20

 

It had been nearly a week since Domitri’s encounter with the minister of Charie’s church, a week that had found him reading the Bible and fervently seeking God’s will in his life. Now, he was mere hours away from the opening performance of The Pearls of Esther, and as he sat in the empty theatre, he opened his Bible to the book of Esther and began to read.

After he finished, he realized how courageous Esther had been in asking the king to save her people when she could have easily been banished or killed. How like Charie with her loyal heart, her great beauty, her indomitable spirit, and her God—given gifts. Flipping back a few chapters, he read aloud.

“‘And the king loved Esther above all women, and she obtained grace and favour in his sight more than all the virgins; so that he set the royal crown upon her head, and made her queen…’”

Charie was the queen of his heart, now and forever, and just as the minister had said, was it not preferable to have but a short time with one who is loved than to face a lifetime without that one?

Shutting the Bible, he sat there and gazed upon the stage, now decorated as Ahasuerus’ palace garden, resplendent with faux marble columns, hangings of purple linen, silver, and gold; the imitation paving tiles of black and white marble covering the floor of the stage. Had the real Ahasuerus not found Esther, what happiness would his wealth have brought him?

There would be no more pushing Charie away; indeed, he planned to fully embrace and enjoy the love that she had brought into his life. There would be no more uncertainty, no more guilt, no more wondering if he was making the right decision. He would let go and let God take charge. And no matter where life led him and Charie, he would spend every moment of his life loving and treasuring her for the rare woman she was.

In a matter of hours he would be on that stage with Charie, dancing the part of a great king, ruler of lands from India to Ethiopia, with hundreds of men and women at his beck and call. A man who possessed a power unmatched by few earthly men. Domitri had none of that, nor did he wish for any of Ahasuerus’ riches. He only desired the love of one woman. And she was all the riches he would ever need.

Coming to his feet, he hurried towards the stage, took the steps and commenced a series of leaps across the stage. He had to draw up quickly when another stepped from behind the curtains, attired simply in a practice tutu and torn leggings, Charie’s favored dance attire.

“Shouldn’t you be saving some of that energy for tonight?” she asked even as she moved away from him in a series of coquettish piqué turns.

He quickly caught up to her and grasping both of her arms, raised them over her head and pivoted her about to face him. Still on her toes, her lips were just a hairsbreadth beneath his. Gently lowering her arms and folding them behind her, he pressed her close to his thudding heart, his gaze fixed upon her.

“I was leaping across the stage because I can no longer contain my joy.”

“And why are you filled with such joy?” Her words were softer than a whisper but still he heard.

“Because I love you, and I want nothing more than to marry you. Tell me that you will marry me, Charie.”

“I was afraid that,” she began, and then stopped as though her emotions wouldn’t permit her to continue. “I thought these past few days—” Charie attempted to speak once more and failed again.

“I thought I was being noble and selfless, but I was being ignoble and selfish. I want to spend every second God allows me to live on this earth loving you. I fervently hope that you feel the same about me.”

Charie didn’t answer him. “Altby came to me in Novgorod,” she began uncertainly, her lips trembling and her eyes glassy.

If only he could erase the pain.

“Altby blackmailed me. He made terrible threats, and insinuated Maman and Olar—Papa—were never legally wed. He said no record of my birth exists, nor is there anything to prove that Olar is my father. Altby said that unless I gave him the money he demanded, he would see that the information was spread with the intention of ruining Maman, and ultimately, me.

“I planned to speak to my parents, but I overheard them talking, and it is obvious they both still care for one another. It didn’t seem the right time to burden them with Altby’s threats. I thought I could handle the matter. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to tell you because I was ashamed and worried some of the story might be true. I was too afraid to find out for sure. And I didn’t want you dragged into a scandal. You’d suffered enough…”

Domitri silenced her with a kiss—full of promise, and hope, and certainty. All the things that faith in God’s plan could bring.

“My love, you should know I would never have given any credence to the words of a greedy, grasping, power-seeking bully. I love you, and God made the perfect soul for me when He created you.”

“Society frowns upon Maman and I because she’s an actress and I’m a dancer.”

“You are a child of God. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I want to share your cares and your worries. I want to share your love of ballet. I want to share your life.”

It was as though the sun appeared there on the stage as a glorious smile lit Charie’s face.

“Then, yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

 

****

 

“Charie, Charie,” Mira cried excitedly through the small crack in Charie’s dressing room door. “She’s here; she’s here!”

Coming to her feet, Charie caught up her dressing gown, slipped it on over her costume and threw open the door.

Mira took hold of her hand as they hurried through the labyrinthine maze of the backstage, dodging the scurrying bodies that were making final preparations for this special midday Easter Eve performance of Esther.

Just as Charie began to wonder where Mira was taking her, she saw the child.

Suzette was carried by a young man, of average height, but strapping and healthy in appearance. Suzette’s cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled.

“Mademoiselle Marin,” Suzette cried out happily, and Charie hurried over to the child who was now placed on her feet. Charie dropped to her knees and hugged the little girl who was holding on to her ballerina doll, the one Charie had given her at Christmas. Now four months later in April, with spring gilding Paris and warming the air, Suzette was well enough to attend the ballet. Such a miracle was this child, Charie thought in wonder as she gently pushed Suzette back to get a good look at her.

“How you’ve grown,” Charie observed.

Suzette giggled. “Maman says I eat more than both of my brothers. But everything tastes so wonderful. I don’t have to see the doctor nearly so much anymore.”

“Well, I am very glad to hear that. I’m so happy that you could come.”

“I’m so glad you invited me,” she said. “Maman made me a new dress.” She took a moment to pirouette while holding out her full white organza skirt with the tiny rosebuds embroidered on the sheer fabric. The underskirt was pink satin as was the gigot-sleeved bodice. “Thank you,” she replied happily.

Charie offered a silent apology to God for her outburst months back. She had questioned how God could let such a sweet child be so ill. Now, here that child was, growing stronger and healthier every day.

“But I am not nearly so beautiful as you.”

“I might have to disagree,” Charie teased. “Now, who is this young man with you?”

Awkwardly, but eagerly, the youth came forward, looking to be about sixteen years of age.

“This is mon frère,” she explained. “Louis.”

“It is very nice to meet you,” Charie said extending her hand.

Louis quickly took it and pumped it vigorously. “It is wonderful to at last meet the one who has been so good to my sister. Thank you for inviting us.” Before Charie could reply, Suzette burst out joyfully.

“It is Monsieur Domitri!”

Domitri laughed as he joined them and scooped Suzette up in his arms.

“Monsieur Domitri, this is Louis,” she explained, waving at her brother.

“And it is good to meet you, Louis,” Domitri said extending a free hand to the young man. “Thank you for bringing Suzette here today.”

“She has been so excited. And I am honored to meet you, Monsieur. But surely you and Mademoiselle Marin have much to do before the curtain rises. We should find our seats.”

Domitri handed Suzette over to the open arms of her brother. “Then we shall see you after the performance. Remember, you are to be our guests for luncheon this afternoon.”

“Oui, your invitation said as much, but we would hate to impose.”

“Don’t be silly,” Charie protested. “We want you to be with us. Meet us here after the final curtain.”

Suzette bobbed her head of dark curls, and her brother whisked her away, Suzette chattering excitedly.

Domitri turned to her with a smile. “Nothing is impossible for our Lord,” he said and Charie nodded.

“I will not be so quick to doubt in the future,” she assured him as she slipped her arm through his. “Shall I give you a kiss for good luck?”

“Let me see.” He pretended to think on her offer. “One for luck, one for happiness, one for joy, and one for love. That makes four.”

“Be content with one.” Charie lifted up on her toes and kissed him on the lips.

Domitri wrapped his arm about her and made the kiss lengthen into the time it would have taken for her to give him four.

When he released her, she was breathless, as though she’d just completed a series of fouettes around a room. What was it about this man that so completely rattled her? Whatever it was, her wedding day couldn’t arrive soon enough for her to find out.

 

****

 

“I think Suzette plans to follow in your footsteps,” Domitri commented as he and Charie walked arm in arm in the spring twilight. They had just seen Suzette and her brother off at the station, bound for their country village outside of Paris.

The day had been such a pleasant one—the performance had gone well, and Suzette and her brother had expressed their thorough enjoyment of the ballet and luncheon, taken on the terrace of a café renowned for its simple, but tasty fare.

The conversation during the meal had been most interesting, Suzette revealing to Charie how Domitri had asked her to pray that Charie would marry him when they had visited her in the hospital at Christmas.

Charie found the revelation most charming, and she offered up her own thanks to the Lord that Suzette’s Christmas prayer had been answered.

By the time, they’d finished their meal, Suzette’s eyelids were drooping, and it was most evident the child’s excitement was finally taking its toll.

Domitri had offered to carry Suzette, who fell asleep on their short walk to the train.

But she did manage to murmur a sleepy goodbye as Domitri handed her over to her effusively grateful brother.

Now Charie and Domitri were on their way home, and Domitri had suggested a walk before the patiently waiting Petrov drove them to their respective residences. He was glad to have this private time with Charie before parting.

“It may be difficult to find a seat so will you meet me early at the church in the morning?” Charie asked, as though Domitri might forget it was Easter on the morrow.

“Yes, I will. And I plan to sit with the loveliest ballerina in Paris—no, make that in the world.”

“I’ve never known you to use such flattery,” she returned, a soft smile tilting her lips adorably.

“It’s not flattery—it’s the truth. It’s been a long day. Are you tired?”

“Not really. I’m so filled with the wonder of everything that’s happened. I remember months ago asking God to reveal His will, yet my heart was breaking as I did so, for fear you would not be part of His plan for me.”

“And I suffered the same. Charie,” he said and stopped, turning her so that she faced him. “This isn’t going to be easy. I am stubborn, and I can be unreasonable, and I—”

Pressing her gloved fingers to his lips to still them, she looked up at him, giving him a smile.

“Do you love me?” She lowered her hand so he could speak.

“More than I can ever tell you if I live to be a hundred.”

“You can start now,” she suggested. “And continue doing so for the rest of our lives.”

The cooing of two white doves drew their gazes heavenward, and they watched them in fascination as they circled above their heads. Their wings would briefly touch, and then part, as though the doves were engaged in a sort of courtship dance.

A dance of life, Domitri thought as he gazed down at the woman he loved.