"Someone knocked me out on my way home from work a couple of days ago," I replied. "Was it a robbery?" Pete asked, now concerned. "No, and that's the strangest thing about all of this! The police inspector working on my case says that nothing was taken from my purse. I have no idea why anyone would want to hurt me," I replied. Just then, Mme. Fontaine came into the room, so I repeated myself in French, hoping that Pete would take the hint and speak in French as well.
Mme. Fontaine went over to the small cabinet next to the sofa and got out a bottle of creme de cassis and three small aperitif glasses and said in her native language, "The police think she was attacked for being a foreigner. I do not wish to change the subject, but would anyone like an aperitif? Roberta, you should have something to celebrate your brother's visit!"
Pete took my hint, for he said in French, "I'll have one. I need to calm my nerves. The flight over here was terrible." Mme. Fontaine had finished filling the glasses with the liqueur, and after handing us our glasses, urged Pete to make a toast. For a moment, he acted as if he was caught off-guard but he rose to the occasion and said, "Vive les familles (Long live families)!"
After we finished our aperitifs, Mme. Fontaine excused herself, saying that she had to finish making lunch. After she left the room, Pete and I resumed our conversation in English. "Thank you for taking my hint. I didn't really want to leave Mme. Fontaine out of our conversation. So tell me, how bad was your flight?" I asked, leaning towards Pete and speaking softly so as not to offend Mme. Fontaine, for, she was like most French and was very proud of her native language.
"It was the worst flight I've ever taken. I've never seen such air turbulence, even this time of year!" Pete exclaimed softly. "Well, getting back to my first question, then. What brings you here to Paris?" I asked as I place my empty glass on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.
"The boss sent me over to do some troubleshooting. The company's having some software problems with it's French division, so it sent me over here to fix them. That's the good news. The bad news is that I'll only be here for a few days. I have to be back by Thursday morning. The company didn't budget much time or money for this trip. I had really hoped to spend more time with you but I have to have things wrapped up by Tuesday night.
"Good grief! That isn't much time at all! I suppose I could show you a few sights after lunch, which reminds me, I'll have to go and ask Mme. Fontaine if you can stay for lunch," I said as I started to get up from the sofa.
Pete put his arm out to stop me and said, "Don't bother. I told all of this to Mme. Fontaine this morning when I got here. She's already invited me to stay for lunch...and to stay here for the duration of my trip. I was going to ask you, are all Frenchmen this friendly?"
I chuckled at his question and said, "Not really. Most of the ones I've met have been pretty reserved but I think the Fontaines know just how much I miss the folks back home. That's probably why she invited you to stay. Since you'll be staying for a couple of days, I'll show you around the apartment so you know where everything is at." We got up and went around the apartment and I showed him where the toilet and the bathroom were, as well as the kitchen, and finally the bedrooms, saving my bedroom for last.
After we returned to the living room and dining room combination, we saw Mme. Fontaine setting the table for lunch. Speaking in French, Pete marveled at the way I had managed to make room for all my things, my books in particular. He then asked why I had a book on English as I spoke French whenever possible. Mme. Fontaine overheard him and said, "Le livre est pour son ange."
"Ange?" Pete asked. "Mon etudiant, et comme Mme. Fontaine dit, mon ange," I said as we sat down again on the sofa. After she left the room, I explained to Pete just who Erik was, how I had met him and how he came to be my student. Pete started to say something but just then, M. Fontaine and Colette returned from the walk they had been taking. Colette was overjoyed to see me and, after giving me a hug, she began to charm my brother just as she had charmed Mme. Renault at the hospital.
Lunch, or should I say, dinner ws a typical family style Sunday dinner. We had thin sausages and escargot for the appetizers, a large beef roast which Mme. Fontaine had cooked American style along with potatoes and carrots, salad, fruit and cheese, and for dessert, an apple and pear tart. Along with each course, there was a different wine. Pete and I being the light drinkers only had the aperitifs we had drunk before dinner as well as sherry with the dessert but water with the rest of the meal. After dinner, the Fontaines decided to take Colette over to the nearest park while Pete and I decided to go over to the Champs Elysees and take in as much as we could before dark.
That afternoon was one of the most memorable I had ever had. Paris is not only for lovers, but for families as well. Pete had remembered to bring his camera and plenty of film for our little outing and managed to go through almost three rolls of film in less than two hours. The light was not as good as I had hoped for it was early January but Pete did not seem to mind. After all, he said, he did not get to Paris very often and besides, it was always nice to be with family.
We decided to stop at a cafe for a cup of coffee before we returned to the Fontaines. After the waiter took our order, Pete leaned over toward me and said in a low voice, "Did you know we have company?" "What?" I asked, surprised and feeling uneasy, remembering the recent assault. "Yeah, some guy has been following us all afternoon," he replied as the waiter returned with our coffee. After paying the waiter, Pete waited until he left us alone before he said, "I noticed him a while ago."
"What's he look like?" I asked, feeling more frightened. "That's the strange thing about this guy. I can't see his face. He has his hat tilted forward and every time I try to look at him, he turns his head away," Pete replied as he put a cube of sugar into his coffee and stirred it. "His hat?" I asked and then I said, "Wait a minute! He wouldn't be wearing a black fedora by any chance, would he?"
"I guess so," Pete replied as he took a sip of his coffee. I smiled and nodded my head. "Do you know this guy?" Pete asked as he put his cup down on the table."Yes, I think I do. Is he in here...the cafe, I mean?" I asked.
"Yeah, he's sitting over there in the corner, I think," Pete said and then added, "You're not going over there to him, are you?""You bet I am!" I exclaimed softly as I got up from the table. "Roberta! Don't!" Pete whispered softly, but it was too late. I had already gotten up from the table and was walking toward the table in the corner to my right that faced the outside window. Sure enough, I recognized the dark trench coat and black fedora.
"Erik?" I asked as I got to the table. He looked up from the newspaper he had been reading. I was right for it was Erik. He was wearing his burn mask in addition to the hat and coat. "Come on over and join us. You can meet my brother," I said as I leaned over toward him. "How...did you know it was me?" he asked as he put the paper he had been reading down on the table and began to fold it.
"I didn't. I didn't even know you were following us until Pete mentioned something," I replied. "Very well then, and yes, I would like to join you," he said as he rose from his table. We went back to the table that Pete and I were sharing and I made introductions. Afterwards, Erik asked Pete, "How did you know I was following you? Was I that obvious?"
"No, you weren't. You kept a good distance between yourself and us and you didn't do anything to draw attention to yourself. The only reason I knew you were there was because of my training," Pete replied.
"Training?" Erik asked as the waiter came over to take his order. After he ordered some mineral water, the waiter left us alone to talk.
"I used to work for the Missouri Bureau of Investigation. It's like the FBI, only on the state level. We took training on how to keep surveillance," Pete replied as the waiter returned with Erik's water.
Erik paid for his water, and after the waiter left, Erik asked, "Do you still work for them, monsieur?" Erik then poured some mineral water from his bottle into the glass the waiter had brought.
Pete shook his head and said, "No, I got tired of being paranoid and suspicious of everybody. I work as a computer consultant now. It's better hours with better pay and I actually get to have a life for a change."
"Have a life?" Erik asked. "I thought you said you were teaching this guy English, sis!" Pete exclaimed softly so as not to draw attention to ourselves.
"Give me a break, Pete! Even I can't keep up with all the slang," I replied softly, and then winked at Erik.
"Do you always tease your sister like this?" Erik asked, catching on to Pete's teasing.
"Erik, I've been teasing sis for forty-two years and I'll be damned if I'll ever stop," Pete replied, smiling.
"It's all right, Erik. I'm used to him. And he's right, he'll never stop. Don't you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked.
Erik nodded his head and said, "I have a sister who lives in Rouen but I must say, I do not ever remember her teasing me like this."
"What? Croatians don't tease each other?" Pete asked as he finished drinking his coffee.
Before Erik could answer, I turned to him and said, in a teasing way, "Don't listen to him. Besides, if you think he's bad, you should meet our sister Sharon--she's even worse!" Erik could only smile at my remark and shake his head. I suppose he thought that all Americans are crazy when it comes to family.
After a brief moment of silence, Erik said, "I just thought of something. Are you two drinking coffee?"
Pete looked at him questioningly and replied, "Of course. Why? Don't tell me sis and I are breaking a French law by just drinking coffee!"
Erik smiled at Pete's mild jab and said, "You are not breaking any French laws that I am aware of, but I am afraid Roberta is breaking one of my rules."
Before I could say anything, Pete said incredulously, "You can't be serious. You mean that you won't even let her have a cup of coffee?"
"I am afraid not. You see, caffeine is bad for the vocal chords...it dries them out and makes singing more difficult," Erik explained.
"We decided to stop for coffee because it was getting cold outside. Besides, I think I draw more attention to myself if I order herb tea than if I order coffee. After what happened a few days ago, I think it would be better to keep a low profile for awhile. I know, I know...next time, I'll order mineral water," I said as I drank the last of my coffee.
Pete shook his head and said softly, "Sis, what have you gotten yourself into?" We all chuckled at his remark. Then he added, "You know, it's getting late. The Fontaines must wonder where we are."
I spoke up and said, "Pete's right. After what just happened, we'd better get going."
"I agree," Erik said as he finished drinking his water. "Let me call you a taxi before I leave."
"Won't you be coming with us?" Pete asked.
"No, I have other business to attend to. I will see you tomorrow morning then, Roberta," Erik said as he got up from the table.
As he made his way over to the pay phone on the far wall next to the bar, Pete leaned over to me and asked, "What kind of business, if I may ask?"
"He works as an exterminator," I replied.
"Is he always like this...bossy and controlling?" Pete asked.
"I don't think he means me any harm, if that's what you're asking," I replied.
"Well, you know what I've always said, any friend of yours is a friend of mine, but sis, I've got to admit, you sure know how to pick them," Pete said as he got up from the table as well and got our coats which we had draped over the fourth chair at our table.
A few minutes later, Erik came back and said, "The taxi should be here any moment. I must leave now. Until tomorrow then, Roberta." He bowed his head to me, shook Pete's hand, turned, and left the cafe in his usual quick and quiet manner.
After Erik left, we went outside to wait for the taxi. It was completely dark and had gotten colder. To make things worse, it began to rain as well. Fortunately, the taxi pulled up in front of the cafe and we got in as quickly as we could. As we drove away from the cafe to the Fontaines, Pete turned to me and said, "That Erik of yours is really a strange duck! Does he always do this?"
"Do what?" I asked as I turned toward him.
"What do you mean what? You know what I mean!" Pete exclaimed.
I looked at him a moment, genuinely puzzled as to what Pete meant. Then I said, "If by what you mean is his manner of leaving, the answer is yes, he always leaves like that."
Pete shook his head and said, "That's not all I'm talking about and you know it! I mean his following us this afternoon. Does he always follow you around? Do you actually like being followed around, particularly after what happened in D.C. when the president's security followed you all around Washington, thinking you were a threat to the president-elect when you actually weren't."
"Pete, I told you before, I don't think he means me any harm," I said, surprised at myself, for I had not expected to have to defend Erik for anything. Looking down at my lap, I said softly, "Maybe he's just trying to be protective. And can you blame him after what happened?"
Pete sighed and said, "No, I've got to admit I can't blame him at all, but there's just something about this guy that doesn't sound quite right, and it's not the mask he wears either. It's his mannerisms. Besides, I know you too well, sis. You've always been a sucker for tall skinny guys with blue eyes and dark hair. Besides, these guys like Erik can turn from being just protective to being obsessive and controlling. Remember how Brad changed. He was a nice guy at first, too."
I nodded my head and said, "I really don't want to get involved with anybody, ever. My breakup with Brad was hard enough to take, and the lawyers all thought it was amicable divorce, which it was at first. No, I don't want to have another relationship. Besides, did you know Brad remarried?"
"You're kidding! Boy, he sure didn't waste any time now, did he?" Brad said, incredulously.
I shook my head again and said softly, "No. He didn't."
Just then, the taxi pulled up in front of the Fontaines' apartment building. Pete paid the taxi driver before we got out of the taxi, and after we got out, we sprinted to the front door of the apartment building and quickly got inside. We stood in the hallway for a moment to catch our breath and then we went upstairs to the Fontaines and had a nice supper of soup and sandwiches made from the leftover roast beef from dinner. After supper, Mme. Fontaine made a bed for Pete on the sofa, which as it turns out was a sofa sleeper. Pete and I had hoped to spend more time together on Monday, but after comparing our schedules, we realized that the only time we would have to spend together on Monday would be at lunch. Mme. Fontaine overheard us talking and invited Pete to take all his meals with the family during his stay in Paris. She pointed out to him that it would be cheaper for him to eat at their place than in restaurants. When she turned up her nose at the word "restaurant", Pete laughed and said he would be delighted to eat with the family, especially since he found that not all the best cooks in France worked in restaurants.
Like most Mondays in France that year, the day dawned gray and overcast. Pete and I had an early breakfast together but had to make it quick because of our schedules. We took off in different directions, but agreed to have lunch with the Fontaines that noon. I felt funny taking the metro that morning and for the first time since I arrived in Paris, began to take note of my surroundings. The metro itself was well-lit as were the trains but the stairs descending into and ascending out of the stations were not. I wonder how Andre found me in the dark, I wondered as I walked into work that morning. Andre was really glad to see me as I walked in. "Bonjour, Roberta. Ca va? It's good to see you back. Buquet has really missed you, as have we all."
"Thank you, Andre. It's good to be back," I said as I entered the building. "I had a nice little vacation, but I wouldn't recommend these kinds of vacations to anybody," I added with a touch of sarcasm. Andre chuckled at my little remark and waved me in
As I went downstairs to drop my things off before my music lesson, I thought to myself, Darn! I forgot to ask Andre how he found me the other night. I'll have to ask later. Erik's waiting.
My music lesson went somewhat better that I thought it might have otherwise. As usual, he was pleased with my progress and had not lost any ground in spite of the last few days. This time he brought a piece of music that required a little more breath control, and even though I still had problems reading the notes in the shadows of all those old props surrounding the piano, he was pleased with my efforts to master that particular piece of music. Evidently, all those breathing exercises he had given me were paying off. "How do you get all this music?" I finally asked, after my lesson was over.
Erik smiled and said after a moment, "In addition to my small talent catching rats, I am able to write music. Sometimes, after a long day of rat hunting, I go to my place and write music for awhile. I find it relaxing."
"Well this piece is really pretty. Do you have more?" I asked.
He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I might. Why do you ask?"
"If they're all as pretty as this piece, maybe you should consider publishing them," I replied.
He lowered his head for a moment and then said, "Perhaps I may...someday. But for now, you must leave and get back upstairs to go to work. I would not want to hear Buquet complain about you being late again, even if you would have a good reason for being so."
"How do you know I've been late before?" I asked.
Erik looked up at me and said, "I have my ways, my dear, but now you must go. Until tonight, Roberta." He then rose from the piano and motioned for me to leave. I did so but as usual, I was puzzled by his behavior. Why would he be relunctant to publish his works? They're certainly good enough. I just don't understand that man! I thought as I went upstairs and got started on my work. Pete's right, Erik is a strange duck!
I wish I could say that work had gone as well as my singing lesson had that day. Jean-Baptiste was not happy with me when he found out I had ignored his advice and had tried to take the metro home instead of taking a taxi. "Madame, if you continue in your obstinacy, I will be forced to report you to the managers. Paris, I am sorry to say, is becoming as bad as South Central Los Angeles and a woman's safety at night can no longer be guaranteed," he said sternly.
"I understand, Jean-Baptiste but unless I get yet another rise, I will have to take the metro. I thought this last raise would help but the rent just went up again and wiped out the raise," I replied. Sometimes I wonder why the French government ever bothered to go back to using francs instead of sticking with the Eurodollars. France still suffers from the worst inflation rate in Europe, I thought to myself.
"I am sorry to hear that, and to make matters worse, I have more bad news to bear. As it turns out, management had decided to keep me on for a few more months until they decide my successor," Jean-Baptiste said, shaking his head.
I sat back in my chair and looking up at him, I said, "I thought that you had wanted me to succeed you."
He sat down next to me and said, "I thought that as well. I don't know why management changed it's mind. I thought I had everything arranged." Then, he added, "But getting back to our first subject, I do wish you would try to take a taxi home after working late. If they're just too expensive, try to leave with someone, a member of the chorus perhaps. If need be, we can change your schedule. I know that means working while Carlotta is here but there are worse things than putting up with a tempermental soprano, as you found out the hard way!"
I sighed, and said, "I'll do what I can."
"That's a good girl! Now, we'll speak no more of this," Jean-Baptiste said, smiling as he stood up. He then left the room, leaving me to my work.
By the time I was ready to leave for lunch, I had nearly finished one complete set of paniers. Making the paniers was not that difficult, but threading the boning throught the narrow casings was a tedious job. I'll be glad when these are done! How in the heck did Jean-Baptiste miss those damaged paniers and breeches when we did inventory last fall? We could have had all these done by now if he hadn't! Now I know why the women fought along side their men during the French Revolution--they were sick and tired of wearing these things! I thought to myself as I piled the nearly completed paniers on my worktable.
"Well, you look like you're hard at work!" Hearing a familiar voice, I quickly turned around to see who was speaking. It was Pete, leaning against the door frame in his usual fashion.
"Pete! I wasn't expecting to see you here! How your meeting go?" I said as I put on my jacket and gathered my things.
"A lot better than I expected. So this is where you work," he said as he pushed himself away from the door frame.
"Yeah. I figured it was about time I got paid to sew," I said as we stood to talk for a moment. Then I added, "I'm famished. Are you ready to go back to the Fontaines for lunch?"
"That's my sis! If you're not thinking about food, you're thinking about sewing! You must drive everybody crazy!" Pete said, shaking his head as we left the room.
I closed the door behind me, and then said softly, "It might be better to speak in French while you're here. We have some nationalists that really get bent out of shape whenever they hear English being spoken."
"Really? Who?" he asked, and then correcting himself, he said, "Qui?"
As we walked down the hallway to the exit, I replied, "Notre diva, Carlotta, pour un exemple." As we walked outside, I noticed Andre standing by the door, smoking one of his Gaulois. I called out softly, "A bien tot, Andre."
He turned around and saw us there. Exhaling, he dropped his cigarette and stepped on it, putting it out and asked, "Qui est avec toi?"
I motioned for Pete to stop so I could make introductions. "Ah, j'ai oublie. Je voudrais de presenter mon frere, Pete," I said as we walked over to Andre.
Putting his hand out to shake Pete's hand,
Andre turned to me and asked, "Tu as un frere?"
"Oui, et une soeur, aussi!" I said.
"Vraiment? Une grande famille! Formidable!" he said as the two men shook hands.
I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Pas si grande."
"Seulement la famille typique pour les Americans," Pete added and then, turning to me he said "Depeche toi, Roberta! J'ai faim!"
I chuckled at his remark. And he gives me a hard time for always being hungry! I thought. Then, I repeated, "A bien tot!" and then we left.
Since Pete offered to pay for it, we took a taxi back to the Fontaines instead of the metro. As we started off, Pete turned to me and asked softly, "Was that enough French?"
I smiled and said softly, not wanting to draw the driver's attention, "It'll do for now."
"Who's this Carlotta you mentioned?" he asked, leaning back in his seat.
"She's our biggest star at the opera house...and she's also our biggest pain in the butt!" I replied, with a note of anger in my voice.
He started to laugh at my remark, and then
seeing that I was serious, he stopped laughing. "Is she really that
bad?" he asked
.
"Jeez! You wouldn't believe this woman!
I have never seen anyone as rude as she is...outside of the military, I
mean. You have to put up with people like that in the military, especially
if you're enlisted, but I must say I have never seen anyone act like that
and get away with it like she does!" I exclaimed softly.
"What does she do?" Pete asked.
"What doesn't she do," I replied, rollong my eyes. Continuing, I said, "When she's not being rude to me, she's being rude to Michel and his daughter Jacqueline, my co-workers. About the only person outside of the managers that can handle her is Jean-Baptiste, my immediate supervisor, and he's retiring in a couple of months. I don't know who's going to replace him after he's gone. I'm supposed to be his replacement but I can't handle someone like her. I don't know what I'm going to do." I shook my head after giving my small speech.
"Can't you quit? Find another job?" Pete asked.
"Not very likely. I looked into it right after I was hired at the opera house. There aren't that many jobs out there. Besides, no one wants to hire foreigners these days. Ever since Le Pin made prime minister, things have really gotten bad for foreigners. Everyone, including Jean-Baptiste and Erik, seems to think I was attacked by nationalist thugs," I said, sighing as I did so.
"Told you that you should have finished college when you had the chance," Pete said, sitting up, for we had reached the Fontaines' apartment building.
After we got out of the taxi, Pete paid the driver and we walked up to the building. We stopped for a moment before entering, and I said, "I don't blame my lack of education or my lack of skills for my situation. I blame the president for all of this. If she hadn't of exiled all of her opposition, this wouldn't be happening!"
"But then again, you wouldn't have had the chance to see Paris again, would you?" Pete replied as he opened the door to the building.
After lunch, both Pete and Mme. Fontaine agreed that I should take a taxi back to the opera house. Since Pete agreed to accompany me as far as the opera house as well as to pay the fare, I agreed as well. As we rode back to the opera house, we picked up our conversation again. "So, how are things back home? I haven't had the chance to ask you yet and I don't have time to watch the news. Outside of your letters, no one else writes to me. I take that back...Jennifer wrote last October and told me about Brad, but other that that, and your letters, nothing. So what else is new?" I asked.
"Not too much. There was another anti-racketeering trial involving another pro-life group. You know the last time this happened, the pro-lifers lost their appeal." Pete replied.
I nodded, remembering the group of two priests and three Protestant ministers that had first been found guilty of racketeering and then, after losing their appeal, ended up paying hundreds of millions of dollars in fines and legal costs, effectively bankrupting the entire pro-life movement. "The president always gets what she wants, doesn't she? So, what else has been happening?" I said as I shook my head.
"Oh, the usual sensationalism. The media's predicting another El Nino, trying to scare us again. And , there's been another scandal involving the clergy. You know how it it--money is misappropriated...accusations that boil down to the kid says, father says..." Pete paused, knowing that I would have to get in my two cents.
"I'll bet the media won't let go of that either...always making us believers out to be a bunch of wackos! Anything else?" I asked.
Pete shook his head and then changed the subject by saying, "I'm glad to hear that Jennifer bothered to write to you. I'm really not surprised to hear that Brad remarried so quickly after the divorce. I know you surprised me yesterday with the news, but now that I have a chance to think about it, that really doesn't surprise me at all. You know, we tried to warn you about him. He was never the same after he went into the Air Force."
In defense of my ex-husband, I said, "Brad always thought the Air Force was the best of all the branches of the military."
Pete shook his head again and said, "They're all alike, sis. They sent you where they need you. If they need you, they treat you like gold but if they don't need you, they find one excuse or another to get rid of you. Besides, the military isn't exactly the most conducive place in the world for keeping the Faith."
This time it was my turn to shake my head. "Brad had already left the Church when he joined the Air Force. I know what he told us later...that it was all the moving around and all the TDYs he had to go on, but he told me just before I left to go into exile that he had quit believing in God even before he was confirmed, that Confirmation was just an empty ritual for him and that the only reason he went through with it was to please his parents. I only wish he had told me sooner...like before we got married," I said, sadly shaking my head.
"Would that have changed things?" Pete asked.
This time I nodded my head. "It might have. I always wanted to find somebody that was strong in the Faith, like Mom and Dad were. There just aren't that many guys out there like that anymore that aren't already spoken for. I must be getting over Brad to talk like this," I said, feeling ashamed for not doing a better job of defending the father of my children.
Pete nodded and said, "I know what you mean...finding someone strong in the Faith, I mean."
"Is that why you never married? You couldn't find a girl strong in the Faith?" I asked.
Pete nodded his head and said, "I don't mean to be critical of all women, but it seems that all they're interested in is building careers and how much money we men make. You know, Mom and Dad weren't exactly saints but they knew the difference between right and wrong and taught us that along with praying the Rosary every night. Most of the women I've met think that prayer is for the birds! Say, sis. Do you still pray?"
I paused for a moment before answering. "Sure. I'm usually able to get in five decades of the rosary in a day...but it's probably not enough, with all my problems. Say, I've been meaning to ask, do you know anything about a devotion called the Divine Mercy? I've never heard of it before," I said as I looked at him while we drove to the opera house.
Pete nodded his head again, smiled and said, "Sis, you spend too much time with politics!" He then told me about the devotion and the visions of Blessed Faustina, a Polish nun, and how the devotion spread throughout Poland just prior to the Second World War, and concluded his little history lecture with the story of Pope John Paul II lifting the twenty year ban on the devotion six months before he became Pope. Then after opening up his attache case and digging around in it for a minute, Pete produced a small booklet, handed it to me, and said, " I found this at a Catholic bookstore in St. Louis right before I got out of MBI. Go ahead and take it. It tells a little bit about the history of the devotion, how to pray the chaplet and the novena, as well as a short biography of Blessed Faustina...shorter than my little lecture, I assure you."
Taking the booklet from him, I said, "Thanks, I'll read it during my break, even though I'm probably not supposed to do that." Seeing the look on his face, I quickly added, "That's another story. We'll soon be at the Opera house, so I don't have time to tell you that one. So, you really like the devotion?"
He nodded his head and ssaid, "Yeah. I t goes quicker than a rosary so you can be done in about five minutes, even if you take it slow. That and the rosary got me through some tough times after I left MBI."
"You never really did say why you quit the bureau. I know what you told Erik and me last night. Is that all there was to that?" I asked quietly.
He shook his head and then said, "You know, I always felt that what a woman did with her body was her business and no one else's but I got to see first hand what goes on at those clinics. When I was still working for MBI, I helped with one of those bombing cases involving one of the abortion clinics in St. Louis. I got to talking with one of the workers at the clinic, and for someone who claims to be helping out these poor women seeking abortions, I have never seen so much hate and malice directed towards these women and the pro-lifers as well. I know that the pro-lifers are accused of not caring about these poor women, only their fetuses, but after what I saw..."
"What did you see?" I injected.
"Well, I saw one of these escorts go up to a pro-lifer, whose only crime was praying I might add, and start beating the bejesus out of the protester. And I didn't see this just once I might add, I saw this happen several times. Another time I saw an escort come up to a priest while Father was praying the rosary and rip the beads out of Father's hands and pull that rosary apart, bead by bead. But I guess the final straw was when, during a procession with the Blessed Sacrament, a bunch of women...women mind you, not men, break up the procession, rip the monstrance from the priest's hands, take the Blessed Sacrament out of the monstrance and desecrate the Blessed Sacrament by stepping on it, spitting on it and urinating on it, and all the while screaming 'Get your rosaries out of our ovaries!'"
"Couldn't the police do something?" I asked incredulously.
"Sis, we cops were under orders from the governor himself not to interfere! And, to top it all off, the protesters were charged with disturbing the peace! It's getting to be like Nazi Germany anymore and I decided that I had had enough and got another job. That's another reason I like this job I have now much better than MBI. I don't have to put up with politics other than the office kind, and I even get weekends off so I can go to Sunday Mass which I couldn't before. What about you, sis? Do you go to Mass?"
I sighed and then said, "Well, I can't go to daily Mass like I had started to do before the divorce, but I do try to get to Sunday Mass. Unfortunately, it's getting harder to do that nowadays because there are only four Catholic churches still open in Paris." Seeing Pete's jaw drop, I continued, "That's right. Only four--Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, the chapel at Rue de Bac and St. Famille, where I go on Sunday."
"What about outside of Paris? In the countryside?" he asked in disbelief.
"There are only six Catholic churches outside of Paris that are still open, and they're all shrines--Ars, La Salette, Liseux, Lourdes, Paray-le-Monial, and Pontmain. I guess the French government feels that they're good turist atttractions so they let the Church keep them open, but for how long is anybody's guess with this new pope," I replied.
"What do you think of this new pope?" Pete asked, as we neared the opera house.
"I don't!" I exclaimed softly, with a note of disgust in my voice.
"Really? Why?" he asked.
I shook my head and said, "This new guy is trying to undo what Pope John Paul II was trying to do. If I didn't know better, I'd swear the American president used her influence to get the new guy elected."
"Now, now, sis. Next, you'll be saying she was the one responsible for JPII's exile," Pete replied, looking at me out of the corner of his eye with just a hint of a smile on his face.
Not really feeling up to counter with more banter due to the seriousness of the subject, I only could say quietly, "I'm not so sure she wasn't." Just then the taxi pulled up next to the opera house. As I opened the door to get out, I turned to Pete and said, "Thanks for paying for my ride and for the company. I don't get a chance to talk politics and religion very often. The Fontaines aren't interested in American politics and like most French, they're not all that religious, and there's no one else I can talk to either."
"Will you be home for supper tonight?" Pete asked, and then added, "We could continue this conversation later."
I shook my head and said, "No, I've got to give Erik his English lesson tonight. I won't be home until late."
"How's he coming with his English lessons?"
"Better than I am with my singing lessons," I replied, shaking my head.
Pete smiled and said, "I always said you'd make a good teacher, sis."
I shook my head again and said, "This isn't
any of my doing. He's just really smart, that's all."
Pete chuckled at that remark, and then getting
serious, he said, "Just watch it with that guy. Remember what I told
you last night."
I nodded my head and then said, "I'll remember. See you tonight, if you're still up. Take care."
"You, too, sis," he said, as the taxi began to drive off.
I watched the taxi drive off for a moment,
and then turned to go into the opera house. I hope this afternoon
goes better than this morning, I thought to myself as I headed toward the
entrance. Just then, I saw Carlotta leave the opera house, calling
out her good-byes as she did so. Now I know this afternoon will be
better, I thought as I watched her get into another taxi and drive off.