Ties That Bind Page 23

  Elder Ferguson smiled. “I think many people have been wrong about you. You do care about the ward members.”

  For some reason the words stung, but Philippe ignored them. “I care about my wife and children,” he said. “I would do anything for them. Since they are members of your church, I know they would be concerned about this boy.” He wasn’t really stretching the truth. If Danielle knew that Thierry was alone, she and half the women in the ward would be at his apartment right now, smothering him with food and places to live. But it wasn’t time for that, not yet. He had to get to the bottom of the mystery first.

  “I suspect he’s surviving on the one meal he gets at the school and what the neighbors share,” Elder Ferguson went on. He took a drink from the glass in his hand. “We try to take him along to our dinner appointment with the members most nights. They don’t seem to mind.”

  “What did you say his last name was?” Philippe was beginning to feel a little guilty at his probing. The missionaries were too young, too gullible, too easy to give their trust. Then he realized that what he thought was gullibility was actually a Christlike innocence. They are like Danielle.

  “Bernard,” Elder Pike answered in his awkward French. “Well, sort of.”

  “Officially it’s Lorrain,” said Elder Ferguson. “He thinks of himself as Thierry Bernard because he was raised by a stepfather for most of his life after his mother’s death. When the stepdad died, the social workers found his birth father, and he’s been living with him for the past year. Poor guy. He hasn’t had an easy life.”

  “Well, he has you now.” Philippe hadn’t meant for the words to come out sounding as sincere as they did.

  Elder Ferguson laughed. “He has the ward family now. That’s what he needs—a steady family who’s not going to desert him.”

  Philippe wondered briefly if that steady family was what had attracted his own spouse to the gospel. Or could the message it taught actually be true? For the first time in his life he hoped that it was. “Tell you what, I’ll send a few feelers out to see if I can find Thierry’s father. Don’t tell him—no sense in getting his hopes up. Meanwhile you keep a careful eye on him. If the father doesn’t turn up soon, we’ll come up with another idea. Before you leave, I’ll give you some money to buy him a few groceries and things he might need. No need to tell him it’s from me. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “You have our word.” Elder Ferguson smiled.

  Philippe smiled back, finding himself liking this boy more and more. “Thanks. Okay, I’m ready to begin our discussion.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Thursday morning after she had seen Larissa and Brandon off to the middle school they both attended, Marie-Thérèse opened her apartment door to her sister Josette and Josette’s three-year-old son, Stephen. “Did you hear?” Josette said excitedly. “Marc is doing great this morning! That means he’s going to be fine as long as he doesn’t reject this kidney. I know he won’t do that—I just know it!”

  Marie-Thérèse didn’t have her sister’s confidence, but the successful surgery certainly merited celebration. “Mom called me from the hospital just now. She sounded happy.”

  “I’m going over to see him in a little while. But I came here first because I wanted you to go with me.” Josette shifted her son’s weight to her other hip.

  “Sure. I’ll need to grab some breakfast.”

  “I can wait.”

  “Then come on in.” Marie-Thérèse took Stephen from her sister’s arms. “Boy, you’re a heavy kid,” she teased. “It’s a wonder your mom can carry you with that big belly she’s got.”

  Stephen laughed. “It’s a baby and I’m gonna play with him. I’m gonna teach him to kick the ball, put on his shoes, and go pee in the toilet.” He grinned proudly.

  “I’m sure you’ll be the perfect big brother.”

  “Yep, ’cause he’s little and doesn’t know anything yet. Anton says we even gotta teach ’im how to talk.”

  Josette laughed. “The list of things to teach the baby keeps getting longer. I think it’ll be a shock when he sees that it’s going to be a long time before the baby will do any of those things.”

  “Baby?” asked Marie-Thérèse. “Does that mean you still haven’t come up with a name?”

  Josette followed her into the kitchen where she slumped gratefully to a padded chair. “Well, before I had kids I had a hundred names ready for a girl,” she admitted. “But after having four boys, I’m running kind of low on male names.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  Josette groaned and laid her face on the table—or tried too. She couldn’t reach it over her huge stomach and had to be content with resting her face in her hands. “I don’t think there’s going to be a next time. I’ve done my share of multiplying and replenishing the world, don’t you think? Five kids, and you’d think I had twenty from the way people count them when we go anywhere.”

  Marie-Thérèse smiled. “Reminds me of that missionary who baptized Mom. Do you remember when he and his wife visited with all those kids? Eight, wasn’t it? They were quite a sight.”

  “I think the hospital emergency room admitted a lot of people with cranked necks around that time.” Josette replied with a giggle. “Remember how we both liked the oldest boy, whatever-his-name was?”

  “I think he has seven kids now.”

  “Wow, and me with five.” Josette kneaded her stomach. “I’m so tired of being pregnant. It seems like I’ve spent my whole life being pregnant.”

  “An awful thought.”

  A silence fell between, not an uncomfortable one, but one of deep thought. Marie-Thérèse was thinking of the baby that could be hers at that moment if she hadn’t postponed her trip to Ukraine. She also thought of pregnancy—how she wouldn’t mind being pregnant like Josette!

  “You could go now,” Josette said. “Marc’s out of danger.”

  As always, Marie-Thérèse was amazed at how attuned her sister was to her thoughts. She sent up a silent prayer of gratitude. Death had separated her from her biological sister, but she had been blessed with an adoptive sister who was every bit as close as any blood sister could be. She and Josette were the best of friends. Adoption was a wonderful alternative to those in her situation, and she wanted so badly to be able to raise more children. If only the fertility doctors could have found something wrong with her or Mathieu, something they could fix! No, I won’t go down that road again.

  “There’s still the wedding,” Marie-Thérèse said, becoming aware that her sister expected a reply. “I can’t miss that.”

  “It will take weeks for Marc and Rebekka to get things ready again.”

  “As will rescheduling the adoption. They go by certain dates, not just when people can make it. I have to let them know months in advance.”

  “Oh, of course.” Josette’s face drooped. Then she brightened. “You could at least sign up again.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” The longing inside Marie-Thérèse’s heart became biting.

  “What about Larissa? Has she come around?”

  Marie-Thérèse let out a long sigh and walked over to the refrigerator. “Not in the slightest. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong with that girl.” She pulled out the milk and set it on the counter before continuing. “It’s like she and Brandon came out complete opposites. He’s so understanding, patient, and considerate, while she’s selfish, impatient, and obnoxious. I wish I could put them into a bag and shake them real hard so that they even out a bit.”

  “I like Brandon just the way he is. Larissa, too. She’s just going through an identity crisis kind of thing.”

  “I hope that’s all it is,” Marie-Thérèse said. “You know, sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that I actually had feelings of bitterness when I found out I was pregnant with Brandon. I mean, he’s not perfect—as you can tell by the mess in his room—but he has really turned out to be my salvation these past months.”

  Josette smiled. “Are you really that
surprised? Pauline told you he would be okay. And he is.”

  Marie-Thérèse smiled at the memory. At the time of Pauline’s death she had been pregnant with Larissa, and since everyone knew she was expecting a girl, Marie-Thérèse had thought Pauline was confused when she spoke of a little boy being okay. It wasn’t until much later that she realized Pauline had been talking about Brandon, not Larissa. Near the end of her short life the veil had been very thin for Pauline.

  Marie-Thérèse fished two mugs out of the cupboard, poured milk into them, and set them to heating in the microwave. In three minutes the milk was hot. “You did want milk, didn’t you? I forgot to ask.”

  “Are you kidding? I live on milk now.” She made a face. “It’s the best thing for my stomach. But I swear that after I have this baby, I’ll never drink another drop again!”

  They laughed together comfortably. Marie-Thérèse sipped her hot milk plain while Josette stirred in chocolate powder. They both ate one of the flaky croissants Marie-Thérèse had purchased early that morning from the corner shop.

  They began to talk again, staying away from sensitive subjects like adoption and children’s rebellion. Marie-Thérèse cupped her hands around her mug, wishing the warmth of the milk could reach to her heart. Why couldn’t she avoid the painful subjects in thought as she could in speech?

  After they were finished with breakfast, Marie-Thérèse helped Josette collect Stephen and they walked to the door. Josette touched her shoulder as they waited for the elevator. “I know it’s hard now, but Larissa will come around. We’ll keep praying.”

  “Would you talk to Larissa? I mean, I think of everyone in our family, she listens to you the most. She likes you. And if you could share some of your past experiences with her when you have a chance, and she could see how your choices affected your future . . . Oh, I don’t know. I think it might help.”

  “I would be happy to talk to her,” Josette said. “Heaven knows I had my rebellious days, however much I hate to admit it. Maybe something I say will be useful. But you know, I’m not as worried about her as I am about that poor little girl she hangs out with. Larissa has a wonderful mother to get her through—and a really great father. Not to mention the rest of the family. Together I bet we can help her realize where she’s headed before something really goes wrong.” Josette reached out a hand to stop the elevator from closing. “Come on, we’d better hurry or Marc will wonder if he still has any sisters. Don’t worry, Marie-Thérèse. Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll get your baby, and Larissa will come around. The Lord has a way of working out problems, and all in His own time. We just need to be patient.”

  Marie-Thérèse’s heart felt considerably lighter as she rode down the elevator with her sister. Josette was right. The Lord had a plan, and now she had to have faith. That was easy, right? She had been living by faith her entire life. While it was true that nothing worthwhile came easily, the Lord had always promised His help. Surely that would make the difference. And when she finally held her new baby in her arms, all the waiting would fade into nothing.

  Lifting her head in resolution, Marie-Thérèse pushed her negative thoughts aside and followed Josette into the November sunlight.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After dropping his daughters off at school, André stopped by the transplant hospital to see Marc. At least that’s what he told himself he was doing. As he entered the corridor, he saw his mother coming down the hall from the direction of his brother’s room.

  “Where’s Rebekka?” André asked, scanning the area. Ariana smiled at him gently, as though reading his inner thoughts. But no, she can’t know my feelings, he told himself. No one must ever know. I am ashamed of them.

  “She was tired,” Ariana said, pausing as she approached him. “She’d been here all night. We sent her home to sleep. What is it, son?”

  André felt like sobbing in his mother’s arms and letting her soothe away his pain. But he was a man now, and should be able to handle this alone. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just worried that something I said earlier might have upset her.”

  “She was upset, but I think that’s because of all the emotions she’s been dealing with lately.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “What do you mean?”

  Ariana placed her hand over his folded arms. “I’ve been watching you this past week. And Rebekka, too. I’m worried about you both.”

  “There’s nothing to be worried about.”

  “Are you telling me you aren’t attracted to her?”

  André tried to wave the comment off. “Rebekka’s a pretty woman. Who wouldn’t be?” He unfolded his arms and rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, Mom, I didn’t try to—”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve done nothing to compromise her—I promise.”

  “Son, walk with me for a while.”

  André let his mother take his hand and lead him to the exit. They walked down the cement sidewalk of the hospital that soon met up with the older cobblestone walkway running in front of the property.

  “André,” Ariana began. “I know your life has been difficult, what with losing Claire and all the recent changes in your life. There are some things we’re never ready for.” Her dark eyes grew sad. “Every loss is met with a lot of struggle and emotional highs and lows. That’s what I think you are experiencing right now.”

  He snorted. “You can say that again. But I—these feelings. Suddenly I’m seeing Rebekka in a new light. I care for her a great deal. Today I woke up so envious of Marc that I wished I was in his place—even if it meant I’d need a new kidney. Can you believe that?”

  They took a few more steps before Ariana spoke again. “Perhaps you need to step back a little before you say or do something you’ll regret.”

  “I don’t want to hurt either of them,” he said hoarsely.

  “Then I think this needs to be Rebekka’s call. Give her some space. Keep in mind that she’s struggling with difficulties just as you are.” Ariana paused. “André, don’t take this the wrong way: I know it’s only natural to want to replace the relationship you had with Claire—”

  “Rebekka is not Claire.”

  “That’s right. I just want to be sure you know it. You knew and cared for Rebekka long before you met Claire, but that doesn’t mean you can pick up those feelings where they left off. Healing takes time.”

  André let out a sigh. “I need to talk to her.”

  “Perhaps,” Ariana said slowly. “But maybe you should see your brother first.”

  André didn’t think he could do that. He didn’t know if he could ever look into Marc’s eyes again. What would he say? “Hello, brother. I think I’m falling in love with your fiancée?”

  “I’m sure he’d like to see you now,” Ariana pressed. They were headed back up the walk to the hospital now.

  André shook his head, backing away from his mother. “I have to see her first.”

  “André, no. I can’t pretend to know how this will end up, but no matter what happens, you’re going to lose her or Marc—at least for a time.”

  André didn’t listen. His heart ached for the comfort only a woman he truly loved could give. And she was gone.

  * * *

  Rebekka awoke from a restless sleep. She had come to Marc’s apartment rather than to her parents because she’d wanted to be alone to think and to pray. She felt guilty coming here, though, since after today she might no longer be Marc’s fiancée. She wanted more than anything to marry Marc, but how could she unless she resolved these feelings for André?

  Rivers of uncertainty carved through her heart. Why, oh, why did this happen? Why am I even contemplating a relationship with André?

  She tried to tell herself that André certainly didn’t feel anything for her, but she had seen the truth in his eyes. Moreover, he had understood that the choice was hers even before she had.

  She put the pillow over her head. The cloth smelled fresh since she had changed the case yesterday and had
n’t slept on it last night, and she longed for Marc’s familiar smell.

  A noise barely penetrated through the down filling in the pillow. She couldn’t even tell what it was or from where it had come. The door?

  She sprang to her feet and ran down the hallway, her heart racing unevenly. Everyone who knew Marc also knew he was in the transplant hospital. So the only people who would ring the bell were salesmen, missionaries from various churches, or someone looking for her.

  Possibly André.

  She hoped it was him . . . and feared that it was.

  Hands pressed against the door for support, she peered through the peep hole. Though distorted by the thick, reducing glass, she saw it was André. Quickly, she ducked out of sight, overwhelmed by the flood of mixed emotions.

  “Rebekka, are you there?” he called, voice muffled by the barrier between them.

  She put her hand on the door, but something—what?—cautioned her against opening it. Why shouldn’t she talk to him? It might clear things up—wasn’t that what she needed more than anything?

  Tempted by the thought, her hand stretched to the doorknob, but she pulled it back before it reached the metal. I don’t know what to do!

  “Rebekka, I’ve just come from talking to my mom. I tried to call your house, but they said you were here. Come on, let’s talk.”

  Had he seen her? Or a movement? Her heart thudded violently in her chest. She pressed her hands against the door in an attempt to push away an invisible danger.

  Then abruptly, he was gone. She hadn’t heard him leave, but she knew that he was no longer behind the door. A gasp escaped her lips and she realized she’d been holding her breath. As she drank in air, relief of another kind also flooded her body. There was no reason she shouldn’t have opened the door to talk with André, and yet for some reason not letting him in had been the right thing to do.

  Why?

  She ran to the window and peered down in the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. The street below was empty.

  * * *

  André left Marc’s apartment building more than a little disgruntled. Was Rebekka there? He thought he had sensed her presence behind the door, but why hadn’t she opened it? Was it because she wanted him to stay away from her? Or was it because she was afraid to look him in the eye, afraid that maybe she would see the same feelings that were in her heart?