Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death

by Karen Diana Montee

  “Nothing could be more perfect. My tears are only because I’m overwhelmed with joy."

  Jean-Paul looked deep into my soul, smiled, and began again with intense passion. It seemed to slow him down for a few moments. Then the intensity built up again and he moved inside of me as naturally as if he’d known me always.

  Our bodies responded to one another, with the kisses and caresses and the waves of thrusting. When I thought it couldn't become any more pleasurable or intense, my body exploded in blissful waves of delight. Jean-Paul seemed to release at the same time as his body tensed momentarily and then relaxed. I looked at his face, which was filled with a smile and bright eyes, as relaxed as I've ever seen his face.

  We lay still, embracing, smiling, warm and satisfied. The air smelled of the two of us, our sweat, and our wet skin together as one. I didn't want to ever move again. No moment in my life had I ever felt this safe. I imagined that it might be true for Jean-Paul as well. We fell asleep in our embrace. We didn’t stir for many hours. The danger and challenges ahead seemed to have disappeared forever, or at least for a few hours.

  ***

  Chapter Fifteen: Dressed in White

  Le Havre, France, April, 1899

  For seven days Jean-Paul and I tried to enjoy our honeymoon across the Atlantic, but it was less than romantic. The ship was far less equipped than the Deutschland and our cabin smelled like the restrooms. The food left much to be desired. Rats occasionally ran under our feet. We did our best to enjoy each other, although it challenged us both.

  When we arrived in Le Havre, relief and joy of being on familiar soil brought tears to my eyes. Marion had communicated with Martine, who shared our plans with my mother. When we arrived, we were greeted with love and open arms. I saw the look in my mother's face, and I burst into tears.

  "I’m sorry Mother! I didn't mean to hurt you…"

  "Sh...Hush ma Cherie. My heart is bursting with love. It’s I who must apologize to you. We saw the letter that Andre wrote. I’m sorry for your suffering. When we confronted Andre, he was most arrogant and accepted no responsibility. Your father and I want only for your happiness. You needn't ask for our forgiveness. We should ask for yours."

  "Oh, Mother and Father, I love you both beyond words!" We embraced for many minutes while tears dampened our cheeks and clothing.

  Mother and Martine had everything arranged, including giving the priest our nuptial inquiry papers, stamped with the seal from the Bishop of my parish as well as a letter from my Bishop, stating that he knows of no reason why we cannot be married in a Catholic church in Le Havre. They also brought Baptism and Confirmation certificates for each of us with the official seal. Jean-Paul did not offer any objections. They selected a local priest, name Father Nolan, whom my parents had met before while visiting my grandmother.

  We were to be married the following day. We slept in different rooms that night, as tradition would expect. We kept our first ceremony a secret so that our family would think that they were watching us wed for the first time. We would only share our first ceremony if we needed it to protect me from Andre.

  The next morning Jean-Paul and I were led to a small church in the heart of town. The entire building was lined with rich, dark wood. Small stained glass windows were high on the building, and a single steeple reached upward. The structure was far simpler than most cathedrals in Paris, but the simplicity allowed the focus to be on Jean-Paul and me.

  The building was graciously prepared for our ceremony and adorned with white and pink flowers tied with lots of ribbon on every available post and pew. Near the altar were giant bouquets in three matching baskets with white roses, purple tulips, pink and white carnations, pussy willows, pink and white orchids and red and pink lilies.

  I walked into the bride’s chambers to find a beautiful white gown made of satin, chiffon, and lace waiting for me. The skirt was wide and full with a large, hooped slip under it. The gown was covered with hundreds of pearls and embroidered flowers were attached to the dress in the center of the blossom, adding dimension as the pedals flowed freely. The sleeves were soft, woven lace with an intricate pattern of flowers and leaves. The neck line stretched low between my breasts, revealing far more than I thought my mother would approve. I didn’t comment on the neckline, but thanked my mother with hugs and tear filled eyes.

  Mother helped me into my gown with her eyes tearing up as well. She brushed my hair and pulled part of it up while other locks draped my shoulders. “You look beautiful darling. I’m happy that you have a good man to care for you,” my mother told me. “I’m grateful that I could be here to share this day with you.”

  “I’m sorry that we are not getting married in the church that you and Papa were married in,” I said.

  “Not to worry my dear. We are both happy. Now let’s get you into that chapel so that you can share your life with Jean-Paul.” My mother gestured towards the chapel as she held back her tears.

  Walking with my father, with my arm on his, I walked down the aisle surrounded by the people who mattered most to me. I strolled towards the man I loved; the man who could see who I really was and wanted nothing more than my happiness. As he watched me walk, I didn't feel worthy of his powerful love. Now was not the time to question if I deserved him. He was already my husband in one country, and today I wore a white dress, held pink roses and was surrounded by my loved ones supporting this union. There wasn't a girl in all of France who could have wanted anything more.

  Jean-Paul and I stood at the front of the chapel with the priest in the center. Jean-Paul’s cousin, Marion, stood next to me and her husband Claude stood beside Jean-Paul. My parents and Martine and Jacques sat in the pews. The priest bowed his head and everyone followed his lead.

  He began with a prayer. “Grant, we pray, almighty God, that these thy servants, Jean-Paul Soule and Cherish Bourguignon, now to be joined by the Sacrament of Matrimony, may grow in the faith they profess and enrich thy Church with faithful offspring. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, thy Son, who lives and reigns with thee in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever.

  Following the prayer, Martine stood and read the Romans 12: 9-18 on love.

  9. Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love.

  Honor one another above yourselves. 11. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 13. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality. 14. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. 15. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. 16. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.

  17. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everybody. 18. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”

  Then she sat down, giving Jean-Paul and me each a warm smile.

  After the scripture, the priest presented a brief sermon about the sanctity of marriage. Then he asked us, "Jean-Paul Soule and Cherish Bourguignon have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

  “Yes,” we each replied. I immediately thought how I could no answer that question the same had I stood next to Andre.

  Before the priest spoke again, the chapel door opened and in walked Andre. He stood at the back of the chapel near the door for several seconds. Jean-Paul and I stared at him and our family sitting in the pews turned to look. My father stood. “Please continue Father,” he said before he walked to the back of the chapel. The priest didn’t say a word as we all watched.

  My father held the chapel door open and offered Andre the opportunity to step outside. Andre stood firm, with his eyes fixed on me. My father grabbed his arm to pull him, and Andre shook him off, without moving his gaze. “Get out,” my father said sternly in a lowered voice.

  “I’m just here to observe. Please continue,” Andre
said with a raised voice, speaking to the priest and throwing his chin forward. He didn’t look at my father.

  “You were not invited,” my father objected.

  “Why wasn’t I invited? I’m practically family.”

  “Sit down Andre. If you make a wrong move I will…”

  “You will what?” Andre asked with a chuckle.

  “Sit down.” My father’s tone was powerful. His words were not to be dismissed without grave consequences.

  Once Andre was seated, my father joined my mother at the front pew, glaring in anger back at Andre before he was seated. With a commanding voice my father said, “Please continue Father.”

  My heart was in my throat and seemed to block the passage of air into my lungs. I felt faint. Jean-Paul studied my face. “Breathe, Cherie,” he said. I tried. The room started to go black. I feared if I didn’t stay awake something bad would happen. I fought the light-headedness. I tried to breathe. My battle was lost. Jean-Paul slipped away and I crashed silently into nothingness.

  When I opened my eyes again, Andre’s lips were on mine. He pulled back when I awoke and studied my face. “There you are he said.” I didn’t move or respond. Where’s Jean-Paul? What happened to me? I didn’t dare speak and further enrage this man.

  Then I heard my mother’s voice. “Cherie, darling!” She pushed Andre aside and embraced me as I lie on the floor.

  “What happened, Mother?”

  “Apparently you fainted. Andre has emergency training from school. He rushed forward and checked your heartbeat and breathing. You didn’t appear to be breathing so Andre blew air into you, and here you are. Thank goodness Andre was here.”

  I looked around the room. Jean-Paul stood over me with a look of fear and disappointment. It was easy to see his discomfort with Andre’s rescue “Jean-Paul,” I called. He lowered himself to me slowly and took my hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to faint. I was scared.”

  “I felt helpless,” he said angrily.

  “You’re my air. Without you I can’t breathe. Will you still marry me?” I asked.

  Jean-Paul nodded and smiled. Our family sighed in relief and returned to their seats. Andre assisted Jean-Paul in helping me and my large dress to standing. Andre held my arm and said, “I needed to know directly from you that this is what you want, and that this man is not lying and manipulating you into this union. Tell me the truth Cherie. Is this what you want, or what he wants you to do?”

  I saw my childhood friend making his most heroic effort to save his ego. I had hurt this man. The truth would be no less painful. “Andre, it doesn’t matter what you want for me, or my parents or your parents. My heart has its own will. No one can decide for my heart whom I shall love. With total commitment, my heart belongs to this man.” I gestured to Jean-Paul and then reached for his hand. “The sun, moon and stars cannot make me feel differently.”

  Andre nodded firmly once. His eyes looked down. Then he looked back at me. “Can I be your second choice, in case you need one?” He paused, looked at Jean-Paul and then back at me. “You never know, this husband may expire and leave you a widow. Then you will beg for me.”

  I stared at Andre in disbelief. My head and body did not move, breathe or speak.

  “Perhaps this is not a good time to decide. Please, enjoy your wedding. Don’t let me stand in the way of TRUE love!” he spat.

  Andre walked towards the back of the chapel and out the door, slamming his hand against it as he exited.

  Jean-Paul and I turned to each other. Then we looked at the Father and nodded.

  "That was a little too exciting. Where were we?” Father Nolan looked at his book. “Ahhh, here we are. Jean-Paul and Cherie, will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?" We each said yes, together, then looked at one another and smiled. I felt my answer deeply and profoundly.

  "Will you accept children lovingly from God, and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

  "I will," we said in unison.

  “Would everyone please stand,” asked the Father. Our family members all stood. I smiled with teary eyes, pleased that I could stand before the people I loved on this great occasion. “Since it’s your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and His Church.”

  He turned to Jean-Paul. “Do you, Jean-Paul Soule, take this woman, Cherish Bourguignon, to be your wife in the eyes of God? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health? Will you love and honor her all the days of your life?”

  “I will,” Jean-Paul replied. A surge of excitement spun through my body. Jean-Paul looked intently at me and added his own words. “Cherie, you own my heart, today, tomorrow and always. There’s nothing I will hold from you. I shall be your faithful husband forever.”

  I felt my heart beat firm and solid. The Father turned to me and asked, “Do you, Cherish Bourguignon, take this man, Jean-Paul Soule, to be your husband in the eyes of God? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health? Will you love, honor and obey him all the days of your life.”

  “I do,” I said proudly. I looked into Jean-Paul’s eyes. I focused and spoke from my heart, “Jean-Paul, I shall give you love and care with all that I am forever and ever. Our hearts are everlastingly one and I belong to you always.”

  “Do you have a ring to symbolize your love?” the priest asked.

  “Yes,” Jean-Paul replied.

  “Repeat after me, “Please take this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

  Jean-Paul repeated the words as he placed the beautiful ring on my finger and looked lovingly into my eyes, “Please take this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit," He repeated. My heart skipped a beat as I accepted my wedding ring a second time from Jean-Paul, this time in the Church that felt familiar and before the people that mattered.

  The priest handed a white taper candle to each of us. We each lit our candles from a small candle on the altar, and then together we lit the unity candle. Once the candle was lit, the priest shared a lovely prayer for the Virgin Mary. He also expressed his concern for great challenges ahead.

  Jean-Paul and I looked at each other, wondering why the priest declared in his prayer that there would be trials for us. I shrugged, concluding that he didn’t know us well enough and perhaps spoke his standard prayer.

  Martine handed me a yellow bouquet of daisies, which I laid at the feet of Mother Mary’s image at the altar.

  The priest looked at our family. “May I please present, Monsieur and Madam, Jean-Paul Soule. Go in peace with Christ." We all replied in unison, "Thanks be to God."

  Mother and Martine were crying as they walked to give Jean-Paul and me a warm embrace. We were surrounded by smiles and a family who loved us.

  Following the ceremony, hugs and congratulations, we all left together and walked to a quaint, nearby restaurant. We sat down to a lovely meal in the private back room. Marion and her husband were there, Martine and Jacques, my mother and father, and Jean-Paul and me.

  "We are delighted to see you two happy, Cherie," my father exclaimed. “How did Andre learn of your plans today?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, looking at the faces of everyone present. Marion looked around the room, as if she were pretending not to hear the question. All the other eyes were upon me. “Marion?” I asked, “Do you know how Andre learned of today’s events?”

  “Moi, why are you singling out me? What do you have against me Cherie?” Marion replied.

  “I’m not singling you out. I didn’t know if you heard my father’s question because you were not participating with all of us.”

  “Look. I love Jean-Paul. He was my best friend before you came alone. I only recently met Andre. I don’t know why you broke his heart. He seems like a kind, intelligent man.”

  Jean-Paul
interrupted our banter. “When did you meet Andre?” he questioned.

  “He came out to the house a couple of weeks ago when I was visiting Mother. I’m tired of being interrogated, like this whole mess is my fault. Cherie, you’re the one who messed things up for everyone. This day has been hard enough already. I’m leaving.” She stood quickly and excused herself from the table.

  Jean-Paul and I looked at each other. His face reflected my confusion. I sat quietly wondering if Andre had gone to Jacque and Martine’s home more than once, or if Andre found Marion on the day I was leaving Paris.

  My father changed the subject. "We are all wondering what your plans are?"

  Jean-Paul replied, "We're going to go to California to establish trade for Jacques’s business. With hard work, we plan to be back in Paris in two years’ time."

  "Michel," Jacques spoke up for the first time during the meal. "Jean-Paul doesn't know this, but I plan to give him this part of the business. It's an excellent opportunity for him to have an income and follow his passion, which is painting. Establishing this trade destination in California will ensure their future. It has been my plan for Jean-Paul all along."

  "Please bring my daughter home soon," Mother asked Jean-Paul.

  The sun lit up the sky and my heart as if heaven was smiling at this special occasion. My parents were supportive, just as Jean-Paul had expected. As the party wound down, my mother pulled me aside. "Cherie, Andre’s mother told me that Andre had plans to work in America. She didn't say why. She indicated that Andre did not give a reason. Has he talked to you about going to America before?"

  “Non, he always said that he would stay in Paris, near family,” I replied.

  “Perhaps your travels abroad have interested him,” Mother said.

  “The country is big enough for the both of us, as long as he doesn’t try to kill my husband.” I could see the stress my words caused my mother. I quickly changed the subject.