Chapter Twenty

Sunday, several days after my confrontation with Pierre, dawned bright and tense. He hadn’t emerged from his room all the day before, though I thought I had heard someone in the kitchen during the night. An air of expectancy had seemed to settle over the house. The children were abnormally quiet—except Pauline, who cried a great deal, as usual, squeezing her tiny fists together and howling with all her might until I gave her whatever she desired. Lately, she wanted only to be held in the rocking chair in her room. The automatic swing we bought wouldn’t do; she wanted human contact. She demanded almost constant attention, as if she had too much energy for her little body. Tomorrow she would be seven weeks old, though she was still smaller than most newborns.

I hummed to myself that morning as I rocked Pauline in her room. André sat on the floor in front of me, dressed in his Sunday clothes and playing with some toys. Jean-Marc was in the bedroom dressing the children. As usual, Josette was whining because her tights weren’t quite right, and Jean-Marc sounded exasperated. I knew he was tired from lack of sleep—we had both paced the floor with Pauline last night—yet I stilled the urge to rush to Josette and take over. My husband had been right about my never letting him solve the problems with the children, and I had been practicing sitting back and watching. It seemed to be working. More and more often the children turned to him when he was home, leaving me more time for the household—or, more accurately, for Pauline.

I stared at her face. She wasn’t sleeping, just watching me. I knew if I stopped rocking she would cry. She favored Pierre rather than Paulette, with abundant dark hair and intense brown eyes. There was no hint of illness yet about her, only the urgency to experience life.

André lurched to his feet and held onto my knee, swaying as I rocked. A grin nearly split his face. “Such a big boy,” I cooed. As usual when looking at him, I marveled at how good he was. Then it hit me; my Father had known all along I would be raising Pauline and had given me the steady and serene André because He had known I would be overwhelmed. I reached out and patted his tousled brown locks. “I love you, André.” He giggled and reached for my hand. In my arms, Pauline gave a small cry, as if suspecting my attention had shifted.

“Well, we’re ready,” Jean-Marc said, coming into the baby’s room. It was his turn to go to church with the children. Since the baby could not leave the house except for doctor’s visits, we took turns staying at home with her. Pierre was usually in the house, too, as he hadn’t returned to church since Paulette’s death, but we were afraid to leave her with him because he had never looked twice at her in the same day.

“Remember to come home right after, just in case Simone is late,” I said. “She’s working and was worried about getting here on time. I may not have time to get there on the subway.” Today at the baptisms after church, my parents would become members. Since the day of Paulette’s death, my father had been taking the missionary discussions and searching out every minute aspect of the Church, as was his thorough nature. Finally, he and my mother were being baptized. Simone had agreed to watch Pauline while Jean-Marc and I attended together. I felt comfortable leaving the baby with Simone as I had never imagined I might. The subtle changes that had begun in her since entering the clinic had continued, though she still refused to accept the missionaries.

“I’ll be here,” Jean-Marc assured me. “And if Simone’s not here, you’ll go on ahead and I’ll meet you at the church.”

“And probably miss the baptisms,” I said.

He kissed me. “Don’t worry about it. Since I’m baptizing them, they won’t start without me.”

“Don’t be too sure,” I said lightly. “My father’s pretty determined now that he’s learned everything he can. If Simone is late, maybe I should stay.” I grimaced even as I said the words.

“It’ll work out,” Jean-Marc said confidently. His grin was infectious. “Now kiss Mom, kids, and let’s be on our way.” The twins came exuberantly, Marie-Thérèse shyly, and André sedately, as usual. I felt especially grateful for Marie-Thérèse’s acceptance of me. Her little face seemed less tragic now. If only Pierre could be there for her.

Pauline had fallen asleep, but I didn’t move from the rocker. I was content to hold her and enjoy these moments of peace. Later, I warmed a bottle. As I fed her, I held her close and studied the tiny, perfect features so superbly masking the time bomb ticking away inside her.

The minutes turned into hours, and when my family arrived home from church, I jerked awake in the chair. My body felt stiff and sore, and I tried to stretch my back. Pauline awoke with the movement and smiled as she always did after a good sleep. I grinned back, helplessly drawn to her charm.

The phone rang, and I stumbled to my feet to answer it, but Pierre had come out of his room and beat me to the kitchen. “Okay, I’ll tell her,” he said into the phone.

“What?” I asked.

He didn’t meet my gaze, and I sensed an embarrassment about him. “Simone can’t come. She says she has to stay at work.”

I groaned. Jean-Marc came into the kitchen with André in his arms and the others scattering around his feet like little yellow chicks. Except for Marie-Thérèse’s slightly lighter hair on a head poking an inch above the others, the three could pass as triplets. “Then Pierre will have to watch his daughter,” Jean-Marc said firmly.

Pierre’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, backing away. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Jean-Marc let André slide to the floor and took Pauline from my arms. “You know how to rock her and feed her. If you don’t remember from when Marie-Thérèse was little, you have seen us doing it enough.” He tried to give the baby to his brother, but Pierre retreated down the hall. He went into his room and slammed the door. I heard the lock click firmly into place.

“She’s your daughter,” my husband yelled through the door, “and it’s about time you took your responsibility. You’ve had time to adjust. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something with the time you have left. Is this how you want your daughters to remember you—a man whose spirit has been broken? What kind of example is that?”

There was no answer. “Well, we’re leaving,” Jean-Marc said through the door. “Ari’s parents need our support today, and we haven’t left this apartment together since we brought your baby home. Your baby, Pierre! We’re going to leave her in her crib, and you’re taking care of her!” He stomped away from the door and into Pauline’s room. Gently, he laid the baby in her crib, stroking her cheek for a moment so the sudden change wouldn’t make her cry.

“No!” I whispered. “What if he doesn’t take care of her?”

“Ari, I know what I’m doing. Please take the children and wait in the hall.”

I wanted to rebel, but his eyes pleaded. “Come on, children.” I ushered them out, stopping only to collect my purse on the small table beneath the mirror in the entryway.

As I opened the door, Jean-Marc ducked into our room for an instant and then out again. He glanced over his shoulder. “We’re leaving, Pierre,” he declared.

I heard Pauline start wailing in her room, realizing she was alone. My heart constricted, and I tried to go back into the apartment.

“No,” Jean-Marc said, stopping me. The children watched us with anxious faces.

“I’m her mother. I won’t leave her without knowing.”

Jean-Marc shut the door and put his arm around me. “Of course we won’t leave her.” Out of his pocket he drew the baby monitor and held it out to me.

I grabbed it and switched it on. Now we could hear Pauline’s shrill cry even more loudly. Marie-Thérèse’s eyes held tears; I too wanted to cry. We huddled together in the hall around the monitor in Jean-Marc’s hand.

“Let’s go get her,” little Marc said, voicing my feelings.

“Wait a minute more,” Jean-Marc said. His tearful gaze met mine. “It’s the only way, Ari. They need each other, and this is the only way I know. It’s like me with our children. I need to be with them and take care of them, even when they are being difficult—no, especially when they are being difficult.”

The resentment building in my heart dissolved. Leaving Pauline alone, so little and helpless, was hard, but we had to balance her needs now against a possible relationship with her father for however long they had left.

The crying went on and on, seemingly forever, though it could only have been a few minutes. Then a new sound: stiff steps, a low mumbling. “They left,” came Pierre’s puzzled voice. “They really left!” Pauline screamed even louder.

“Shhh, baby. Be quiet. Just be quiet.” His voice was rough, and I wondered if he might hurt her.

Jean-Marc saw my thought. “It’s Pierre,” he reminded me. “He loves her. He’s her father.”

“Pauline!” Pierre’s voice came through the monitor, sounding frustrated. “Please stop crying!” Then, “Okay, come here.” The cries changed slightly but didn’t stop. “There, there,” Pierre mumbled.

“I’ve got you. Don’t cry.” The cries lessened to a whimper and then ceased completely.

“See? It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re not alone.” Pierre’s voice sounded odd now. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you alone.” Again we heard crying, soft sobs, but they came from Pierre, not Pauline. “Hi, little one,” he murmured. “I guess it’s time we met. I’m your daddy. Yes, I am.” He paused before adding hoarsely, “And I love you. I’m so sorry, Pauline. I love you so much!”

I looked up to see Jean-Marc watching me. His hand was gentle as he touched my cheek, wiping a stray tear. “It’s going to be all right, Ari. He just needs time alone with her.” I nodded.

“So are we going?” Marc asked. Now that Pauline was no longer crying, his child’s brain had moved on. “I don’t want to miss Grandpa getting baptized.”

“Me either,” Josette said.

Jean-Marc glanced at me questioningly, and I gave a sharp nod. “Okay,” he said. “Go push the button on the elevator.”

“It’s my turn!”

“No, mine!”

I left Jean-Marc to sort it out and focused on Marie-Thérèse. She still stared at the white monitor in my hands. Pierre was singing a song so softly I couldn’t make out the words or recognize the tune.

“He’s singing ‘Tell Me Why,’” Marie-Thérèse said, a smile playing on her lips. As she said it, I recognized a few lines from the song I had known as a child:

Tell me why life is so beautiful.

Tell me why life is so happy.

Tell me why, dear Mademoiselle.

Is it because you love me?

“He used to sing that to me before Mom—” She broke off and transferred her gaze to me. “Is he back?” she asked. Her expression was hopeful but tinged with caution. “Do you think he’ll love me now?”

I hugged her. “He has always loved you. He just misses your mom, and he’s a little scared, like you are. But I think he’s back. I think everything’s going to be okay now.”

She seemed relieved. “I’m glad. I missed him.”

“Me too,” I said. “Me too.”

The elevator chimed, and I picked her up and carried her inside where the others waited. There would be time later for her to be with Pierre. Right now, he and Pauline needed to get to know each other without interruptions.

I didn’t know if I was right about leaving Pauline with Pierre; it didn’t matter. I was only doing the best I knew how; it was all any of us could do.

* * *

At the church, my father was pacing in the hall, already dressed in white. “Oh, you’re here,” he said. Jean-Marc went to change while my father led us to where my mother was seated. Louise and Lu-Lu were with her.

“They look so happy,” Lu-Lu whispered to me.

I smiled. My parents were holding hands, and occasionally their eyes met and held as if exchanging deepest thoughts. “They know they’ll be together forever,” I said.

“Do you really believe that?” Lu-Lu asked.

The question startled me. “Don’t you?”

“I—I guess so. I just didn’t realize how important it was. When Philippe and I were planning to get married, I just thought about now and about how much I loved him. But take your parents. They’ve been together so long, and yet they nearly broke up because of their different beliefs. I wonder if that’s what would have happened to Philippe and me.”

“You never know. But it seems likely, given his attitude toward the Church.”

“I could never imagine choosing the Church over a man I loved,” Lu-Lu said. “But maybe I was wrong. I mean, like with Paulette and Pierre, their love will go on forever. Had Philippe and I been in their position, our love would have been over, with no hope.”

“Do you have a testimony of the Church?” I asked.

Lu-Lu paused in thought. “I don’t think I did, or I would never have settled for marriage outside the temple,” she said. “But I believe now.”

“That’s a beginning,” I said. “Now what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?”

I laughed. “Don’t look so startled. All I mean is that a secure knowledge of the gospel always leads people to want to help others. Do you remember when my father decided to be baptized? Well, when I found him in the cemetery that day, I thought I might have to stop him from jumping up on a park bench somewhere and proclaiming the gospel with one of those loudspeakers.”

“Really?” Lu-Lu giggled at the idea.

I nodded. “It wasn’t a bit like him. Do you know he passed out a Book of Mormon to everyone at the bank?”

“He didn’t!”

“He did. The board members weren’t too happy when they heard.”

Her eyes grew wide. “What did he do?”

“He gave them each a long overdue raise—and a Book of Mormon!” The idea of him doing so made us both laugh.

“Shhh, you two,” my father whispered. “It’s beginning.”

I turned to say just one more thing. “Family is one of the most important things we preach in the gospel,” I said. “I never realized how important family was until I went on a mission. It was then I knew that the best work I could ever do was at home, with those I love. Don’t settle for what won’t make you happy in the long run. It’s not worth it!”

She nodded. “I think I’ve been luckier than I deserve,” she said. “My family has always been strong. I wonder if I . . .” Her voice drained away. “Thanks, Ari. I’ve got some thinking to do.” She turned to listen to the speaker.

A short time later, when my father emerged from the water, I knew I had never been happier in my entire life. We did it, Antoine, I said silently. Our family is whole!

Jean-Marc met my gaze from where he stood in the font, waiting for my mother. I love you, he mouthed.

Life was sometimes hard but so worth it.

* * *

When we arrived home, Pierre met us at the door with tiny Pauline asleep in his arms. His face was worried.

“What’s wrong?” I asked anxiously, checking Pauline for any visual signs of sickness.

“It’s Simone,” Pierre said.

“What?”

“The clinic called. She’s supposed to be here or at work, but when they were doing random checking, they found out she’s not at either place.”

I frowned. “Oh, no! For over two months she’s been without drugs. Two months! What if . . .” My voice trailed off.

“I don’t believe it,” Jean-Marc said. “She was doing so well.”

“Was she?” I asked. She had been upset at Paulette’s death but less than I expected. Perhaps stark realization had finally struck. “I have to find her,” I said.

Jean-Marc nodded. “Pierre and I will stay with the children.”

“No, I want to go with Ariana,” Pierre said.

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” I didn’t try to keep the surprise from my voice.

He nodded once, decisively. “Yes. She’s Paulette’s mother. It’s time I took responsibility for my family and their happiness.” He handed Pauline to Jean-Marc and knelt near Marie-Thérèse. “I’m going to find Grandma Simone, and when I come back, you and I are going to have a talk.”

Marie-Thérèse beamed. “What if I’m asleep?” she asked, her smile fading.

Pierre kissed her nose. “Then I’ll wake you right up.”

“Thank you, Daddy. And I love you.” Her arms went up around his neck.

“I love you, too.”

I bade farewell to the twins, and Jean-Marc blew me a kiss. I grabbed it in mid-air and slapped it on my cheek. Pierre pulled on a cap over his bald head and opened the door.

We started by searching the bars and cafés near Simone’s house and then near ours and the clinic. We found nothing. It was embarrassing entering the places reeking of alcohol and smoke, but we plunged doggedly on. We began checking the small stores lining the streets, though many were closed for the Sabbath. The afternoon sun began to fade.

“Where could she be?” Pierre said.

I shook my head. In his eyes I saw the same guilt I was feeling. If only we had been more supportive, if only we had paid her more heed. “It’s not our fault,” I said. “It’s her choice to change or not.”

“Like it was mine to reject my daughter.”

I said nothing, just watched him.

“You were right all along,” he continued. “You and Paulette. That baby is a gift from God.”

“Shall we pray?” I asked.

He grinned, and I could see the old Pierre shining through. “I’ll offer it.” We stood together and prayed in a little alleyway off the main street. Afterwards we walked on.

“Now, where might she go?” I mumbled. I couldn’t help feeling that the answer was within my grasp.

“She wouldn’t try to hurt herself, would she?” Pierre asked. “Like throw herself in the Seine or anything.”

I grabbed his arms. “The Seine, yes!”

Without explaining, I propelled him back to the car. I drove straight to the Quai de Montebello and the booksellers’ stalls. We left the car and hurried to the stone wall overlooking the Seine, eyes searching through the thin crowd of tourists.

“There!” Pierre pointed, and I saw her, looking out over the water.

“Simone!” I cried. She turned her head and watched our approach.

“Where have you been?” Pierre asked. “We’ve been searching everywhere.”

She turned her gaze back to the gentle waves below. “I’ve been watchin’ the water. And wonderin’ how God made it.”

“What?” Pierre said, but I smiled.

Simone focused on Pierre. “Ya thought I went to a bar, didn’t ya? Or back to drugs?” Pierre nodded, shamefaced. There was no trace of substance abuse in Simone’s manner. She laughed. “Don’t feel bad. I almost did.” There were tears in her voice. “I was missin’ Paulette and thinkin’ about yer little baby. I got depressed and planned to go to a bar and order a vodka and a couple joints to begin with, but then I stopped here first. A man came up to me, and we got to talkin’ about how water is made—you know, them molecules and stuff. He told me how the world always has the same amount of water in it, and how it recycles. It evaporates, goes up and comes back as rain, or people use it. It was so fascinatin’, such a perfect system. I knew God made it.” She glanced my way briefly. “So I prayed.” She stopped.

“And?” Pierre asked anxiously.

“He answered, of course,” Simone said. “I guess I’ll be seein’ them missionaries of yers after all. And don’t be shocked, but I ain’t too sure if I won’t go back to school, study science or somethin’.”

Pierre hugged her. “Paulette would be proud.”

“Proud?” Simone asked doubtfully. She thumbed heavenward. “More than likely, she’s up there askin’ what the h—, uh, beans took me so long.”

We took Simone back to the clinic. She had to undergo a drug test, but given the circumstances of her daughter’s recent death, the personnel were understanding—especially when the tests came out negative. Pierre and I went home, exhausted but happy.

“We have been blessed,” Pierre said to me. “Don’t let me ever forget it.”