

26

Late into the night Gabriella and her family sat around Mme Leclerc’s dining-room table, talking. Her landlady had served a delicious meal and then discreetly disappeared.

Gabriella was beaming. There was something so right, so comfortable about being together, the five of them again. With all the events of the past months, she had not realized how much she had missed them. Jessica insisted Gabriella recap all of her adventures of the last nine months, and the others agreed.

Gabriella began with Mother Griolet and the classes and David. She told about the mysterious little child, Ophélie, and the cruel Jean-Claude and the operation David had started up to rescue children from Algeria. Her father’s face grew grave, concerned. Her mother only nodded from time to time.

When Gabriella mentioned her flashback about Ericka, her mother reached across the table and gently took her hand. For a moment Gabriella could not continue, and she noticed that everyone’s eyes were shining with tears.

She told about Anne-Marie’s arrival, Mother Griolet’s heart attack, and the threat to close the orphanage and exchange program.

“And then when David finally came back, he brought the terrible news of Moustafa’s death.” She sighed. “It has been the worst and the best of times, as Dickens says.”

Mother broke in. “And what comes next for you, Gabriella?”

“I suppose I’ll go with you all and finish my degree in the States, as we had originally planned. There is nothing to keep me here and … I’m … well, I’m just not sure what will happen between David and me. He needs time.” She chuckled mournfully. “Trouble is, time is running out.”

“So the two of you have made no definite plans?” her father reaffirmed.

She shook her head.

“Well,” he said, and Gabriella thought he sounded relieved, “I look forward to getting to know this young man while I’m here.”

The evening ended with the whole family holding hands as her father bowed his head and prayed for his eldest daughter.

The reunion between Mother Griolet and Rebecca Madison took place at the nun’s bedside the next afternoon.

“God be praised,” said Mother Griolet. “You are a bright light to me today. Please forgive me for not receiving you properly. For some silly reason this old body does not want to get out of bed today.”

Rebecca’s voice was firm and reassuring. “You must rest. These other women are doing a fine job handling the children. And I thoroughly enjoyed seeing M. Vidal again.” She laughed. “He hasn’t changed much in fifteen years.”

“No, dear Jean-Louis is still the same. He’s a big help to me.” Her face clouded. “And I suppose you have met M. Hoffmann?”

“Yes, he was at the airport to meet us. Very striking and polite. I hope I’ll get to know him better. I must confess I was relieved when Gabriella told us they haven’t made any immediate plans.”

“Yes, I can imagine. But, Rebecca, I want you to know he is a fine young man. I misjudged him for many months. He’s finding his way. I believe that he would be a good man for Gabriella.” She smiled. “I thought they should stay here and run the show, but
He
”—and she glanced heavenward—“obviously had other plans.”

“Well, thank you for telling me, Mother Griolet. Your opinion means a lot.” She patted the nun’s hand. “And now I’m going to let you rest. I’m sure there is work that I can help with around here.”

“Yes.” Mother Griolet caught her hand. “Rebecca … did Gabriella mention about … about Ericka?”

Rebecca locked her hands together and bent her head. “Yes. We had written, of course. And last night all of us talked about it together. Thank you for being here for her, as you were for me all those years ago.” She took a long breath. “I’m sorry you had to be the one who got the brunt of Gabriella’s anger. I suppose it should have been me.”

“No, Rebecca. I’m glad I was here.”

“The hurt never seems to lessen, losing a child. But God has filled up the emptiness in other ways. For that I am grateful.
Merci.
”

Rebecca bent over and kissed Mother Griolet’s forehead, then left the nun sitting in her bed and quietly slipped out the door.

When Mother Griolet did not show up for breakfast the next morning, Sister Rosaline excused herself from kitchen duty and went through the courtyard into the parsonage. She walked in her typically brisk manner, reaching the nun’s quarters out of breath. As she opened the door to the apartment, an eerie silence greeted her.

“
Coucou
, Mother Griolet?” she called out, trying to sound cheery. The walk down the hall took a few seconds, but to Sister Rosaline it seemed like hours. She came to the nun’s bedroom. There she lay, with a peaceful smile on her face and her worn Bible lying in one arm.

She’s still sleeping
, Sister Rosaline told herself as she felt for a pulse, but Mother Griolet’s hand felt cool to the touch. Sister Rosaline recoiled, drawing her hand to her mouth.
“Oh, non!”

Was there no breath, no hope? Mother Griolet looked so serene lying there. Sister Rosaline knew that this body no longer housed the nun’s soul. She bit her lip, crossed herself, then sank to her knees with a low groan. Tenderly she took Mother Griolet’s white hand and kissed it.

“I loved you like my own mother. I would have done anything for you. Your faith gave me faith in the worst of times.” She sniffed and wiped her round cheeks with the back of her hand.

Sister Rosaline thought for a moment that she had heard a sound, and she glanced up. Outside it was beginning to rain, and the drops hit the window in sharp pellet-like strokes.

“Are You weeping, Lord?” she asked. “Not for Yourself, not for her, for she is with You now. But for us. Oh, what shall we do now, Lord Jesus? What shall we do?”

The rain fell harder, and Sister Rosaline knelt by the bed and watched it for a long time. “You took her, Father. It would have killed her to leave St. Joseph. You took her before she was forced away. You took her peacefully.”

She waited for a while longer, watching from the bedroom window as Gabriella and Sister Isabelle dashed across the courtyard and retrieved a handful of umbrellas from the dorm. Then, in single file, Gabriella led the children into the basement of the parsonage. Soon Sister Rosaline could hear their sweet voices chattering excitedly about the rain in the classroom below.

“Show me how to tell them, Father.” She stood up slowly, her joints aching. She stood for another moment staring at the nun, bowed slightly, crossed herself again, and left the room.

Gabriella looked up quizzically at David’s entrance to the classroom. He gave her a sad little smile and said, “May I have the pleasure of teaching these children the conjugations of the verbs
aller
,
être
, and
avoir
?” Then, drawing closer, he whispered, “Sister Rosaline needs to see you.”