Danielle Steel - Echoes

She and Antoine spoke of their plans late that night. He had made up a bed for himself on the couch in the living room, and gave Beata the small bedroom, which Maria had approved. Antoine had assured his cousins that he and Beata would be getting married soon. Maria didn't want the young people living in sin under her roof, and Walther agreed. There was no question of that. Beata and Antoine wanted to be married, too. He had looked into it as soon as he arrived and had discovered that as foreign nationals, they needed permission to marry in Switzerland. And in order to get the documents they needed, he borrowed Walther's truck and drove Beata into the neighboring town the next day. They needed their passports, a document that would allow them to marry in the regis-trar's office, and two Swiss citizens to vouch for them and act as witnesses. The fact that his maternal grandfather had been Swiss was of no use to them. His mother's nationality had been French, through her mother, as was his. The official who took the information from them said that they would have the papers they needed within two weeks.

“Will you be married civilly or by a priest?” the civil servant asked as a matter of routine, as Antoine looked blankly at her. Neither of them had thought about who would marry them, and Antoine had assumed they would just do it in a brief civil ceremony at the mairie. With no family at hand except the Zubers, and in their circumstances, it was simply an official act to obtain proper documents and legitimize their union so they could live together decently and in peace. There would be no ceremony, no fanfare, no reception, no party afterward, no celebration. Just a moment in time when they became husband and wife. How and where they would do it, and who would do it for them, hadn't even crossed either of their minds. After the clerk in the registrar's office asked the question, Antoine looked hesitantly at his wife-to-be. And as they walked back out into the summer sunshine, he hugged her with his right arm, and kissed her cautiously. Beata looked surprisingly calm as she smiled up at him.

“We'll be married in two weeks,” she said softly. This wasn't the wedding she had anticipated in her girlhood, but in every other way, it was the fulfillment of a dream. They had met ten months before and fallen in love the moment they met, and all she wanted now was to spend the rest of her life with him. They didn't know yet where they would live after the war, or even how they would live, or if their families would welcome them back in their midst once again. Beata hoped they would, but all she knew and all she wanted now was to be with him.

“Who would you like to marry us?” Antoine asked gently. The registrar had asked a reasonable question. Antoine didn't know if she would want a rabbi to do it, although he had to admit, that idea made him somewhat uneasy. They could be married in the registrar's office, if they chose to, but Antoine realized as he thought about it that he would prefer to be married by a priest.

“I hadn't really thought about it. We can't be married by a rabbi. You'd have to convert, and do a lot of studying to do that. It could take years,” Beata said sensibly. A mere two weeks seemed like an eternity to them. Neither of them was willing to wait years, particularly now that she was here, and they were living at the Zubers. Antoine had lain awake during most of the previous night, unable to sleep, knowing that she was in the bed they would soon share in the next room. After all they'd been through to be together, he was aching to claim her as his own.

“How do you feel about being married by a priest?” Antoine asked her honestly. He wasn't going to force her, although it was clearly what he would prefer.

“I don't know. I never thought about it. Just being married by the registrar seems a little bleak. I'm not sure it matters whether we are married by a rabbi or a priest. I've always thought it was one God watching us and caring about us. I'm not sure it makes a difference what church or synagogue He belongs to.” To Antoine, it seemed a novel idea. She was very liberal in her thinking, unlike her family.

On the way back to the farm they talked about it, and the possibility of her converting to Catholicism. She was surprisingly open-minded about it and said she would do it, if it meant a lot to him. She believed in her faith, but she loved Antoine, too. And if converting to Catholicism for him meant they could be married sooner, that was important to her. As they discussed it seriously, Antoine stopped the car at a little church. There was a small rectory behind it, and Antoine got out of the car, walked up the ancient stone steps, and rang the bell. A sign said that it was a tenth-century chapel, and the stone looked worn and weathered.

An elderly priest came out wearing his cassock, and smiled at the young man. They exchanged a few words as Beata waited in the car, and then Antoine gestured to her. She got out of the car, and approached cautiously. She had never spoken to a priest. She'd never seen one at close range, only walking past her on the street, but his face and eyes looked kind.

“Your fiancé tells me that you want to get married,” he said as they stood in the morning sunshine and fresh mountain air. There was a field of yellow wildflowers just beyond, and a small crumbling cemetery behind the church, where people were still buried. There was a small chapel at the back of the church, and a well, which dated back to the fourth century.

“Yes, we do want to get married,” Beata agreed, trying not to think of what her parents would say if they could see her talking to a priest. She half-expected to be struck by lightning, and another part of her felt surprisingly safe and at peace.

“You're not Catholic, I understand. You would need some private instruction, and I assume you want to convert.” Beata gulped. It was strange hearing him say the word. She had never thought she would be any faith but Jewish. But she had also never thought she would be married to Antoine or someone like him. And her earlier religious studies had opened her mind to other faiths. She assumed that in time, for Antoine's sake, her heart would follow. She was willing to convert out of love for him. “We could put you in catechism classes with the local children, but the last group just made their first communion, and the classes won't start again until after the summer. I gather that you want to be married in two weeks.” The priest glanced at Antoine's injured arm as he said it, and the innocence evident in Beata's face. Antoine had explained that he was French and Beata German, that he had been injured in the war, and they had no family to speak of, except two cousins with whom they lived. He made it clear that Beata had just arrived from Germany the day before, and they wanted their situation regularized, and did not want to live in sin. It was up to the priest to help them to meet their needs, and he agreed. He wanted to do all that he could. They looked like good people to him, and clearly their intentions were pure, or else they would not be stopping to see him. “Why don't you come inside for a moment, and we'll talk about it.”

He invited them in, and Antoine and Beata followed him inside to a small dark room. There was an enormous crucifix on one wall, and the room was lit with candles. A shrine to the Blessed Mother stood in the corner, as the priest sat on a small battered desk and Antoine pulled up two chairs for them. The room seemed somehow depressing, and yet with the kind old priest smiling at them, Antoine and Beata both felt at ease.

“Could you come in to see me for an hour every afternoon, Beata?” She nodded cautiously in answer to his question. She wasn't sure yet what was expected of her on the farm, or if Antoine would have time to drive her to the church. If not, she would have to walk a long way, but she was willing to do that, too.