“Just a swab in the mouth to get the skin cells. They won’t need blood.”
“Give me the address. I’ll be there.”
“I’m so sorry, Marie-Thérèse. I really am. But this could all still work out. It could.”
Marie-Thérèse had to believe her; letting go of Raquel was simply not an option. “I love her so much,” she whispered.
“I know.”
Marie-Thérèse hung up the phone and found Celisse staring at her. Marie-Thérèse wiped at her tears, but more took their place. “Mommy sad?” Celisse asked.
Marie-Thérèse thought how fitting it was for her to finally use the word “Mommy” instead of her customary “you” since Celisse really would be theirs to adopt.
Marie-Thérèse knelt down and held out her arms. Celisse flew into them. “I love you, Celisse,” Marie-Thérèse told her. “I love you so much. And you really are going to be my baby. You’re going to stay with me forever.” She didn’t say anymore, but cradled Celisse for a long time until the child fell asleep in her arms, worn out from her outing at the park.
Marie-Thérèse carried her to bed and then watched Raquel as she lay sleeping in her crib so innocently. “Who are you?” Marie-Thérèse asked. She wanted desperately to believe that Celisse’s mother was lying, or that perhaps Raquel’s real mother had died, but neither was likely.
Unable to bear her thoughts any longer, Marie-Thérèse returned to the kitchen and began to rapidly organize the cans she’d bought the evening before at the grocery store—beans with the B’s, pears with the P’s, all in perfect alphabetical order. There were more cans than usual since she didn’t seem to have the time to make as many foods from scratch. Besides, there are more mouths to feed, she thought as she organized the row of formula cans.
She stopped working abruptly as her tears made it impossible to see the labels. Sinking to the floor, she sobbed until there seemed to be no more tears left. Then she reached for the portable phone on the counter and dialed Mathieu’s work number. She tried to be calm as she passed on Pascale’s news, but her emotions took over.
“We’re going to lose Raquel!” she sobbed. “I don’t know how I can do that. I just—I love her so much! I’m scared.”
“What time do you have to be at the hospital for the tests?”
“Two o’clock. I should leave now. The girls are sleeping. I gave them lunch and . . . Oh, Mathieu, what if it’s the last time they sleep in there together?”
“We’ll fight for her,” he said.
Marie-Thérèse blinked hard, sending more tears cascading down her cheeks. “What if she has a family who loves her? What if Celisse’s mother is a kidnapper?”
“Don’t think that way,” he pleaded. “Please. We knew it was right to take the girls—the Lord confirmed that. Whatever happens, it’ll be for the best.”
Marie-Thérèse knew he was right, but it seemed that no matter what choices she made, it always came down to losing someone she loved. With a deep breath, she pulled herself together for Mathieu’s sake. “You’ll meet me there?”
“Yes. Since I’ll be coming on the train, I might be a little late, but I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
She hung up the phone, washed her face, and went to wake the girls.
* * *
“The test results will be in Monday,” Marie-Thérèse told Mathieu. He had arrived just as they were finishing extracting a sample of Celisse’s cheek cells. As Pascale had promised, the tests didn’t hurt the girls, though neither were thrilled with the swabs in their mouths.
“They also gave me copies of the records of the doctor who saw them before Pascale brought them over,” she continued. “He took their blood, and they aren’t the same type. Raquel’s is A, and Celisse’s is O. That doesn’t mean they can’t be siblings—especially if they have different fathers, but . . .” She hugged Raquel more tightly. “It’s not a great beginning. Anyway, they have the mother’s sample and will be able to compare it.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Mathieu picked up Celisse and followed Marie-Thérèse to the car. They didn’t speak most of the way, but having him there was comfort enough. Celisse, feeling the tension, stared at them with large eyes, but tiny Raquel promptly fell asleep.
When they arrived home, Larissa and Brandon—who had returned to school after missing one day—were already there.
“Mom, Aunt Josette came by with these flyers,” Larissa said. “We’re supposed to pass them out or something. Here’s the map that says where.”
Marie-Thérèse nodded absently as she set Raquel’s car seat on the table. “Oh yes, Josette called me last night and said she’d be dropping them off. I forgot about it until now. And then . . .” To her chagrin she began to cry. Mathieu held her, whispering comforting words, while the children gaped.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” Brandon asked.
“Is it Brandon?” ventured Larissa, looking at Brandon as though he hid some mysterious illness.
Marie-Thérèse shook her head. “It’s Raquel.”
They listened as Mathieu took over the explanation. Larissa grew red with anger, but Brandon kept shaking his head. “It’s going to be fine,” he said. “We’ve had her five weeks now. They just can’t take her back.”
“They can if she has a family,” Mathieu said. “But we don’t know yet if that’s the case.”
“Celisse’s mother could be lying.” Larissa abruptly picked up Celisse and hugged her. “We aren’t letting them go—either one!”
Marie-Thérèse blinked in amazement. Somewhere in the weeks of struggle it seemed they had somehow become a real family. Turning her head, she met Mathieu’s equally surprised gaze. “We’re not giving up yet,” she said softly.
It wasn’t until after dinner that she took time to read the flyer Rebekka had made. “We’ll have to pass these out in the morning,” she said sitting down at the table where the children had laid out a board game. “It’s nearly dark now, and I don’t think we should be in those neighborhoods after dark. Good thing it’s the weekend. We’ll go at—” She gasped as something on the flyer caught her attention. Holding her breath, she quickly reread the information.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Mathieu said, looking up from the newspaper. “You’re as white as that paper. Are you feeling well?”
Trembling, Marie-Thérèse passed him the flyer, pointing to a phrase. “Nadia is three and a half months old now,” he read aloud, “and has a birthmark on the right side of her bottom that stands out slightly and looks like an upside down heart.” He stopped reading, and it was Marie-Thérèse’s turn to watch the color drain from his face.
“What is it?” Larissa demanded. “We’ve heard that Nadia has a birthmark before—at least I did. I didn’t know it was on her bottom, though. What’s the big deal?”
Brandon’s gaze went to Raquel, who was sitting in her chair on the floor, sucking on a toy Celisse had put into her hands. He picked Raquel up and laid her on the table. Slowly, he unfastened her diaper. “You never changed her,” Brandon told Larissa, “so I guess you haven’t seen.”
For a long time no one spoke. Thoughts moved like fire though Marie-Thérèse’s brain, traveling down to her heart where she wondered if she could stand the agony.
Larissa shook her head, tears falling. “No, no,” she moaned.
“It might not be the same,” Mathieu said in a near whisper. “There are a hundred different types of birthmarks.”
Larissa nodded violently. “Yeah, this doesn’t even really look like a heart. Raquel can’t be Nadia.”
But Marie-Thérèse knew she was. “Raquel is the same age as Nadia,” she said, trying to remain calm. “She appeared at the same time Nadia disappeared, Celisse’s mother said she was baby-sitting, and the woman who had Nadia said she dropped her off with a woman who had a child. Raquel must be Nadia. I just don’t know why it never crossed my mind before. I’ve been so busy . . . Raquel was supposed to be Celisse’s sister.”
Mathieu’s face crumpled, and for a moment, Marie-Thérèse remembered the many nights he had rocked Raquel to sleep and all the time they had spent together staring at the miracle of her. “It might not be,” he choked out. “The tests—we’ll know on Monday.”
She shook her head and said the words only she seemed strong enough to utter. “We have to tell him tonight.”
Larissa glared at her. “No! You can’t give her up. You can’t!”
Marie-Thérèse felt her daughter’s pain, knew it intimately. Hadn’t she been the one to care for Raquel every day? Hadn’t she fed her, changed her, bathed her, rocked her, and loved her? In all but name, Raquel was her daughter, and Marie-Thérèse couldn’t have loved her any more than she did now.
“You can’t do this!” Larissa backed away from the table, shaking her head. “How can you do this?”
Marie-Thérèse stood and refastened Raquel’s diaper and cradled her gently against her chest, feeling their hearts beat together. “Because I love her.” Tears seeped from her eyes and began a path down her cheeks. “And because I know the pain Raoul has been going through these past weeks. Don’t you see? If we can do anything to alleviate his pain, so that he won’t have to go through one more night wondering if his daughter is dead or suffering, what other choice do we have? If Raquel is Nadia—and I think we all know she is—how can we not tell Raoul? How can we be responsible for letting him suffer one more night of not knowing?” Her voice broke with her own hurt. “How would you feel if someone stole Raquel from us, and we didn’t know where she was or if someone was loving her . . . or hurting her? We have to tell Raoul.” Marie-Thérèse stood in front of her family, her eyes begging them to understand—and silently praying she could be strong enough go through with what she would have to do.
Mathieu clenched his jaw and nodded. “You’re right.” He laid his hand over hers where she gripped Nadia’s small body tightly against her chest. “It’s just so hard.”
Larissa’s face was wet with tears, but she too nodded. “Can I come with you? I want to say goodbye.” She touched Raquel’s cheek—no, Nadia’s—and said, “I wish I had known before. I wish I hadn’t started to love—” She broke off, her fingers dropping onto hers parents’ joined hands.
Brandon picked up Celisse, not bothering to wipe away his tears. “We’ll see her lots. Raoul works, and so does Rebekka. She’s having a baby soon, and she’s been sick. So we can watch her probably a little every day or a least . . . ” His voice trailed off, and he began to sob.
Marie-Thérèse hugged her gentle son, whose kind heart was hurting perhaps more than any of them with this revelation. “Yes,” she said. “We’ll watch her. And we’ll love her just as we do right now. It’s much better than giving her up to someone we don’t know. We have to count that as a blessing.”
They all hugged each other, even Larissa and Brandon, who hadn’t shown any physical affection toward one another in years. Afterward, they packed Raquel’s things in several large duffle bags and left the house.
Chapter Twenty-Five
On Friday Raoul came home from work whistling. Rebekka looked up from the late dinner she was preparing and smiled. “What is it . . .” Then her mouth opened wide. “There’s news—about Nadia, isn’t there?”
Raoul threw back his head and laughed. Then he picked her up and swung her around, as Rebekka gritted her teeth against the pain. “Ow.”
He set her down gently. “Sorry. It’s just that Detective Francom called just before I left work. He said they believe they’ve located the woman Lana left Nadia with. He is going to question her and Lana and call me back tonight. Oh, Rebekka, I can’t wait to see her! To hold her, though that’s not likely tonight. Just to know that she’s all right will be enough. I hope they can tell me at least that much.” All at once his grin vanished, and he started to cry.
Rebekka hugged her brother, her own tears beginning to fall. Soon they would face the moment of truth. Was Nadia all right? Was she really all right? Or had their search been in vain?
“Josette collected the flyers I ordered,” she said. “She already passed out all those I copied yesterday and is having the youth pass out the other five thousand tonight and tomorrow. Although maybe now they won’t be needed.”
There was gratitude in Raoul’s eyes. “Anything will help. This woman may not know herself where Nadia is. We can’t stop looking until we find her.”
“Okay, let’s not get depressed again.” Rebekka dried her face with the overlong sleeve of her shirt. “Let’s eat instead. I’m craving salt, though, so the meat may be a little salty.”
During dinner, the conversation carefully skirted any important subjects. Rebekka was glad because she was hungry. She helped herself to twice as much roast and rice as Raoul, though she could only finish half before she had to run to the bathroom and relieve her bladder.
Periodically, they would fall into silence and Rebekka realized they were both listening for the phone. When the sound of the intercom from below buzzed, it was almost a surprise.
“I’ll get it,” Raoul said. “Maybe it’s him.” He nearly ran to the entryway.
Rebekka hoped it was Detective Francom. Please let him have good news, she thought.
Of course it could be someone else altogether. For instance, André could be checking up on her. Her heart began to thud erratically at the thought. He had called four times during the day yesterday and had called her this morning. “It better not be him,” she muttered. But she smoothed her hair and made sure there was no food in her teeth just in case.
Raoul returned to the kitchen, a puzzled look on his face. “It’s Marie-Thérèse.”
“Hmm. Could be about the flyers. Josette probably dropped some off for them.”
“Maybe I can help pass them out tonight. You could call me on my cell if you hear anything from the detective.”
Rebekka smiled. “We’d better see what they want first. Hey, I know—maybe they want us to watch Raquel and Celisse while they go. I would love that. Celisse doesn’t like me much yet, but I’m sure she’ll get used to me.”
Raoul snorted. “I doubt Marie-Thérèse would leave her here. You know how protective she is. She’d never leave Celisse crying.”
“She could at least leave Raquel. We’ll need practice for when Nadia comes home.”
With a finger, Raoul rubbed a tear from his eye. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “Seeing her . . . it hurts.”
“I know.”
The doorbell rang and together they went to open the door. Mathieu was in the forefront with Marie-Thérèse carrying Raquel slightly behind him. Larissa with Celisse in her arms stood behind her father, and they could see Brandon still lingering by the elevator as if he wanted to escape.
“Come in,” Rebekka said, looking at the gloomy faces. “Is something wrong?”
They didn’t speak, but filed into the apartment, one by one. A closer look at their faces revealed they’d all been crying. “Is there something we should know?” Rebekka asked, searching Brandon for illness. “He’s okay, isn’t he?”
Marie-Thérèse tried to speak, but her tears choked off the words. Rebekka sent a helpless glance toward her brother, who shrugged back at her. He shut the apartment door behind them.
Finally, Marie-Thérèse turned to Raoul and pushed Raquel at him. “I read the flyer . . . the heart-shaped birthmark. Raquel has it. I think she’s Nadia.”
Raoul’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Raquel . . . Nadia? That’s impossible. You’ve had her for . . . I’m sure you would have heard about the birthmark . . . it can’t . . .” His eyes went to the baby in his arms, searching her face with a stunned expression. Then he hugged her to him gently, tears sliding down his cheeks. “Nadia, Nadia, Nadia,” he murmured against her dark hair. “Can it be? Can it be? Oh, please let it be!”
Rebekka began crying too. She didn’t know what touched her more—her brother’s amazed worship of his daughter, or the tears of the family who loved
her as much as he did.
Marie-Thérèse now clung to Mathieu, apparently no longer able to support herself. Larissa had buried her face in Celisse’s neck, rocking her without seeing anyone. Celisse watched them all with a confused and scared expression. Worst of all, huge, silent tears wet Brandon’s face as he stared at Raoul and Nadia.
“How?” Rebekka asked.
“We found out today that Celisse’s mother claims she’s not Raquel’s mother.” Mathieu’s chin quivered, and she could tell he strove to maintain control. “They had a DNA test today to see if she was telling the truth. The results won’t be in until Monday, but we were still hoping she was lying. Then we saw the flyer. I don’t know how we hadn’t connected the bit about the birthmark until today. We’re sorry. We’ve just been so occupied with the girls and moving. If we had known . . .”
“We came right over to tell you,” Marie-Thérèse said in a whisper. “We didn’t want you to go one more night wondering.”
For the first time Rebekka noticed that both Brandon and Mathieu were carrying large duffle bags, stuffed near to overflowing. Apparently they had not only brought Nadia home, but also all the things they had bought for the baby they wanted to adopt.
“Oh, Marie-Thérèse.” Rebekka hugged her sister-in-law, wishing there was some way to take away her pain.
Marie-Thérèse’s tears began afresh. “Can I stay awhile to make sure she’s all right?”
Raoul put a hand on her shoulder. “You stay as long as you need. I can never repay you for this. Never. Thank you so much for being the ones to take care of her. You can’t know how much that means to me. To know that she wasn’t crying somewhere . . . neglected.” His voice broke repeatedly as he spoke, but they all understood his meaning.
“Come,” Rebekka told them. “Let’s go into the living room and sort this out.” There was still a deep fear in her heart that somehow they’d made a mistake, that Raquel really wasn’t Nadia.
Raoul sat with Nadia in the chair, holding her gingerly as if she might break. “Can I see the birthmark?”
Twice in a Lifetime Page 27