Not one of the musicians below knew how to play, or so it seemed. They strummed in uneven chords while Jourdain sang: “Oh, Lu-Lu, I’m so blue. My life means nothing without you. Oh, please, oh, please, mon petite choux—my little cabbage—marry me for eternity. I need you. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh—you have to be mine, or I’ll stay here all day, until the police haul me away. Let me know before these fantastic missionaries get sent home for shirking their duties. You wouldn’t want to do that to them. So marry me! Jourdain and Lu-Lu were meant to be. . . .” More nonsense followed, throwing us into fits of laughter.
“They’re really bad,” Marie-Thérèse said.
Josette sighed. “He looks so cute. Oh, say yes, Aunt Lu-Lu.”
Jourdain stopped singing and put his mouth closer to the microphone. “This is how the American missionary told me they do it in America. Frankly, I feel stupid, but I won’t take no for an answer. I understand why you’re worried but give me a year to prove myself. Will that be enough? I’ll wait until we can go through the temple. I love you!”
Lu-Lu was crying. “Come up, you fool,” she shouted. “And stop that racket!”
The American missionary grabbed at one of the microphones. “Only if you’ll marry him.”
Lu-Lu glanced around at the crowd growing on the sidewalk. “Okay, okay. Just get up here!”
But the motley band didn’t want to give it up so easily. They insisted on doing one more crazy, spur-of-the-moment song before Lu-Lu and the girls went down and dragged them inside to a heathy round of applause from the gawking neighbors.
So it was that Lu-Lu became engaged.
Caught up in so much romance, Simone and her Frédéric finally set their wedding date for early May. “But what temple should we do it in?” Simone asked.
“In Germany,” Frédéric said.
“The one is Switzerland is closer,” I said.
“Switzerland, then,” Frédéric said, while at the same time Simone muttered, “Germany.”
I shook my head. “One would think you’re not ready for marriage.”
To prove me wrong, they were married and sealed in the Swiss temple two weeks later. Both beamed with contentment.
We returned from the temple in time to attend Danielle’s baptism. Philippe still didn’t show interest in attending church, but he supported his wife and children. “I think he’ll come around one day,” Danielle said. “I just have to keep loving him.” If there was anyone to do that, it would be Danielle.
* * *
In mid-August, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy with a round face and chubby little hands. We named him Louis-Géralde after Jean-Marc’s mother and my father. He filled a place in our family that had been glaringly vacant, although it wasn’t until he was born that I even realized the void.
When he was three weeks old, we took friends and family to my parents’ mountain cabin for a few days of celebration. The air was fresh and clean, and various shades of green dominated the tree-filled slopes. My children roamed in the woods with their grandparents, while the rest of the adults relaxed near the cabin. I stood backwards against the porch railing, gazing at my husband and Jules, who sat on the wooden bench near the cabin door, and at Marguerite, who rocked my baby in the crickety old chair my grandmother had used with my father. The Geoffrins had come from the Algarve in Portugal to settle the sale of their property and had joined my parents and my family at the cabin.
A fresh breeze rustled through the leaves and stirred a few locks that had escaped from the hair I had swept up onto my head. Knowing that I was to be the mother of a young baby, I had let it grow long enough to pull back out of the reach of chubby hands. Though the breeze was cool, I didn’t feel cold in the off-white sweater Marguerite had brought me from Portugal.
“He’s a fine young man,” Jules said, watching Louis-Géralde.
“He’ll be the next kidney donor for Marc,” Jean-Marc said. I didn’t find the comment funny, but the twinkle in his eyes told me he was teasing. I had to admit to myself, though, that it might one day become necessary for Louis-Géralde to make such a sacrifice.
“How is Marc?” Marguerite asked.
“He’s doing great,” I said. “He had a brief bout of rejection a few months ago, but they controlled it with medication. We have every reason to hope Jacques’ kidney will last twenty or thirty years.” I smiled. “It’s so good to see Marc back to his normal self. He’s even roller blading again, though he seems to be a trifle more cautious.” For this I could only be thankful.
“What about you?” Jean-Marc asked the older couple. “Are you coming back to Paris?”
Marguerite laughed. “Believe it or not, Jules and I love Portugal. The coast is so warm and pretty. We’ve had an offer for the café, and we’re going to accept it. The new owner has agreed to give Dauphine a lifetime contract to run the café.”
“Now you two are off the hook for making sure things are running smoothly,” Jules added.
“I’m going to miss you both,” I said.
Marguerite kissed Louis-Géralde’s tiny cheek. “We’ll be back to visit. You and the children are like family.”
André came in from the forest, letting a huge bundle of sticks he had gathered fall to the ground in front of the cabin. He vaulted up the stairs to Marguerite’s side. “Can I hold him?” he asked, brushing himself clean. Marguerite passed him the baby, and he kissed his brother tenderly, tucking the soft quilt the girls had made around his body.
I gazed happily upon the scene. André was doing better, for now anyway, and I was overjoyed to have my caring child back again. He had developed a unique relationship with little Louis-Géralde, which I knew was a great blessing. If Pauline was called back to her Heavenly Father early, he would have this new brother to cling to, as would we all.
However, Pauline showed no signs of illness. She thrived under the new medications, and I prayed that in these drugs the cure had at last been found or soon would be. We had come so far on hope and faith; it wouldn’t do to turn back now. Grandfather, the stake patriarch, had passed away peacefully at ninety-five years of age shortly after Louis-Géralde’s birth, and I wondered if he wasn’t keeping his promise to “talk to somebody up there about Pauline.” That night at the cabin, a vision of her wedding came to me: a beautiful bride with a sunny smile, dressed in white and kneeling before an altar across from a light-haired man who loved her very much. I didn’t know if it was in this life or the next; but then, did it really matter? Eternity was closer than we knew.
* * *
The next year, Jourdain and Lu-Lu went to the Swiss temple. As they were sealed for time and all eternity, I realized how each had made choices in their lives that had kept them worthy to be in the temple of the Lord that day. Lu-Lu had found her soulmate, and he was as pure and clean as she had striven to keep herself all those long, lonely years. He had been prepared for her, despite his lack of the gospel, and their love was stronger for the waiting.
“I’m so glad we have an eternity,” Jourdain said to her as they knelt across the altar. “I’ll need at least that long to show you how much I love you.” Lu-Lu, radiant with her love, smiled and stroked his hand.
Jean-Marc pulled me close and whispered, “I wish I had said that. That’s exactly how I feel.”
I smiled. How could I not be happy? “I love you, too,” I said.
When we returned to France and our waiting children, I found a thick letter on the kitchen table from my parents, who were serving another mission, this time in Belgium. Behind it was another letter, thin but even more interesting. I ripped it open.
“Who’s it from?” Jean-Marc asked.
“Charlotte,” I said. “Look.” We read the words together.
Dear Ari and Jean-Marc,
I wanted to tell you that the missionaries you sent have taught me a lot, and I’m planning to join the Church. I had hoped to be baptized with Jacques, but he has some Word of Wisdom problems to work out and some other concerns, so I’ll go ahead
alone.
“She must mean his business dealings and his involvement with the employees who caused the bank failure,” Jean-Marc interrupted. I agreed.
Jacques is cooperating with the authorities and trying to do everything in his power to make amends. We both hope your life is going well. Thank you for everything.
“She’s sent a picture,” I said.
Jean-Marc whistled. “She’s expecting,” he said, stating the obvious.
Their coming baby was not the only marked difference. The maliciousness in Charlotte’s eyes had faded, and the pursed lips had softened to a relaxed smile. Jacques appeared younger and more carefree than I remembered him. Both looked happy.
“Why is it that women are more susceptible to the promptings of the Spirit?” Jean-Marc asked. “Danielle has been baptized for almost a year now, and Philippe still won’t listen to the missionaries.”
I laughed. “Because men are stubborn,” I explained. “But we women are more persistent. Both Danielle and Charlotte will win their men over in the end.” I wasn’t worried about Jacques or Philippe; they both knew now that Jesus lived and loved them. The rest would come in time.
“Mom, can I go out on a date tonight?” Josette asked. She had just finished a lengthy conversation on the phone.
“That depends where you are going and who you are going with.”
“You’ll like him,” Marie-Thérèse interjected. “He’s a new boy in Aunt Lu-Lu’s apartment building. We met him when we went to water her plants while you were gone.”
I stared at her suspiciously. “You don’t like him too, do you?”
“Are you kidding?” Josette said. “If Marie-Thérèse liked him, she could have him.”
Marie-Thérèse smiled. “No man will ever come between us again,” she declared.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. They had proclaimed the same words to anyone who would listen ever since Kenny had returned to America. I knew one day that a man would come between them, but hopefully that would be far in the future. And when it did happen, they would be exchanging their sister relationship for the stronger one of husband and wife.
“Besides, I’m doing an extra shift at the café tonight,” Marie-Thérèse said.
A cry came from the baby’s room. “You go get him,” Jean-Marc said. “I’ll check out this boy. Unless you’d rather.”
“No, you’re much better at it than I am,” I said. Josette groaned.
The baby wailed louder.
* * *
Louis-Géralde, my surprise gift from heaven, keeps me busy. Yet I can’t imagine not having him here. The powerful love that swells in my heart each time I look at him whispers of eternity and tells me he was meant to be mine. His laughter fills the house, and his eyes—yes, those eyes, the same wonderful green-brown color of his father’s—sparkle with mischief and expectation of things to come.
Each day is a new beginning, and my life has just begun.
About the Author
Rachel Ann Nunes (pronounced noon-esh) learned to read when she was four, beginning a lifetime fascination with the written word. She began writing in the seventh grade and is now the author of more than two dozen published books, including Fields of Home and the award-winning picture book Daughter of a King. Her most recent picture book, The Secret of the King, was chosen by the Governor’s Commission on Literacy to be awarded to all Utah grade schools as part of the “Read with a Child for 20 Minutes per Day” program.
Rachel and her husband, TJ, have six children. She loves camping with her family, traveling, meeting new people, and, of course, writing. She writes Monday through Friday in her home office, often with a child on her lap, taking frequent breaks to build Lego towers, practice phonics, or jump on the trampoline with the kids.
She loves hearing from her readers. You can write to her at [email protected]. To enjoy her monthly newsletter or to sign up to hear about new releases, visit her Web site, www.RachelAnn Nunes.com.
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