Chapter Seven

“You feel safe here, do you?” Marie-Thérèse sat on the floor Monday morning, peeking into the tent she’d created under Brandon’s desk for Celisse. The little girl lifted her eyes. She didn’t smile, but seemed content. Cuddled in her arms was the doll André’s daughters had brought her.

Marie-Thérèse wanted to prepare Celisse for Pascale’s arrival but was unsure how to go about it. She adjusted Raquel, as the baby was now called, on her lap and scooted closer. “Do you remember that nice lady, Celisse? The one who brought you here? Well she’s coming back today.”

No response, except from the baby who began rooting around for something to eat. “I’m going to get Raquel a bottle and be right back.” Marie-Thérèse rose and went into the kitchen. Raquel calmed with the motion.

“You are such a wonderful baby,” she cooed. “Aren’t you, Raquel? Aren’t you?” The baby’s eyes lit up, and she flashed Marie-Thérèse one of the tiny grins that melted her heart. She felt a little guilty as she played with the baby. Was she ignoring Celisse? Would that happen in the next home they would go to? Would Celisse be left alone to cower under a table while adorable Raquel stole all the attention? If that happened, what kind of a relationship could the sisters possibly hope to share later in life?

The phone rang and Marie-Thérèse scooped it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Marie-Thérèse, it’s Pascale. How are things?”

“We’re doing fine. Well at least Raquel is. Celisse—”

“Raquel?”

“My son thought the baby should have a name. Anyway, she’s adorable. And very good most of the time. Everyone loves her.”

“Well, since I still don’t have any records on the baby, Raquel will do nicely. How is Celisse?”

Marie-Thérèse sighed and sat down on a kitchen chair, holding the phone with her shoulder so she could feed the baby. “She’s had a hard life. How could someone do such cruel, evil things to an innocent child?”

There was a long pause. “I don’t know. It’s something I can’t get used to either.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“I know, but it’s out there. A lot more than we’d like to believe.”

“About Celisse. I know you’ve been doing this for a long time and you probably have seen much worse than this, but I think she might need a lot of one-on-one attention. She could get lost in the shuffle—especially with Raquel around.”

“I know that. But we have a policy. Families must be kept together if at all possible.”

“Then—and I hope you won’t mind me saying so—you must find someone who can help her, who will focus on her.” Normally, Marie-Thérèse wouldn’t have dreamed of telling Pascale how to do her job, but Celisse needed so much and had no one else to speak for her.

“I plan to. In fact, that’s why I’m calling.”

Marie-Thérèse swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “You found someone?”

“No. I’ve got a couple who I believe will work, only I haven’t approached them yet. Would you mind keeping the children another week? Two tops. You will be reimbursed for expenses, of course.”

“I guess I could do that.” Marie-Thérèse didn’t stop to examine her emotions, but she smiled at Raquel lying in her arms.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’ll be by later this evening with some forms for you and Mathieu to sign. Policy stuff mostly, and some personal questions. Nothing major. I really can’t thank you enough. ”

“Any word from their mother?”

“Not yet. But the police have several leads.”

“You’ll let me know?”

“Of course.”

Marie-Thérèse’s neck was starting to ache because of the awkward position of the phone between her ear and shoulder blade, but there was more she had to say. “Celisse can’t go back there, you know.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure of it.”

“There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. Celisse has a large purple mound on her hip. Looks oddly like a huge pimple. Didn’t used to have a head, but it’s changed quite a bit in the past few days. Now the whole top of it is sort of white. And very painful—she cringes if she bumps it or if the waistband of her pants scrapes it. Did the doctor say anything to you about what it might be?”

“No, he didn’t. But then there were so many marks on her body and Celisse wasn’t exactly happy about the examination. She fought every inch of the way—never seen a child so upset. Not something I want to repeat, but we’d better have her back there if you feel it’s something to worry about.”

“I think it is. But I don’t want to cause her more—wait a minute. I know, my mother has an old friend who used to be a nurse. Retired now. Maybe I could have her come here and check it out. It might be less traumatic. Then if we need to do something more, we can pursue it from there.”

“All right. Good.” Pascale sounded relieved. “I’ll be in touch, then. Call if you need anything. Or let me know when I stop by tonight.”

Marie-Thérèse hung up the phone and sat with Raquel in her arms, her tiny gulps the only sounds breaking the peaceful silence. She kissed a soft cheek and breathed in the baby shampoo scent of her fine hair. “Larissa looked a lot like you do,” she murmured. “How time passes.”

* * *

“Another two weeks?” Larissa screeched. “Good grief, admit it! The woman wants you to adopt them, doesn’t she?”

“Larissa!” Mattieu’s voice was stern.

“Look what you did, idiot,” Brandon put in. “You scared Celisse under the table again. It took Mom and me forever to get her to sit on a chair. Sometimes you are so selfish.”

Larissa jumped to her feet, nose wrinkling in disgust. “It’s not you who’ll end up giving up your privacy, dummy.”

“What do you mean? I already gave up my room.”

Larissa ignored him. “That’s it, isn’t it, Mom? You’ll have your precious new baby”—she motioned to Raquel—“and I’ll be sharing a room with not one but two brats who will get into my stuff and mess it all up. Well, I won’t do it. I’ll run away first. Jolie’s parents would let me live with them.”

Mathieu stood to face his daughter, fists clenched, but still under control. Marie-Thérèse wanted to scream out at them to stop. Though these scenes were not anywhere near as frequent as they’d once been, she couldn’t bear it when her daughter caused such havoc.

“You are our daughter,” Mathieu said. “You will not go live with Jolie.”

“I’m almost sixteen—not a baby anymore.”

“Then please lower your voice. You’ll scare the little girls.”

“Fine. But I’m going to Jolie’s.”

Mathieu stepped in her way, just as Marie-Thérèse jumped up from her chair to do the same. “Tonight is family night,” he said calmly. “However, we would be glad to have Jolie over for a lesson.”

Neither Mathieu nor Marie-Thérèse approved of Jolie or understood Larissa’s continuing friendship with her. They tried not to make a big deal out of it—especially as Larissa had finally made a few friends at church and with a nice girl who lived on the bottom floor of their building.

Larissa threw him a look of disgust. “No thanks. I’m going to my room.” She stomped from the kitchen.

Marie-Thérèse breathed a sigh of relief. She usually let Mathieu deal with Larissa’s outbursts when he was home because he always maintained his calm, whereas she was likely to become emotional and say things she regretted later. There was nothing more Marie-Thérèse hated than being out of control.

Mathieu put his arm around her. “It’s okay, honey. Larissa’s a good girl. She’s just a little territorial. Once she knows her boundaries, she’ll stay in them.”

“I hope so.”

“I think she was testing us with that bit about Jolie,” he continued. “I know for a fact she hasn’t spoken to her in weeks. I heard her say so to her friend at church last Sunday.”

“That’s something, but I still don’t understand her. Most girls would love to mother a baby.”

“Hadn’t you better . . .?” Mathieu glanced toward the table, spread with baked fish and potatoes. But he wasn’t looking at the food.

“Celisse.” Marie-Thérèse rushed to the table and bent down, reaching for the little girl. For all that Celisse was small, Marie-Thérèse was out of breath when she finally accomplished the task of gathering the unwilling child into her arms. “Hey, don’t mind Larissa, she’s just a little loud. She’s not mad at you, honest.”

Brandon stuck his face in Celisse’s. “She’s mad as in crazy,” he said, tapping his temple. “But she doesn’t hurt anyone. She’s okay, just noisy.” He held out his arms. “Come to Brandon?”

Celisse studied him gravely. For the past three days, he’d tried repeatedly to get her to come to him, but she always refused. But she had stopped cringing whenever he or Mathieu spoke to her. Yesterday, she’d accepted several toys from Brandon and had allowed Mathieu to hold her hand at church.

Now, catching Marie-Thérèse by surprise, she leaned toward Brandon and nearly fell onto the floor. Brandon’s hands shot and caught her. He held her to his chest. “See that’s not so bad, is it? I told you—I’m very nice.” Brandon grinned at Marie-Thérèse. “She likes me. Cool.”

Almost immediately, Celisse pushed to get down. “That’s right,” Brandon said, unfazed. “Four years old is too big to be carried. You can walk by yourself, can’t you? Now let’s go back to the table and eat. Fish is good. Let’s eat it all so Larissa can’t have any.” He laughed and held out his hand. Celisse put her little one in his and they traversed the few steps to the table together. “There now, sit in my chair. I’ll sit on the bucket. Don’t worry. I don’t mind. You don’t have to go under the table.”

Mathieu winked at Marie-Thérèse. “That’s progress. He’s really good with her—and determined.” He paused a moment before adding, “You know, Larissa’s right. If Celisse and Raquel were to stay, we’d really have to move to a bigger place. And buy a bigger table.”

“Three bedrooms is plenty for a family. And they aren’t—” Marie-Thérèse glanced at Celisse and broke off.

Mathieu took her arm. “Kids, go ahead without us. We’ll be back in a minute.”

Celisse reached out to Marie-Thérèse, casting a frightened look at Brandon. “Hey, I can watch you,” he said.

The child would have none of it. She held her arms out to Marie-Thérèse, her fingers making grabbing motions. Brandon sighed. “You’d better stay, Mom.”

So they sat down to dinner. After a while, the conversation began flowing again, as though there had never been any interruption. As usual, Celisse shoveled her food in almost without stopping. When they were halfway finished, Larissa came from her bedroom and sat in the single empty chair. No one said anything, but Mathieu smiled at her and Marie-Thérèse passed the dish of potatoes. Celisse stopped eating for a moment to watch Larissa and then continued without utterance.

The atmosphere relaxed and Marie-Thérèse felt full of love and thankfulness. She didn’t even mind when Celisse went to the bathroom and returned smelling as though she had missed her destination altogether. She simply led her back to the bathroom, explained about using the toilet again, gave her a bath, and put her into her pajamas.

After a family night lesson, games, and a dessert, the older children retired to prepare for bed. As usual, Mathieu put Raquel down in their room, while Marie-Thérèse sat on Brandon’s bed and read a story to Celisse. The little girl relaxed against Marie-Thérèse, her eyes drooping.

When she finished reading, Marie-Thérèse took a peek at the sore on Celisse’s hip before tucking her in. “That doesn’t look good, Celisse. I wonder what it could be?” She touched it gingerly, and Celisse gave a small gasp and pulled away. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts. We’d better get this looked at, okay?”

“No.” It was the first word Celisse had spoken since her arrival on Friday, and despite its meaning, Marie-Thérèse felt a small measure of triumph.

“You don’t need to be afraid.” All at once, Marie-Thérèse felt she was lying. Celisse had a lot to be afraid of, and nothing could change that. “At least,” she amended, “not about this sore. We’ll get someone to come here and look at it. A nice woman. I’ll stay with you every second.”

Celisse turned her face to the wall. Sighing, Marie-Thérèse tucked the covers around her, kissed her forehead, and left the room.

The doorbell rang, but Mathieu, already finished with the baby, beat her to the door. “Hello, Pascale,” he was saying as Marie-Thérèse came into the entryway. “Long time, no see.”

“It has been awhile. You look well.”

“Marie-Thérèse takes good care of me.”

“Well, I won’t be but a moment. I know you have a full house.”

“We’ll need to do this in the kitchen,” Marie-Thérèse said. “Brandon’s been sleeping in the sitting room so that Celisse can have his room.”

Pascale smiled. “He’s such a nice boy.”

“Well, having the television in there helped his decision,” Mathieu said. “We have to keep reminding him to go to bed.”

“I bet,” Pascale said with a laugh, as she followed them into the kitchen. “But that’s good to hear. He sounds like a normal boy.”

“Would you like to see the girls?” Marie-Thérèse asked. “I mean, isn’t that part of your job?”

“Yes, I would like to see them.”

“They’re asleep, or at least they should be.” Marie-Thérèse led Pascale to the bedrooms where both girls were sleeping peacefully.

“They look great,” Pascale said as they shut Celisse’s door.

“We try. But Celisse—there’s a lot of issues. She really needs some one-on-one.”

“Has she responded to you?”

“Yes. But Raquel takes a lot of attention. I’m lucky I have Mathieu and Brandon to help with her while I’m occupied with Celisse.”

They were quiet as they returned to the kitchen. Then Pascale asked, “So you really think they should be separated?”

“No. Well . . .” Marie-Thérèse hesitated. “I don’t know. Today while my older children were in school, it was sometimes easy to ignore Celisse. She seems content to hide under the desk all day. And Raquel—well, she used to be really quiet but she’s growing more demanding as she realizes that we’re here for her. I wouldn’t want Celisse to be overlooked.”

“I see.” Pascale pulled a file from her bag.

“I do know how important it is to keep siblings together,” Marie-Thérèse added. “Like you said on the phone today. You know that my little sister and I were adopted by my aunt and uncle when my parents died. I love all my adopted siblings, but Pauline was always something special. Up until the day she died, I considered her all mine. I don’t know how to explain it, but having her live in the same house helped me immensely.”

“You had a great adoptive family,” Pascale commented. “There aren’t many people—even relatives—willing to take on two extra children, especially one with HIV.”

“They were wonderful. Maybe if you could find such a situation for Celisse, she could have both the attention she needs and a special relationship with her sister.”

Pascale nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

Shortly Marie-Thérèse and Mathieu were filling out more forms than Marie-Thérèse had imagined were necessary.

Pascale scanned the documents as they completed each one. “You know, it’s too bad you couldn’t be their foster parents. You really have the perfect profile.”

Marie-Thérèse said nothing. She didn’t even look at Pascale, though she felt the other woman’s eyes on her face.

“Someone will be by tomorrow for a brief look around, if you don’t mind,” Pascale said into the silence. “It’s really only a formality since you’re doing me such a favor. They just want to be sure, despite the fact that it’s temporary. You know.”

“Sure,” Mathieu said. “We understand. In fact, we’d be concerned if you didn’t send someone.”

When Pascale had finally shut her briefcase and left, Marie-Thérèse breathed a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived.

“We really could move to a bigger place,” Mathieu said. “I know I still tend to handle money terribly, which is why you’re in charge of our finances, but I think we’ve established ourselves enough to buy a bigger place, don’t you? I kind of like how your sister has a separate room for the TV and toys. It would be kind of nice not having that mess in the sitting room all the time. And we could do with a second bathroom. Larissa and Brandon spend way too much time in there. If we had another bedroom—”

“Three is plenty. And we don’t watch that much television.”

“No. But—”

“Three bedrooms is bigger than many people have. A lot of people in the apartments around here have only two.”

Mathieu pushed his chair closer and took her rigid hand in his. “It’s not what others have or don’t have. It’s a question of what we want and need. There aren’t too many people in this country who have more than one or two children.” He chuckled and added, “Unless they’re members of our church, or maybe Catholic.” His expression became earnest. “Moving’s not really important to me, but I guess I thought if we did move, maybe we could be a part of these little girls’ lives. Larissa might not mind so much if she knew she could keep her own room. I could talk to her.”

Marie-Thérèse had known everything would boil down to this. She had felt it since the moment she’d opened the door to Pascale and let the children into her home. “No.”

Mathieu’s brows rose in puzzlement. “What do you mean no? I’ve seen you with Celisse and Raquel. You care about them.”

“They are children of God—of course I care about them.” The pressure in Marie-Thérèse’s head was building.

“Then I don’t get it.”

Marie-Thérèse fought to keep her voice steady. “Larissa. We prayed and felt it was right not to adopt—for her sake.”

“But we prayed before all that and we got the answer to adopt. So maybe it was just a temporary delay. We should ask again.”

Marie-Thérèse felt a double agony within her heart. She cared about Celisse and the adorable Raquel, but . . . “Foster parenting is only temporary. Even if . . . we could lose them.”

“We.” Mathieu smiled but his voice wasn’t triumphant. “You said we. That’s a start. I wondered if that was what was bothering you. You’re afraid of losing them.”

Marie-Thérèse blinked back tears. “It’s not like adoption. Their mother could reform. She could take them back.”

“Or they could die,” he said gently. “Like your parents and your sister. Like Brandon almost did when he had that allergy attack.”

In her mind, Marie-Thérèse traversed the years and landed back at the terrible day by Brandon’s bedside in the Intensive Care, not knowing whether he would make it and wondering if she could endure another loss. Her testimony had wavered, but in the end she’d offered him to God . . . and God had given him back to her whole and healthy. After that it didn’t seem so hard to forget about the adoption and focus on Larissa and Brandon. In fact, it was easier. Fewer children meant fewer nights of worry . . . and fear.

But she was not ready to admit that aloud. Slowly she said, “We didn’t adopt because we decided to focus on Larissa—to save her.”

“Yes. Partly.” Mathieu’s voice was so tender that it made her heart burst with love for him. “But I know you’ve been afraid. I don’t think you’ve ever really recovered from the scare of almost losing Brandon. Have you? Isn’t that part of the reason you didn’t want to adopt?”

Marie-Thérèse stared at the tabletop and didn’t reply. Mathieu was right; he was always more perceptive than she gave him credit for. Not adopting was her way of protecting herself from further pain—a selfish way, she saw now, given the need that little Celisse had for someone who could really love her.

“The way I see it,” Mathieu continued, “is that the Lord has given us a great opportunity. It’s not something we searched out but something He sent our way. We owe it to Him to at least pray about any decision we make.”

Marie-Thérèse wasn’t ready to believe it could be that easy. “Someone else might be better qualified.”

“Or not. I think you underestimate yourself—and the rest of us as well. Even Larissa.”

“What if we decide to try and then we lose them?” She dragged her eyes to meet his.

“First things first. We’ll pray, okay? I want you to feel as strongly about this as I do. If I’m wrong, I would like to know. Whatever happens, we’ll take things as they come.”

“You already love Raquel.”

He nodded. “Yes. And Celisse, too, though she’ll need more time to trust me. The point is that we have a lot to offer these children. It won’t be easy, but the past few days have been really good, despite the confusion and work.”

Marie-Thérèse had to agree. “I have enjoyed them. And Brandon seems to be in heaven having them around. But Larissa . . .”

Mathieu shrugged. “Honey, if it’s right, we’ll find some way to help Larissa understand. Prayer and fasting and talking things out worked before when she was having a hard time. It can work again. She’s come a long way these past few years.” His hand tightened on hers. “I love you, Marie-Thérèse.” He leaned forward to kiss her, and she let her arms curl around his neck.

Mathieu was right. She couldn’t let her fears stand in the way of helping Celisse—or of following the Spirit. “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll do it. Pray, I mean.”

“So will I.”