Two Crosses (26 page)

18

David didn’t leave the classroom after he finished his lecture on the morning of December 4. Instead he stared aimlessly out the window from the second story into the courtyard. The orphans were at recess. Some were playing tag, squealing as they chased one another around the garden.

Several children wandered alone on the outskirts of the game. The Arab boy was one of these. He was too old for the orphanage, too tall, his skin too dark. Everything about him called attention to the fact that he didn’t even fit in among the misfits.

In sharp contrast, the little girl David had stumbled upon in Paris seemed to feel right at home. It made him smile to watch her dash about the courtyard in pursuit of a playmate. He liked to watch her from his window, although he was careful that she never saw him. He preferred that she think the benevolent stranger in Paris had disappeared as quickly as he had come. The child had found a kind of home, and that was something positive to think about.

But the rest of his work left him numb. He no longer looked forward to class as he had for the past year and a half. At first the classroom had given him the challenge of impressing and puzzling the young ladies. Of baiting them in an innocent game of cat and mouse. He had felt satisfaction in knowing he held a certain power of presence over his class.

That need for power had waned during the fall with Gabriella’s arrival. She answered his deep-felt need to dig deeper into the human soul. It had been a pleasant detour for David, taking his mind off the weighty matters of war. A companion and an unwitting accomplice. But now he dared not try to gain back the friendship that had budded. He was sure he could win her over, if he tried. Perhaps it was his pride that kept him away from Miss Gabriella Madison.

But David knew that his silence came from much more than that. It came from respect. He cared for her. He cared that she was safe, that no other man would chase her through some crowded marché. It wasn’t love, that wasn’t the feeling. Respect, perhaps friendship, but certainly not love. He could not afford to feel love again. There was enough trouble for him still from the first time.

Gabriella stood in the hallway just outside David’s open door for a full five minutes. His back was to her, and he was looking out the window. When he finally turned around to retrieve his briefcase from his desk, she reluctantly knocked.

He looked up, startled; and seeing Gabriella, he frowned. “Yes?”

She felt her heartbeat accelerate and almost turned to go. There he stood, ever confident and cynical, while she trembled before him. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said curtly.

“You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?” she accused.

“I don’t know what
this
is, Miss Madison.”

She felt as if a wall stood between them. Taking a deep breath, she began, “I came to say I’m sorry.”

“To ask forgiveness, is that it?” His tone was cutting. “If I remember correctly, that was the subject of our last conversation.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have bothered. Never mind.” She turned to leave.

“Wait! Gabby, please.” He came around his desk and touched her sleeve. “Please, wait.”

They regarded each other in silence. David cleared his throat and motioned to a chair. “Please. Sit down.”

Gabriella obeyed. She didn’t take her eyes off him.

He ran his fingers through his short dark hair. “I don’t know what to say.” He rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Untrue. There are many things I could say, but it would just be a game. You’re not here for that.” He grasped the rim of the desk and raised his eyebrows quizzically. “Why are you here, Gabby?”

“I will tell you on one condition,” she answered.

“What is that?”

“That you listen, really listen, before you say a word.”

He grinned, an almost boyish, sheepish grin. A dimple that she had never seen before appeared in his left cheek. “Agreed.”

Suddenly Gabriella longed to hug him. He actually looked vulnerable. Not a posture typical of David Hoffmann.

She sighed and began talking. “You probably have not wanted an explanation for my aloofness of the past month, but certain recent circumstances have convinced me that you deserve one.” She twisted her hands together nervously. “I’ve heard it said that there is a fine line between love and hate. Something like that. I suppose I decided that it was much safer to hate you than … than the alternative.” Her face was flushed.

“I’m sorry that I got so mad over what you said about forgiveness and revenge. You have every right to believe whatever you want to believe. It’s true that I hoped to convince you otherwise, but that was only because …” She struggled for the words. “That was only because I felt a compassion for you, a caring.”

He wrinkled his brow, his dark eyes intense, but he didn’t speak.

Gabriella continued. “It was ridiculous of me to think that you cared for me too. I mean, beyond a casual friendship. I’m sorry that I’ve made things awkward between us.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain her composure as her heart thumped loudly in her ears.

He looked as if he would like to hop down from the desk and come to her, so she hurried on. “One other thing. I’m almost through.” She blinked back tears. “You were right. There is a death of the soul that makes life a living hell. A memory that is bitter and haunting. And perhaps it takes a very long time to forgive. Perhaps the pain will swallow me up whole until there is nothing left to forgive. Perhaps that’s what you meant. I didn’t understand then. But now …” She stopped and buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. “Stupid girl,” she whispered. “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I’ll go now. That’s all I had to say.” She fumbled with her purse, found a tissue, and turned to go.

But David was at her side, pulling her toward him, his strong arms holding her against his chest. Neither breathed nor moved, but it seemed to Gabriella that everything was racing madly. His hand was stroking her hair, carefully, cautiously.

Gabriella didn’t dare to look up. “Please, David, don’t … don’t care too much. I didn’t come here for this. I can’t.”

He stepped back, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. You’re right. There is too much that separates us, Gabby.” He breathed heavily. “But there is something that has broken you, my friend.” He pronounced the last word with caution. “Let me walk with you to Mme Leclerc’s. I promise I’ll listen.”

Gabriella nodded as he wiped a tear from her cheek.

They passed Mme Leclerc’s apartment, walking through the center of Castelnau and out into the countryside beyond the village. The frost of the morning dissipated under the sun’s warm regard as Gabriella related her memory of the rape, her nightmares, her anger with Mother Griolet. David interrupted occasionally to ask a question, but otherwise he was quiet.

“I can’t understand why Mother didn’t tell me before I came. It was as if she knew I would find out, but she didn’t want to be the one to reveal it. It’s so unlike her. I’ve never known her to be afraid to confront the truth.”

“But you said that neither she nor Mother Griolet knew you had witnessed the rape,” David interjected. “Perhaps she wasn’t worried that you would remember; perhaps it was only so painful for her to know you were returning to this place.”

“Perhaps,” Gabriella said thoughtfully. “But Mother Griolet? She sent me to the mission house with her blessing.”

“You would have preferred her to sit you down and tell you about the rape, about the pregnancy and Ericka? I don’t know if she felt it was her place.”

“Oh, David, maybe you’re right. I don’t know. All I know is that something is dead in me. In a different way from when Ericka died. And every night I hear a voice in my head that says, ‘It’s your fault! Why didn’t you scream, little girl?’ I know it’s not God’s voice accusing. Excuse me—I realize you don’t believe. But God is not the accuser. It’s another who accuses.” Her voice was barely audible. “And then everything gets confused. I should have screamed. Then there would have been no rape. But that means no Ericka. No pain and no joy. And I’m so angry!”

“Have you written your mother?”

“I’ve tried several times, but I always sound accusing and harsh. And what good will it do her to know I’m dying in my soul? She’ll only worry.”

“I suppose she would want to pray for you,” he said softly.

Gabriella stopped walking and stared at him in disbelief.

“I’m only trying to see as you see. Perhaps it would be of some comfort to your mother if she felt she could pray for you. Isn’t prayer supposed to bring comfort? A conversation with the Almighty?”

“Something like that, yes. I don’t feel like talking about it anymore. I’m too tired.” She rubbed her forehead, feeling suddenly drained. How ironic that David was ready to talk about prayer and she had no energy for it. She changed the subject. “There is something that has been bothering me ever since you came to eat at Mme Leclerc’s. The rabbit. You aren’t really allergic, are you?”

David grimaced. “A very bad memory from the past. I don’t wish to talk of it now.” He glanced over at Gabriella and took her hand. “Someday, perhaps.”

“Won’t you tell me anything about yourself, David? Why you can’t forgive? What wakes you in the middle of the night?”

“I have already told you, Gabby. It’s too painful to rehash all the details. It’s pointless. I’m a half Jew, and I lost my mother and sister in the camps. I was the guilty little boy who stood by and said nothing.”

“But what could a little boy say? You’re not guilty!” Gabriella was adamant.

“Then neither are you, my dear. Neither are you.”

It was noon by the time they returned to Castelnau.

David left her at the door leading up to Mme Leclerc’s apartment. “May I dare ask you for something, Gabby?”

“Yes, ask.”

“Come with me to Les Baux on Saturday. As my friend. It’s beautiful there. It will get you away from the memories.”

“Oh, David. I can’t.” She smiled as he looked at her questioningly. “I promised someone I wouldn’t run after danger anymore.”

“And I am danger? Surely not. There’s business there, but no danger. Please?” His dark eyes were soft, like a puppy’s, hopeful for play.

Gabriella said nothing. She closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?” David asked suspiciously.

“I’m praying,” she retorted. “I’m sure it sounds silly to you, but I’m praying for the strength to say no. Can’t you understand?”

He took her hands. “No, I don’t understand, Gabby. I only know that I’ve missed you. Our talks. Your wit. Does your God forbid friendship? What would be the intrigue of a life spent only with people who think just as you do? Please, please don’t tell me your religion forbids friendship. Don’t tell me you’re afraid to be with someone who makes you think.”

In her mind she heard the word
friendship
. It was, after all, only a friendship.
Ye are the light of the world
, she heard.
Ye are the salt of the earth
.

“Oh, why must you confuse everything? Of course my God does not forbid friendship with … with, um … atheists.”

David laughed. “You pronounce the word as if I’m some sort of despicable enemy!” He bent down to look her in the eye. “I’m your friend. Only your friend.”

“Good-bye, David,” she said with appreciation in her voice. “Thank you for listening to me.” She turned her key in the lock and pushed open the heavy door. Without looking back, she added, “I’ll go on Saturday.”

“Thank you too, Gabby,” he called after her. “You have a lot of courage. You’re going to be okay.”