One Choice (4 page)

Cahri held the letter out to Pastor Phillip. He took it, and after Margaret moved to his side, they read it. Refolding the letter, he sighed. “I guess my suggestion of declining the summons is out of the question.”

“Yes, sir. I tried reasoning and begging, but it seems the palace servants, at least the two with me, are loyal to the king. Although I don't know why I was chosen, and I don't feel at all worthy, I must go.” Cahri got up and hugged Pastor then Margaret, ready to be finished with this meeting and all the emotions it entailed. She hated crying. “I know I'll see you almost every day this week, but I wanted to take the time to tell you how much I'll miss you. Would you mind explaining this to everyone after I'm gone?” She sniffed and continued, “I can't imagine the prince will pick me. And if he doesn't…” Cahri glanced down at the tissue shredded in her hand. “If he doesn't, I'll be forced to leave Belikara, since I don't want to marry one of the nobles.”

Margaret squeezed her hand, but Pastor Phillip spoke. “I can envision you as Prince Josiah's wife. You are a wonderful young lady, Cahri.” He paused, scratching his ear, an indication something was on his mind. “Perhaps Pastor Ezra mentioned your name. He has come from the palace church to visit me here any number of times for our meetings. I believe you spoke with him at length several weeks ago when I was detained.”

“Perhaps.” Maybe Pastor Ezra had suggested her
.
“He was a nice man, but we didn't talk about anything extraordinary. My trips to the orphanage dominated most of our conversation
.
”

Margaret draped her arm over Cahri's shoulder. “Phillip is right, dear. Any man would be blessed to have you as his wife. You go out of your way to make everyone feel at ease and welcome. And the work you do for the orphanage is extraordinary.” The woman sniffed. “We love you and will miss you when you're gone.”

“Can we pray with you before you go?” Pastor asked as Margaret grabbed another tissue to dab at her eyes.

Cahri nodded. As if prayer helped anything. God didn't care about her. Her parents had served Him faithfully for many years, and they'd still died. Why would He care about her? Still, she stood there while they rested their hands on her shoulders and prayed. An unexpected peace wrapped around her like a warm robe.

No
.
She closed her heart to the feeling of comfort. Welcoming God back into her life wasn't high on her list of priorities.

The warmth disappeared, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead as others skittered down her back. As soon as Pastor Phillip said amen, she stepped away from their touch, inching toward the door. She wiped her cold, clammy hands on her skirt. “I have to go now. Thank you so much for all you've done for me these last three years. You have been like a second set of parents, and there aren't words to express my appreciation.”

“Cahri…” Pastor Phillip scratched his ear again. “Don't go just yet. There's something the Lord is leading me to say, and it's best said today rather than later in the week.” He waited while Cahri reclaimed her seat.

She tapped her sandaled foot on the beige carpet and fiddled with her purse.

“For some time now I have sensed your anger toward God.”

She jerked her head around to look at him. How could he know?

“I see I surprised you. I may be older, but I'm not blind. I had hoped over time you would respond to the gentle call of the Holy Spirit and let Him guide you back into the loving arms of your Heavenly Father, but it hasn't happened. I cannot let you walk out of here today without encouraging you to stop blaming God for your parents' death. Satan is the one who comes to steal, kill, and destroy, not God. God loves you and I'm certain you know it.”

Cahri's back stiffened, and she clutched her purse straps. She closed her eyes in an attempt to relax. She opened them again and stared straight at Pastor Phillip.

“God could have stopped it. He didn't.” She tried to control her voice, but bitterness laced her words.

“No, He didn't, and I don't know why. Still, you have to trust Him to know what's best for you. He does love you, Cahri.” Pastor Phillip's face radiated compassion, but she refused to give in to his plea.

God was wrong to take her parents. There's no way anyone would convince her otherwise. “A God who loved me wouldn't have let my parents die the way they did, leaving me alone.” Clutching her purse tighter, she pushed his counsel from her mind. She couldn't look at Pastor Phillip again. He didn't need to see the darkness which enveloped her heart. She stood, more than ready to leave. “Is there anything else?”

They stood as well, and Pastor Phillip rested his hand on her shoulder. “Just think about it, please. You know what I'm saying is true. You're angry, but God still loves you. Even when you're angry, He remains faithful.”

Margaret leaned over and hugged Cahri. “I'll continue praying for you. Let us know how you are from time to time, if you can.”

Pastor Phillip also pulled her close in a side hug. He held her there for a few more minutes before releasing her. She tensed. He's not going to pray again, is he?

“May God go with you.”

Cahri ducked her head and left them standing there. As she closed the door she heard Margaret's quiet sob.

Cahri lay on her bed trying to decide what she wanted to keep and what she didn't. Few things mattered so much she couldn't do without them. The two boxes she'd be allowed to keep with her would limit the mementos she'd bring. Most of it she'd pack and leave in storage, except the picture of her parents and the figurine her brother had sent from Paris.

Good grief! She groaned as she bolted up from the bed. How could she have forgotten about Paul?

Older by six years, he'd gone to college before she'd become a teenager. He'd come back for Christmas the first few years, but his schooling, work, and girlfriend took more of his time, and he came home less. She hadn't seen him since his wedding. Was it four or five years ago?

He hadn't attended their parents' funeral because of his wife's pregnancy. He didn't want to leave her so close to her due date. At the time, Cahri hadn't understood, but as the years passed, she recognized how difficult the choice must have been.

How had she allowed three years to pass by without phoning him? Time to correct that oversight. Her hands trembled as she found his number and dialed, hoping and praying she was doing the right thing.

“Allô,”
a female voice said.

Cahri took a deep breath. “
Allô,
may I speak to Paul
s'il vous plaît?
” Her nerves were so jumbled, she mixed her English and French.

“Who's calling?” The woman's perfect English put Cahri's French to shame.

“Grace.” Grace was her brother's contribution to her name, or so her parents had informed her, and he refused to call her anything else.

Sweat beaded above her lip, and her hands shook. Would he want to talk with her after all this time and the unkind things she'd said? Maybe she should hang up. She pulled the phone away from her ear, just as his voice came over the line.

“
Allô?
” Paul's deep voice caught her by surprise. He sounded… good. The ache of missing him caused her breath to catch in her throat.

“Hi, Paul.”

“Grace? What's wrong?”

“Does anything have to be wrong?” Her throat tightened.

“Well, we may not have spoken for three years, but I can still tell when you're upset.”

Cahri tried to hide the sniffle behind a tissue she'd grabbed from her side table.

“I know you were angry at me for not coming to Mom and Dad's funeral. I've tried to call you a few times since then, and I even wrote letters, but your number had changed and my letters came back. I figured you must have moved, maybe to the States like Mom and Dad wanted, but Uncle Thomas said he hadn't heard from you either. I've prayed for you every day.” A hitch in his voice sounded through the phone line. “
Is
something wrong, Gracey?”

Tears rolled down her face, and she couldn't speak for a few minutes. It had been a long time since he'd called her Gracey. She took a few deep breaths.

“Grace? What is it? You're worrying me.”

“Oh, Paul. I'm sorry I haven't contacted you. I know I acted rotten after Mom and Dad died, but I was alone and scared. Please forgive me.” Cahri sniffed and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling wishing she had put aside her feeling of betrayal sooner.

“I stayed in Belikara because I felt — feel at home here. I couldn't imagine starting over in an unfamiliar place when I hurt so much. It would have meant leaving Mom and Dad behind, and I couldn't do it. After the funeral, I moved into the city to an apartment. The house now belongs to the current mission pastor. I'm calling because I'm moving again and, well, I don't know when I'll be able to contact you.”

“What do you mean? Why won't you be able to contact me?”

She explained the situation to him.

“I'll arrange for tickets to get you out of there right now. I'll call you back in five minutes with your flight information.” Anger radiated through the phone as he took command.

“Paul, wait!” she said before he could hang up. “I can't leave. While you and I may not agree with all of the customs here, they are what they are. I agreed to obey the laws of the land when I chose to become a citizen last year. Staying is the right thing to do. Besides, they've already seized my passport, and the consequence of rejecting the summons is death… and as unusual as it is, I'd still choose being the prince's wife over dying.” She picked up the little Eiffel Tower figurine. “If I'm not chosen then I'll be free to leave, and I'd like to come see you.” She took a steadying breath. “If it's okay?” Even if it meant her heart broke from having to leave this country and its children.

“You know it is, Grace. We'd be glad to have you. Are you sure this is the right thing for you? Have you prayed about it?”

“Prayed?” She snorted. “I haven't prayed since Mom and Dad died.” The comment popped right out of her mouth. She continued talking, hoping it would distract him. “However, it's not like I have much choice. I've been assigned a servant and a bodyguard. I'm not sure if they're here to protect me or to make sure I don't run, but either way, there's no getting out of this. I just want you to know I'm okay, and I've been assured I will be well taken care of, at least for the next few months.”

Crash!
Cahri jolted up out of bed. She heard Anaya mutter about finding a broom, but lay back down to let the woman figure it out for herself.

“I'm sorry, Paul.” She inhaled. She had to stop thinking about the uncertainty of the future and live each day as it came. “Did you have a boy or girl?” Changing the subject helped her regain control.

“A girl, and twin boys since then. Donette Marie is three and the twins, Geoffrey and Marcel, are about to turn one.” His voice still hinted at his anger, but as he spoke of his children, it softened. His willingness to let it go and change the subject eased her mind.

“Wow, three kids. I'm happy for you. Mom and Dad would be proud you named your daughter after both of them. What do they look like?” She tried to picture the faces of her niece and nephews as he described them, but couldn't. A lump tightened her throat. “I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch.” The burning behind her eyes increased. “I will call again when I can, but I have to go now. I love you.” She choked out the last few words as she listened to the one person on earth who still cared. She hated hanging up, but her tears wouldn't wait.

He bid her a hesitant goodbye, and she eased the phone into its cradle. Grabbing another tissue from the nightstand, she swiped it across her face.