Monday, 10 September 1984 — Surrey, Engnd

  “Change of pns,” Ed Martell said after Edith had closed the office door behind her. “They’re taking a detour to Provence. Just for a couple of days. Delphine’s old teacher is not doing well, and she wanted to see her.”

  “She wanted to see her,” Edith asked carefully, “or she wanted Aric to see her?”

  The implication wasn’t lost on him. He knew what she was asking.

  “All I know is that they’ll be back on Tuesday. I’ll clear it with all his professors. Family emergency.”

  She tilted her head slightly. As lies concerning Aric went, this one wasn’t even a rounding error.

  “Well, she’s someone’s family,” Ed said as he turned his palms upward. “Is it my fault if they take it the wrong way?”

  “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

  Monday, 10 September 1984 — Saint-Christol, Provence-Alpes-C?te d’Azur, France

  Sister Agnes stood in front of her css as the lesson continued.

  “I cook often. I cooked st night. I will cook tonight.

  I am cooking now. I was cooking an hour ago. I will be cooking in a few minutes.

  I have cooked before. If I had cooked earlier, I would not be hungry now. I will have cooked the pasta by seven o’clock.

  I have been cooking for you. I had been cooking all night. I will have been cooking for three hours.”

  Ten voices—twelve if you counted Aric’s and Delphine’s—filled the cssroom.

  “Sister Cécile wondered if it would be alright if we observed,” Delphine had asked the young nun politely. “I was a student here. This was my favorite css.”

  When the time came to conjugate verbs—present, past, and future; continuous, perfect, and perfect continuous—Delphine joined in, and a minor application of her elbow to Aric’s ribs was rewarded by his participation as well.

  Afterward, he spoke in English with the instructor. The words flowed out of him like water from a tap, tinged with his New Engnd accent. That earned him a smile from the teacher—and from her students. Several of them seemed too shy to talk to him at first. Delphine watched him take the initiative: asking their names, what grade they were in, their favorite css (they all said English, of course), what sports they liked to py, and—making her blush—if they recognized Delphine from her many appearances in Vogue or Harper’s Bazaar.

  “What was your school like?” one of the girls asked him. Her English was good—everyone’s was—but he thought that if it were him, he’d appreciate a break, so he switched to French.

  “I grew up in a mill town. Steel mills, textile mills. It was a lot bigger than Saint-Christol, and the schools had to be a lot bigger too. There were different schools for different parts of the city, and for different grades, and different teachers for different subjects.”

  “That sounds so confusing,” another girl said. “It would have driven me crazy.”

  “We’ve taken up enough of your time, Sister,” Delphine said finally. It was the st css of the day, and she was anxious to meet with Sister Cécile.

  “Thank you both for visiting,” Sister Agnes said, with a final gnce at Aric.

  “Please visit us again.”

  Delphine asked to speak with Sister Cécile about a private matter. The fact that she did so in the presence of her beautiful young man told the leader of the small sisterhood of Ursulines in Saint-Christol that the matter concerned both of them, but she had no idea what it could be.

  “It’s been my habit recently to walk to the park after csses are dismissed. There is a bench there in the shade of the trees. I am too much cooped up inside these days, and it is nice to spend some time outdoors.”

  It would afford them privacy as they discussed things that no one would believe—unless they had seen it for themselves. Later, in the privacy of her own small bedroom, Aric would complete his task—his holy mission, as Delphine thought of it.

  Sister Cécile walked steadily—evenly. It was less than half a kilometer to the path that cut through shrubs and curved to the right. It took Delphine’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness the dense shade provided. The smell of vender accompanied them as they walked toward the bench under a rge cypress tree. The shade became less dense—as if the park were inviting them to sit and enjoy a short rest before proceeding onward.

  Sister Cécile settled onto the bench with a sigh. Even that short walk had been a strain. Delphine had to force herself not to rush through her offer. There was time. There would always be time. After today.

  Delphine knelt in front of her old teacher and took her rough hands. They felt frail to her, and she held them gently.

  “Sister—” she started to speak before stopping. “I—we—asked to speak with you to—”

  She didn’t know how Aric did it. Offered people life. Health. Hope. Only Edith had seen it for herself. Everyone in the b had noticed the change in her afterward. The way she looked at him. The worship in her eyes. Would she feel the same way tonight? When Sister Cécile was asleep in her bed as health and vitality flooded back into her?

  Aric’s voice filled in the silence.

  “Sister, we know you haven’t been well recently. And that you are not likely to become well in future. If we’re mistaken, I apologize profusely, and we will never bring it up again. But I don’t think we’re mistaken, are we?”

  He stood behind Delphine as he spoke tenderly to this frail woman whose face and hands were all that was visible of her. She sat up straighter before answering, and Aric got a glimpse of what she must have been like when Delphine knew her—how imposing she must have been to young students. For a brief moment she radiated her old strength.

  But the moment faded quickly.

  “No, child, you are not mistaken.”

  “That is what we want to speak with you about,” Delphine added. Her heart was pounding now that they were upon it—now that she had to speak the words that would change this woman’s existence. But again, words failed her.

  Aric picked up the conversation again. “I can help if you let me, Sister. I can help you help yourself. You will recover your health.”

  Cécile didn’t understand. This young man—emphasis on young. Too young to be a doctor or surgeon. And totally uninformed on what exactly ailed her. She sat and looked up at him while Delphine continued to hold her hands.

  “I can assure you, young man, that I am past the point of recovery. More than one specialist has told me so. Are you so gifted a physician that you can make such a promise having never examined me?”

  Delphine gave her hands a gentle squeeze as she spoke. “He has other gifts—different gifts.”

  She looked into the young woman’s eyes. She believed what she was saying, with all her heart. Cécile could see that. But understand it?

  That took a moment longer.

  “What sort of gifts?” she asked.

  It was at that moment that it began.

  Aric reached out first, just to be sure that they were the only ones nearby—no observers in the park, hidden from his eyesight by the surrounding foliage. It was necessary to convince this devout woman that he could do what he promised. Once he was convinced they wouldn’t be seen, he started.

  “Mon Dieu,” she whispered as he began to glow. She tried to pull away from Delphine, but the kneeling woman held on gently.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Delphine said.

  Aric’s voice became unnatural as he spoke, his outline less clear.

  “The sort of gift that can heal the sick and injured.” His voice echoed through the small clearing—and beyond. A mother making a snack for her little girl felt a shiver run through her. A flock of birds took flight. Those closest to him—Delphine, Sister Cécile, a man tending his garden a kilometer away—experienced what many before had: scents, sounds. They would assume ter that it had been their imagination.

  Sister Cécile sat motionless and looked at the apparition as he transformed back into a beautiful youth. The light that had flooded the park receded.

  “Let him help you, Sister,” Delphine said softly. Cécile’s senses had not recovered fully, and her words sounded muffled.

  Her entire life she had waited—prayed—for a sign. Something to point the way—to help her feet stay on the true path. It had finally arrived in the form of this man.

  “Es-tu un ange envoyé par Dieu?” she asked. Are you an angel sent from God?

  “No. I’m just a man. But something—or someone—gave me abilities. And the ability to heal is one of them.”

  She was still not certain he wasn’t an angel. He was certainly beautiful enough to be one. Was it possible that he was, and didn’t know it? Could he be an angel, born to a mortal mother? He’d spoken of his childhood. He had a mortal family.

  “Is this why you came to visit me?” she asked him. “To offer this to me?”

  “I came to visit you,” Delphine said. “I asked him to come with me. It was my idea, my request.”

  Her mind was racing from possibility to possibility, but all of them involved him—her uncertainty as to what he was. The only thing she was certain of was her answer to their offer.

  “Get up, child,” she said to Delphine affectionately. “Your legs must be growing tired. Sit next to me. Your supplication is concluded, and your knees are getting dirty.”

  “Do you remember S?ur Madeleine?” she asked Delphine after she’d taken her pce on the bench.

  How could she forget? Sister Madeleine had been the taciturn Mother Superior when Delphine had started school. Girls quaked with fear when called to her office for the smallest infraction. The older girls once described her idea of compassion toward her charges as an understanding smile—and a smack in the mouth. The only time Delphine could recall seeing the woman cry was when she heard those words repeated about her. Every girl who had repeated them felt wretched for weeks afterward.

  “I remember her.”

  “In my youth I strove to be like her. She was of the old guard. At times I thought she was Jeanne d’Arc reincarnate. God’s warrior, directed by Him personally. His voice whispering His orders into her ear.”

  She paused for a moment to collect her thoughts.

  “I have never heard God’s voice. He has never spoken to me—not like He did to Jeanne d’Arc. Not like He did to S?ur Madeleine. For many years I thought it was a failure on my part. That He did not speak to me because I was fwed somehow. It took many years to realize—to understand—that some of us require God’s voice to keep us on the true path. But for others, all that is required is faith. Faith in God. Faith that the path He has set us on is the true path.”

  Delphine had taken her hand again, and she nodded as her beloved teacher spoke of God and paths and faith.

  “This is my path,” Sister Cécile said finally. “This is the path God Himself chose for me. It isn’t my pce, or yours, or this beautiful young man’s, to change it or alter it in any way.”

  Delphine’s mind would not incorporate what it was hearing. She wasn’t refusing Aric’s offer. Delphine must have misheard.

  Sister Cécile looked up at Aric. The bench was too small to accommodate all of them, and he continued to stand.

  “God has certainly given you a gift, child. You are blessed, beyond any doubt. But your gift is not for my benefit. That you have shared—and will share—it with others brings me joy. Let that be enough.”

  The words tore Delphine’s heart from her chest. It was not possible that this woman she loved so much would fade and die. Not if they—if Aric himself—could prevent it.

  “But—” Delphine began before stopping. She looked up at Aric—a silent plea for support.

  “We all walk the path that God set us on,” Aric said. He didn’t really believe that, but the woman seated in front of him did. “My path—the one He pced me on when I was fourteen years old—led me here, to you. It can’t be a coincidence that our paths cross now. Didn’t He bring us together so that I could heal you?”

  It was a fair question, and the only reason he drew the wrong conclusion was because he was too close to see it.

  She spoke as if to a little boy who was about to feel the sting of the needle as he received a vaccination.

  “He didn’t bring us together for my benefit, my child. He brought us together for yours. It was not so that you could offer me something that I needed; it was so that I could offer you something that you needed.”

  Aric gnced at Delphine’s stricken face. It had finally dawned on her that no healing would take pce today. Not for Sister Cécile. Not today, not in any tomorrow.

  He knew it was pointless. She was resolute.

  “What do I need that He would offer me through you?”

  She smiled.

  Will it hurt?

  He was a little boy—afraid of the needle—asking for reassurance. That was what she saw—what she heard—in his voice. A question, and fear of what answer he would receive.

  “Only you can answer that question.”

  His voice gained a measure of desperation.

  “But I don’t know the answer. I’ve never known why He chose me. Why I’m the one who has to carry this—burden.”

  She understood completely. It had taken some time for her to come to terms with her illness.

  “I will share something with both of you, but if you repeat it I will deny it. It is not canon. But I believe God gave it to me to help me in my final days.”

  She reached up and bid Aric come closer. He perched on the edge of the bench as she began to speak again.

  “It was a dream. The Garden of Gethsemane was still days away when Christ called Judas to Him and expined exactly what He required of him. Judas was appalled, and refused. But Christ insisted that it was necessary for Him to fulfill His purpose.

  ‘Why must I be the one to do this? Why me?’ Judas asked.

  Christ replied, ‘Because you are the only one I trust to do it. You are the strongest.’”

  She finished her story.

  “Do you understand now why God selects some but not others? He selects those He can trust. He selects the strongest.”

  Aric’s tears began to fall. He’d failed this devout woman. He’d failed Delphine. It was also possible that he’d failed God.

  He didn’t know which of those hurt more.

  “I don’t feel strong. I never have,” he said. “I’ve failed you.”

  She reached over and patted his hand. “The end is not a failure, child. It’s just the end.”

  Delphine’s entire face felt wet, but she didn’t dare let go of Sister Cécile lest she vanish like morning mist. She began to sob as the full weight of reality nded on her. Cécile put her arm around her and let her cry.

  “What do we do then?” Delphine asked eventually.

  “You go on living,” she answered before looking at Aric. “That is the path God has set you on. To endure. And to remember those of us who have departed.”

  No one moved—or seemed likely to.

  “Come, walk me home,” Sister Cécile said finally. “I’m tired, and if I miss my nap I can be quite disagreeable.”