Chapter Three

After leaving the family brunch Marie-Thérèse and her two children went to Josette’s house. Since the cousins weren’t attending school that day, they wanted to play, and Marie-Thérèse and Josette took the opportunity to get started on the invitations for Marc’s wedding.

“Since I’ve been so miserable with this pregnancy,” Josette said, “I wouldn’t have volunteered to design them, but Danielle was looking very stressed.”

“She’s enjoying herself, though, I think.” Marie-Thérèse sat on a padded wooden chair in Josette’s kitchen. “After Raoul ran off like that, she’s glad to have Rebekka doing it right.”

“Too bad Philippe doesn’t see it that way.” Josette put a stack of papers and a phone book on the table. “Marc told me he’s been pressuring them to have a huge, showy civil ceremony.”

Marie-Thérèse nodded sympathetically. “That’s tough. You know, that guy was always too persuasive.” Marie-Thérèse had never liked Philippe, but out of respect for his family, she generally tried to keep her opinion of him to herself. Feeling guilty at her words, she added, “But he really seems to care for Danielle.”

“Thank heavens for that.”

There was a loud thump in the playroom where the faint voices of the children could be heard. Marie-Thérèse listened for a moment to see if there were any tears.

“Emery, Preston, Anton, Stephen—stop that right now!” Josette yelled. There was no answer. She shrugged and began sketching on a white sheet of paper. “Doesn’t sound serious.”

“Brandon would tell us if it were.” As the oldest and the only girl, Larissa should have been the responsible one, but Marie-Thérèse had long ago perceived that her son, almost eleven years old, was a much better baby-sitter. In fact, the energetic Larissa was likely responsible for the disturbance. Fortunately, Josette and Zack had bought their apartment on the bottom floor so they could have a little yard and garden space out the back, and that meant there were no neighbors underneath them to complain of the noise.

“There’s nothing they can hurt in there, or that can hurt them.” Josette started in on a new piece of paper. “And Emery knows how to keep the little boys in line.” She paused a moment before adding, “Does Rebekka seem different to you?”

Marie-Thérèse shrugged. “She’s in love, I can tell that. But you know, she’s always been so collected, so together. Even as a child. Sometimes she intimidates me.”

“I know what you mean.” Josette stopped drawing. “Two degrees and being able to play the piano as well as she does. She must be some sort of genius.”

Marie-Thérèse scratched the top of her slightly upturned nose. “I envy her hair—not really red but that beautiful dark brown with the exact amount of red highlights, and—”

“And she’s young.” Josette interrupted with a giggle. “Gee, we sound downright jealous.”

“Not really. I actually admire her. She hasn’t let her looks go to her head.”

“It’s not easy being good-looking. Either men only want you for your looks, or they’re too scared to ask you out—and those are usually the ones that are worth dating, if you know what I mean.”

Marie-Thérèse knew Josette spoke from firsthand experience. Her sister still garnered stares from complete strangers—even when pregnant.

“If you think about it,” Josette went on, “for all her poise and looks, Rebekka hasn’t gone out all that much. I think she stays away from men purposefully.”

“Why’s that, do you suppose?” Marie-Thérèse peered at Josette’s drawings. “Here, let me write the words on another paper and then you can copy them onto your design.” She’d always been better at grammar than Josette.

“Maybe Rebekka didn’t go out because she preferred to be with Marc,” Josette said thoughtfully. “They were always doing something together.”

The two women looked at each other in sudden understanding. “Do you think that all this time . . .” Marie-Thérèse left the sentence hanging.

“I thought she was over him a long time ago.” Josette bit one side of her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Maybe she wasn’t after all.”

“If that’s the case, I wonder why she didn’t confide in us? We could have helped.”

Josette nodded and her straight, waist-length hair tumbled forward. “Marc always was a little dense at seeing what was right before his eyes. I never thought, though, that we were just as dense.” She sighed and rubbed her swollen stomach. “I guess we’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

“Could that be why she went to Utah?”

“I’ll bet it is.”

Marie-Thérèse thought the idea of the cool Rebekka pining away for Marc more than a little incongruous—calm, poised Rebekka, who always seemed so sure of herself and had always pursued exactly what she wanted. “Well, let’s not say anything, just in case. I wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Josette grinned. “I just can’t believe Marc is finally getting married—and he looks so happy.” She brushed a sudden tear under her eye. “Darn hormones. They always make me so emotional.” With her knuckles she again gently kneaded her large stomach, and Marie-Thérèse wondered if the baby was kicking.

“They’re going to have beautiful children,” Marie-Thérèse said, tucking her hair behind her ear. She normally kept her hair shoulder length, but her hairdresser had layered the sides more than normal, so it constantly felt disarrayed. Her husband loved the new look, but Marie-Thérèse wasn’t sure if the softening effect it had on her narrow face was worth the annoyance.

Josette threw back her head and laughed. “Oh yeah, beautiful kids. Give her a few years and she’ll be hauling a brood around like the rest of us. It’s hard to look poised with a ton of kids hanging onto your leg.”

Marie-Thérèse’s breath caught in her throat. A ton of kids, her sister had said, but Marie-Thérèse didn’t have a ton of kids. Just two, Larissa and Brandon. Both had come quickly enough, but she had been through ten years of reproductive therapy since with no further pregnancies.

Clenching her jaw, she tried to will the emotions away, but they rippled through her with a dogged thoroughness she couldn’t deny. She’d always wanted more children. Oh, not six or seven—she didn’t fool herself that she, with her obsession for organization, could handle that many, but certainly three or four. She’d discovered early that Mathieu was good with children, much more patient than she was, and he more than filled up any gaps she might leave in her mothering. She tended to be too rigid and organized, but under his tutelage she’d learned to allow the occasional mess in the name of fun. Marie-Thérèse had given her best efforts and then some to raising her children, and Larissa and Brandon appeared to be emotionally healthy individuals, despite Larissa’s rebellious attitude of late. Why hadn’t she been allowed to have more?

“Oh, Marie-Thérèse, I’m sorry.” Josette left her drawing and scooted her chair closer. “I spoke without thinking. I didn’t mean to . . .”

Marie-Thérèse struggled not to cry. It was a hard thing not to be given a child when every day babies were abandoned or abused by those who should be their protectors, when unwed mothers visited abortion clinics or dumped their unwanted offspring onto aging parents.

“It’s okay,” she said, knowing it soon would be. Her emotions ran high on the subject, but daily prayer prevented the bitterness from consuming her every moment. Prayer—and her plan for adoption.

She arose suddenly and seized her oversized purse, which she’d laid near the telephone, taking out a thin manila folder. Silently she handed it to Josette.

Her sister studied the documents, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Is this what I think it is?”

Marie-Thérèse pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’m tired of waiting. I’m tired of all the needles, exams, and disappointments. Mathieu and I’ve decided to adopt. And not here since there’s too long a wait for young children. Instead we’re going to Ukraine. It’s going to cost a small fortune, but we’re approved for two.”

Josette leapt to her feet and hugged Marie-Thérèse. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Well, at first I wanted to be sure, and then I just wanted it to be closer so I wouldn’t go crazy with everybody asking me when it was going to happen. But we’ll be going next month to choose children from one of several orphanages. The youngest babies they’ll let go are six months old, the oldest three years, but that’s fine with me. We might even adopt siblings—that’s why we got approved for two. I didn’t want to separate siblings if we found any that were supposed to belong to us.”

Having been adopted along with her blood sister Pauline by her aunt and uncle, Ariana and Jean-Marc, Marie-Thérèse knew what it meant to a child to preserve a blood-sibling tie. Since Pauline had been born with HIV and later died from AIDS, Marie-Thérèse suspected the decision to take on the girls full time hadn’t been an easy one for the couple she now called Mom and Dad. But it had meant everything in the world to her to have both Pauline and her adopted family. She knew Pauline had shared the feeling.

Josette was dancing around the kitchen with excitement over the pending adoption, and Marie-Thérèse felt her own joy bubble up inside, replacing the previous hurt. Over the past months while making this decision, she’d tried to maintain a calm reserve in the event of possible disappointment, but now it seemed as though nothing could prevent it from happening. She would have another child after all.

“So when are you going to tell the family?”

Marie-Thérèse suddenly felt self-conscious. “I did talk to Mom and Dad a few weeks ago, and they’ve been very supportive. We told the children last night. That’s why I’m telling you now. I’m sure Larissa will talk to your boys, and I wanted you to hear it from me. André and Claire also know because I’ve asked André if he’ll consider going with me for part of the time in Ukraine, in case it goes over the time Mathieu can take from work.”

Josette hugged her again awkwardly, maneuvering the weight of the growing baby inside her. “I’m so glad we’ll be having babies together again.” She grimaced. “Although you won’t have to get rid of the fat afterwards. Of course you never did anyway, not really. You’ve always been so thin.” She clapped her hands. “Hey, maybe one of the children will be Stephen’s age! You know he goes crazy with no one his age to play with.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Marie-Thérèse admitted. “But we’ll have to see what happens. I’d like them as young as possible, but if it’s a sibling pair . . . we’ll see.”

“And Ukraine—Louis-Géralde’s mission. When he gets home he’ll be able to talk to them in their native tongue!”

“Well, at least he can help them understand their culture. I don’t know how much Ukrainian or Russian such a young child—or children—will speak, or remember after two years of being here in France.”

“That’s right. I didn’t think of that. But still, it’s neat.” Josette began to pace. “Oh, this is driving me crazy already! I don’t know what clothes to buy for them or anything!”

Marie-Thérèse laughed. “It’s driving you crazy? What about me? I’m the one who’s going nuts.”

“Oh yeah,” Josette replied dramatically, winking a brown eye. “You’re the one who plans a whole month of meals at a time, the one who organizes her cans alphabetically—”

“I can find them better that—”

“—the one who would rather have a clean refrigerator than a new outfit—”

“—way, and remember I don’t have someone who comes in to clean like you.”

Josette grinned. “You’re going need it.”

“We might not be able to afford it after the adoption.”

“There!” Josette returned to her a chair, grinning in triumph. “That’s what I’ll give you. Two months of weekly maid service while you become adjusted to your new baby or babies.”

Marie-Thérèse laughed, admitting that Josette had hit on the perfect gift. She touched her sister’s shoulder. “I accept. Thank you.”

“And I’m sure I can get Marc and André to spring for some baby clothes, and Mom and Dad can fork it over for the car seat and a new stroller, and Grandma Louise can—”

“I get the idea,” Marie-Thérèse said dryly. Secretly she felt happy knowing her family would be there every step of the way.

Then, wanting to change the subject because the realization of her dream was still a month away, Marie-Thérèse picked up one of the papers Josette had been drawing on. “Now let’s see what you’ve done with these designs. Hey, I really like this triple folded one. Let’s call a few printing shops for prices before we run it by Danielle.”

After checking on the six children, who were busying playing a rousing game of Monopoly, they bent to their task. Almost two hours passed before André appeared at their door, his dark hair disheveled and his brown eyes worried.

“We’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” he said, the words tumbling over themselves. “Marc’s had a collapse and he’s in the hospital. They think his kidney is failing.”