Chapter Sixty-Four

Sunday arrived swiftly, and Erik again escorted his wife to the church in downtown Paris, eager to see Father Michel again. He felt that it had been ages since they last attended...moving into their house had been exhausting, and they had missed a few Sundays. He was surprised that Father Michel had not come to visit them at their new home, nor sent him any messages. But then, he is likely waiting for an invitation, he thought to himself. Of course. We should invite him to supper this week.

They entered discreetly once again through the side door and made their way quickly to the organ loft, where they reclaimed their usual places. As the service began, Erik saw that Father Michel glanced up at his cloaked figure and smiled. Erik played along as hymns were sung, glancing questioningly at Christine after the first two were completed.

She shook her head in reply to his unspoken question...she did not feel like singing a solo that morning. Carrying this child is exhausting me, she realized. I'm thrilled, but somehow...I don't feel like me anymore! She laid her forearm protectively across her stomach and closed her eyes, smiling as Erik played on. She hummed lightly, the melody and words in her mind soothing her anxieties. Slowly, a peace enveloped her, like she had never known before. She opened her eyes a little, curiously, and saw that Erik was still playing, lost in the music. Nothing appeared to be out of place. She closed her eyes again and exhaled, nearly drifting off to sleep. Somewhere in her state of near-unconsciousness, she heard traces of a whisper. She fought to open her eyes, but could not. It was then that the whisper grew louder, and at once, began to form words in her mind.

"The Lord is with you."

Again, she tried to regain consciousness, but it was no use. Sleep had taken hold, and yet...she still sensed the whisper...

"Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful. My grace is sufficient for you. I will never leave you nor forsake you."

Suddenly, her leg twitched and she was awake again, eyes wide with shock. Erik was looking at her. "Are you alright?" he whispered.

She nodded. "I...I think so." She shifted and sat up straight. "I was dreaming."

He smiled at her and nodded. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"No," she smiled. "No. Just...a dream." Was it only a dream? How strange...

Erik seemed satisfied and did not press her further. She was glad, as she had no idea how to explain what she had experienced. It seemed so real. The whisper that was both comforting and quiet held within it something else, she perceived...awesomeness and power. Her mind wandered in the way it always had while in church, contemplating life's mysteries, and found itself at the account of Mary from Scripture, when the angel Gabriel came to announce to her the coming of the Messiah through her. He had come...and had spoken those words to her... "the Lord is with you." She was afraid, as I am afraid. Lord? Was it You? Did You speak to me? What does this mean? And just as Mary had done, Christine pondered the words in her heart. Why should a message like this come to me? she thought with some uneasiness.

As the service ended, Erik and Christine waited for the parishioners to disassemble and leave the church before they made their way down the steep staircase. Father Michel waited at the door below to greet them.

"I've missed you both very much," he said, his eyes smiling, as he held out his arms to them. He embraced them simultaneously, and kissed their foreheads with fatherly affection. "The Laurents were here, but had to leave...they wished for me to tell you both that you are long overdue for a dinner at their home," he said with a wink.

"I...I suppose we are," Erik stuttered, surprised by the comment. "Father," he continued softly, bowing his head, "we've missed you as well. I trust that you and the church are doing well?"

"Yes, Erik, things are going well here. And for you?"

"Actually, things are...quite wonderful," he replied, his eyes twinkling with merriment. He laughed at the curious expression on the old priest's face. "We are to have a baby."

"Oh, my goodness! Congratulations!" he said, with a single clap of his hands. Immediately he embraced Christine and spoke a blessing over her for good health. Erik was moved by the gesture of love.

He stepped forward, laying a long hand upon the priest's arm. "Would you come to dinner this week, Father? We would be honored to have you in our new home."

Father Michel turned his gaze from Erik to Christine. "Are you certain you're up to it?"

She smiled. "Of course! I will need my husband's help in the kitchen, however...I'm afraid that he is having to teach me everything in the art of making a decent meal," she laughed lightly. "Luckily, he is being very patient with me."

"Patient? Well, that is a surprise, I'm sure!"

Erik pointedly ignored the comment. "Well, then, it's settled. You'll come?"

"Of course, my dear boy. When?"

Erik glanced at Christine. "Tuesday?"

She nodded. "Tuesday."

"Very well," Father Michel replied. "I'll see you then...around five o'clock, if that suits you?"

"That will be fine," Christine agreed. "Well, I hate to rush off, but I'm terribly exhausted...Erik?"

Erik gave her a slight smile. "Of course, ma cherie." He turned to Father Michel. "We will look forward to seeing you Tuesday, Father."

As they made their way out the door, Father Michel closed it behind them. How am I to tell them what I must? And now they are to have a child! Oh, Lord, this makes things even more complicated. And I will miss them dearly.

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Tuesday evening came quickly, and Christine had struggled all day against the waves of nausea that seemed to bind her to the bed. After making her way at last to the divan in the sitting room, she smelled evidence of Erik's cooking coming from the kitchen. Chicken. Oh, thank goodness, I think I'm actually hungry! She stood up too quickly and the familiar buzz of dizziness filled her skull. She sat down again until it passed. Standing more slowly and deliberately then, she made her way into the kitchen and slid into a chair. Erik was at the stove with his back to her, as she had seen him many times before.

His uncanny hearing had given her away. "Father Michel should be arriving soon, mon ange. How are you feeling?" He glanced back at her over his shoulder with a softness in his blue-green eyes.

"I think I'm better," she said wearily. "I'll be glad to get past this point...I am so tired of being ill."

Erik chuckled. "You're not the only one who's tired of it."

That comment had amused her, and she was glad to feel a small rumble of laughter in her chest. It lightened her heavy spirit, and she smiled. "I'm aware of that." She stood and came up behind him, wrapping her slender arms about his middle. "Thank you for being so patient with me, mon amour, though I wish you would have roused me from my nap so that I could help you with supper." She placed a kiss upon the white fabric of his shirt at his shoulder blade and laid her forehead in the same place.

"Nonsense. You are with child, Christine...your body needs more rest than usual. I know that it will pass eventually."

They vaguely heard a rapping at the front door, and Erik turned his head toward it. "Would you like me to get that?"

"No. I'll go." She released him from her embrace and passed through the kitchen and dining room toward the front entryway. Peering out the side window, she caught a glimpse of Father Michel as he waited on the doorstep.

Smiling, she opened the door to him. "Hello, Father! Come in, please. Welcome to our new home," she said with a great amount of pride in her husband's work.

"Hello! Oh, my, this is lovely. Of course, I would expect nothing less from Erik," he winked.

She beamed. "Naturally...and thank you." She turned and glanced at the grandfather clock nearby. "You're a bit early, but supper is almost ready, I believe..."

"Yes, I know...I apologize for arriving ahead of schedule. It's just that...there is something that I wished to discuss with you both." He shifted his weight anxiously, his eyes darting toward a point behind her, then refocusing on her own gaze.

"Oh? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, there's nothing wrong. It's just...well, I'd rather wait to tell you both at once."

"Tell us what?" came Erik's deep voice from the dining room.

Father Michel and Christine turned to look at him. "I'd forgotten how fond you are of sneaking up on people, my boy," the old priest laughed.

"And how keen his hearing is," Christine added with a wry smile.

Erik stepped toward them with a shrug. "Well, now you've recalled it. Shall we talk in the kitchen, then? The food isn't quite ready."

Father Michel nodded, suddenly feeling very nervous. He knew that Erik was a changed man, but...anger has a way of resurrecting itself, he thought. In the kitchen, he seated himself at the table next to Christine and smiled at her. Or at least, he hoped he was smiling. Where do I begin?

"So," Erik broke the silence, "what is it that you wish to discuss with us?" He stood at the stove again, stirring a small pot with a wooden spoon. His face was expressionless, save a cocked eyebrow on his unmasked side.

The priest leaned forward in his chair. "Well, I suppose I should just be out with it...but this is not an easy thing for me to say, I'm afraid." He cleared his throat, glancing from Erik to Christine. She saw his discomfort and covered his hand with her own.

"I told you recently that I was seeking the Lord's guidance on some opportunities that had opened up to me...and I have prayerfully reached a decision." He paused to lock his eyes directly on Erik, who placed his spoon next to the stove and came to sit across from him at the table.

"And?"

"And...I will be leaving in one month...for a small town in the east."

Erik frowned. "East? In the east of France?"

"No," he sighed, shaking his head. "In the east of Europe...the old Wallachian region...'Romania,' they now call it. In the southern part of the country there."

Erik's jaw gaped. "R-Romania?"

Father Michel nodded as Christine squeezed his hand. "Tell us about it, Father...please."

The priest's mouth had gone dry. "M-may I have a glass of water?"

Without a word, his expression grave and confused, Erik stood and fetched the water, setting it a bit too abruptly in front of the priest at the table.

"Thank you." Father Michel took a sip from the glass and noticed that his hand was trembling. He set it down again, gazing at the glinting light on the water rather than meeting Erik's eyes. "There is an orphanage there...in the territory of Giurgiu. The priest there is growing old in years and has become feeble, unable to maintain the building. He needs assistance in the daily operations and in providing spiritual guidance for the children and staff."

"Go on," Erik said darkly, his mouth set in a grim line.

Father Michel exhaled slowly, sensing Erik's anger from across the table. "These are children who have been abandoned by their families...poor people who really had little choice. They need care, and they need love, which they deserve as all children do. Their current orphanage has been neglected for some time, and I will be seeking individuals from the towns and villages there who will help to repair it. I may be there for the rest of my life, or I may be there for a handful of years...I don't know. But I believe that this is what God would have me to do."

Erik narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "There is something you're keeping from me," he demanded. "I want to know what it is."

Father Michel closed his eyes, frustrated at Erik's discernment. He braced himself for the inevitable reaction that was to follow. "They are...that is, many of them...Rroma children, Erik...Gypsies."

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A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! I'm so glad you're still reading! Questions will be answered in the chapters to come, so hang in there with me! -grins-