Two Crosses (32 page)

Gabriella could not sleep. She flipped through her Bible, reading underlined passages aloud to herself. “I will not fail thee, nor forsake thee … the Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore … I am the Vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without Me ye can do nothing.” She spoke the words with emotion, as if she could pull God out of the black book and into the room with her.

“You have promised to be here, Father.” Her voice was a faint whisper, a feeble but fervent cry. “I’m so confused. So scared.” Sobs escaped as she spoke to the air. “Lord, I didn’t mean to get into this. It’s too much for me. Please. Show me what to do.

“And forgive me, Lord, for loving a man who is not Yours. He’s pulling me along with him, and now I can’t get away.” She buried her face in her pillow and cried, a low soul-wrenching cry. “Oh, God, who is he? Who is David Hoffmann?”

It was the middle of the night as Ophélie tossed in her bed. Her mind was racing. Somewhere Mama called out for her. She ran toward her mother, when suddenly her mother’s voice turned into piercing screams. Ophélie tried to open the door, but it was locked. The screams quieted, and the door opened. Jean-Claude stood in the doorway, his eyes bright. Ophélie screamed and woke herself up.

“Mama! Mama! He isn’t your friend after all. Now I remember. He isn’t your friend.”

Ophélie cradled her pillow in her arms. She heard the wind rattling the windows and stared at the shadows that flickered across the wall. She thought about her mother for a long time, picturing her thin, beautiful face and sad eyes. Then Ophélie closed her eyes and thought about her father. In her mind there was only a black void. She saw nothing.

“Papa,” she whispered. “David Hoffmann. Who are you?” She turned over and went back to sleep.

21

Monique paused in the narrow street to rest, breathing heavily. The seven-kilo turkey she had just purchased weighed down her straw basket. In the daytime, the Christmas lights that had been attached across the road were not blinking, but everywhere the air spoke of Christmas.

“Monique! There you are.
Coucou!
”

Yvette caught up with her friend. Her cheeks were rosy red. “Let me help you with that turkey.
Ooh là!
”

Together the two women walked across the busy square to Monique’s apartment and carried the turkey up the flight of stairs and into the kitchen. Then Yvette hurried back down the steps to retrieve her basket of fruits and vegetables from the marché.

“Do we have everything now for the meal? It’s only two days away.” Monique’s eyes sparkled.

“And such a feast we will have!”

They had decided to celebrate the midnight Christmas Eve meal together, with their boarders, since it seemed that two of them were a couple again.

“Let’s see. We have the
foie gras
. We have the
pâté
, and the
saumon fumé
, and the olives for the
entrée
. We have the turkey and chestnuts, and you’re making the
gratin dauphinois
. The green beans I will get tomorrow.”

“And I will make the
bûche de Noël
on the twenty-fourth. The girls will love it. Americans are always enamored with the Christmas log for dessert. Perfect!”

They looked at each other and burst into happy giggles, like two schoolgirls sharing a secret. “A midnight meal for Christmas,” said Yvette. “And I believe Gabriella has a gift for your M. Hoffmann.
Ooh là!
”

“I’m sure M. Hoffmann will find something for his young lady too. A great surprise, no doubt.”

Mother Griolet closed her grammar book and smiled at the twenty-five children seated before her. “
Mes enfants
, school is over for the holidays. No work for ten days.”

The children broke into a loud cheer, laughing as they put their books into the wooden desks.

Mother Griolet spoke again. “Attention! Children! We will have a special Christmas meal in the cafeteria on Christmas Eve. And you will all bring one shoe up to my den to leave by the tree,
n’est-ce pas
?”

Most of the children nodded eagerly, but Mother Griolet saw the perplexed look on Ophélie’s face. “We have two children who were not with us last year—Hakim and Ophélie.” She smiled at the tall, dark-skinned boy who brooded in the back row. “It is our Christmas tradition at St. Joseph for each child to leave a shoe under my tree for Père Noël. Yes, old as I am, Father Christmas still comes to see me every year! And oh my! Such goodies he leaves for all the children.”

“It’s true!” piped up little Christophe. “He brings the goodies while we’re eating our Christmas meal. Then we come and sing around the tree. We stay up very late on Christmas Eve!”

“
Oh, oui, oui!
Last year every girl got a different dolly. Every one of us,” volunteered Anne-Sophie.

Gabriella entered the classroom then, and the children erupted once more into excited chatter. Mother Griolet clapped her hands together.

“
Les enfants!
Please, calm down. I have one more announcement. Today we shall be receiving four new children—one boy and three girls. Isn’t that a nice Christmas present?”

The children nodded.

“I expect you to welcome them warmly, just as you always do. Now Gabriella has asked me if she could bring you a present today, something for each of you.”

Smiling broadly, Gabriella came to the front of the class. “Who can tell me what is so important about Christmas?” she questioned.

Several little hands flew into the air.

“André?”

The shy six-year-old stood up and grinned nervously. He looked down at the floor. “It’s … when … when baby Jesus was born.” He sat down quickly, his face red.

“Exactly! Thank you, André,” Gabriella said. “So here are your gifts. No use grabbing; they are all the same. So you can read for yourselves about the greatest story in the world.” She hefted a large basket onto Mother Griolet’s desk.

As she called out the children’s names one by one, they filed forward to receive their gifts. Mother Griolet smiled as she watched them tear open the bright, shiny paper and proudly hold up their books for the others to see. Children’s New Testaments.

Gabriella was learning the secret: to get past her pain, she must give to others who hurt. As the children clustered around Gabriella, Mother Griolet quietly slipped out of the room. She climbed the steps to the ground floor, entered her apartment, and went into her office. She walked around her desk and stood at the window, staring out into the empty courtyard.

“Four more children, Lord. I don’t know them, but You do. And I’m sure You will provide everything we need to take care of them. I think I’m ready … but only in Your strength.”

She watched the pansies in the courtyard below, their petals fluttering in the winter wind. “Delicate and strong,” she murmured. “Even in the coldest months they keep their smiling faces. Blown by Your Spirit, O Father, may I do the same.”

Gabriella met Mother Griolet in her den. Her face was radiant. “It’s so much fun to be with the children. I feel as though they need me, even if my life is a mess.”

“I understand how you feel, my child,” replied the old nun. “It is rewarding work.” She paused awkwardly. “May I ask you to do me a favor?”

“Yes, of course. What is it?”

“I was hoping that you could go into Montpellier this afternoon to meet the new children. M. Vidal had offered, but he is unable to get away.”

“The children are coming by train?”

“Yes, it’s a long story. They are refugees from the war.”

“From Algeria?”

“Yes. They need shelter here in France.” She smiled weakly. “This is a bit of a secret, my dear. If you would not talk about it, I would be most grateful. And if you don’t wish to go, I will find someone else.”

“No, it isn’t that. Of course I’ll go. Tell me where to meet these children, and I’ll go.”

Ophélie jumped at the chance to ride the bus into town with Gabriella. As they pulled into the train station, she clasped her teacher’s hand tightly.

“Thank you, Bribri! For the bus ride and the beautiful Bible with pictures!”

Gabriella patted the child’s hand as they descended the steps from the bus. “Let’s see now. Mother Griolet said the train will arrive at four thirty.” She searched the large board that announced the arriving trains. “There it is. It will be at quay number 2 in just a few minutes.”

People were milling about the station, stringy-haired students with knapsacks, somber men in business suits. Gabriella watched Ophélie’s exuberance.

Suddenly the child’s face clouded. “Bribri,” she said. “I had a dream. I remembered something scary.”

They had arrived at the quay as the train slowly approached.

“I don’t think M. Jean-Claude is good. I think he was one time Mama’s friend, but then he turned bad and made her scream.”

Gabriella put her arm around the child. They shivered together as the train screeched to a halt before them. “Oh, Ophélie. I’m so sorry. But don’t you worry. He doesn’t know where we live. We’ll never see him again.”

Four silent, wide-eyed children followed Gabriella and Ophélie out of the train station. They carried nothing with them; their clothes were filthy and their eyes hungry. Two were Arabs, Gabriella was sure. The other two looked French.

“We’ll ride the bus to the church,” she told them as they waited for bus 11. “Mother Griolet will have a nice supper waiting for you.”

The children remained silent. The youngest, who was about five, began to cry. Her sister put an arm around her. The bus approached.

“This is it, children. Let’s climb on.”

Reluctantly the children obeyed.