Two Testaments (53 page)

Gabriella burst into tears, a waiter rushed to the table looking terribly flustered, and Mrs. Madison stood up and hugged her. Roger looked at his son sternly with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Gabriella’s sisters just sat there, wide-eyed, and William Madison, speechless, held his fork in midair, sauce dripping from it onto the plate.

Then, regaining his composure, Mr. Madison set down his fork and looked at his daughter. “I think you had better ask her first.… And if she says yes, well, I have nothing to say to the contrary.”

David’s father stood up, wine glass in hand. “Dear Gabriella, what do you say?”

Eyes shining, she stammered, “I-I-I say yes. Yes, of course, yes.” She glanced at David, her eyes filled with questions.

“Very good then,” Roger continued. “I propose a toast to the newly engaged couple, Gabriella and David.”

Wine glasses and water goblets clinked together; everyone began talking at once. There was cheek kissing and handshaking and laughter. The waiters raised their eyebrows and shrugged and left the happy party alone.

“This is just right,” Roger continued. “In France when a young couple becomes engaged, the two families plan a meal together to discuss the happy event. It’s called the
fiançailles
. Bravo, David. Well done.”

When the meal was over, David gave his father the keys to the car to drive the Madisons home. “We’ll be back later,” he said. “It’s a pleasant walk down by the river.”

The others nodded and smiled and waved them good night.

When the deux chevaux was out of sight, David cocked his head and motioned for Gabriella to follow. She obeyed, saying nothing. “Are you angry with me?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Are you terribly disappointed?”

She shrugged.

“I know it was a shock. It was unplanned. I wanted to ask you first, when the moon was full and we were alone by the smooth flowing river with the smell of hyacinth and honeysuckle in the air.” He took her in his arms, and she grinned slightly but did not look up at him.

“But all of a sudden it seemed like it was my best chance to show them, to let them know that even though I don’t know what is next, I do know I want you to share it with me.”

She still didn’t reply.

“Talk to me, Gabby. Please, say something. Did you mean it when you said yes?”

She looked up at him coyly. “Did you mean it when you asked?”

“Yes, a thousand times, yes.”

“Are you sure?” She narrowed her eyes, teasing. “It wasn’t the most convincing proposal in the world, you know. I think you could’ve done better.”

A hurt expression registered on his face, like a rebuked puppy, as he watched her and the outline of the river behind her. “Yes, I know. I had it all planned. Honest, I did.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was going to take you on a walk tonight, by this very river. And just when we were out of sight of everyone, with only those splendid tall plane trees looking down on us, I was going to fall to my knees, like this, and kiss your hands, like this, and say, ‘It is my lady; O! it is my love. O! that she knew she were.’

“Then I would swear by my life, my love unto no other, as I do now. And then I would say, ‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.’ And I would name your beauty, Gabby, your bright-blue eyes that light up your whole face when you smile. I would say that your hair is like Rapunzel’s, if you would only let it down for me to admire.

“Then I would speak as the lover speaks in the Song of Songs: ‘How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! How much better is thy love than wine and smell of thine ointments than all spices!’

“All this, Gabby, is but the beginning, because if I were to describe your soul, if I were to try …” And his voice grew soft, tender. “I would only say that I have never met a soul mate like you, and I am quite sure that if I travel for a hundred years and launch a thousand ships, I will come back again and again to you.”

She was on her knees beside him, holding him, unable to speak or move. He watched her soak in the magic of the moment, letting his words wash over her like a gentle refreshing stream on the hottest of nights. She opened her mouth to speak, but he placed his finger over her mouth, and she kissed it softly.

In a whisper he continued, “That is what I was going to tell you, Gabby. Then I was going to beg you to say yes, to marry me, to come with me wherever this strange God leads us together, reminding you of Solomon’s words that ‘two are better than one, for if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow … and again if two lie together, then they have heat.’ And then I would lay you gently on your back, like this, and kiss you softly on your lips, like this, and stare into those eyes and say, what is your answer, my precious Gabby?” He kissed her again.

Holding his face in her hands, she looked deep into his black eyes. “I would say, that’s more like it! Of course I’ll marry you!”

They broke into giddy laughter.

“Then this is for you.” David handed her a small envelope with a single sheet inside. It was a poem penned in his hand.

“Read it for me, David. Read it to me.”

“Gladly,” he consented, kissing her cheek, her forehead, her neck.

Sonnet for the Wife of My Youth

I asked one balmy night to take your hand

And make it mine, your lips, your love, your soul.

Then tied your heartstrings with one strong, smooth strand

Unending love, you, better half, my whole.

Bestowed a golden band to hold my heart

Forever in the sweetness of your charm,

To braid together what was once apart

And promise peace from anger and alarm.

And springing from our “yes” of equal love,

Unequaled by desire to give and serve,

To want to please and, pleased, to want above

To plan, protect, provide for and preserve,

A three-strand cord, entwined to wait and trust

One will divine, eternity with us.

“I love you, Gabby. Will you marry me?”

She gave a little gasp. “You really
were
planning to ask me tonight.”

He nodded.

“You really did write this for me.”

He nodded again.

“It’s beautiful. Read it again, David.” And after he did, she leaned over and kissed him. “Is this real?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

She furrowed her brow. “There’s just one thing I don’t quite understand. This bit about ‘Bestowed a golden band to hold my heart.’ I suppose that’s merely symbolic?”

“Well, now that you ask, there was something else to do with that line.” He fished in the pocket of his suit coat. “Ah, yes. Here it is.” With a confident smile, he handed her a tiny square box.

Gabriella opened the box, and there inside was a simple gold band embedded with tiny diamonds and sapphires. She started crying, sniffed, wiped her nose, and cried again. “However did you have time to find this? It’s gorgeous. How did you know I wanted sapphires? I never even thought …”

He slipped the ring onto her finger. “A fellow has to find a way to surprise a girl, doesn’t he? It would be a pity for her to refuse to marry him simply because he bungled the proposal.”

Gabriella tilted her head. “When did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you wanted to marry me?”

“I think it must have been that first day in class when you knew Pope’s poem … or maybe it was when you reminded me of that field of poppies. Ah, no, now I remember. It was when you were hanging off the cliff in Les Baux, holding to my hand for dear life, that it hit me. I didn’t ever want to let you go.”

“Quit teasing, David. I mean it. You’ve never even said the word before tonight.”

They stood up and continued walking. “It was when your God convinced me that even if I could never be good enough for you, I was still the right one.”

“I’m so glad He did. It makes all the waiting worth it.”

“I love you, Gabby.” There was the faintest breeze, and the leaves rustled slightly, as if the limbs of the trees were waving their approval. “I love you with every part of me.” He grinned down at her. “And I look forward to learning to love you even more, day by day.”

They reached St. Joseph when the clock in the bell tower was striking one. It was so comfortable to be together in the stark stillness of the night, when the rest of the town and all its ensuing problems lay dormant around them. They walked interlaced, arm in arm, never quite close enough and yet as naturally as if they had been walking like this for years. Gabriella was surprised by the sudden, easy intimacy. Now they were walking toward a point of time when they would be one, and it was right to hold each other closer as they neared that moment.

They were standing in front of Mme Leclerc’s apartment.

“I must leave you for a few hours, my love,” David said with a sigh. He brushed her lips with his. “Did you really say yes?”

“Yes, my love. And I will say it a hundred more times if you wish.”

31

Gabriella lifted her hair off her neck and glanced around at the other people seated at the long tables in the dining room. Joseph Cohen had convened them for the reading of Mother Griolet’s will, but she could tell that no one’s mind was on it. Instead they talked among themselves about the closing of St. Joseph, only four days away. The end of an era. The thought of it caused a large knot to form in her throat.

She turned her attention to Anne-Marie, who sat between Sister Rosaline and Sister Isabelle, telling them about Moustafa, who was still in the hospital but recovering quickly.

“He has a lot of motivation to get well now,” Sister Rosaline broke in. “His family is waiting for him, and a beautiful woman as well.”

Anne-Marie ran her fingers through her black hair, pushing it away from her face, which glistened with perspiration. “I believe summer in the Midi is worse even than in Algiers. But it doesn’t matter one bit. What matters is that we are all here together.”

David, Roger, Jean-Louis, and Pierre the boulanger talked in low tones with Rémi and Eliane. Joseph and Emeline Cohen made polite conversation with Gabriella’s mother and father.

Henri Krugler came through the door, breathing heavily, his white hair wet with sweat. “Excuse me for being late. At the last moment we had a problem with one of the kids.”

Joseph welcomed him warmly, introducing him to those who had not already met him at the funeral. When he met Anne-Marie, Henri smiled faintly and held her hand for a long, awkward moment. “I’m very glad to meet you,
Mademoiselle Duchemin
,” he said finally. “A real pleasure.”

After a few more moments Père Thomas, the curé from the church, arrived. “Please forgive me for being late,” the priest apologized. “I hope I haven’t inconvenienced anyone.” The door to the dining hall opened once again, and Edouard Auguste, the goldsmith from Montpellier, came in, equally apologetic.

Joseph invited Père Thomas and M. Auguste to sit on either side of him. Then he wiped his brow and shuffled through a pile of official-looking documents. He glanced at Sister Rosaline. “Everyone is present now. May we begin? The children are cared for?”

“Heavens, yes!” the Sister assured him. “Between Saiyda and Rachida and the Madison girls, the orphans are being thoroughly entertained.” She addressed Anne-Marie. “Mme Dramchini is not here?”

“No, she’s with Moustafa.”

“Well then, M. Cohen, everyone is accounted for. You may begin.”

Joseph looked at his watch and rubbed his chin. “We are here today, as all of you know, to read the last will and testament of Jeanette Griolet. I have summoned each of you here for a purpose, and I appreciate your willingness to attend. Mother Griolet was a woman of few earthly possessions, but she was very specific about who was to receive what.

“As we are all aware, St. Joseph faces closure in the imminent future. Père Thomas is here as a representative of the church, and he will explain the procedures after the will has been read.”

Several heads nodded, their expressions grim.

“A few months ago Mother Griolet spent two weeks with Emeline and me at our chalet in Switzerland. At that time, she asked me to help her update her will. As you will see, the good woman guessed that death was near. As executor of her will, I have tried as far as possible to honor her wishes. In the course of the past week there have been a few, shall we say, complications that have taken me several days to work through.”

He paused and mopped his brow. “I shall now read the will.”