by Tim LaHaye
“And he’s not telling you?”
“He is silent for now. Perhaps offended.”
“This is all so alien to me.”
“Of course. But imagine how many people, how many barren women, would give anything to be in your place. I shudder when you ask the consequences of not finding it within yourself to love and respect and show allegiance to one who offers you the desire of your heart. For what if his response is that in that case you may not find a child within you either?”
Marilena stood. She wanted to escape, to run, but to where? She had to think. If there was someone she loved, it was Viviana, and yet at this moment she wanted to be alone. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I certainly must be true enough to myself not to express love and devotion to someone merely because I want something from him or am afraid of him.”
“Well said. You must take the time to examine yourself and your motives. And meanwhile, prepare your husband and get his permission for my visit. I daresay things will be communicated at that time that will put your heart and mind and soul at rest.”
“Rest?” Marilena said. “I feel as if I will never rest again until I come to terms with my feelings toward this god you speak of.”
“Think of it this way,” Viviana said. “Love him because he first loved you.”
“And how will I know my own heart? Should I come to own such a love, how will I know it’s true and not based on fear or on my own longing for what he offers me?”
“He will know.”
“You’ll tell him?”
“No, Marilena, you will.”
“How?”
“He is a god. Gods may be prayed to.”
“I have never prayed.”
“I hope soon that you will not be able to say that.”
Marilena shuddered, fighting the question that plagued her. “How should I address him?”
Viviana smiled beatifically. “As the angel of light. As the morning star. As the prince and power of the air.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Marilena said. “You know I’m widely read. I know his name.”
Viviana reached for Marilena and pulled her back toward the library. “Of course you do. You are a student and a professor of classical literature. But what you have read of him is from the perspective of one who is so cosmically jealous of his beauty and power and, yes, ambition, that it must be wholly discounted. I would urge you to read of him from other sources. And then read the Bible again with new eyes. If the God of the Bible lays legitimate claim to being the God above all gods who sits high above the heavens, and if Lucifer were really evil, why would God not simply exterminate him?
“No, Marilena, my god—the true and living god, the one who loves me and cares for me and gives me all things—has ascended to the throne as the god of the universe. He has chosen to bestow upon you a son, and for that all he asks is that you pledge him your love and allegiance.”
In spite of herself, Marilena laughed. “As you can imagine, this continues to be nearly impossible to fathom. But one thing I know: this is one subject you will want to avoid should Sorin be open to granting you an audience.”
All the way home on the bus, Marilena sat wrapped in herself, arms folded, chin to her chest, bag in her lap. How was it possible, after fewer than four months, for her to have swung so far from humanism and existentialism to this full-blown acceptance of a spirit world? While she remained resistant to praying to Lucifer, let alone pledging her love, she bore not an iota of doubt regarding his reality, his existence, and even—as Viviana had communicated—his personal interest in her. The question was whether she wanted to pursue a relationship with him at this level. Could she not merely become a spiritualist, a believer, without becoming a disciple?
She arrived yet again to an empty apartment. She could only imagine Sorin in his lover’s arms, telling him of the craziness that had come over his wife. Knowing a divorce was looming, probably within the year if Marilena could be impregnated soon, would Baduna begin preparing his wife for a severing as well?
Sorin claimed Baduna was happy at home, but how could that be, given his relationship with his boss? Surely Baduna’s wife could not know of his inclinations or his affair. So much for that happy marriage.
Marilena changed into a loose flannel gown and slippers and turned on the television. The news had already moved into sports, which held no interest for her. She turned it off and tried to read, but her mind was a jumble. It was as if physical pressure asserted itself at the base of her spine and vibrated at the back of her head.
Unable to concentrate on anything else, Marilena felt compelled to pray. But was it she who wished to connect with this god of the spirit world, or was he trying to reach her? She was convinced of the latter, which scared her.
Marilena could not shake the urge. But how did one pray? She had read of religious devotees who folded their hands, bowed their heads, closed their eyes. Some knelt. Some raised their hands. Some fell prostrate. Viviana sat before a candle. Marilena decided that if there was anything to any of this, she needn’t follow convention. She would merely open herself to contact, and if the chief of the spirit world was who Viviana said he was, he would somehow communicate with her.
Sitting at her desk, Marilena stared at a wall cluttered with notes. “I’m here,” she whispered.
Immediately her mind, her soul, her being felt rushed by a spiritual force. She heard no audible voice, but clearly something or someone spoke directly to her heart. The words were cacophonous and dizzying, yet the ones she was meant to hear, she believed, were impressed deeply upon her, and it was as if she knew them instinctively.
“I love you with an everlasting love. I have chosen you as a vessel. You will conceive in due time. Your gestation will be easy but troubling, as your child will not move. You shall bear a son, and his name shall be called ‘victory of the people.’ He will tower head and shoulders above anyone who has ever lived. He will be considered a stranger, this hammer of my message.”
Marilena didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to answer, but if this was real—and it was more real to her than any conversation she had ever had with a mortal—there were things she wanted to know.
“How will I manage?” she whispered.
“I shall provide a companion already chosen.”
“And where will I live?”
“I will provide a place.”
“I fear you.”
“Fear not.”
“My fear hinders reciprocating your feelings toward me. If I find that I cannot—”
“You will.”
“But if I can’t . . .”
“I have spoken.”
“If you really love me, you will tell me the consequences if I don’t return your—”
“Then you shall die.”
“And my son?”
“He shall never die.”
Marilena was overcome and even tempted to conjure up a love she could express. But she heard Sorin’s key in the door and quickly disengaged from her reverie.
He looked—she didn’t know how else to judge it—in love. How he and Baduna must have enjoyed planning their future together. Marilena broached the subject of hosting Viviana the next Tuesday and was surprised to find Sorin open to it.
“As long as she doesn’t stay late. I will have been with Baduna, of course, and I have an early morning the next day.”
Marilena was giddy with anticipation and assured him that both she and Viviana would respect his time. “She believes she has the solution to the logistical issues.”
“I can hardly wait,” he said.
Marilena had rarely had trouble sleeping, but in the wee hours—her bedside clock projecting 2:15 AM in faint red numerals—her eyes popped open. She felt immediately wide-awake and determined not to disturb Sorin, whose noisy breathing told her he was sound asleep.
She carefully removed the covers and swung her feet out, sitting on the edge of the bed. What was this? Was she to pray
again? No, this was different. Something or someone was again trying to communicate with her, but she felt a deep impression that it was not the one with whom she had conversed earlier.
Marilena rested her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. But when whoever or whatever this was began to communicate with her spirit, she had to stand.
“I am coming quickly, and My reward is with Me, to give to every one according to his work. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last.
“Blessed are those who do My commandments, that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter through the gates into the city. But outside are dogs and sorcerers and sexually immoral and murderers and idolaters, and whoever loves and practices a lie.
“I, Jesus, have sent My angel to testify to you these things. I am the Root and the Offspring of David, the Bright and Morning Star.
“Let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely.
“Resist the devil and he will flee from you.”
I’m crazy, Marilena decided. I have totally lost my mind. It’s megalomania. Only someone thoroughly insane would believe God and Lucifer are competing for her soul.
__
The following Tuesday night, Viviana Ivinisova accompanied Marilena home on the bus.
Sorin was cordial but guarded. “Good to see you again too, Ms. Ivinisova. Forgive me for not buying into this with the gusto my wife has.”
Viviana seemed to pointedly ignore that, and Marilena was impressed that she made no attempt to persuade him otherwise. There was no proselytizing, no case making. “I know your time is short,” Viviana said as she sat on their worn sofa and Marilena made her some tea. “So let me get to the point. You and I both know that we have each been fully apprised of the marital situation here and your lack of interest in bringing a child into the mix.”
“In fact,” Sorin said, “I have agreed not to divorce Marilena until after the child has been given my name.”
“And,” Viviana said, “I don’t imagine you want a pregnant woman and her attendant ailments to contend with in your apartment every day for nine months either.”
Marilena was tempted to inject that she had been promised an easy pregnancy, but there were things she kept even from Ms. Ivinisova.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Sorin said, “but you make a good point. On the other hand, I’m loath to put her on the street before she has made other arrangements.”
“The truth is,” Viviana said, “arrangements have been made, and once Marilena has agreed, she would be free to leave here whenever she wishes.”
Marilena was stunned. She was not even pregnant yet, and she was not mentally prepared to pull up stakes for months, maybe a year.
“There is the matter of her finishing the semester at the university,” Sorin said. “Otherwise what are we to do with her students?”
“I have not resigned,” Marilena said.
“No, and you mustn’t,” Sorin said. “Not until we can—”
“No worries,” Ms. Ivinisova said, sipping her tea. “I’m sure this is coming a bit quickly for your wife as well, as we have not discussed it. Are you familiar with the name Reiche Planchette?”
It sounded familiar, but Marilena could not place it. Sorin shook his head.
“He’s widely published in my area of interest. Also, he is regional director of our organization, and I report to him. I have taken the liberty of informing him of all that has been going on with Marilena, and it is fair to say that he is more than enthusiastic. He has agreed to allot funds and also to free me to take a career detour. That is, if Marilena agrees.”
“You have my attention,” the younger woman said.
“There is a small cottage on several acres in the country near Cluj. I’m hardly an agrarian, but if Marilena would have me, I would live with her, aid her during her gestation, and help raise the child for as long as she wishes.”
Marilena knew she should be grateful, but this was too much too fast. “No, no,” she said. “I wouldn’t even be able to help with a garden. Country life is not for me, and—”
“It would be ideal for raising a son,” Viviana said.
“For someone else perhaps, but what would I do for work?”
“I would insist on high-speed wireless Internet and the best equipment for you, dear. You could continue to do what you do best, but remotely.”
“There is no way I could come close to my current income. What would we do for food and clothing and rent?”
“I was not clear,” Viviana said. “The cottage is not elaborate, but it would be roomy enough—and private enough—for three, and it would be provided.”
“Provided?”
“I told you. Director Planchette is enthusiastic.”
“I don’t know,” Marilena said. “I just don’t know. I want a child, but I am nervous about the pregnancy. I would want to be close to a doctor and a hospital.”
“You would be,” Viviana said.
Sorin rose and came to sit on the arm of Marilena’s chair. He raised his hand. “Are we voting? Frankly, this sounds perfect.”
“For you, sure,” Marilena said. “It solves your problems.”
“Yours too,” he said. “Imagine it. Ms. Ivinisova, how far would it be from Cluj-Napoca proper?”
“Not ten kilometers.”
That sounded better, but Marilena was certainly in no hurry to accede. What might living in the same house with someone do to their relationship? She admired, respected, cared for Ms. Ivinisova, and she would not want anything to interfere with that. The very idea, however, of a woman with such spiritual sensitivity helping raise her son, well, where else could she find that?
On the other hand, she had not confided in Viviana that she believed the enemy of Lucifer had attacked her conscience. It had happened only that once, and yet it still seemed as real as her prayer to Lucifer. She had not revealed that to Viviana either, as she didn’t want to admit she still had made no commitment regarding her allegiance.
Viviana concluded with the understanding that Marilena would ponder these things.
And Sorin agreed not to pressure her, though Marilena would not have bet on that. “Allow me to accompany you to the bus, Ms. Ivinisova,” Sorin said. “The hour is late.”
Marilena was struck by this sudden chivalry given his harping about his early morning the next day. And she herself had not been the beneficiary of such kindness for years. But perhaps it was good for Sorin to have a few minutes alone with Ms. Ivinisova. They were closer in age, and perhaps they could find some common ground, despite their disparate views.
She stepped to the window and saw him take her arm as they crossed the street. A tall male emerged from between buildings and greeted both warmly. Marilena could not make him out in the shadows. Could it be Baduna? The three continued together, and Marilena never felt more alone in her life. One thing was certain: she would ask neither Sorin nor Viviana about the man. She didn’t want to seem to have been spying, nor did she want to appear paranoid. If they chose to tell her, so be it.
__
Later Marilena tossed and turned in bed until Sorin’s impatient sighs chased her to her desk. She felt no nudging from the spirit world, no compulsion to pray. Had Lucifer already abandoned her, knowing her heart? And what about his adversary? Viviana and her comrades could deny all they wanted that Lucifer was the enemy of the God of the Bible, and had Marilena not believed she had heard from Him too, she might have agreed. But she knew better.
She prayed silently, “Do you still offer me a child?”
Nothing. She felt foolish.
“God,” she said, “am I in a position to bargain? If I chose rather to follow You, would You grant me a child?”
Nothing.
It was as if Marilena Carpathia couldn’t raise heaven or hell.
EIGHT
MARILENA SUDDENLY felt as if she were a spectator to her own life. Far too much had happened
far too quickly, and her psyche had not had a chance to keep up. If there had been one thing she controlled in the last few years, despite her strange marital relationship, it had been her own schedule, her own pace.
The deep, visceral longing for a child of her own abated not an iota, and yet there were times when Marilena rued the day she allowed the maternal instinct to gain a toehold in her life. How she missed the days she used to enjoy. Every day she had been up at dawn, trading off with Sorin cooking a small, hot gustare de dimineata of eggs and sausage. He was always quiet, though not unpleasant, in the morning, as long as she didn’t try to converse with him at length.
He would leave on his bicycle first; then she would walk to the bus. They generally arrived on campus at the same time, though she rarely saw him during the day, except for departmental meetings. Her day consisted of a few classes, a few student audiences, and plenty of research, reading, and studying. She lived for those stretches of time. If she could have done only that—the scholarship without the personal interaction—she would have been in her glory. Meetings, colleagues, and students were merely what she had to endure for the time to read and study.
If she became a mother and shared household and child-rearing duties with Viviana Ivinisova, perhaps her own time could consist of only scholarly pursuits. But was such work marketable? Was there someone or some enterprise that needed research she could transmit? And what would be her price for a life like that?
Most days she beat Sorin home. When it was her turn to tidy the place and cook dinner, she got that out of the way so she could enjoy reading the rest of the evening. When it was his turn, she retired immediately to her desk and broke away only for dinner.
It was a life she had cherished without knowing it. Only her so-called biological clock had changed things. The Tuesday night meetings, intended as a diversion, served only to lock in her aim of having a child. Suddenly she had become a different person with a different schedule, new associates, fresh goals. Most surprising to her, Marilena had become what she had once ridiculed and what Sorin still reviled: a devotee of things not seen.