Two Crosses (22 page)

“We’re just here briefly, on our way to the Congo ourselves. May I get you something to drink?” She smiled at Ophélie. “It looks like you’ve already had your
goûter
from that chocolate mustache you’re wearing.”

Ophélie nodded happily. “Gabriella bought me a religieuse!”

“Oh my, those are good. Well, come on up and have something to drink. Water, a sirop perhaps? We have strawberry and lemon.”

Barbara led her guests through a large open room, its walls lined with books. “This is the meeting room for the students who are here to learn French and African culture—you know all about that, I suppose. Our apartment is upstairs.” They walked through the room and up a winding flight of stairs.

“Have a seat in the den.” Barbara welcomed them into her apartment. “I’ll just put little Alice in her playpen here.”

Ophélie and Gabriella stepped into the den. “I hardly remember this place at all,” Gabriella called to Barbara. “Did Mother Griolet tell you I was here with my mother and sisters when I was little?”

“Oh, no! How fun to come back!” Barbara said. She returned to the den with three tall glasses of lemonade, which she placed on a coffee table. “Oh, there’s the phone! Excuse me for a second.”

As she strode out of the room, Ophélie took one of the glasses and moved toward the playpen.

Gabriella smiled and watched the little girl bending over the baby. Suddenly an image flashed before her, like a photograph.
A little girl with curly red hair bending down over someone. Not a baby, but a woman.

“Mommy,” Gabriella whispered.

Ophélie turned to look at her. “What did you say, Gabriella?”

Gabriella shook herself. “Nothing, dear. I was just remembering …” She closed her eyes to wipe away the picture, but it flashed before her again in the darkness.
The little redhead was looking down at her mother, whose face was bruised and bloody. She was shaking her mother frantically and crying.

“No!” Gabriella said aloud.

Ophélie came over to her. “What is wrong,
Maîtresse
? You look scared.”

Gabriella knelt down and hugged Ophélie to her chest. “It’s nothing, sweetheart. I’m sorry if I frightened you. Go back and play with little Alice.”

When Barbara entered the den a few minutes later, Gabriella excused herself to find the bathroom. She walked down the hall and opened a door, instinctively knowing that the bathroom was there. She closed the door behind her and leaned over the sink. Another picture flashed in her mind.
Water was running from the spigot. Water and blood.

“Lord! What is this?” she whispered, turning on the water. Again and again she splashed cool water on her face, washing away the memory. After a few minutes, she dried her face on a towel that hung by the sink and emerged from the bathroom. Baby Alice was giggling loudly along with Ophélie, and Barbara was enjoying the show.

“Ophélie is wonderful with babies,” Barbara said as Gabriella entered the den.

Gabriella picked up her drink and patted Ophélie on the head. “Yes, we’re so happy to have Ophélie with us.” Her voice caught.

“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Barbara asked.

“No, no, this is just fine. We can’t stay too long.”

Yet the two women sat on the couch and for nearly an hour talked of Africa as Ophélie played happily beside the baby. No other pictures flashed through Gabriella’s mind, but she breathed a deep sigh when they stepped outside and waved good-bye to Barbara and Alice. Ophélie held Gabriella’s hand, swinging her arms jubilantly as she matched the young woman’s brisk gait.

“I had so much fun,” Ophélie exclaimed. “Thank you, Gabriella. That was one of the happiest days of my life!”

Gabriella squeezed Ophélie’s hand and forced a smile. “One of the happiest days of your life …”

The bell in the church chimed seven o’clock. Ophélie waited until all the other children had left the dormitory to open her middle drawer and pull out the little blue bag from inside her tights. She shook the contents out. What a wonderful day. She had ridden a big bus and eaten a yummy pastry and held hands and laughed with Gabriella.

She looked at the small photograph of her mother and herself and furrowed her brow. “I don’t want you to think I have forgotten you, Mama. It’s only that Gabriella is so nice. She teaches me things. And I know she likes me. I still love you the most, but when I’m with her, I sometimes forget how much I miss you.”

The envelope with her name on it lay wrinkled on the bed. Ophélie removed the thin pink sheets of paper and began sounding out the words. “
D … dea … dear! Dear Ophélie. How … I lo … love … you.
Oh, see, Mama! I can read! You love me! Yes, I know it. And I will read the rest later.”

She folded the letter with the other sheets of paper and then tucked the picture into the bag with them. Back into the dark-blue tights went the velvet bag. Back into the middle drawer. Ophélie stood up and pulled the cross out from under her blouse. She kissed it softly. “Mama, Gabriella talks to me about God. And His Son, Jesus. I don’t think you will mind. I’m sure you would like to hear about Him too.” She ran out of the room and across the courtyard to the dining hall.

Ophélie was still eating her dessert when Mother Griolet sat down beside her in the dining hall. “How was your afternoon in town?” the nun questioned.

“It was really, really fun,
Mère Griolet
. Gabriella even bought me a pastry—a religieuse—and it was as sweet as you are! And I played with the baby and rode on the biggest bus.”

“I’m glad you had such a lovely time.” Then an expression of concern registered on her face. “What is that you’re wearing around your neck, little Ophélie?”

“My cross? It was my Papy’s cross that he gave to Mama. Then Papy died.” She touched the necklace, her face sad. Then she brightened. “Did you know that Gabriella has the same one? We wear the same cross! She says it was the cross of the Huguos … the Hunots …”

“The Huguenots.”

“Yes, the Huguenots. They were brave people who lived in France a long time ago when a mean king ruled. He wouldn’t let them pray to Jesus. He locked them in prisons and killed all the men. But they were very brave. And they wore this cross to show who they were!”

“I see that Gabriella has taught you a history lesson.”

“History?”

“The events of the past. Well, it’s a lovely cross. And what did you say your mama’s name is, dear?”

“Are you going to find her for me?” Ophélie’s eyes held hope.

“I hope we can find her. But not if you don’t tell me her name. Surely you see now that we only want to help you?”

Ophélie considered Mother Griolet’s words carefully. “I suppose it would be okay to tell you. Her name is Anne-Marie. She is the most beautiful lady in the whole world. Anne-Marie Duchemin.”

“Thank you, my child. What a pretty name she has. Now at least we know who we are looking for.” She patted the child’s hand as she rose to leave the table. Suddenly she turned back around. “Did your mama ever tell you anything that was special about the cross? Did she tell you why she gave it to you?”

“Oh yes! She said that I should wear it so that the God of Papy would be with me. That is why!”

“And that’s a good reason. A very good reason indeed.”

Gabriella sat up in her bed, sweat streaming down her face. Someone knocked on the door and then opened it.

“Are you okay, Gab?” Caroline peeped in. “Boy, did you yell.”

“Just a bad dream. Sorry to wake you. Thanks for checking.”

Caroline shut the door, leaving Gabriella in the darkness. She switched on the lamp beside the bed.

Was it only a dream? This time it was not a single image she saw, but a whole scene playing out before her. A dark-skinned man kneeling over her mother, a little red-haired child hiding behind a door. Her mother’s screams.

It couldn’t be true. Not her mother.

The house was quiet. Gabriella climbed out of bed and walked over to the window. The pane was cold to her touch. She shivered, watching the shadow of the olive tree. Its leaves, still intact in winter, moved silently. She closed her eyes and saw Barbara Butler smiling at her with the baby in her arms. Then she saw Ophélie laughing. Immediately her mother took the place of Barbara in her mind, and she too was holding a baby.

Ericka. Oh no. Not Mother, not Ericka. She leaned against the pane and strained to see through the darkness. But all was perfectly black.

Ophélie woke in the middle of the night and sat straight up in bed. “Mama!” she said out loud. She smiled to think of the wonderful dream. She was walking hand in hand with Mama, laughing, running in the sand at the beach.

Then she covered her mouth with her hand. It wasn’t Mama. The woman in her dream had long red hair.

16

Ali Boudani held a thick manila envelope in his hands. “At last. We have waited weeks for the slides from our friend in France. The mail is slow. Or perhaps someone else has tampered with the envelope first?” His piercing eyes glared at the five men seated around him. “You saw what happened to our brother Rachid. He went alone to have his own way. Fool! Another martyr for the cause. But he has tarnished his father’s name. Dying at the hands of our prisoners!”

He handed the envelope to a rugged old man who wore a turban around his head. “Mahmud, prepare the slides.”

Ali circled the room like a wolf directing his pack. “The pied-noir escaped with her harki boyfriend—but they will never leave Algeria. Perhaps they have rotted here in the Casbah, right under our noses. Do we not smell the stench? We’ll find them again, and how they will howl in pain. For the honor of Rachid’s name, their tortured bodies will be displayed for all to see and remember. They can’t hide forever. And Ali has eyes in the back of his head.”

The men nodded with a low, nervous laughter.

“The slides are ready, Mahmud?”

With a click of the switch, a picture spread across the screen. A woman with long curly red hair was walking away, her back to the camera. She wore a dark-blue peacoat.

“Go on.”

Another slide appeared of the same woman, this time half-turned to face the camera.

“Jean-Claude has met this woman twice, as he waited for information. She lives in Montpellier. He has not yet found out her name, but he believes she is a student. He is quite sure she is involved in the smuggling activities.” He motioned to Mahmud to advance the slides, and a close-up of the woman’s head and shoulders flashed on the screen. “She wears the cross.”