Two Testaments (54 page)

I, Jeanette Griolet, on this, the 3rd day of May, 1962, do hereby write my last will and testament.

To Jean-Louis Vidal I leave my personal possessions included in this dossier. You have been my oldest and most faithful friend, and it is my desire that you continue to be employed by the school as professor of European history for as long as the school shall run.

To Sister Rosaline I leave all of the items in my personal kitchen with prayers that you can use them to bring glory to our Lord as you prepare meals for the children. This includes my recipe books, my old rolling pin, and the apron you gave me for Christmas one year.

“This is also for you, Sister Rosaline.” Joseph held up a small envelope.

To Sister Isabelle, I leave you my family Bible. My dear friend and student of God’s Word, may it bless you as it has me. I know you will care for it as a daughter would.

To both of the Sisters I leave my many photographs that line the walls of the office. Keep those that please you, distribute the other pictures to those with whom you may have kept in contact.

To Pierre Cabrol, who has worked with me in many a dangerous mission, I leave all the documents of those days gone by, some long past and others more recent, when we worked clandestinely to provide for children in hiding. It is my wish that you, Pierre, shall continue to provide bread for St. Joseph as long as you are able to do so.

To Rebecca Madison I leave a small folder of pictures that I have kept near to me all these years.

To David Hoffmann I leave my worn volumes of French and English literature, with prayers that you will find great pleasure in perusing them from time to time. I ask that you make sure that any other books that perhaps do not interest you find a proper home.

I also wish to state that, should my death precede the opening of a new school year at St. Joseph, it is my wish to name M. David Hoffmann as the future director of the Franco-American exchange program, and hereby entrust to him the school’s records of all the past years as well as the lists of benefactors to the program.

To Gabriella Madison I leave my old santon, knowing how she has admired it. And with this, should I not be around, I symbolically pass on to her the directorship of the orphanage of St. Joseph. It is my hope that she will have already completed an apprenticeship with me. I am confident in her complete capability, seconded by Sister Rosaline and Sister Isabelle, to continue the work.

Joseph wiped his brow and looked up. “We all realize, of course, that Mother Griolet was merely expressing her desire for the continuation of the programs at St. Joseph. Since the time of the writing of the will, many things have transpired, as you are all aware. This we will discuss momentarily.” He resumed reading.

To Joseph and Emeline Cohen, friends from far back, I leave these documents of the days when the Jewish children were among us. May they always remind you of the power of our God.

Joseph Cohen, obviously moved, set the papers down in front of him, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and picked up a piece of white stationery. “Finally, Mother Griolet left a letter for all of us gathered here. Sister Rosaline, would you read it aloud?”

“Why, of course,” Sister Rosaline said, and took it from him. “
You have been my true friends, whether I have known you for months or years
,” she began.

Tears ran down several faces as the nun read the simple message.

“
Carry on
,” the letter concluded, “
and may the Lord Jesus, our gentle Shepherd, be with you always
.”

Joseph rose. “Thank you for your patience. This concludes the reading of the will. But I would like to share with you some most surprising news. Following the funeral of Mother Griolet, we have received an abundance of donations for St. Joseph.” He picked up a letter. “From the Jewish children hidden during the war, we have received a check for fifty thousand francs. The enclosed note reads, ‘It is our deep desire that this money be used in any way necessary to provide for the orphanage of St. Joseph so that it may remain open and ready to welcome children like us and so many others, who found shelter and hope there.’”

There was a soft murmur as the men and women turned their heads and raised their eyebrows.

“How did they know about the problems at St. Joseph?” Sister Isabelle asked naively.

Joseph pursed his lips, repressing a grin. “I felt it was my duty to inform those who asked about the orphanage of its particular plight. But I was not responsible for the rest. Several of the young people organized everything.”

He chose another letter. “From the townspeople of Castelnau, sixty thousand francs. This letter specifies, and I quote, ‘We the people of Castelnau, in appreciation for the faithful work of Mother Jeanette Griolet and in desire to see St. Joseph continue in its important service to children and to its community, do hereby give the said amount and revoke our previously given petition.’”

“It’s a miracle,” Sister Isabelle exclaimed.

“Well, I’ll be,” Jean-Louis said with a whistle.

Gabriella embraced David, and he kissed her on the lips. Eliane reached across the table and squeezed Anne-Marie’s hand.

But Joseph Cohen had not finished. “We have received many more donations as well, from orphans who were housed at St. Joseph over the years and from others who appreciate what this place has done. To put it simply …” Joseph grinned, unable to hide his extreme pleasure. “By my calculations, based on the records from previous years, the money St. Joseph has received in memory of Mother Griolet will allow the orphanage to function, on its own with no aid from anyone, for two and a half years.”

The small group stared at each other, mouths opened, then burst into laughter, hugging and kissing and backslapping and handshaking.

“It truly is a miracle,” Gabriella whispered to David.

Joseph spoke again. “Before I invite Père Thomas to give us his opinion on this matter, I have one other story to recount. At Mother Griolet’s funeral were a brother and sister, Yves and Christine Millot. Seventeen years ago they arrived at St. Joseph half-starved and in rags, Jewish orphans. They presented Mother Griolet with the aforementioned santon.” He picked up the clay statue of the bent-over old woman. “While at the funeral this weekend, the young woman, Christine, spotted the santon. She was surprised to see it among Mother Griolet’s possessions and asked me why no one had broken it. I looked at her quite stupidly and assured her I had no idea why anyone would want to do such a thing.

“She replied that when they had given the santon to Mother Griolet, she had repeated the words her mother had told her to say to whoever agreed to take care of her children. The words were these: ‘Break this old woman whenever you find yourself in desperate need.’”

Joseph Cohen motioned to Gabriella. “Since this santon is yours now, I will ask you to do the honors.”

Gabriella looked baffled. “But I don’t want to break her. I will treasure her forever!”

Joseph called Edouard Auguste to come to his aid. M. Auguste produced a small tool, like a delicate, finely sharpened knife. “I believe this will do the trick.”

Worried, Gabriella approached the two men. “Why in the world would you want to break her?”

“If you will allow me to show you, Gabriella, I believe this will be of great importance to all of us.” Carefully the goldsmith removed the floral material of the old woman’s skirts as if he were undressing a doll. With tiny scissors he snipped away at the underclothes until a plain red clay figurine was exposed. “Just as I thought,” he said, pointing to the center of the clay woman. “She has been broken before, just here. See?”

Gabriella leaned forward to inspect an uneven crack that ran around the santon’s middle.

“I’m afraid I will need to break her again,” M. Auguste said, almost apologetically. He inserted a small knife in the crack and tapped it with a tiny hammer. The santon broke in two.

As the santon broke, Gabriella saw concealed inside the lower torso a piece of wrinkled newsprint. She touched it, pulling it carefully out with two fingers. It was bunched together, and the withered paper practically disintegrated as she held it. Carefully opening the newsprint, she saw inside what appeared to be a cluster of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls, and sapphires.

“Jewels!” Gabriella exclaimed. The others crowded around for a look.

Joseph was shaking his head in wonder. “So Christine Millot was right. On Saturday she told me that her parents, living in Lyon, feared the worst for their children. As more and more Jews were deported to concentration camps, the family, well-known jewelers, began hiding their possessions. Christine remembers watching her father break this santon, hollow out the interior, and stuff it with the most precious of his stones. She even helped him glue the statue back together and put the clothes back on. ‘This will adequately provide for those who care for you,’ her father told her.

“Obviously Mother Griolet never broke the santon, although she surely had been told to do so. When Christine revealed to me what was inside, she had no idea of its real worth, but she felt it was extremely valuable. I offered the santon to her, at least what was inside, but she refused, stating vehemently that whatever was inside belonged to Mother Griolet alone.” He took a deep breath. “Christine Millot begged me to make sure that whatever was found in this santon would go toward helping with the upkeep of the orphanage. And so I have invited M. Auguste here, assuming that there would indeed be jewels for him to inspect.”

M. Auguste wrinkled his brow and said, “I must admit to you that I find this hard to believe. These jewels are worth a small fortune. Of course I will have to inspect them more closely, but I believe that if you sold these stones today, you could keep this place running for a long, long time.”

There was a moment of shocked silence; then all eyes turned to Joseph.

“Yes, you see there have been quite a few surprises this week. After hearing Christine’s story and counting all the other contributions, I took it upon myself to call Père Thomas and discuss matters with him.”

The aged priest now spoke. “St. Joseph has always been for us in the church a bit of an enigma. With little funding from the church it managed to stay open and thrive. Mother Griolet was a genius at stretching the centimes. And she believed in a God of miracles. I would say that He has granted her, by her death, the miracle St. Joseph needed. I have come to report that St. Joseph will remain open—”

Sister Rosaline and Sister Isabelle gave out a loud “
Ouais!
” and hugged each other.

“There will be several revisions that the church will wish to make. Precisely, in accordance with Mother Griolet’s wishes, I am ready to name M. Hoffmann as the new director of St. Joseph’s exchange program.” He grinned in spite of himself. “And the church is willing to allow Mlle Madison to assume the role as director of the orphanage, with a few stipulations.”

He addressed Gabriella. “If you agree, the church wishes for you to take classes at the Faculté des Lettres in Montpellier to complete your teaching degree. The church will send someone, probably myself, every three to six months to inspect the orphanage and its school program.” He turned to David. “M. Hoffmann will have ultimate control over the functioning of the orphanage until Mlle Madison has completed her degree.”

Gabriella turned to David. Her face went white, then red. Little pools of tears formed in her eyes.

After a long pause, Sister Rosaline asked, “Well, what do you say?”

“Oh, isn’t it just perfect?” cooed Sister Isabelle. “They got engaged two days ago, and today they get their marching orders. How wonderful.”

Gabriella looked at David, who grinned back at her. He took Gabriella’s hand and said, “It seems events have been turning and turning for a good while now, so that I’m not sure any of us know which end is up anymore. So please give us a few days to reflect and pray on this together. I am deeply honored. And in keeping with my desire to start our life together on the right foot, I will let Gabriella speak for herself.”

Gabriella stood, still holding the bottom half of the broken santon, and stammered, “David is right. Too much has happened at once. I don’t know what to say, except that I am very, very happy, and I only wish Mother Griolet could be here to see us now.”

“Don’t you worry about that, Gabriella,” said Sister Rosaline. “I’m sure she knows.”

Joseph added, “I know we have had quite enough surprises for today. Sister Isabelle has provided some drinks, if you would like to take a pause. There is, however, another matter of business to be discussed, which is why we have asked the Cebrians, Mlle Duchemin, and M. Krugler to join us.” He addressed them personally. “If you would meet back here in ten minutes, please. And the rest of you are welcome to stay if you wish.”

The small group stretched and rose.

David squeezed Gabriella around the waist. “We have so much to talk about, you and I.”