“Her name is Galya, Your Highness, and yes… I believe I did attend a ball when I was staying with James and Mary Stuart for a time.” He pulled his wife closer in to his shoulder as more people tumbled from the church to head in their myriad directions.
“Ah, yes… now, whoever was it that won the battle of the mirror, Sir? Was it you?”
“Louis, we need to be on our way,” he could hear Françoise murmuring softly in the background, to which she was hushed.
“It was.”
“Splendid. Will the pair of you have time to join us for lunch then, perhaps after church on Sunday? I have a few… well… questions that I’d like to discuss with you, as the current owner – I assume you still own the magnificent piece?”
“We do,” Gaspar said again, wondering where their conversation was leading.
“So you’ll come? I insist…”
“In that case…”
“Good. We shall meet you here as we have today, directement après le service, s'il vous plait. You shall come with us in this very carriage… a privilege rarely given to those outside the direct royal family.”
“As you desire, King… as you desire.”
“As I insist, you mean.”
And with that, the King raised his hand through the window and clapped the top of the carriage. Within moments, they were gone, leaving Gaspar and Galya in the wake of their dust wondering what had just occurred.
“What does the King…?”
“We shall speak of it in private, Galya. No need worry, my lovely one. All is well and shall be; we must simply trust the Father in heaven, and His Son,” Gaspar assured her as they began walking in the direction of their transportation. “It simply means we have a few more days than we expected in Paris. Life at home will not melt away in the meantime. All will work itself out,” he said. “And as for the mirror… I’m not sure what he wishes to discuss. I’m not sure at all…”
Roisin and Maurice Beausoleil led their daughter toward the church as they saw the royal carriage moving away. It had been Maurice’s hope to speak with the priest for a few moments, and they were thankful for once to both be able to speak with him, God willing.
As they approached, they passed several couples and families, smiling and greeting them with holiday cheer. Then, all of a sudden, Roisin stopped in her tracks.
“Mama, Quelle que soit la question,” Clarice asked her, stopping as well. “Has something happened?”
Maurice looked from his wife to the couple she seemed to be observing; a couple who didn’t seem to have noticed her at all. A handsome pair, they looked very much in love. But there was something about the man that looked vaguely familiar.
“Someone you know, Mon Amour,” he asked her, pulling her closer and taking a step forward. As he stepped, she did too, of necessity. He took another step, and another until they were walking at a normal pace again. And as they were nearing the couple, he became sure.
He knew his visage, but where from?
“I know him from…”
The man looked up; a handsome man… younger and much leaner than he, though only a few inches shorter. He stopped, and the woman with him did so, too. And Roisin stopped, and he with her, and Clarice.
They stood stationary a few feet from one another… the silence as loud as a shout. But whatever for?
The silence was unbearable.
“Pardon, pardon, Monsieur ... Madame ...,” Maurice said, not sure what else to do.
“Is this really you, Roisin Mac Bradaigh,” the man asked, looking between the three of them. “Or rather, Beausoleil, so I heard.”
“Aye, Sir Gaspar, t’is me, indeed. And yes, rumor is truth.” Roisin turned toward Maurice, quickly introducing him. “And this is our daughter, Clarice,” she said, smiling.
“Very well, and how do you do,” the man, Sir Gaspar said. “And this is my bride, Galya. Galya, this is the woman I was telling you about last week… Miss Roisin, herself.”
The woman at his side – dark-skinned, slight but curvy, with long hair and large, sparkling brown eyes – looked more curious than anything else.
The two families moved aside for others to pass as they continued making small talk for a few minutes, then parted ways.
Once inside the church, Maurice quickly tracked down the priest and sought some time to speak with him. He kept his eyes on his daughter and the man in front of them, rather than on his wife.
What was it about that man – was it Sir Gaspar? – that was familiar? Where had he seen…?
And then it hit him.
He excused himself, requesting Clarice remain with the priest while Roisin followed him a few benches away to talk.
“That man,” Maurice began. “I remember him now.”
“Yes, Dear,” Roisin said, avoiding his eyes. He brought a hand up to her face and tilted her chin back toward himself. She closed her eyes, and he noticed a singular tear begin to roll down her timeworn cheek.
How had he not noticed what the stress of difficult but blessed years had done to change her. She was still beautiful, but he had to admit she looked worn down; defeated.
Had he loved her too much, or not enough?
“He was at the ball when we met, was he not?”
She nodded, another tear slipping away down the path to her chin, dripping off onto the collar of her dress. “He was.”
“And what was that exchange about, if I might ask?”
“I turned him down to spend my life with you, Maurice. I felt… he was kind, but you, I knew from the start I could grow to love. And I have.”
“So why the tears,” he asked her, perplexed. He ran a hand over the bench in front of them a moment before returning it to his lap.
The silence between them spread like oil on water before she finally answered.
“I cry in thankfulness,” she said, simply. “I cry tears of gratitude because I realize that I would not be so blessed had I chosen the other path I was offered. I cry because I love you so much, and our daughter is becoming a woman, and because sometimes I forget what life was like before… us.”
Forty Seven
Boston, Massachusetts… December 24, 1941
Steven, Shalom, Michael, and Peter knocked the snow from their feet and made their way through the crowded church, looking for their families.
Where could they be, Peter thought as they continued to thread their way toward the front. He looked around him, and finally spotted Jerusha, Lily, Opal, and the kids all lined up in about the fourth row. But where was Shannen?
“Um, Steven,” he whispered to his brother, pulling on the furry arm of his coat. “I see the girls, and the kids, but… isn’t Shannen supposed to be with them?”
“What?”
“Isn’t Shannen supposed to be here?”
“Well, she headed over here with Liraz, Peter… of course she’s here. The kids left from Shalom and Jerusha’s.”
“Liraz is supposed to be here, too?” He moved closer, looking closer. Neither woman was in the vicinity of the rest of their group. “I don’t see…”
“There they are,” Michael told him, pointing to the other side of the aisle. “They’re sitting with the Newsomes over on the other side talking.”
“The Newsomes,” Shalom asked. “I didn’t think they came to church. At least, I don’t think I’ve seen them here before. Maybe they just attend somewhere else, normally?”
Steven turned in the direction of his wife and mother-in-law while the others moved toward the rest of the family. Peter watched from afar the interactions of his family, looking back and forth between the two sides of the church before heading the rest of the way up the aisle to meet Lily and their young daughter, Jeanette.
The organist began to play Star of the East – a lovely classic recently come back to life with the help of Judy Garland - as he took his seat. By the time they’d reached the second stanza, Steven, Shannen, and Liraz were squeezing past him to find their seats.
Peter allow
ed the music to flow over him, his thoughts drifting to Rose. Would he ever see her again? Part of him believed so, and part of him had begun to doubt. The years had seemed so long without her presence.
The organist – a tall, rigid-looking fellow with a well-defined, tapered nose and a handsome smile – played three more hymns and then, there was silence as the pastor walked to the podium.
“Today, we come together to celebrate the life-giving sacrifice of Jesus Christ. We celebrate His birth, but also His life; His death; His resurrection, for they are wrapped into one. They are incomplete without one another,” the man began, his wobbling chin reminding Peter of a turkey on the run.
“We will begin with the reading of our text; Luke two, verses one through forty. Will my reader please step forward?”
The reader for the night – a young, dark-haired and freckled boy of about fifteen – stepped to the podium and began to read:
““And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child,”” he began, clearing his throat as he paused.
Peter could hear a few people rustling in their seats, his daughter included. He set a hand down on her shoulder and shushed her.
““And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. ””
The young man stopped again, glancing out over the audience as he spoke. Another youth stepped forward and stood next to him; a little taller, and stockier.
The second youth read the next portion of the passage:
““And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.””
The boys switched once more, and the first reader’s voice flowed like water over Peter as he continued to listen. He tried to imagine what it would have been like, traveling with a pregnant wife he’d never touched in passion; traveling hard dirt roads with nothing more than a donkey to carry her on.
He tried to imagine being among the shepherds, hearing the Good News before the rest of the world understood and believed. A shepherd … one of the outcasts in the eyes of the people, but who was among the most privileged in God’s eyes and heart.
““And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.””
The boy paused to clear his throat again, taking a sip of water when it was offered as the pastor looked on from his chair.
““And when eight days were accomplished for the circumcising of the child, his name was called Jesus, which was so named of the angel before he was conceived in the womb. And when the days of her purification according to the law of Moses were accomplished, they brought him to Jerusalem, to present him to the Lord; (As it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that openeth the womb shall be called holy to the Lord;) And to offer a sacrifice according to that which is said in the law of the Lord, A pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons.””
The second youth took over once more, the sound of his voice the only thing Peter could hear aside from his own breathing. There was a hushed sense of holy presence he hadn’t felt since he was a child at his mother’s knee listening to her as she read him Bible stories.
An aura of anguish exploded inside his heart, and he silently prayed for peace to wrap its arms around him, that he could continue to follow along with the service without distraction.
““And, behold, there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon; and the same man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel: and the Holy Ghost was upon him. And it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ. And he came by the Spirit into the temple: and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him after the custom of the law, Then took he him up in his arms, and blessed God, and said, Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word: For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel.””
Peter heard someone coughing, momentarily distracting him as the youth continued to read.
““And Joseph and his mother marvelled at those things which were spoken of him. And Simeon blessed them, and said unto Mary his mother, Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel; and for a sign which shall be spoken against; (Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also,) that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed. And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser: she was of a great age, and had lived with an husband seven years from her virginity; And she was a widow of about fourscore and four years, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day. And she coming in that instant gave thanks likewise unto the Lord, and spake of him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.””
Peter watched as the pastor came and stood next to the boys, taking the Bible into his own hands and finishing the reading himself in a strong, sure voice.
““And when they had performed all things according to the law of the Lord, they returned into Galilee, to their own city Nazareth. And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, filled with wisdom: and the grace of God was upon him.” And that, my friends,” the pastor continued, “brings us to what I’d like to speak to you about this fine Christmas Eve night. For Jesus the Christ did not remain a child forever, but waxed strong and grew and became a man, just like the rest of us, only He was holy; pure; undefiled; He was God as well as man, and became for us a sacrifice. And this is the message of the cradle… not just the cross: Jesus became lowly among the lowly to save a lowlife like you, and a lowlife like me.”
Jeanette wiggled around in her seat, and Peter picked her up into his lap to keep her from distracting others. Lily scooted closer to him, giving others more room, as well.
There was a chain reaction of movement along the bench they occupied as the pastor continued, his jowls and chin moving at high speed.
Peter could feel the pastor’s large, cool eyes on his as he spoke: “Now, some of us are lowlifes more than others, not that it makes a difference to Jesus how much we’ve done or what, exactly. Some of us said or did things that rocked the world of the people around us in such a way that we haven’t been able to forgive ourselves. And some have lived with the consequences of others’ choices for much too l
ong. But don’t you see,” the pastor said, finally looking elsewhere. “That’s what Jesus came for.”
A few people in the crowd murmured “Amen” as the pastor continued; Peter thought Skeeter Newsome was one of them. Or had he been hearing things?
As the pastor continued to preach, Peter let his mind drift away to the mistakes, the choices that had torn his life apart like a grenade: not just his own, but those of the people around him. He thought about Mother and baby Sarah Jene’s deaths, and how, if Father had been there to help the doctor, maybe they’d still be alive. He thought about wrestling with his brothers the night Rose accidentally backed herself into the mirror and “discerpeared,” and the night Miss Roisin tried to bring her back, only to “discerpear,” as well.
He thought about Father’s response… his drinking and the subsequent years he and his brothers had shuffled home-to-home wishing for a normal family. A normal home life. But then, if they hadn’t, would his brother have married Shannen? Would little Shannen Rose be alive?
Jeanette began to get antsy, and he passed her to her mother as he continued to think. The pastor had been right. He’d been a lowlife, making mistakes left and right; mistakes he’d never told a soul. Not in confession, and not to his wife. Nobody but Jesus and Mother Mary.
Though they no longer attended Catholic services every Sunday, and occasionally – like tonight – attended something along the lines of Protestant – he kept his St. Peter’s medal close at hand, as well as his worn green and blue-beaded rosary.
He needed a Savior.
He knew he did… maybe now more than ever. And he was thankful he had One.
Forty Eight
Seal Beach, California… December 24, 2024
Romeo swept his tantruming four year old up into his arms, and drew his wife close as they made their way toward the United Methodist Church for Christmas Eve services.
It had been a long day, but a good one, as they’d celebrated, just the three of them. No phones, no computers, no television or tablets or wall streams. Just time together for a late breakfast followed by playing Chutes and Ladders, Candyland, Hungry Hungry Hippos, Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus, and Connect Four, then opening one present apiece. The rest would wait until Christmas Day.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 28