Jean-Marc caught up to me outside the building as I paused to wrap my scarf around my head. “Why did you come here?” he asked, turning me around to face him. “Why did you go to him?” The cold in the streets seeped into my soul, and I couldn’t speak.
“Tell me, Ari! What’s going on?” His pain added to my guilt.
“Pauline,” I said. “I wanted to protect her. I just didn’t know what else to do!”
“Why didn’t you tell me about meeting him before? I saw Josette coming from the building, and she told me everything. About how you met him at the cemetery.” His voice emphasized his feelings of hurt, as did the torment in his eyes.
I took his hands in mine and felt sad when he recoiled from my touch. “It wasn’t important! I never planned on seeing him at all, but then the problems with our private insurance, and Pauline getting sick and all—” I broke off, tears coming despite my attempt to stop them. People in the streets were beginning to stare. “I was desperate,” I cried. “I know now that I was wrong, but you were gone, and I felt so helpless! I knew this cold would bring death, but I never imagined it could be in my own family!”
A familiar tenderness came into those splendid green-brown eyes. He pulled me close, and for a moment I let myself go weak in the circle of his arms. His cheek touched mine, and I could feel his face grow slippery with the salt water coursing from my eyes.
He pulled back enough to wipe the tears from my cheeks with his bare fingers. “Come,” he said, glancing at the many passersby. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more quiet.”
Hands linked, we searched the frigid streets for a café that was uncrowded and reasonably priced. We found one in a quiet side street, though we knew that soon the lunch rush would begin and our peace would end. The restaurant was Chinese, and the decor transported me away, if temporarily, from my problems. We were led to a corner table for two, where the low lights and unobtrusive waitress added to the romantic atmosphere. Relaxing slightly, I ordered sweet and sour chicken with rice; Jean-Marc ordered egg rolls.
“How did you get here so quickly?” I asked.
“I took a plane right after you called. One of my cousins will be bringing the van back for us in a few days. He had to come to Paris anyway and jumped at the chance.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, the plane fare is one more bill on our credit card.”
“Did you see Pauline?”
A grin stole over his face. “Yes, but she was sleeping. Simone was with her and told me where you’d gone. She remembered the address, and I came after you. That woman’s got a sharp mind.”
“She’s going to be all right,” I said, not wanting to talk about Jacques. “Pauline, I mean.”
“I know. I gave her a blessing. Some of the brethren from our ward were there, and they assisted.”
His words were like a balm to my soul, flooding me with sweet comfort. I gazed into his handsome face. “Thank you for telling me.”
We sat in easy silence until the food came. I ate hungrily, having eaten nothing that morning.
“Did you mean what you said to Jacques?” Jean-Marc asked abruptly.
My eyes snapped from my plate to his face. I sensed a vulnerability about him that I had never seen before. “What did I say?”
“That you never wanted to see him again.”
“I did mean it,” I said fervently.
“Good.”
“He’s one of the reasons you haven’t been able to find work,” I added, explaining in detail what I’d learned from both the receptionist and Jacques. “It seems he’s promised favors to those who don’t help you.” I shook my head sadly. “Jacques always wanted power, but look how he uses it.”
Instead of my words setting him at rest by making him understand that his failure to obtain work was not completely his fault, Jean-Marc became more agitated. He tapped his forefinger steadily against the edge of the plate in front of him, and the muscles in his jaw worked. “At least now I know what I’m up against.” Then his voice grew soft. “But I still wish you hadn’t gone to him.”
“So do I. It doesn’t matter, though. He’s out of our lives forever.”
I hoped I was right. Once again I had been fooled into thinking Jacques had changed, but though he had left the drugs behind, he hadn’t really changed at all.
Neither had our situation.
“Marguerite’s offered me work,” I told Jean-Marc, “doing the books for her café. I want to do it.” His face seemed pained, but I rushed on. “I have to help. You have to let me feel that I’m contributing to my family in this crisis. If I’m busy, I won’t get so desperate. It’s what I feel I have to do. When things get back to normal, I’ll gladly step down because I’d rather be at home with our children, but you know as well as I do that we have to have some income. With the apartment and van paid for, we have too many assets to depend on public welfare or the Church for any extended period of time.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve been an idiot. I know I should have let you help, like how you let Marie-Thérèse return her jacket.”
“Exactly. We all need to pull together. We’re a family; that’s what we’re supposed to do.”
He let out a long sigh. “I never imagined it would come to this. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“We’re supposed to take care of each other,” I corrected, “and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
His grin was back, a ghost of its usual brilliance, but at least it was there. “Maybe Marguerite has a job for me, too, even if it’s waiting tables. A job is a job, and until I find something better, I also need to do something.”
I nodded, a smile coming to my face at the idea of him working in a café instead of being president of a bank. “Who knows?” I said. “We might have fun.”
“As long as we’re together.” The grin vanished, and his voice seemed almost questioning. I smiled and put my hand in his.
We finished our meal and left for the hospital. Jean-Marc’s step seemed lighter, but there was a lingering doubt in my own heart. Why had I really gone to see Jacques? Had I a second motive, hidden even from myself? I had to admit that some small part of me had enjoyed the way he had stared at me with such yearning. But wasn’t that because of the tension my husband and I had been going through—the neglect I felt and my own helplessness? Yes, that had to be why. But now we were a house united, and together we couldn’t fall. I wouldn’t let Jacques’ overt determination interfere with my happiness.
Something told me that convincing Jacques might not be so easy.
Chapter Seven
When we returned to the hospital, Pauline’s room was alive with visitors: Aimee, Pauline’s Primary teacher; Grandfather, the stake patriarch; and Jules and Marguerite Geoffrin. Pauline was very popular with the ward members, and because she wasn’t in critical condition, visitors could come and go as they pleased. The little girl sat up in bed, her eyes bright as she opened a present.
She gasped as she saw the doll with a fine porcelain face. “Oh, but, Grandfather, you shouldn’t have!” She ran a finger over the dark colored hair and cheeks. “Why, she looks just like Giselle!”
Grandfather, as everybody in our ward had called him since his baptism eleven years ago, chuckled, his dark eyes beaming almost as excitedly as my daughter’s. He had white hair and ebony skin and seemed somehow ageless, though I knew he had great-grandchildren. “I thought so too. And when you see her, tell her I said so.” Giselle was his granddaughter who used to work in the AIDS wing at the hospital until she married our bishop’s son and gave birth to the first of her five beautiful children, all different interracial shades of brown. She still lived in the ward and was expecting her sixth little boy. Her oldest was nine.
Grandfather straightened. “I’d better be getting along. But you get well, hear?”
Pauline nodded. “I will. I’m probably going home tomorrow. At least, that’s what the doctor said a while ago when my daddy gave me a blessing.” She sighed and held up her small hands. �
�I’m good ’nough to go right now, but no one believes me!”
Grandfather’s deep chuckle filled the room. He glanced up and saw us by the door. “Ah, the parents,” he said. He neared us and, taking my hands in his, said, “That child is special. You can feel the love radiating from her. The life! It makes me feel young just to be around her.” The deep wrinkles around his brown eyes seemed only to give him more character instead of age.
“I never realized you were old,” I said.
He squeezed my hands and looked heavenward. “I’m not going anywhere yet, but when I do, I’m going to talk to someone up there about Pauline. And about you.” His smile filled his whole face. “Everything is going to be all right.”
“Thank you.” I believed it would be when he said it like that, as if he were a wise man who could see beyond the veil.
He left, followed by Aimee. “Call me if you need anything,” she said. I knew her own three children kept her busy, but her offer was sincere.
“How are you doing?” Marguerite kissed my cheeks and then put a motherly arm around Jean-Marc.
“We’ve been worried,” Jules added a bit gruffly, as if embarrassed to admit such a thing. He too kissed my cheeks. “Is there anything we can do?”
Before I could answer, Pauline called out from the bed. “Mom, come and look at it!” She held up the doll, her face like a ray of sunshine. Pauline was used to receiving presents, as she had been sick so often in her young life, especially of late. But always the marvel of each gift stayed with her, making the giver feel as if he were the one who had received something special.
I went to the bed and hugged her. Doing so seemed to drain the tension out of my body as well as the worry. “It’s beautiful,” I said, sitting on the edge of her bed.
“I guess we’d better get back to the café.” Marguerite moved slowly toward the door.
I stood up. “There is one thing you could do.” I glanced at Jean-Marc, and he nodded encouragingly. “If the job is still open, I’d like to do the books for the café.”
“And I’d like to know if there’s something I might be able to do,” Jean-Marc put in quickly, “either in your apartment building or in the café. Something temporary, until I find a permanent job. I’ll do good work for you.”
Jules and Marguerite exchanged a long look, seeming to communicate silently or to agree on something they had previously discussed. Then Jules brought a strong-looking hand to his face, rubbing his grizzly chin. His gray hair seemed more sparse than I remembered. “What we had in mind was a little different, but let me put it to you and see if you’re interested.”
A puzzled expression came over Jean-Marc’s face. “What do you have in mind?”
“Retiring,” Jules said. “I’ve worked forty-five years, and I’m tired. My old bones don’t move the way they used to, and Marguerite and I have decided to go somewhere warm. Our niece, Colette, and her husband have agreed to buy out our half share in our other café, but we were feeling reluctant to give up interest completely in our original one. It holds a lot of memories for us. So we’d about decided to find someone to manage the café and apartment building, at least for a year, until we decided for sure what we wanted to do. But neither of us was looking forward to trying to find someone to run it. There are so many stories of old people being robbed blind. But we’d feel safe with you two.”
“We’d planned to include our apartment in the package,” Marguerite said, “but it wouldn’t be big enough for your family. Still, it has another entrance from the regular apartment building, so we could just wall in the opening to the café and rent it out like any other.”
“It’d be up to you how you did it,” Jules said. “It’s not easy, but it’s a decent living. We’d be fair with the wage for taking care of the building, and we’d give you a percentage of the café profits. You’d pay the bills and wages, hire employees to replace us, everything. Fact is, it’d be a relief if you’d do it.”
“A year, you say?” asked Jean-Marc. I could see a spark of real interest in his eyes. Managing a small café and four-story building was not the same as managing a successful bank, but it would have its challenges—and a paycheck. The twelve—thirteen with the Geoffrins’ flat—low-priced, well-kept units were in high demand, and Jean-Marc would have time to keep them rented and still be free to search for another job.
“We’d want a year’s agreement,” Jules said. “But if you got something else, you could hire someone to do the maintenance, just as long as you still made sure everything ran smoothly.”
Jean-Marc’s gaze turned to me. “Well?”
“We could do it,” I said. “We could actually work at the café as well, at least the children and I could. I’ve done it before, and it can be very rewarding. The children will love it.”
“Can I help too?” Pauline asked.
I smiled. “See? She wants to work already.”
Jean-Marc began to discuss the minute details with the Geoffrins, while I turned to my daughter and began to brush her long, dark hair. “I’m good at wiping tables, aren’t I, Mom?” she asked.
“I’m sure we’ll find something you can do.” We had to take precautions because of the HIV. Fear overshadowed compassion in many people.
“I could even be a greeter. I’m good at talking to people, and I could show them to their tables.”
“It isn’t exactly that kind of restaurant.”
“Still, it’s going to be fun.”
Engrossed as I was in our conversation, I didn’t notice when Simone pushed open the half-closed door. “So you’re back,” she said, capturing my attention. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” She motioned to someone in the hall. A tall man with red hair and clear blue eyes came into view. He was huskier than I remembered, and it was strange seeing him in casual clothing instead of a suit, but recognition didn’t fail me.
“You!” I gasped.
He grinned. “Didn’t they tell you?” He waved vaguely in the direction of the Geoffrins and Jean-Marc. Pauline grinned, enjoying her part in the little secret.
In three steps I crossed the room and threw myself into the arms of the faithful returned missionary who had helped bring the gospel to me so many years before. “Elder Kenneth Tarr! I can’t believe it.”
He stepped back far enough to study me. “Why, Ariana, you’re a remarkable woman! The years have been kind to you.”
“You old flatterer,” I said. “What brings you to Paris, Elder?”
He shook his head. “Not Elder anymore, though you could call me Dr. Tarr if that makes you feel better. I earned a doctorate in French,” he explained. “I teach at Brigham Young University. Can you believe it? Me with that horrible accent I had on my mission.” He shivered in exaggeration. “Anyway, I finally decided it was time to bring my wife and children to see France, so I took a sabbatical from the university and arranged to teach at a school here for a semester. We’ll be here about five months.”
His French hadn’t been faultless during his mission but never that bad. Regardless, now his mastery of the language had improved to such a point that I might believe he was a French immigrant and not an American.
“This is my wife, Kathy,” he said, bringing a slender woman forward. I realized she had been at his side all along, but in my excitement at seeing the elder who had baptized me, I had overlooked her. She was pretty, with honey blonde hair, green eyes, and a ready smile. She seemed very young, though I knew from Kenneth’s occasional letters that she was only a few years my junior.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” she spoke in halting French.
“Kathy doesn’t speak much French,” Kenneth said, “but she’s picking it up quickly.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I replied slowly. “Your husband is very special to me.” I was happy when she seemed to understand. I glanced back at Kenneth. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “When I arranged to stay in Marguerite’s building, I as
ked her to keep it a secret, and she did. We’ve been communicating by letter and phone for months now. My family and I arrived yesterday. We heard about your daughter through Marguerite and Jules, and we came to the hospital an hour ago. We met Jean-Marc and Pauline, but you weren’t here.”
“It’s really great to see you,” I said. “I can’t think of a better Christmas present.” Jean-Marc came over to stand at my side. He put an arm around my shoulders. “I owe you so much for your persistence,” I continued. “I don’t know where I would be without the gospel.”
“Teaching you was one of the greatest moments of my mission. You had been prepared to receive the gospel. Tough testing but worth it.” Kenneth looked around the hospital room. “It seems you’re being tested again.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Yes, but we’ll come through. I can see the light at the end already, thanks to Marguerite and Jules.” I leaned against my husband, feeling contentment. Things were better, if not completely perfect, and we would work at it.
“Let’s go out and celebrate tonight,” Kenneth said enthusiastically. “My treat. And just us adults. We can get our kids together later. I want to see Paris! It’s been so long since I’ve been here!”
“I’ll drive,” Jules offered.
Kenneth smiled. “That’s good. My wife and I aren’t much use at that. You Parisians drive way too fast.” He pretended to wipe his brow. “Whew! And I thought Provo traffic was getting bad.”
We made arrangements for Jules to pick us up later that evening at the apartment. The Tarrs and Geoffrins left together, planning where we would go. When their voices had faded down the hall, Jean-Marc and I sat together by Pauline’s bedside.
“What do you think?” he asked softly.
I knew he was talking about running the café. “I heard a saying once on my mission that wherever a door is shut, God opens a window.”
He grinned. “And this is our window?”
“Well, there are several in the café,” Pauline put in.
“Ha-ha.”
“Uh,” Simone interrupted, popping her head in the door. “I’ve been talkin’ with your insurance company, and I think I’ll get things ironed out, but I’ll need your records. It seems someone has done something with the computer at the company. They’re firin’ one of their employees because of it.” She shook her head. “It’s too bad. They don’t understand why he did it. And he just got new carpet in his apartment, or so the other employees say. I wonder how he’ll pay for it without a job.”
The Ariana Trilogy Page 52