Two Crosses (58 page)

She checked it over. Maybe there were a few spelling errors, but surely Mama would understand:
I love you. Come see me soon. I’m waiting for you.
Over her words she drew a large rainbow, its many-colored arc filling the page.

She tucked the note into the pocket of her black wool skirt, kissed the little photo, and replaced the blue bag in the drawer.

Now Mama would see for herself that she could write. And she would hurry to come here, to this place that had become Ophélie’s home.

Mother Griolet had kindly insisted that good-byes be said in her apartment while she cared for the children in the basement. The little threesome sat in awkward silence, dreading the minutes that ruthlessly ticked by. David swallowed several times. His throat felt closed and dry. He motioned to Ophélie, who was standing solemnly by the window. Slowly she walked over to her father.

Gabriella bit her lip. He read the pain in her eyes.

David held Ophélie on his lap, rejoicing in the smell of her freshly washed hair and the feel of her soft skin, so young and alive and unblemished. “My dear, my daughter.” His tone was gentle. The morning light seeped through the window and engulfed them.

“Ophélie, I’ll go and find Mama and bring her back to you, to us.” For a brief moment he glanced over to Gabriella, with all the love and hurt of the world in his eyes.

“You won’t take me with you, Papa?” she begged.

“No, no. It’s much too dangerous. You must stay here with Gabby. She’ll take care of you.” He turned to Gabriella, who was standing partially in the shadows. The sun tinted her hair, and it glistened thick and red, tumbling over her shoulders. He felt a hollow pain in his stomach. “You’ll look after Ophélie, won’t you?”

“Of course I will.” She waved the child into her awaiting arms.

Ophélie reached into her pocket. “Papa? I have something for Mama. Will you take it to her for me?”

David took the folded paper. He was beside them at once, stroking Gabriella’s hair and softly saying, “You have told me before. A God bigger than us is in control. I believe it now. Will you let me go?”

Gabriella nodded and turned her head down. He lifted her chin with his good hand. He contemplated kissing her. Instead he put his warm, strong hand around hers and squeezed it hard. Ophélie held him tightly around the waist. He pulled them close to his chest and with a heavy sigh whispered, “I love you both.”

He could not say anything else, although he thought of a hundred different things he wanted to tell Gabriella. But they were things to be said by candlelight, nestled in the back of a charming little restaurant.

Finally he broke the tortured silence. “I’d better go.” He had no heart for small talk. He simply hugged Ophélie and Gabriella as tightly as he could manage with one arm. He briefly pressed his lips against Gabriella’s forehead, then left the room.

From the window in the den, Gabriella and Ophélie watched David walk to the street below. He paused to wave at them, and Gabriella’s heart skipped a beat. He looked vulnerable, with wisps of black hair falling across his forehead and a half smile crossing his face. His dark brooding eyes caught Gabriella’s, and all she read in them was love. One arm of his leather jacket hung limply to the side, concealing the bandaged shoulder. Under his good arm he held a briefcase, and he clutched a small suitcase in his hand. It was the picture of David she would keep in her mind afterward.

“Bribri, are you all right?” Ophélie’s face was shining with tears. “You love him so, Bribri. And he loves you. I know it. You won’t pray that Mama dies, will you?”

Gabriella frowned for a moment. Then she scooped Ophélie up in her arms. “I will never pray for that. There is a God bigger than us who sees our hearts and understands, just as your papa has said. God has already worked everything out. You’ll see, precious child. I’m sure we’ll see.”

The noise from the classroom was deafening as Mother Griolet entrusted the children to Sister Rosaline and Sister Isabelle. “It may be that lunch is late. Don’t worry. Just try to calm them down now while I check out the bedrooms.”

Her head was throbbing from the noise. Nine new children. Wild-eyed, terrified little harki children. Crying, screaming, clutching.

“I know they should be here, Lord. But I don’t know how to do it. I will need more help, more room.”

She was out of breath by the time she reached the dormitories. The nuns had squeezed three extra bunk beds into the girls’ dorm, on loan from a neighbor for as long as Mother Griolet needed. “Thank You, Lord, for kind, simple women who don’t ask too many questions,” the nun said.

She paused for a moment, then walked into the boys’ dorm. Three cots from the hospital were neatly made. “Bless you, Sister Rosaline. How that good woman found enough sheets, I have no idea.
Merci, Seigneur.
”

Satisfied that each child would have a place to sleep that night, she left the dormitories and walked back through the courtyard and into the basement. The din from the classroom had quieted, and Sister Rosaline was animatedly telling a story.

“Bless you,” Mother Griolet whispered again as she trotted through the hall and up the steps, letting herself into her apartment. Jean-Louis sat in front of her desk.

“Jean-Louis, forgive me for keeping you waiting,” she said, sitting down with a long sigh.

He rose slightly and nodded. “Have you seen the paper this morning? The cease-fire goes into effect at noon.”

“
Dieu merci
, it’s over. And the children are safely here. Did you have any trouble in Marseille?”

He laughed. “It went as smoothly as you could expect with nine little ones. I do believe I’m getting a little old for this.” He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “And you, Jeanette? Do you have everything you need?”

The old nun cleared her throat. “I need your prayers. Many prayers, Jean-Louis.” She thought for a moment. “Are you sure you can keep on with M. Hoffmann’s class until he gets back?”

Jean-Louis grunted. “It’s the least I can do. I can’t believe he’s going to Algeria at this time. You should have forbidden it, Jeanette. To keep him alive.”

“God has provided me with another capable teacher,” she said, winking at him. “And who am I to forbid what the Lord ordains? We must pray, simply pray.”

“
C’est compris
,” he said. “You’ve done a good job, dear woman.”

“Toi aussi, mon ami.”
Then, almost timidly, she asked, “Do you think … do you think this is all of the children?”

He shuffled his feet and looked to the ground. “In my opinion, it will get a lot worse over there before it gets better. I don’t think we’re done. But as far as Hugo goes, mission accomplished.” He grinned. “Oh, and you have two visitors in your den.”

They touched hands lightly and left the office together.

In her den Mother Griolet found Ophélie sitting on Gabriella’s lap, both of them staring out the window, both of them crying. Mother Griolet cleared her throat softly. “Excuse me for interrupting you.… You didn’t wish to see him off?”

Gabriella shrugged and nodded toward Ophélie.

Understanding, Mother Griolet came beside them. “Ophélie will stay with me for a while, won’t you, dear?”

The child bit her lip, holding her pink pony close.

“You’ll see, children. Life goes on, and there is hope.”

Ophélie quickly pulled the cross from around her neck. She offered it to Gabriella. “If you’re going to Papa, take him my cross. Then he’ll be safe. He’ll understand.”

Gabriella took it and replied softly, “You know, Ophélie, that God will protect him—not because he wears a cross, but because he has the Lord in here.” She pointed to her heart.

“I know, Bribri. But still, it will help remind Papa of God … and of me. He needs to have it.”

“Very well then. I will take it to him.” Gabriella unfastened the chain and slipped it around her own neck. As she did, a ray of sun came in, and Mother Griolet watched the splashes of light dance through the room. The crosses hung together, touching lightly.

No one said a word for several eternal seconds.

“Go on with you now,” Mother Griolet urged Gabriella. “Go quickly.”

Once convinced, Gabriella raced down the steps of the parsonage and out into the cool, ethereal spring day. Her hair flying out behind her, she tripped on the cobblestones, regained her balance, and dashed around the corner, past the olive tree that brushed against her bedroom window, past the fountain that sprayed gustily, and toward the bus stop. David stood with his back to her. Two older women sat with stone-faced expressions, waiting for bus 11.

Gabriella hesitated when she was still several yards from him. Then she called out, “David!”

He whirled around, catching sight of her, an expression of delight and surprise crossing his face.

“Gabby!” He laughed and ran toward her. Picking her up with one arm, he kissed her hard on the mouth. “I’m glad you came,” he mumbled between kisses.

“We’ll be the talk of the town now,” she said, giggling.

David grinned. “It was bound to happen one way or another.” He glanced at his watch. Taking her hand, he led her away from the bus stop, across the street, and behind a row of stores.

“I have this for you,” Gabriella said, taking the cross from around her neck. “Ophélie wanted you to wear it, so you will remember that God is protecting you.” Her voice caught, and a cool shiver ran down her spine. He was really going. The minutes were ticking by, and she suddenly realized that she had not given him anything at all.