Help me, Lord, because I can’t do this. Not on my own, and not just with loved ones. I need You to do this, because I just can’t, she thought. Not anymore.
Thirty Seven
Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France… July 29, 1707
Mary moved quietly across the grass toward the circle of linden trees she missed so much, glancing over her shoulder to see if she was being watched.
Would Roisin and Françoise come? Or would they think her crazy? Too crazy for her own good, and too crazy for the good of the people?
“Pssst,” she heard someone hiss from the other side of the circle. Someone male; someone familiar.
“Miss Mary, come this way, si vous le voulez bien, veuillez,” she heard again, trying to place the voice even as she moved with care in the direction suggested. “Your friends thought the chapel a better place to meet; moins public; moins les yeux et les oreilles de votre entreprise,” the man said as she ducked between tree limbs, taking care that her sleeves and the hem of her dress were as protected as possible.
When she looked up, she was finally able to see the face of one of her former guards smiling shyly at her. Not that she could recall his name, but in spite of the weathering on his well-jowled face and the greying of his hair, she knew he had been trusted by James.
And if he knew she was meeting someone here, then they must have told him. She certainly had said nothing, sending missives to both women in her own hand, but unsigned, knowing they would recognize the landmarks she mentioned and the tilt of her letters.
“Oui, and what good is the chapel if there are ears of priests,” Mary asked the man, who offered his arm to her hesitantly. "Car je n'ai pas été ici de si longtemps, comment puis-je savoir que les prêtres sont tous dignes de confiance, toujours, ou si quelqu'un a-t-il de nouveau,” she asked him as they stepped toward the chapel entrance.
“Ah, but, your majesty, I have been here all along, and I assure you that I have found nothing wanting with any of the priests here,” the man said, patting her hand and smiling down at her from what little height advantage he had. “I am here three times a week in the chapel for services and prayers, and not once has there been a hint of scandal since before you left. And your presence has been missed, if I may say so,” he said more quietly as they stepped inside.
Sighing, Mary said a silent prayer that this was truth and allowed the old guard to lead her toward the front of the little chapel where, indeed, both Roisin Beausoleil and the Marquise were at the alter praying.
Kneeling between them, but making sure they had space, Mary moved into prayer, as well, barely aware that more candles were being lit around them until she was finished. When she looked up, both Françoise and Roisin were seated quietly on the closest bench, their hands in their laps. The Marquise was toying with a silken handkerchief, and Roisin was merely watching Mary’s movements until she came to sit in the space between the other women.
“You know why I have called you both,” she began, whisper-quiet. “I wish there were a way to confess to the priest, but I do not need the extra turmoil. Might we walk?”
Roisin, her hair half-tumbled into her face, shook her head. “I am willing to listen, but I cannot absolve you. Que Dieu tout-puissant est en mesure de le faire, et c'est une hérésie pour moi de même dire cela en France, mais c'est la vérité. Prêtres sont agréables, mais….”
“And I,” Françoise whispered just as adamantly, and just as quietly, “I used to detest the Catholic church. It took the love of one Sister - Sister Céleste – to learn to love the church. Then, as you know, I have learned much from Madame Guyon and the childrens’ former tutor, the Archbishop Fénelon by learning to love silence and philosophy. I don’t see how I can be of real service to-”
“Oh, but you can,” Mary interrupted, her words louder than she wanted.
Glancing around, she noticed the eyes of an unfamiliar priest upon them. The small, blonde man smiled warmly and nodded, then went about lighting candles along with two of the priests she used to know. She watched as the priests knelt before the newly lit areas, and she turned back to her friends.
“Because this has to do with a certain… well, Edward,” she whispered, making sure that her voice stayed even. “And the fact that I still need to forgive myself for…”
Could she say it? Would they know?
“J'ai pensé que j'avais moi-même pardonné, car c'est ce qui est arrivé, mais je n'arrive pas à le faire. Je fais bien pendant un certain temps, et puis quelque chose me rappelle de lui, et je pense, qu'en est-il si,” she whispered quickly, unsure what else to say.
Sweat slid down the sides of her face, melding with hot tears, and she was thankful for the cool of the chapel in spite of the less than adequate privacy. “Just a moment,” she said to the other ladies as she quietly stood.
“Let’s move back a bit, toward the center. A little less easy to be heard there,” she told them, walking in that direction. Though the others trailed her, both wore worried frowns.
Would either understand? Would either be sympathetic?
She had broken the heart of a man she had loved; a man who disappeared once she’d borne him a nephew and a niece. A man who disappeared through the same mirror that brought Roisin to loved ones here and now. Roisin’s own father-in-law, Mother Mary help him and bless his soul, had introduced Mary to the antique dealer that had sold the mirror to her. The man – could she even recall his name? – had brought them all together, and did he even realize it?
Was he still alive, or had he passed long ago? And what about Edward? He may have moved forward in history, while Roisin had moved backward, but what had happened to him? The letter he’d sent through the mirror so long ago had scared her. The pictures with it had scared her just as much.
It meant that not only had he moved ahead, he had moved on. He had stopped pining for her, and for that she was glad… but would he have gone through the mirror had he known her feelings?
Had she made known how much she still loved him, would he have stayed? And had he gone willingly, or was it on accident?
Oh, she couldn’t have married him, and he would have ended up with that Jurriana Rufet woman, who they had all grown to dislike more and more over time as they had seen her interacting inappropriately in society. But had Edward married Jurriana as planned, would she have changed for the better, or the worse? It may have made a few people’s lives easier, but who was to know the outcome?
Mary sighed and wiped at her face with her handkerchief, wishing the heat would dissipate. “I know you might find me unhealthy in my thinking; even unstable,” she whispered once more. “I just cannot help wondering how things could have been had I kept my promise to him, and if not I to him, then…” She paused a moment from her whispering to look the Marquise in the eye momentarily. “If not I, at least what would have happened had he married…”
Bile began to rise in her throat as her grief overwhelmed her once more. “I know I chose James, and he gave me the best life he was able. I don’t regret doing my best at his side; somehow, though, I regret that I married him instead…”
Françoise nodded at her; patted her arm. Roisin sat silently, turning paler than Mary had seen her in years. She refused to look Mary in the eye until Mary touched her arm and then, silently, clasped her hands to either side of her tired face.
“You both know what it is like having more than one husband,” she said once more, just as quietly as before. “I have not. But in my heart, I… in my heart, sometimes I wish I could turn back time and change the choice I made. And then, I think about how selfish that would be of me… James Francis and Louisa wouldn’t have been born had I married Edward instead of James, and that, I would not have been able to live with. But I also wouldn’t have known; I couldn’t see what was ahead of me, other than that I would be queen, and how long did that really last?”
She looked from woman to woman one last time, releasing Roisin’s face from between her hands. “Perhaps it was a mistake mee
ting with you both. How could I expect you to understand? J'aurais dû mieux connue, et je vous demande pardon, s'il vous plaît,” she said, her voice raising just a little.
Moving to stand, Mary looked around to see who else might still be present in the room.
Her eyes locking with the old guard who had helped her inside, she quickly bid goodbye to her friends and, without another word, moved toward the man, and he toward her. And with that, she allowed him to lead her back to the circle of lindens.
She needed to think; to process things. And what better place than the one she had missed so dearly?
Thirty Eight
Seal Beach, California… July 30, 2025
“You mean to tell me that my sister’s son… that he’s…”
Brice looked at the side by side holographic images before him and scrambled for words, resisting the urge to scrub his face with his hands.
Say something, Justice, he thought, as he looked back and forth between the man and Calico’s sister and brother-in-law.
It had been hard enough telling Felix and Jasmine Jenkins, but telling Marcos and Anabelle D’Angelo was different. They had done research, yes, but not in order to track Calico down.
Until today, they hadn’t even known her new name, or that she’d married and had a child. They had prayed for her for all of these years, and then for Felix and Jasmine when they’d trotted off from the Portland area in search of the long-lost woman, but left it all in God’s hands.
And now, they were telling the couple that the only nephew they would ever have was dead?
Brice felt ill, unsure what else to say.
“Well, to be honest,” Justice began again after several moments of silence, “we didn’t know that Angus was as sick as he was until the last year. We knew he had health issues, but a lot of children have diabetes; a lot of children have asthma. Most survive, but most weren’t Angus. And then he somehow got a fever, and…. There was something about him,” the man continued, tears flowing freely down his dark cheeks, “and I wish I could go to his service to say goodbye, but I’ll have to do so after I’m… after I finish the current assignment I’m on.”
“But how can he be fine one day,” Marcos wanted to know, “and then go into a coma so quickly? That’s what I don’t… of course, we’ll go, but I just….”
The man bent his head down over his wife’s as she wept and finally joined in.
How could we have kept such loving people from knowing Angus, Brice asked, scolding himself. I know we were here to protect Rosemary Jenkins; that as Calico, she was much safer, but maybe…
Brice’s thoughts turned briefly toward the actions of Felix and Jasmine Jenkins.
No.
They couldn’t have risked letting the D’Angelos know, no matter how much more stable and caring they were.
“If you’d like, I can see to it that your travel arrangements are made,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “We can arrange for air or train, but if by train, you’d need to leave tonight to make it in time for the service,” he said, making sure his voice was loud enough to be heard over their weeping. “If you go by air, you would leave the first.”
Marcos and Annabella raised their heads, their hands clasped. For a moment, they looked at one another before Annabella spoke.
“We will take the train. I think,” she said, sniffing at her tears, “I think it will give us time to process things more thoroughly,” she finished, her eyes still on her husband, who nodded.
“Then I will make arrangements, and see you in St. Louis in a couple few days,” Brice told them quietly. “And Justice,” he added a little more quietly. “You be safe… all of you, hear me? We don’t want any more losses.”
As Marcos’s thumb moved toward their screen, Justice’s face focused in more clearly front and center. “You bet we aren’t going to try anything to get killed,” he said soberly.
“We’re still figuring out the details of the plan, but thankfully, with God on our side, nothing anyone says or does will mess up His plan, even if things don’t go according to how we believe they will,” the man continued. “And I’ll call you when we land back on U.S. soil, so that will be New York on the way back home. That’s the best I can do, with the random monitoring that occurs when you’re in major hubs now,” he concluded. “I’ll email you some code phrases so you have some idea what I’m talking about when I call.”
“You do that,” Brice told him, nodding as he picked the phone up and headed into the kitchen for some water. “You do that,” he said again as the man hung up.
With a sigh, he finally allowed the tears to come as he set the Andromeda on the counter, thankful that his wife was away for the afternoon. Reaching for a clean glass from the cupboard on his left, he filled it with water, drinking the contents quickly. Three more times, he filled the glass and drank, and then, setting it aside, he picked his phone back up and headed toward the master bedroom, rubbing his temples with his free hand.
Now of all times, a migraine coming on?
He might have known, but he hadn’t even considered the possibility. For three years, he’d gone without them, but now… the second in a week. He’d missed church earlier in the day over just that.
When he was working more full-time, he did well to hide the fact that he was in such pain by taking in large amounts of protein and water, but now…?
Apparently, he’d need to visit the doctor before heading to St. Louis… whether he liked it or not.
Thirty Nine
Meridian, Mississippi… July 30, 2025
Clementina dried her eyes for a third time before trying to apply her makeup, aware of how much she had been frowning and crying for the last two days since she’d gotten the call.
And that she and her husband had had to tell the whole team here in Meridian about little Angus? That had been too much.
Of course, she had been angry before she’d been sad.
Angry that the Fergusons had had to move again; angry because, had they stayed, Angus might be alive still. The closest park with fairs was miles away, and he probably wouldn’t have gone; not without someone holding his hand the whole time. But then, there was that fever they never did identify the cause of….
Oh, to be fair, she knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
So why did she want to place blame? Why, after all she’d been through, did she feel more grief over this little boy than over some of her own family members’ deaths?
Of course, all of her own children were still alive. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if one of them died.
But Angus was Calico and Romeo’s only child, she thought bitterly as she applied her foundation half-heartedly. And nothin’ gonna change that unless they adopt, but with their time in our program, and her background, that isn’t gonna work, is it?
Powdering her face next, Clementina tried to let go of the bitterness and failed.
Lord, she thought. I don’t see how You could do this? Taking away such a sweet and innocent child! First, Prudence’s son, and now theirs? I don’t understand at all!
Tears threatened to well in her eyes again, and she forced herself to think about other things in order to finish her task.
Finished, she surveyed her work, then turned sideways to check the fit of her soft grey cotton short-suit.
After having lost nearly thirty pounds, the clothes fit better and she had more energy, but it was times like this – times where she was so stressed she wanted to go find a couple of bags of pork rinds and plow through them – that really tested her. It was times like this that she knew she needed to release anger and hurt and confusion; release bitter thoughts and feelings, and allow God to be God. That was her biggest challenge, and she knew it.
Satisfied with her look, but not really caring what anyone else would think at church, or at the staff meeting afterward, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
Joel and the children would be waiting for her, and soon enough, they would need t
o tell Casper, who hadn’t been able to be at the last two days of meetings due to some personal, unforeseen circumstances he hadn’t discussed with anyone.
Making sure the door clicked behind her, Clementina made her way toward the elevator, thankful that builders had been able to get the hotel put back together as quickly as they had.
A chill ran down her spine as she pushed the button for the first floor.
The last time she had taken the elevator alone, it had felt like someone was watching her.
Now that she knew they’d installed miniature cameras in each corner, the same feeling came over her and she wished that someone else was with her on the ride down.
Then again, how often did she have time to herself? Even with the cameras, she had the privacy of her thoughts and feelings… at least some things were still sacred.
Part Four:
Le Défi et la Joie du Changement
(The Challenge and Joy of Change)
Forty
Jerusalem, Israel… July 30, 2025
They will arrive soon, so there is no need to worry, Chesed reminded himself as he settled into his seat at the café to eat his lunch.
“Chesed,” one of the locals greeted him. The man’s kippah was on the table next to his plate. “Where is Chayyim? I have never seen you apart from your friend.”
“Chayyim,” he repeated, setting his Reuben back down without a bite. “Chayyim was tired today. He stayed to get some extra rest, Ferdi. I could not fault him this. He is getting to be an old man, is he not?”
Ferdi laughed, and Chesed laughed with him.
Would Ferdi be laughing if he knew what was coming? Who he would soon be meeting?
Chesed glanced at his friend one last time and nodded at him. “I am looking forward to this sandwich. Bosmat makes the best Reubens I have ever tried,” he said, smiling as he lifted the sandwich again for a bite.
“Ah, yes,” Ferdi said, a smile appearing on his face. With dark hair and eyes and a gentle caramel tone to his skin, you would not know that Saudi blood ran through his veins, as well as Jewish, unless he told you.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 107