© 2024 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

All Aboard Andi's Dream

Chapter 10

American Angel

Memorial day kicks off summer in Western New York, and in Springville it starts with John, Macy, and Paul performing John's dramatic reading of the Sullivan Ballou letter in church. John and Macy first did that dramatic reading in church when he was initially hired, but word got out and Springville asked them to take part in "Spring In The Park". They did the dramatic reading in the park on Howard Avenue, and that became a Springville tradition. The park was across the street from Paul and Andi's beautiful six bedroom Victorian home.

Paul, John, and Macy would perform on the small bandstand-gazebo in the park and draw small crowds of admirers. There they would warm up playing songs from the revolutionary war and the civil war. Macy would bring her violin, Paul and John would bring their guitars. Paul would also play his harmonica and both played recorders, but John was much better with them than Paul. The recorder is a small woodwind that Paul and John learned to play in school and John stuck with it and became quite good. It filled in as the fife for the revolutionary war songs.

They played songs like John Brown's Body, Battle Cry of Freedom, and Tenting Tonight on the Old Campground. Then, as the day cooled, Macy played the sweet strains of Ashokan Farewell on her violin and John read the Sullivan Ballou letter. The letter was a letter written early in the civil war by Major Sullivan Ballou, and in the letter he prepared his wife for his eventual death. Paul joined Macy's violin playing, by strumming along on his guitar. Considered one of the most beautiful, haunting, and sorrowful letters ever written, John had been reading it at Springville Congregational Church on Memorial Day since the day he was hired there, and he read it to remind his flock of what the cost of their freedom is.

This was the first time Andi heard it. At church on Sunday, she was the teacher's assistant in Children's Church and she heard the strains of Asokan Farewell, but she's been hearing them practice for weeks so she didn't think about it. Now sitting in the park in the early evening, the girls playing nearby in the park's sandbox with several neighbors' children, and she heard the words of Major Sullivan Ballou trying to comfort his wife as he heads into battle. She was stunned. John has a beautiful singing voice but his speaking voice reached out, unamplified, touching their hearts.

Veronica von Köster, a friend who lived just two blocks away, sat next to Andi and, like Andi, she was in love with a veteran. They listened to the beautiful haunting words from over a century ago, and as the letter closed, Paul and Macy ended the music with a long pull of the bow and one final chord on the guitar. Then John said the words that neither Andi nor Veronica were ready for.

"One week later, Major Sullivan Ballou died at the First Battle of Bull Run."

Andi and Veronica wept for the widows of soldiers, Andi's mom and her own husband were widows, while Veronica wept realizing how close she came to never meeting Josh who nearly died in a shot up AC-130 gunship. Andi finally looked up and she and Veronica were surrounded by Paul, John, Macy and Josh, Veronica's boyfriend. "That's how we start summer in Springville," said John. "A reminder that freedom isn't free."

"It costs a hefty fucking fee," muttered Paul and Josh under their breath, then they fist bumped.

"La fermer!" (shut your mouth), hissed Macy.

Josh looked hurt and said, "pardonnez-moi." (Pardon me)

Macy rolled her eyes and repeated herself more politely, "Excusez-moi, pourriez-vous s'il vous plaît fermer la bouche?" (Excuse me, could you please be quiet?)

"Oui, douce dame, je le ferai." (Yes, sweet lady, I will.) said Josh.

"Nice!" said Paul as they started packing up Andi and Veronica's folding chairs. "Where'd you learn the French lingo?"

"Well, ah had ta pay attention to something in fuckin' high school... OW!" Macy let loose with a rapid fire string of French as she bopped Josh in the head with her violin case.

"Really classy, wing-nut," said Veronica. (Wing-nut is a derogatory word for Air Force people, especially fliers.)

"I had to lighten it up," whispered Josh. "You and Andi were looking suicidal."

"So what else do you do in the summer, besides watch the garden grow?" asked Andi.

"We cruise," grinned Paul.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

They gathered for a memorial day picnic at Paul and Andi's house. The twins laughed and squealed as they ran about playing while music from the high school band across the street in the park filled the air. Friends happily chatted with friends and the warm sun shined down on them all. "Viens ici et assieds-toi mon amour!" (Come here and sit down, my love) called John. He was sitting on a chaise lounge and was urging Macy to join him.

Children running about, laughter, music and the mouthwatering scent of chicken covered with Chiavetta's Marinade roasting on the grill. Josh and Veronica soon showed up with a large bowl of cold pasta salad and Macy waded in the cool, clear waters of the swimming pool with Andi. Je viens! (I'm coming!) Macy called to John, and she got out of the pool and dried off. She sat between John's legs as he reclined on a chaise lounge and leaned back against her man. Soon, Lucy and Gus arrived with a cooler full of refreshments. Paul handed Andi and Macy tall cool glasses of Arnold Palmer style Iced Tea, Macy's current favorite temptation.

"Here you go darling," said Paul as he handed Macy the drink. "If you ever tire of that short stick-in-the-mud that you married, you can come join Andi and I." He waggled his eyebrows at the tall, slim, Nubian beauty.

"Jean? I haven't tried to stick him in the mud. It may be fun? Will it not?"

"Let's try it at the cabin after it rains," said John as he wrapped his arm around Macy and held her close. He snuggled with her and nibbled her ear and whispered French obscenities in her ear, promises for later that night.

How did she get so lucky? As his arms, once hated, now desired, wrapped around her, she wondered how did it suddenly turn out so right? The sun was warm, and the breeze was perfect and Macy felt her mouthwatering from the scent of the Chiavetta's chicken. This was the day she always wanted: friends, children, and laughter. She snuggled back on John as the sun warmed her up.

Macy closed her eyes and dreamed of her youth for the first time in a very long time. They were the only black family in Lac d'Eau Froide, a tiny hamlet near Blanc-Sablon, Quebec, where young Marie Tremblay went to school. Blanc Sablon means white sand, but it wasn't white sand, it was snow. It was cold and ugly there. The highest temperature she could remember was 78° (25.5°C). It was always humid and cold. In the winter, the normal temperature was 2° (-16°C). And there wasn't a tree in sight. It was like living on a tundra or maybe on a high mountain slope.

And they were so isolated. Maria lived with her father Jacques Tremblay, and her older brothers Valentin and Roland on the very eastern edge of Quebec and there was no road west linking them up with the rest of Quebec. It was like Quebec didn't want them. There was a road west that went 69 km (43 miles) to the village of Old Fort, but after that, nothing. Beyond Old Fort was 425 km (264 miles) of wilderness. Their only way out of Blanc-Sablon to Montreal and the civilization it promised was a rutted road eastward that became the Trans-Labrador Highway. If you wanted to go to metropolitan Canada, you had to take a ferry across the St. Lawrence river to Newfoundland, then take a ferry across the Gulf of St. Lawrence to Nova Scotia, and then catch a bus for a full days ride westward to Montreal. Two full days of non-stop travel, if you don't miss a connection. Any missed connection would cost 12 hours of waiting for the next ferry or bus.

Marie's dad and her brothers were fishermen and spent their days fishing for cod and haddock. The joke among the townsfolk of Blanc-Sablon was Sablon blanc, pêcheurs noirs (White sand, black fishermen) In school she was ignored or hated by her classmates. She was taller and smarter than her classmates and much prettier, even though she ignored the few compliments she got. For a young girl, when you told you're ugly by 20 people and pretty by one, you discard that individual's opinion. Unfortunately, that individual opinion never came from her parents. The day that started Marie Tremblay's revolt was a day in her freshman year of high school.

"Basketball today girls," said Mister Gagnon, the gym teacher. "Emma and Maria you're our captains please come up here and pick your teams. Not you Marie, I said Maria. Learn to listen." Marie was mortified. She loved basketball. It was the only game she ever played with her older brothers. She's taller, faster, stronger and better than any of these girls. If not a captain, she should be picked first, but that didn't happen. Like always, she was ignored. When the two teams were picked, she stood alone as they went off and played. They had an even number of girls in the class. How could she be ignored?

She stood on the sidelines at the mid court line, unpicked and angry. She had enough, and she was going to do something about it. As the play moved from her right to left, she dashed out on the court and stole the ball from Alice Roy, who was lollygagging along, then drove to the basket behind Alice for a perfect layup. Macy recovered the ball and waited under the basket, dribbling slowly, daring them to take the ball from her. All the girls realized what had happened. The game changed from six versus five to eleven versus one. Marie waited for them to cross the mid court line as they headed toward her. That's when she charged. She drove straight at them and anyone who stood in her way got knocked on their ass.

She made it to the mid court line then adjusted her steps and just as she planted her foot behind the three point line; she let fly and scored the first girl's three-point shot in her school's history. She continued running, and she recovered the ball as Mr. Gagnon shouted, "Marie Tremblay! You're not on the court, give the ball back!"

Marie dribbled off the court and into the girls' locker room, where she placed the ball on top of a locker. She changed quickly, not surprised at all that no one followed her. As she tied her sneakers, she noticed that Mr. Gagnon was standing next to her. "Where is the ball, Marie?"

"Touch me and I scream rape," said Marie, and she got up and walked away. "Espèce de cochon raciste!" (You racist pig!) she spat as she left. That was it. She was not putting up with it anymore and she walked out of school, hopefully forever.

She stopped at the convenience store on her way home. She was thinking of buying ​la boisson non-alcoolisée (soft drink) but instead started leafing through a Parisian fashion magazine. Such silly looking women. They were homely! Marie was sure that she could look better, especially if she had a good makeup artist.

"Marie, the library is a hundred kilometers that way," said Mr. Bouchard, the only person in the Blanc-Sablon area that could be considered her friend. By "one hundred kilometers that way" he was referring to Redbay, Labrador, the only nearby town large enough to have a full size library. It was actually closer to two hundred and seventy kilometers that way.

"You are not a lending library? No?" said Marie with an enormous grin, but she continued to scan the magazine. Then she saw it. An advertisement for models at a photography studio in Montreal. No experience needed! She took a notebook out of her book bag and wrote all the information from the ad in her notebook. Montreal isn't far, right? "How far is it to Montreal, Mister Bouchard?" she asked as she put the magazine back on the rack.

"Two thousand two hundred kilometers."

Marie frowned and said, "There's no way to get there from here."

Mister Bouchard tapped away at his laptop. "No, little tall one," his pet name for her. "A bus ticket would cost seventy eight dollars."

"Bus Ticket?"

"Oui, you take the ferry to St. Barbe in Newfoundland and the bus station is there at the ferry landing.

"Merci, Mister Bouchard!" and Marie ran all the way home. When she got there, no one was home. Her father and brothers were probably out on the boat. If not, they were at La Palourde Heureuse (The Happy Clam) a fisherman's bar. And her mother? Marie was never sure what her mother did or where she went. Her mother was rarely at home.

Marie called TransCanada bus lines and discovered that Mr. Bouchard was right, the bus left St. Barbie at 7:24 PM; she had plenty of time. But she had a 90-minute ferry ride on an old clunker first.

Marie packed her backpack with clothes and underwear and she counted her cash, almost three hundred dollars. It was all money from chores and working on the boat. There was nothing in Lac d'Eau Froide or Blanc-Sablon to spend the money on, so it accumulated. She made her bed, grabbed her ID card and wallet, and left. There would be no goodbyes, no note. It was clear to Marie that her birth without testicles was a major disappointment to her family. She couldn't remember the last kind words her mother told her. To be honest, she couldn't remember the last words her mother said to her at all.

The ferry from Blanc-Sablon to St. Barbe on the big island of Newfoundland was indeed on une vieille péniche. To be honest, it wasn't a barge, but it was quite old. The ride in her father's fishing boat was smoother and quieter. It took two hours to complete the ninety-minute crossing because the old clunker could barely make headway against the swell. The boat was filled with tourists and their cars, Newfies, and a few locals going to St. Barbe for groceries. At least there were a few whales and quite a few dolphins to look at, animals that her father calls his competition.

Finally, they arrived at St. Barbe, and Marie stepped off the boat and dashed to the bus. She made it to the bus on time and stepped aboard a passenger bus for the very first time. The bus, commonly nicknamed the Newfie Express, was quite nice. It was new and was used to haul tourists across the island of Newfoundland. It even smelled nice. The high-backed seats were comfortable and inviting compared to the ancient bus her former school used. She found a seat near the back, stowed her backpack on the overhead rack, then sat down for the three-hour ride to Port aux Basques on the western edge of Newfoundland.

As the bus traveled, people would move about the bus, and the men would glare at her. It caused her to wonder, haven't they ever seen a teenager before? Finally, a man sat next to her, pulled a book out of his pocket and nodded to her. "Howdy," he said in English, leaving Marie to wonder what he meant. Then he opened his book and started reading. Was he a westerner? Was he from Alberta or Saskatchewan? She was warned about them. Marie was told they hated the French language and people who spoke it. Maybe he's an American! It couldn't be. She hasn't been raped yet.

Marie tried to get some sleep, but she couldn't. She had someone from the prairie provinces next to her, or possibly an American (but she hasn't been raped yet.) She couldn't sleep, she had to know! "Where are you from?" she asked in stilted English. She always scored high in English at school and loved to listen to audio books in English.

"I'm from a place you probably never heard of," he replied in horrible French. His accent screamed American.

"Tell me. Please?"

"Des Moines."

"Monks? You're a Monk?" she started laughing and showed the first American on earth the smile that she hoped would grace a million magazine covers.

The man thought about it, rolled his eyes upward and nodded. Des Moines means "monks" in English. "It is a town far south of Winnipeg." Actually, he was south of west Ontario, but there were no landmarks that he knew of on the western edge of Ontario.

An American who lives south of Manitoba. Marie realized she was right on both guesses. He's a westerner and an American, and she still hadn't been raped yet. They talked for a while, he in his painful sounding French, she in her stuttering English, but they were able to understand each other that way. She found out he was a sailor in the US Navy and just got out. He was touring places he dreamed of going before he returned home to his family. She made up a tale of being a young fashion model and was touring her old hometown before returning to Montreal for a grueling photoshoot.

He talked about what it was like to tour the world but only see rolling waves through a porthole. He was an engine mechanic on a "gator freighter" the USS New York, LPD-21 and spent most of his time below deck. The only land he saw was Mayport Naval Station. The sailor told her tales of Florida, a land she dreamed about. Warm and sunny, a tropical paradise. He knew using the term gator freighter was a mistake. It's hard to see the humor in a slang term like that because the French translation is 'cargo alligator' which is far from funny so he had to explain to her that gator was a slang term for marines, then he had to explain what marines were.

For Marie's part, she was just delighted that she met a 26 year-old man (double her age!) that's not treating her like a child. She told him she was 20, but he saw right through that. He guess she was 17, but he was four years off. The American sailor realized immediately how young she was and he realized she was going to be prey for some of the men on the bus, so he assigned himself to be her chaperone. Occasionally a man would look her over but a word from the American and he would move along.

"You really shouldn't travel alone," said the American.

"I do not worry. My brothers told me how to handle myself." They taught her that a well-placed knee will stop an attacker in his tracks, and she's found that to be the case several times. The bus rolled through Newfoundland and Marie reveled in finding someone to talk to. Her thirteen years of social isolation were finally at an end, and they talked quietly as they rolled westward.

It was late when they reached Port aux Basques, Newfoundland. She said goodbye to her American friend and was halfway to the ferry when she realized she had never got his name. Soon she was on the MV Blue Puttees and realized that she should have spent the extra $18 for reserved seating. The reserved seats were wide and comfortable looking. She ran her hands over the plush upholstery and was immediately warned that the seats were reserved even though, in the end, less than half would be filled.

MV Blue Puttees, a RO-PAX ferry (Roll-On Roll-Off Passenger Ferry) of the Marine Atlantic fleet, was named after the Royal Newfoundland Regiment, who showed up to World War One wearing blue leg bindings (Puttees) and got the nickname the Blue Puttees. The passenger area of the Blue Puttees was huge, 96 cabins with two and four-bed layouts, plus 500 reclining seats with headphone jacks USB ports. There was an upper deck with panoramic viewing, but this was a night crossing. It was cold and there wouldn't be anything to see.

As the vehicles slowly made their way onto the Blue Puttees, Marie searched the passenger areas of the modern ship for a place where she could sit down without being charged an arm and a leg. She couldn't sit at the snack bar, that seating for customers only. They wouldn't let her sit on the deck, either. She offered to pay the $18 for reserved seating, but she was told that she had to wait before the Roll-On passengers were aboard.

She was also bothered by men who seemed to want to do more than talk. They plied her with beer, something she didn't like in the least, and several offered to take her back to a private cabin. She had an obnoxious admirer who wanted to touch her constantly, and he was scaring her. He was trying to convince her he was an NHL player. He started touching her breast through her shirt and she was terrified. She was close to tears when a familiar voice called, "Marie! There you are!" It was her American friend.

"Oui! Where have you been?" she gasped in relief.

He took her by the arm and said in his version of French, "Mother and I have been looking all over for you, come, let's sit down." Without a glance at her assailant, he led the terrified teen to the reserved seating area. There, they relaxed, and the cruise was much nicer for Marie.

"Thank you," she said in her stilted English. "I'm not sure what I was going to do."

"Don't let yourself be caught alone. These men are cowards and won't bother you if there are responsible people around... unless they are drunk." Then he asked a question that shocked her. "Why are you running away from home?"

"I'm not running away from anything but a bed and an occasional meal. I'm running toward a home, I hope." She told of how she felt all alone, how she was hated for being born female and how she was treated because she was black. "They didn't insult me or make fun of me; they didn't do anything." She looked at her hands, her long slim fingers that could mend a fishing net as fast as any other fisher on the dock, but no one would hire the fille de pêche noire, the black fishing girl, not even her father.

He tugged on her so that her head was on his shoulder. "Get some rest pretty girl. I'm afraid you have a long road ahead of you."

It was a long road, but she was unaware of how long it was. When she awoke, they were docking in Nova Scotia and she and her American angel had to part ways. He was heading south toward New England; she was heading upriver to Montreal. "You've been so nice to me; I wish there was something I could give you in thanks."

"I would love more than anything if you would freely give me your first kiss before some cad takes it." And there on the MV Blue Puttee she gave her first kiss, a precious gift to a white American. An act that would surely enrage her brothers if they ever found out.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

The bus ride from North Sidney, Nova Scotia to Montreal, Quebec, was long and lonely. Without her American angel as she thought of him, the road was boring and alone. She took off her parka and wore it like a blanket with the hood over her face, and she was left alone as she tried to sleep for the rest of the trip.

After what seemed like an eternity of traveling alongside the St. Lawrence river (twenty-six hours), she had arrived! Montreal was huge and exciting! There was something to see everywhere. People filled the streets. Each building was a marvelous work of art, and the scents were intoxicating from flowers to roasting meats. Her nose, which was tuned to the odor of fish her whole life, was having a field day.

She finally found the address for the studio, 1325 Rue Baxter, the sign on the door said Le Beau Studios, Bienvenu (Welcome) and opening the door, Marie found a staircase to the second floor. It was a loft over what appeared to be a warehouse. Her knocks went unanswered, but the door at the top of the stairs wasn't locked. In fact, it wasn't latched, and it swung open with her knocking. " Bonjour?" she called as she opened the door.

A photographer with a burning cigarette hanging out of his mouth looked down at the setting screen of his camera as he stood in the middle of a cluttered room. Without looking up, he said, "How can I help you?"

"I'm here about the ad in Dame de Paris magazine."

"Did you bring any headshots?"

"I... uh... no. I am just starting and the ad said no experience needed."

"I'm sure you have some experience we can use, come, we are just starting a shoot." He led her to a studio that was dressed like a young girl's dream bedroom and in the middle stood a tall, muscular man. A tall, muscular naked man, with a huge erection.

Growing up in a tiny shack with her father and two brothers and a mostly absentee mother, Marie was not shocked at the sight of a cock. They had an outdoor shower to wash off the stink of the fish and often Macy would come home from school and see her dad or a brother in the shower with the curtain not drawn. No, the cock wasn't what shocked Marie; it was the tiny blond girl.

There was a tiny, naked blond girl that looked younger than Marie and she was kneeling next to the large stupid looking man. "Ok just the tip of your tongue this time Emily," the photographer called, and she extended her tongue to the enormous cock. The photographer leaned forward with the camera, shooting picture after picture, and he said things like "Perfect! Now look up at his eyes... just roll your eyes up, keep your tongue on his dick, yes!"

Stifling a scream of horror, Marie dashed from the room. She ran from home and spent so much of her hard earned money for this? To be a slut? Her only thought was to run back to Nova Scotia and find her American angel. He could help. Maybe he could find her a job in Iowa? Never once did she think of returning to the fishing village that hated her.

Marie dashed to the door, tears of rage and anguish filled her eyes. She was almost out of the studio when someone grabbed her wrist. A woman's voice purred, "Don't run my friandise au chocolat," (Chocolate treat) she had a Parisian accent! "Seth, he is such a pig! Has he been running ads again? No experience needed?"

Ashamed, Marie nodded her head.

"Let me look at you... how tall?"

"One eighty seven centimeters." (6' 2")

"And you weigh what... sixty four, sixty five kilograms?"

"Fifty nine," said Marie nervously. (130 lbs.) She probably looked heavier because of the parka and the loose man's jeans she wore.

"That is tall for a photographer's model, but..." the blond angry looking woman backed up and said, "Walk toward me like you want to kill me, but dare not to."

All Marie could think of was John Wayne. According to her father, John Wayne was the baddest badass of all. Marie walked toward the woman, thinking of an angry John Wayne, and the woman smiled. "We can work with this. Come with me, let's get out of here. You come to my studio. I am Romée Beaulieu; I find and train models from all over the world. I come here to find the petit poisson (minnows) before that pig can touch them. I cast my net and I find you!"

"I am a guppy?" asked Marie.

"Oui, but in a few weeks you will be un requin (a shark)!"

Marie furrowed her brows as they walked a few blocks to another studio. Shark does not have a good connotation at all unless you cook them on a barbeque grill. "So, you want me on the runway?"

"No, I want you to own the runway," grinned the woman. "What is your name dear?"

"Marie Tremblay"

"C'est n'importe quoi! (That's nonsense) There's no Marie Tremblay here, there is a Romée but that is moi. You, I shall call Macy until we find a proper stage name for you."

"What's wrong with Marie Tremblay?"

"Si commun! (so common) Every little girl in Quebec is named Marie Tremblay. You might as well be named Jim Smith!" They entered another studio, and she smiled. "Do not worry Macy. We shall find you a name. Claude! Come see my Quebecois belle femme!"

A skinny effeminate man appeared from behind yards of hanging fabric. He looked Macy up and down and said, "You found her! This is the one!" He looked at Marie from all angles and said, "Yes... come dear, follow me." And he led a very confused Marie behind yards of fabric hanging from above to an open studio with a stage and runway. Several loud clicks filled the air as Claude turned on the spotlights that glared down on the practice runway. "Step up here honey." Macy climbed up on the catwalk. Jeans, t-shirt, parka and backpack. All of it was hand-me-downs from her brothers.

Romée Beaulieu and Claude Roy (pronounced "wah") sat down and looked up at her and smiled. "That's the one Romée."

"Oui, she is." Then Romée snapped at Macy. "How old are you?" Marie paused, terrified, but Romée said, "Tell the truth. We can work with the truth, but if you lie and I get caught with an underage model not properly tended to, we both go to jail."

"Th... thirteen. I will be fourteen next month though!"

"That's fine," said Romée, as she and Claude nodded. "We can work with that. You will train for six hours a day, and you will continue your schooling every morning. None of my girls are stupid. If you work for me I want good grades."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Where are you staying?" Marie just shrugged. Staying somewhere was never part of her plan. She just left. "Just fell off the turnip truck? Ok, we have rooms in the back..."

This was the start of the busiest, craziest year of Marie's life. She worked with a tutor and three other girls every morning, then every afternoon she worked with Romée and Claude, developing her skills. Soon photographers came in and began photographing them and Marie gasped when she saw the picture. Mr. Bouchard and her American Angel were right. She was pretty!

She excelled in modeling. She had an ability to adjust her attitude for the clothing she wore. If she was wearing a light, fun sun dress she was joyful Macy, happy to be picking the flowers and soaking up the sun. If she was wearing leather and chrome, she was badass Macy, ready to take on the chief of the biker gang. She was instantly in demand by showrunners who saw Romée's stable of models. This 14 year old girl was becoming famous as the unnamed, but desired, La Femme Noire.

Romée was not allowing Macy out in public before she had several months of training, along with good grades in her schoolwork. The tutor concentrated on math, science, literature, and English as a second language. Macy excelled at all of them, especially writing. She loved to write stories of far-away lands she learned about just to write the story.

"Macy, do you have a name yet? It is time to apply for your passport."

"Oui, it is Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais." She chose Marie-Claude (pronounced Mare-Cloud) for a reminder of her old life, Solange (pronounced Solanzhe) because it sounded cool, and Dagenais (Da-zhe-nay) because she liked Pierre Dagenais who was playing defense for Les Canadiens de Montréal, the Habs.

Romée nodded her approval. "Big girl, big name." She had seen Macy practicing her new signature last week, so she thought it was about time.

"Macy, you are now Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais, you are an employee of the Beaulieu agency. We are different than most agencies. If you work for me and you listen to what I say, do what I tell you, you will make money. I will demand nothing but your obedience and thirty two percent. I ask no fees, I even pay for your travel, but if you disobey, you are on your own with the clothes on your back and one set of headshots. Do you understand?"

"Oui madam Beaulieu," said Marie-Claude.

"No, you do not. But when you meet the other girls out there you will. I do not hire models; I choose sisters and we work together as a team. We take care of each other, am I right Claude?"

"She is right Marie," said Claude. "No other agency operates like this. We don't make as much money as other agencies, but we have the best clients. The contracts we fill are the envy of the modeling world and our girls are paid better than anywhere else. Other models are aching to join our family."

The next day, Romée presented Marie-Claude with all the paperwork she needed to change her name and apply for a passport. With that complete, it was time for her first show. It was a fashion event there in Montreal, and Marie-Claude was going to be on display for the Quebecois fashion world to see.

Romée demanded a biography from all of her girls, and Marie-Claude turned it into a writing challenge. Daughter of a fisherman who hated her? No. Even if it was true, it's not what she wanted to be known as. She listed her previous occupation as an orphan and wrote that she was raised in a convent orphanage in Eastern Quebec. Her parents dropped her off at the orphanage on a dark and stormy night and returned to America.

"No," demanded Romée. "You can make up a previous life all you want but drop the last line."

"It's true!" insisted Marie-Claude.

"No, we both know it is not. We are going to be going to America soon, I do not want to accuse Americans of ditching unwanted babies in Canada. If they hate you they will tell you to go home. However, these Americans... if they like you they will open their hearts to you."

Marie thought of her American Angel and said with a grin, "tellement vrai!" (So true!)

"We don't want to piss off your future audience. Marie, you may be able to write good lies, but you can't tell one to save your life. The orphanage was run by the good sisters of Saint Hildegard of Vinzgouw... who the hell is that?"

"Hildegard of Vinzgouw?" asked Marie innocently. "She's the daughter of Count Gerold of Vinzgouw and Emma of Alamannia, the daughter of Hnabi, the Duke of Alamannia. Hildegard was Charlemagne's second wife and she..."

Romée held up a hand, stopping Marie-Claude. She could feel a headache coming on. She was sure that Marie-Claude looked all that up just for her bio. "The Sisters of Saint Hildi never told you anything about your parents. End of story."

"Yes ma'am," said Marie-Claude as she tried to hide her grin.

The Montreal Autumn Fashion show was Marie-Claude's first showing to the world, and she was a hit. If Marie-Claude had a problem on the runway, it was that she smiled a lot. Many outfits called for a stern look and she wasn't able to provide that look on her first time on the runway. It was so much fun! The crowd, the lights, the music, the applause. How do you frown through all that? Marie-Claude's cheerfulness spread and the other models had the same problem. It was a cheerful group of new models that strutted on the catwalk that afternoon. They didn't appear fearful as young models normally are at their first big show.

"What was that?" asked Romée Beaulieu after the show.

"I'm sorry," said Marie-Claude. The other models stood behind her. She's younger than any of the other models, but she's taller than all of them and she was the only black girl in the group, but most of all, she was known to all as Romée's daughter, so somehow she got elected as their leader. "It was fun!" she gushed.

"Imagine how much fun it will be if you bother to do it right next week!" shouted Romée. She punctuated her angry shout with a kiss on Marie-Claude's cheek.

The next week was Denver! They were in America! Maybe her angel will watch! Des Moines is near Denver, isn't it? The show in Denver wasn't as big as the show in Montreal, but it was important. There are not very many fashion shows in Denver, so it received a lot of attention. Marie-Claude was able to contain herself this time. She walked down the catwalk several times, and the crowd loved her. Cameras flashed with each step. She glared just over their heads. They'll never know she wasn't looking in their eyes. Then she'd turn and sashay back to the stage, her cute ass swinging in time with the loud music that was being played. Once behind the curtain, she ducked back to the dressing rooms for makeup and hair, then she lined up to go again.

The Americans were crazy! Their afterparty was incredible! It was loud and boisterous, the complete opposite of Montreal. That night 14 year-old Marie had alcohol for the first time in her life, and later she decided it was the last time too. In Denver, she was given a Squirt & vodka, which she found was delicious! It was followed by two more, which were followed by many more, and she enjoyed the party tremendously!

At least she was told she enjoyed it. Without warning, she was sick, and the party was over for her. Romée and Claude took care of their new star, who swore all night that she'd never drink again.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure," muttered Romée. "Do you have any idea how many times I have heard that?"

"Never," groaned Marie-Claude as she knelt next to a toilet. "Never again." It was a promise that she was able to keep other than the occasional glass of wine or cold beer at the Habs (Montreal Canadiens) game.

"Do you like ginger ale?" asked Romée as she held Marie-Claude's hair back so it wouldn't drop into the toilet.

"Nooooo... eeewww uuugggg..." and she vomited another full stomach.

"From now on you carry a glass of ginger ale with you. That way someone won't try to put another drink in your hand." She discovered it worked. If she walked around a party with a highball glass full of ginger ale, she didn't attract free drinks. That and avoiding parties helped a lot. She was beginning to truly enjoy her studies as her tutor branched out into psychology.

Marie-Claude was the star of the agency. She took the live shows all by storm: Miami, Los Angeles, New York, then London, Paris, Berlin, and Rome. Her head spun with the shows, the stars, the parties, and the money. She purchased a condo in Montreal with her proceeds, but she never bought a car. Most of her pay went into the bank. She wanted to make sure she would never go back to a shack in a fishing village.

Romée had a stable of over two dozen girls, and most were experienced models and were very competitive. The world of modeling is filled with models, but good openings for models are few. Marie-Claude was getting the shows that other girls would die for, and there were some that would kill for those opportunities.

Then came the day that Romée went to Marie-Claude and said, "Let's try photography."

"How hard can it be?" asked Marie-Claude with a huge smile.

It turned out to be much harder than she expected. The photographers that Romée employed worked quickly and were used to her agency's equipment. The outside photographers were slow, their hair and makeup people were slow, and for the first week Marie-Claude was going out of her mind, waiting. Everything was waiting. The only time the job seemed to do anything was when she finally got in front of a photographer and he took a dozen shots. Then everything stopped. They adjusted her hair or outfit or the backdrop or the lighting, then finally the photographer took a few more shots. This cycle repeated over and over until the shoot was complete. She brought her schoolbooks with her and had a lot of time to study. She did her schoolwork while waiting and before she knew it; she had doubled her income with still photography and she had her high school equivalency diploma.

After Marie-Claude posed for a year, she flew to Luxembourg city for a photoshoot in the old quarter of the city that summer. She was only escorted by Corrine Favreau, another model on the shoot and one of the most experienced models in the Beaulieu Agency. Marie-Claude truly felt adult as she hustled through the Frankfurt airport and caught a train to Luxembourg city. She was even offered champagne on the flight, but she turned it down in favor of a cup of tea.

She loved Luxembourg and she couldn't wait to get there. The city looked like a fairytale castle and there were so many French-speaking people that didn't make fun of her Canadian accent there. She met a black Belgian man named Rémy Martel who played hockey and spoke "Français Canadien" and he showed her around the city. She was enchanted with the beauty of the city and her handsome escort. However, after dinner, he wanted something that she wasn't ready for. As they walked along the beautiful River Alzette, Rémy whispered in her ear, "Let's go to my room and make love until dawn!"

"No, I am sorry Rémy, that is saved for marriage, and that will only happen after I am eighteen."

"How old are you?" the hockey player snapped.

"Fifteen," said Marie-Claude.

He glowered at her. "I'm not waiting three years for something you should be handing to me."

"Handing to you?" Marie-Claude almost shrieked. "I am one of the top models on earth! You're playing street hockey in a junior rated league. You should be honored that I am..." Marie-Claude didn't get the chance to finish that statement because he slugged her in the gut and walked away in a cloud of French obscenities.

He left her bent over in pain in a strange city at night. Alone, she struggled to find her way back to her hotel. Where was her angel now? Luckily, Luxembourg is not a huge city, and she found her way to the area where the hotel was. She just wanted to lie down and take some aspirin.

"Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais!" called a voice. It was Corinne Favreau, the other model with Marie-Claude at the Beaulieu Agency, and Otmar Dieter, a local photographer. "What is the matter? Did you give Rémy that precious cherry of yours?"

"He beat me," she wheezed.

They led Marie-Claude back to the hotel, but they took her to Corinne's room. "There, there," said Corinne with faux concern. "What happened with the hockey player?"

"He demanded sex after dinner," said Marie-Claude, allowing her anger to boil over.

"So? When a man buys you dinner it's fine that he expects a little fun in return."

"I bought him dinner. That beau cave bender!" (Beau cave = total idiot, a bender is a hockey player who is too stupid to tie his skates properly and his ankles bend) "He's a hoser! A rink-rat!"

"My goodness!" said Corinne. "Romée's little bébé noir (black baby) came close to swearing! You must be very angry." She got so close to Marie-Claude that their noses touched. "Let me make you feel better," and as Otmar latched the privacy latch on the door, Corinne tore open Marie-Claude's blouse.

Marie-Claude's screams of terror and pain could be heard up and down the hallway as Corinne and Otmar had their way with her.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Romée Beaulieu and Claude Roy dropped everything and caught a red-eye flight from Montreal to Frankfurt, and from there they took a train to Luxembourg City. She received a call in the middle of an important meeting that informed her that one of her top models was in the hospital and the other one was in prison. "We apologize Madam Beaulieu," said the official that met her at the train station. "We asked Miss Dagenais if she wanted to press charges, but she refuses to speak. What can we do? She has listed you as her guardian so we turn to you."

"Laissez-les pourrir en prison," (let them rot in jail) said Romée and she spat on the sidewalk. They got in a car and the official drove Romée and Claude to the hospital. On the way, Romée spoke on her cell phone with the studio that sent Otmar Dieter to cover the shoot. "Your photographer beat and raped a fifteen year old model."

"There is nothing we can do about his proclivities," said the oily businessman on the other end of the call.

"If I walked into your studio and smashed your cameras with an axe would you say the same thing to my lawyer? No, you would sue my agency, like I am going to do to your studio."

"Madam Beaulieu, I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

"My lawyer will be there to discuss the agreement with you, and I hope you accept it because otherwise I will own a fashion photography studio in Munich."

They arrived at the hospital and found Marie-Claude in a bed, curled up in the fetal position. "How bad is she doctor?" asked Romée.

"She will heal, bruises, cuts, we are sure that she will be able to bear children after she heals."

Romée looked at the doctor in shock. "Bear children? It was that bad?"

"Oui, there was evidence that she was raped by Monsieur Dieter. It appears that one held her down and the other had his or her way with Marie-Claude using his or her fist. She gets quite hysterical when she speaks with us."

"Oh, mon Dieu," gasped Romée. "When will she be able to return home?"

"She may leave when the bleeding stops, hopefully two days? We just gave her a sedative; she will be out for a while."

"I will stay here if you want to talk to Corinne," said Claude.

"Thank you dear. I really do have some words to say to Miss Favreau." As Claude sat next to Marie-Claude's bed and read a magazine, Romée walked to the police station. It wasn't far, and Romée needed to burn off some anger. When she got to the police station, she felt the need to kill. "What were you thinking?" she demanded of an angry-looking Corinne. No! Don't! Don't tell me, you may need that for your defense. I will let you know that I have lost over seventy-five thousand dollars due to lost revenue on this photo shoot. Damages, losses... I will expect you and your partner to reimburse me every dime for my losses and for the counseling that Marie-Claude will obviously need."

"No! It is not my fault that the little slut leads us on then changes her mind!" snarled Corinne.

"She is fifteen years old!" shouted Romée. "You were sent to protect and train her! Instead, you will spend ten years in prison for raping a child!" Before Corinne could respond, Romée shouted to the guard, "Enlevez-le-moi!" (Take it away from me!) then she left and stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was a beautiful summer day. Next month Marie-Claude turns sixteen. What a sorrowful way to celebrate your birthday. Will Marie-Claude ever enjoy a summer again?

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Happy Macy was gone. When Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais returned to the catwalk she returned to form, and in many ways was better, but her expression was stern, sometimes downcast. Romée couldn't put Marie-Claude in the springtime collection the next spring because who wants a dour model in their gayest frock?

Marie-Claude was in counseling and while it didn't seem to help cheer her up, it gave her a new passion to pursue - psychology. Her counselor told her, "It's a great subject to study if you're screwed up in the head. You know, like me." Obviously, her counselor had issues as well.

"That's me," said Marie-Claude. And she started looking at colleges in the Montreal area.

At seventeen, she was looking at college seriously. She just needed to settle on a major so she could start building her schedule. Trust was difficult for Marie-Claude. She was raped by a friend and a man her boss hired to photograph her. It seemed like the only man she spoke to was Romée's assistant, Claude. She spoke to photographers in single word sentences. She did everything that was required of her except smile. And eat. She was one of the few models that was underweight, and Romée would have a fit.

Marie-Claude didn't accept product advertising shoots except on rare occasion. She seemed to enjoy the Black Velvet shoots, mostly because of the dresses. They were wonderful, and they felt so good against her bare skin. And she made an impression with a brand new model named Veronica von Köster. She had just been named Miss Ohio, which was an American province, as far as Marie-Claude knew.

Life was steady for several years, and there was evidence that Happy Macy may return. She was in her second year at LaSalle College, a bi-lingual pre-university college, and she was working toward a degree in psychology. With her shooting schedule, it was difficult, but she was able to maintain her grade level. She bought a snappy little used Alpha Romeo spider to get her back and forth between class and work, and life was looking good for Marie-Claude. They were preparing for a shoot in Minneapolis and after that, she had planned to take several days off and go to Des Moines. She hoped to walk around in public and maybe her angel will see her.

In the meantime, Corrin Favreau had been released from prison after serving four years of a ten-year sentence for child endangerment and was considered a pariah in the modeling world. The only shoots she could get were pornographique. But she met a young girl called Chiot (puppy) who Romée Beaulieu had netted in and asked her for a simple favor.

Marie-Claude was considered 'the old girl' by the new minnows that Romée netted in and they gathered around Marie-Claude to hear about her success. Many were sure that it was the color of her skin and were not shy about bringing it up. "I will not doubt that my skin color played a part at first," said Marie-Claude. "But what good is that if you do not work with the people, the photographers, the makeup artists, the dressers. Without that effort, your initial popularity will fade away aussitôt (immediately). You will be labeled difficult to work with and nobody will want you with your clothing on. "

Chiot made Marie-Claude her afternoon tea every day, Marie-Claude had taken a liking to her and Chiot loved the attention from la femme noir. Marie-Claude took one sugar cube in her afternoon cup of Earl Gray and Chiot was asked by a friend to put a gift from her friend in Marie-Claude's tea. The gift was a cube of special "Jamaican sugar" as Corrie put it. Chiot gave the cube a lick. It tasted like regular sugar, so she dropped it in Marie-Claude's tea and stirred it up.

Marie-Claude was sipping her afternoon tea, and she saw that her friend, Chiot, was staring off into space and giggling. "Are you ok?" asked Marie-Claude.

"No... but it doesn't matter," Chiot said, and she got up and started running around the studio, knocking things over.

That's when Marie-Claude noticed the walls were wobbling. "Oh... putain...." She moaned. "Ostie!" (unpacked it means fuck!) "Crisse!" (holy shit) she shrieked. Her eyes were wide in terror as the walls melted, she could taste colors and feelings, the studio was engulfed in flames of odor and color, her body was wracked in pain then HE appeared and he spoke to her. He told her of how he enjoyed her painful defloration in Luxembourg and that was just the beginning. He said that he had plans for her.

When the EMTs arrived, Marie-Claude was curled up tight in a fetal position shrieking, "Non! Non! Non!" and would not let the emergency medical team touch her. The other girl, the one they call Chiot (puppy) who also went crazy, was sitting on a chair looking off into the middle distance, singing tunelessly.

The EMTs tried to get Marie-Claude to lie flat on the gurney, but she fought them with such strength that they couldn't make her lie flat. She kicked and screamed and shouted, "Chrisse! Non! Non!" (Holy shit! No! No!) The only thing they could do was strap her down curled up, and transport her to the hospital in that position. They also took Chiot with them.

"Did anyone see anything out of the ordinary?" asked a Service de police de la Ville de Montréal officer (Montreal Police Service).

"No!" said one of the young models. "Marie-Claude takes her tea every day at two PM, Chiot brings her tea every day. She was drinking her tea and they went crazy."

"Is that her tea?" asked the SPVM officer.

"Oui." The young models clustered around Romée and Claude, unsure of what to do.

"Do not touch it!" and the SPVM officer spoke into his radio and they called for the crime lab. Soon a Sûreté du Québec officer (Quebec Provincial Police officer) arrived, and they handled Marie-Claude's teacup with as much care as they would handle a hydrogen bomb. An Emergency Medical Technician described Marie-Claude's and Chiot's reactions and medical stats to the crime lab officer, who nodded and stuck a test strip into the tea.

"It shows positive for a high level of lysergic acid diethylamide. LSD," said the crime scene investigator. The SPVM officer shook his head sadly as the QPP crime lab packaged up Marie-Claude's teacup and checked the break area, and the only other thing that tested positive for LSD was the spoon she was using and an empty plastic sandwich bag they found on a counter in the break area.

At the hospital, one of the young models tried to stay with Marie-Claude, but she just curled up in a ball and screamed "Laisse-moi tranquille." (Leave me alone) It terrified the model, but Romée was there.

"It is not you she is yelling at," said Romée. "Listen, she is with someone in her hallucination. Someone that terrifies her. If we keep showing her our love maybe she will come out stronger."

The next day, Chiot seemed to be much better, and she was quite talkative. "Corrie said that she is an old friend of Marie-Claude's. She gave me a cube of Jamaican sugar for her tea. She said Marie-Claude really liked it. I tasted it, and it didn't taste different."

"How did you taste it?" asked the QPP officer.

Chiot blushed. "I licked it."

"Corrie?" asked Romée from over the officer's shoulder. "Corrine Favreau?"

"I do not know Corrine Favreau..." then Romée held up a copy of Corrine's mug shot from Luxembourg that she had in her folder. "Oui! That is Corrie!" said Chiot happily.

"Thank you," said one of the officers there and he walked out, speaking into his radio.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

For the next two days, Marie-Claude merely trembled in her hospital bed. She didn't speak to anyone. Eventually Romée asked the hospital chaplain to spend time with her and she explained to him what happened to Marie-Claude.

Pasteur Lemaire sat down next to Marie-Claude's bed and he tried to get her attention. She was staring straight ahead. "How can I help you Mademoiselle Dagenais?"

She shook her head sadly. "Je vais en enfer." (I am going to hell)

"My dear, you were given a wicked drug that addled your mind... it even effected the one you call the puppy... Chiot? Such a sweet girl. The woman that gave you that horrible drug, Corrine Favreau, is back in prison."

At the sound of Chiot's nick-name Marie-Claude turned her head and saw the black clerical shirt with the roman collar and her eyes grew wide. "Satan! Le Diable!" She grabbed his hand and said, "Please père, hide me! Le diable wants me..."

"Daughter, calm yourself. It was an illusion, a trick in your mind... and I am not a priest. I am a Baptist..."

"Please Pasteur!" she grasped his hand and brought it up to her tear-filled eyes. "My angel! He said that an angel will come for me... I will meet my angel and I will hate my angel and drive it away..." She grasped his hand firmly as she wept.

"You stay here and I will speak with your mum, and I will be back just outside the door." He looked and saw a stack of textbooks next to her bed. "Are you a teacher?"

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Non, but I wish to be..."

"What do you wish to teach?"

"Everything, anything." She softened as she talked about teaching. It was something that she found very desirable. To accumulate knowledge and pass it out to the younger generation was becoming her passion. At nineteen, she was helping Romée train new models, and her trainees were in great demand by advertising agencies all over North America. In the morning, she was tutor to the drop-outs and runaways. Romée didn't tell Marie-Claude, but when a new model strolled down the runway and the word got out that she was trained by Marie-Claud Solange Dagenais, the contracts came rolling in.

"Could you teach this?" he asked as he placed his personal bible on her lap.

Marie-Claude picked it up and began looking through it. She used to go to church every day when she was in grade school, but the priest didn't speak from this book except for the readings. His homily could go anywhere from litter on the school lawn to the game the boys' basketball team just won. She looked up at Pasteur Lemaire and smiled and nodded eagerly, then she went back to reading. "In the beginning..." She immersed herself in the words and found a place she could hide from le diable.

Pasteur Lemaire stepped out into the hallway to speak to Romée. "Madam Beaulieu, she believes Satan is hunting for her, she's looking for a refuge."

"She is nineteen now, she's..." Romée sadly found the words she was looking for. "I'm not her guardian anymore, she can do what she wants."

"Maybe the refuge she wants is in divinity school," said Pasteur Lemaire. "Who knows," he shrugged. "Maybe next week this will be a bad memory and she will be back modeling. Let's give her support, but also the space to make her decision."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

The years in school were kind to Marie-Claude. She still had her youthful beauty and grace, and her figure remained model slim. Her career in divinity school was nothing short of spectacular, and the terror she felt was no longer the focal point of her life. And now she stood in the vice chancellor's office and he just presented her a job opening that anyone in her position would be crazy not to grab.

"Doctor Dagenais, this church is a perfect fit for you. It's large, there's multiple pastors there and they need a shepherd."

Marie-Claude thought about the offer. Ever since she was ordained as a pastor, Doctor Rodolphe Chauvin has been eager to place her in a church. Why doesn't he understand she wants to remain teaching? She loves the academic life. Doctor Chauvin was Vice Chancellor of École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec, the leading evangelical college in all of eastern Canada, and his job was to supply the churches of Canada and the US with pastors. He was good at his job; he found the perfect fit for any church that asked for help, whether he selected from graduates, the student population, or the faculty.

"I would like to remain on faculty if possible. I love teaching so much..."

"Is it your love for teaching or do you like the security?" asked Dr. Chauvin. Marie-Claude froze. Does he know? The chancellor, Dr. Paquet, said he wouldn't tell anyone why Marie-Claude remained on the faculty. Dr. Chauvin continued, "It was an offer, nothing more. If you wish to remain, I have a doctoral candidate for you to whip into shape."

"A new teaching assistant?"

"But of course. He has a 3.98 GPA from Buffalo Seminary."

"Another lapsed catholic," groaned Marie-Claude. "Was the vow of celibacy too much for him?"

"No, it was the catechism. Your new teaching assistant is a true believer."

Marie-Claude opened the folder that Dr. Paquet gave her. "An American?"

"Oui, he's very eager to be here. He can't wait to meet his loving, trusting doctoral advisor."

Marie-Claude sighed. "Ok, he's my puppy for the next two or three years and... oh! I just forgot something!"

"What did you forget?

"The English language. Au revoir!"

<><><><><>

Marie-Claude was in her office reading a poorly written doctoral thesis and wondered how someone with such poor command of the French language could be considered as a doctoral candidate. As she scoffed and sipped her tea, someone knocked at her office door. "Entrer!" she said in a sing-song voice.

"Hi, I'm John Jarecki and..." but Marie-Claude held her hand up, stopping him.

"Excusez-moi?"

"Excusez... Salut, je m'appelle, John Jarecki. Le docteur Chauvin a dit que vous seriez mon conseiller."

What he said was perfect French, but his comical American accent almost caused Marie-Claude to spray her tea over her desk. "Hello Mister Jarecki. Yes, Doctor Chauvin gave you to me to do with as I wish. You smile?" she said in French.

"J'aime les défis," said John with a larger smile.

"I'm glad you love a challenge," she said in French. "Your first challenge is that in my classes English is not spoken."

"I thought this was a bi-lingual college."

"It is, but my classes are not, all students speak French, only half speak English, so why waste our breath?"

"Yes doctor. What would you have me do?"

She handed him the thesis and frowned. "Read this and tell me what is wrong with it."

"Yes doctor." And he took the thesis and left.

"I hate him," said Marie-Claude, and she started leafing through a fashion magazine.

<><><><><>

Three hours later, John tapped at her door and handed her the thesis. "It's pretty weak. I eventually had to use two pencils; the blue marks are language issues. I really think the author speaks French natively, but his grammar is lazy. The red marks are the theology issues. The author has a very unusual understanding of the subject matter." He handed Marie-Claude another page and said, "Here's the correct take on the theology."

Marie-Claude looked at the marks he made. He was quite good with his French... it was just that horrible accent! But grammatically, he was as sharp as an angry nun with a class full of troublemakers. He's cute. He looks like he is still in grade school. The girls in her sophomore class are going to eat him alive. And he's short! He's barely 170 CM tall (5' 7") That's 18 CM (7") shorter than her! He's going to have to walk behind, so we don't look like a comedy troupe.

As for the theology, he was so assured of himself. Almost to the point of pride! She reviewed the list he gave her and said, "These theological points are all incorrect?"

"Yes doctor. The scripture is clear on the matter, and that's our job is it not? Insuring that the students understand the scriptures fully so they can teach, preach and make disciples?"

"Well said Mr. Jarecki. Here is the study material for next week's classes. I need 75 copies, collated and stapled."

"Yes doctor," and he bowed slightly as he left.

He bowed? Marie-Claude closed her eyes tightly. "I hate him."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Two years dragged on and John was well on his way to completing his dissertation, and to Marie-Claude, he was invaluable. She hasn't had to take a homework assignment home to review in so long she's forgotten what it was like. He was polite, gentle, and great with the students. Worst of all, when they came to him with a problem, he politely said, "I'm just Doctor Dagenais' teaching assistant. For this issue, you need to speak with her." She can't even fault him for usurping her authority! Everyone else gets to do that with their teaching assistants. How did she get the one and only teaching assistant that knew the boundaries?

He could brew tea and coffee like nobody else's business, and he occasionally brought in Polish delicacies for her to munch on. "Mister Jarecki, are you trying to pick me up?"

"If I was, would you say yes?"

"No, I would not," she said haughtily.

"Then I guess I am not. But if you gave a guy hope, I may give it a shot."

"Thank you Monsieur Jarecki!" she snarled. He can infuriate her! She would love to go back to the good old days when she openly hated him. But she had to admit, he had become her very best friend and their little barbs and taunting were seen by the students as their mating dance... who knows? It has been years since she got her doctorate in psychology. Monsieur Jarecki, you are still here?"

"I have tickets for the Habs tonight I was wondering..."

"I suppose I am driving again?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Ok, but first beer is on you."

"Yes ma'am!" said John with a grin.

<><><><><>

"And with that dear friends, let us pray. Dear lord send down your holy spirit..."

"Thank you Mister Jarecki," said an annoyed sounding Marie-Claude from the back of the auditorium. John had completed a test sermon, and the underclassmen were impressed. Already they were making plans to attend his church when he got one. She made a few notes on her pad and glanced up. He was still standing on the dais. "I said thank you Mister Jarecki."

"I was wondering if you had any comments," said John.

"It may be a bit embarrassing don't you think? That is why we talk in my office."

John knew he nailed this one, so he pushed back at her a little. "I'm sure that our flock of lambs would like to see their associate professor get slapped around a bit by our leader."

The underclassmen in the audience chuckled, and that annoyed Marie-Claude. She was used to being the point of the students' attachment, not some silly moo like Mr. Jarecki. "I asked you to give us a sermon using Boxing Day as the subject, and you speak to us about your experiences in America. America does not celebrate Boxing day."

"They do in Western New York," was Mr. Jarecki's reply.

"Workers there do not get a day off for Boxing Day."

"That depends on your employer. After all, even Ebenezer Scrooge gave Bob Cratchett an entire half day off on Christmas." That sent chuckles through the students. He just called Marie-Claude a Scrooge, which angered Marie-Claude even more.

"Mister Jarecki you seem to have a problem with sermons using a holiday as a theme. Last week you were assigned to give a sermon with Civic Day as a theme and your only mention was to say, 'have a safe Civic Day.'"

John stared at her and waited. Before she could say a word, he said, "... and?"

"And you said nothing on Civic Day. You turned your back on Civic Day."

"So? Civic day is a secular government mandated secular picnic. I mentioned more Civic day in my sermon than Ottawa mentioned God in their proclamation wishing us a Happy Easter. Ottawa turned their back on God. They could have said, 'this is the day we relax and thank whomever we hold dear for their love,' but no, they didn't go that route. They took a socialist stance on the whole subject, they said WE gave you the day off. No, they didn't, our employers gave everyone a day off with pay, thanks to a government held gun to their head. So, I attempted to correct their oversight."

"Mr. Jarecki, this is a socialist country..." she retorted. She was wrong, but Marie-Claude was angry.

"As we would say in a free country, c'est nul d'être toi (sucks to be you) which means 'how unfortunate for you.' But we're not here to discuss putting people in chains, we're here to discuss their freedom in Christ."

"MISTER Jarecki, my office!"

In her office, John filled the teakettle and as the water came to a boil, he put a bag of Earl Gray in her dainty teacup, gathered a piece of lemon, and placed that, her sugar bowl and her milk on her desk. When the water was ready, he filled her cup, then put a saucer on top of the cup. She scolded him for doing that in the past until she realized how much heat was held in simply by putting a lid on the cup. She also thought the timer for five minutes was crazy but waiting five minutes gives the tea so much more flavor.

She handed John the milk carton back. "No, but thank you," she said in flawless French. When the timer rang, she took the saucer off the top of the cup, placed the tea bag on the saucer and handed it to John, who disposed of the tea bag. Only after her sip of perfect tea did she address Mister Jarecki. "Why do you antagonize me so? And in front of the students no less."

John looked proud of his accomplishment. "I do a good job at that, don't I," he said proudly.

"Yes, you are very good at raising my ire. But the question is why?"

"Doctor Dagenais, you have an incredible, beautiful mind which really shines forth when you are confronted. It's the Doctor Dagenais that the students and I want to see. It's so sad to see you follow your lesson plan by rote, it's like you've been sentenced to prison but when the warden said, 'you're free!' you chose to remain."

Marie-Claude looked at this upstart in shock. Does he know? Did somebody tell him about her confrontation with the devil? She contained herself and said, "You don't like the way that I address my students?"

"Let me show you a note one of your students gave me. I removed the name of course for confidentiality." He handed her a note that said 'Mr. Jarecki, why does Doctor Dagenais look so sad? Please cheer her up.'

Marie-Claude stared at the note that was written in English and sighed. "Am I sad?" she asked John.

"I don't know, the face you show the students is sad. But when we start to discuss the subject at hand, that goes away, you act alive again. Even if I have to suffer your ire, it's a joy to see. For me that is a worthy sacrifice."

"You're purposely getting me angry at you to entertain the students?" asked Marie-Claude.

"No, I get you angry so that you think! Only then do you explore the subject matter with a passion I'm sure you had when you developed your lesson plan. When you really dig into a biblical lesson it's a beautiful thing to see, but when you're sad or complacent, it's painful. It's like you want to run away but you don't dare." He leaned over her desk and said, "doctor, I don't care if you shred my thesis and demand that Doctor Paquet remove me or even throw me in jail. If that stirs you and encourages you to instruct those youngsters better then I will happily suffer the consequences."

"Thank you Mister Jarecki, but I have a call to make." And she started flipping through her Rolodex.

"Yes doctor," John said softly, and he took the sugar and squeezed lemon and put them away and quietly left.

When he left, there was that emptiness in the office that he chases away. Over the past two years, John has been on her nerves, driving her crazy... and if she was honest with herself, it's been fun. Now they start their one last year. Maybe she should submit his dissertation to the committee and let them deal with him, or maybe she should shred it and put up with him for three more years. "What is he doing to me?" she gasped.

Marie-Claude pushed the Rolodex aside and slumped back in her chair. He is driving her out of her mind! She glanced down at a scratch pad on her desk and she saw what she had scribbled there...

Mrs. Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais-Jarecki

Mrs. Marie Jarecki

Pastor & Mrs. Jarecki

"Dieu, je le déteste." (God, I hate him.) But in her heart, she knew she was lying.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

"Mon loulou!" (My favorite toy) cried the patient as the assistant chaplain walked into her room in the hospice ward.

"How are we today Romée?" asked John cheerfully as he sat down next to the hospital bed. "Have you been reading the bible verses I've given you?"

"Oui," said Romée Beaulieu, punctuated by coughing.

John adjusted her nasal canula then opened the drawer next to her bed and took out her makeup kit. "What do you think?"

"I don't think I earned it."

John started brushing powder on her face, trying to get some color on the former beauty queen's cheeks. "We don't earn it. We just have to ask for it." They discussed the lessons that he gave her as he brushed lipstick on her dry lips, then gave her a tissue to press her lips against. He said a cheerful prayer as he brushed her hair into place and put her items away. "There, you're beautiful for your visitor."

"Why don't you stay?"

"No. Doctor Dagenais would be upset if she saw me here. I don't think she likes me," said John as he retrieved the brush and started touching her up a bit.

"Nonsense, Macy is a sweet, loving soul."

"I don't know this Macy you talk about, but Doctor Dagenais is not happy that she got a short, silly American as a student."

"I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thank you love. Here she comes, I'd recognize those footsteps anywhere." John grabbed his jacket and pressed against the wall next to the door.

"It won't be the first time a beautiful young man had to sneak out of my room."

"Romée!" John warned, then he winked at her.

Marie-Claude stepped into the hospital room and John silently ducked out behind her and only then did he realize he was holding Romée's hairbrush. He silently stepped into Romée's room. Marie-Claude was sitting in the seat he had just vacated and her back was to the door. John held the brush up where Romée could see it, then he lay it at the foot of her bed and slipped out of the room again.

"Dear, could you get my brush, my silly assistant left it down there," said Romée.

Marie-Claude turned to get the brush. Fortunately for John, she only saw a shadow at the half-open door, so she got up to look, but the hallway was empty in both directions. John had ducked down a stairwell instead of waiting at the elevator.

"Tell me about your funny American," said Romée as she held Marie-Claude's hand. Happy Macy only lives here, and sadly Romée will be gone soon and there will be no place for Macy anymore.

"He is so... so... agaçant! (annoying) He questions and confuses me in front of my students and when I call him on the carpet he makes me a cup of tea and tells me how pretty I am!"

"I think he is in love with you," said Romée with a knowing smile.

"No! Do not make fun of me like that."

"He probably wants to talk about more than classwork and the bible. Talk to him about the last movie you saw," said Romée.

Marie-Claude began brushing Romée's silver hair. "I haven't seen a movie since you took me to see La Belle et le Clochard. (Lady and the Tramp)."

"Take him to see a movie, then go discuss it at Tim Hortons over coffee and a cruller like Claude and I did. Lord knows you make enough money then sit on it like Midas," said Romée with a wheezing laugh.

"SO! He has turned you against me too?" said Marie-Claude, but she was smiling, happy to be taunting and teasing with her old mentor.

"There, that smile," said Romée. "That is why your silly American teases you. So he can bask in the radiance of that smile."

"You have been reading romance novels again, haven't you?" but the only book Marie-Claude saw was the bible and she knew Romée was a voracious reader.

After their visit, Marie-Claude drove back to campus through the sleet. The tiny vacuum powered windshield wiper on her little Alpha could barely keep up with the slush that fell from the sky, but she recognized him. How could she not? His leather jacket was fine, but his pants and his Buffalo Bills hat were soaked. She stopped her tiny car and said, "Get in!"

"Thank you," he said as he shivered.

"You have been seeing my mentor, Romée Beaulieu." It wasn't a question; it was an accusation.

"Yes, I help out the hospital chaplain and I met her as I visited the patients in the terminal ward."

"Don't say that!" Marie-Claude did not want to hear the words "terminal ward or hospice."

"She truly loves you like a mother."

"Don't talk about my family." She glanced over at the shivering American. She stopped in front of his apartment and said, "I want a preliminary copy of your doctoral thesis on my desk on Monday morning."

"Yes ma'am," He was shaking horribly now.

"I will see you Monday." Thank God he didn't ask how she knew where his apartment was.

<><><><><>

On Monday morning, there was a stack of paper on her desk and a note that apologized if he was not there on Monday. She walked over to the counter where the coffee pot and the tea kettle sat and it was like she forgot how to work them. It has been that long since she had made her own drink. She walked down to the tiny office that he shares with several other teaching assistants and looked inside. "Have you seen Monsieur Jarecki this morning?"

"No ma'am. He hasn't been here since Thursday afternoon."

"No," said another. "The last time I saw him was on Friday evening. He was dropping off some paperwork. He sounded like death!"

"Oui!" said another user of the office. "Wheezing and gasping, and that cough! It was a death-rattle."

"Merci." Marie-Claud returned to her office; it was so silent in there. Silent and empty. She started reading through his dissertation when the Chancellor poked his nose in the door.

"Are you getting along ok without your assistant?"

"Docteur Paquet, have you seen Monsieur Jarecki this morning?"

The Chancellor of the college looked at Marie-Claude oddly. "He's at Université de Montréal, we're hoping he will be back soon."

"Université de Montréal?"

"Oui, he didn't let you know? He is in their Hôpital Maisonneuve-Rosemont. He has pneumonia."

"I am canceling my classes today," and Marie-Claude dashed from the Chancellor's office.

A few hours later, a feverish John Jarecki opened his eyes and saw a vision of a beautiful dark brown angel with a radiant smile sitting next to him. She appeared to be sleeping "Docteur Dagenais. Did you get my thesis?" he rasped.

Marie-Claude roused herself and looked at him. He was looking worse, if that was possible. "Yes you silly man. What are you doing delivering papers to my office when you are sick?"

"Docteur Dagenais... I want to do so much, to make you crazy with anger, to make you laugh, to make you proud. I never want to disappoint you," and he slipped back under again.

Marie-Claude stared at the sleeping man in shock. His words, "I never want to disappoint you," rang in her ears. He's angered her, he's sparred with her, he's confused and amused her, but he's never disappointed her.

"Jean, qu'est-ce que tu me fais?" she whispered. (John, what are you doing to me?)

<><><><><>

John was out of the hospital for a week and Marie-Claude still hadn't looked at his preliminary thesis. But as the week wore on, he appeared more and more tired. When Marie-Claude asked what the problem was, he simply said, "Outside work." It wasn't unusual for students, both grad and undergrad, to take work to help pay for food and rent.

It looked to Marie-Claude that he was going to put himself back in the hospital, and she said, "Monsieur Jarecki, you look horrible. You need rest!"

"Madam Docteur," he looked pained, as if he was wrestling with a horrible decision. "This position I have taken will not last much longer." And that was all he would say about his outside work.

It was three in the morning when Dr. Paquet, chancellor of École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec, called Marie-Claude. "Doctor Dagenais, your loved one, Madame Romée Beaulieu has passed."

"Oh no," said Marie-Claude sadly. "Please call Monsieur Jarecki and ask him to take over my classes for the next few days."

"Monsieur Jarecki is not available, Professor Renaud agreed to tend to your class schedule until either of you can return."

"Oui, thank you. I may not be away long." She fought back the tears and wondered what hospital John worked himself into.

"Docteur Macy," scolded her old friend, and his use of Romée's pet name for her shocked her. How did he know that? "I know how close you and Romée were. Take all the time you need. That's an order."

"Oui docteur," she said sadly, then opened up her address book and began calling her fellow guppies.

It was a cold, dreary day when the alumni of the Beaulieu Model Agency gathered to bid farewell to the last great "house mother" of the fashion industry, Romée Beaulieu. Many long time clients came to pay their last respects and John was amazed at some of the people there. Huge names in the fashion industry came to pay respect to a woman that ran a tiny Mom n' Pop fashion house in a corner of Montreal and set the fashion world on its ear consistently. Marie-Claude was shattered. She was asked to speak at Romée's funeral ceremony and she immediately agreed, but as the moment grew closer Marie-Claude realized she couldn't do it. She knew what she needed to say. She knew what she wanted to say, she knew exactly what to say, but at the last minute, all of it became a jumble in her heart.

She wandered back and forth behind the curtain, waiting for the fated hour like she was waiting for the headsman's axe. And then she saw John. He was sitting in a corner on a folding chair, his elbows on his knees, and he was staring at his hands. "What are you doing here?" Marie-Claude asked him.

"I am here to introduce you."

"Why?" demanded Marie-Claude. "Of all the people in all of Canada why would they pick you to speak at my mother's funeral!" she was very close to screaming.

"I was with her when she went... I held her hand as she died... I didn't want her to go but she was in so much pain..." He was fighting back tears. He's never seen a person die before. "I loved her so much; I can't imagine what you're going through..."

"She... she was ma choupinette..." (my darling) gasped Marie-Claude and suddenly the long awaited tears broke free. Before she knew it, Marie-Claude was in John's arms and he held her tight. Together they wept for a beautiful, strong woman that took over when a mother was needed most in Marie-Claude's life.

He was ten minutes late stepping on to the podium and the room went silent. "Je m'excuse, I... I've been..." he almost burst into tears again, but he said to himself, "John, you're trying to be a pastor. Pretend you made it." He collected himself and said in French, "I'm John Jarecki, and I'm from Buffalo, New York. Please excuse the accent, but I learned my French by watching Chez Helen and Friendly Giant on the CBC." The naming of well-loved children's broadcasting brought light chuckles from the audience. He continued. "I am a divinity student working on my Doctor of Theology degree at École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec. When I moved to Montreal, the first thing I did was walk into the nearest hospital and asked the chaplain if he needed any help. One day he called me in to help with a hospice patient and that is how I met my dear friend... ma choupinette... Romée Beaulieu."

John's eyes glistened with tears. "When she found out that my advisor was her step-daughter, Doctor Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais, elle m'a taquiné!" (She teased me) Those who knew Romée Beaulieu laughed, they knew how she loved to tease and taunt, but it was always done with love. "Oh my how she teased me, but we talked, and we drew close. She called me loulou..." John shrugged, causing the audience to laugh, "Loulou is different in America, I had to look it up... I read to her and gave her homework which she eventually began to do out of boredom. In return she taught me how to apply her make up and arrange her hair so she always looked her best for her favorite visitor."

John swallowed and said, "I was with her when she passed, she was in no pain at the end and she was glad her ordeal was over. She asked me to tell her guppies that she always did and will always love them." He looked terrified to the waiting throng as he stumbled for his thoughts. "I am happy to say that she was my friend, and I loved her, and it hurts to say goodbye to such a lovely soul. Thank you all so much for joining us, her guppies and her Loulou's as we say, 'thank you Romée for your love and for including me in your life." There was polite applause, then John said, "There is someone that Romée loved deeply, Doctor Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais whom I am proud to say is my teacher."

Marie-Claude stepped onto the podium to face the sorrowful eyes looking up at her. "Romée Beaulieu was my mother," she started. "She found a tall, skinny, black, confused Marie Tremblay who had just stumbled into a porn shoot. She taught me how to hold my chin up high and show the world the beauty that Romée saw in everyone."

John tried to leave the podium, but Marie-Claude grabbed his hand and held him in place next to her. "Thank you for spending the week with Romée." She turned to the crowd and said, "Jean spent his free time with our Romée and in the end was there and escorted her to the gates of heaven. Merci Jean. No more could be asked of a pasteur. I just wished you had called me."

John leaned forward and whispered in Marie-Claude's ear. "She made me promise. She said no woman should watch her mother die. I couldn't break that promise, I'm sorry but if you had seen her..."

Marie-Claude was torn. She wanted to be angry at him for not telling her, but she would have been angry if he broke a promise to her Romée. In the end, she continued on with her eulogy. She retold their adventures and travels and her career ending poisoning. The fashion world understood what she was saying about her poisoning, but John cares as much about fashion as he cares about tanning leather, so he knew nothing about her acid trip.

The retelling of the story of Romée Beaulieu, the worried mother as she sent Marie-Claude off to college, was touching. Marie-Claude told of how Romée insisted that Marie-Claude live at home with her when she was in grad school. When Marie-Claude began teaching, Romée insisted on sitting in the classroom and meeting her students. "I tried to convert Romée for years," said Marie-Claude, then she turned to John. "But you led her to salvation."

"No, I was just there to watch it happen. You laid a sturdy foundation for her," said John.

Hours later, Marie-Claude pulled up in front of John's apartment. "Thank you for the ride," said John as he got out of the little spider. He had walked to the funeral home and didn't tell her.

"You're not going to invite me in for tea?"

Knowing Marie-Claude's taste in tea, he said, "all I have is Red Rose."

"Only available in Canada you say?" she asked, mimicking an old TV commercial.

John nodded and said, "Pity," to complete the old Red Rose Tea commercial. This was a change. Marie-Claude was acting civil to him, she was reciting old tea commercials.

Marie got out of her car and walked with him to his apartment. "You know that old commercial?" Then she smiled. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Crisp!" he answered. That too was an annoying old Canadian commercial for a coffee-flavored candy bar. "I wasn't kidding when I said I grew up watching the CBC. We had CBLT out of Toronto, and CHCH out of Hamilton and CTV out of Kitchener. I loved Hinterland Who's Who."

"CBC was the only channel we had," said Marie-Claude. "We didn't have a road connecting us to Quebec, but we had Hinterland Who's Who."

John opened his apartment door to another person for the very first time. His apartment was a tiny single room apartment, his kitchen table was clearly his desk, it was parked next to his kitchenette. His bed was a mattress thrown on the floor and his closet was a large wooden wardrobe. His walls were lined with bookshelves made from boards and cinder blocks and they were filled with reference books. His collection showed his love for Charles Spurgeon. His bathroom was the smallest bathroom she had ever seen. It had a sliding accordion door and there was no sink, just a toilet and a shower head. "Where's the sink?"

"Kitchen," said John as he put the kettle on the stove to boil.

"You have to walk to the kitchen to wash your hands?"

"No, of course not, that's silly. You use the shower."

Marie-Claude looked at John in shock. She's lived in tiny homes where the shower was outside, so she had nothing to complain about. "Everyone can see you brush your teeth out here."

"Like who?" asked John as he got his guitar out of its case and began strumming.

"There has to be a nice little Polish girl waiting for you at home."

"I was preparing for seminary, there was never any girlfriend. I took my cousin Zuza to my prom. She drove all the way up from Gowanda."

"What's Gowanda?"

"It's a town south of Buffalo."

"That's a funny name," said Marie-Claude.

"It's no Saint-Louis-du-Ha!-Ha!" (Saint-Louis-du-Ha!-Ha! Is an actual town in Quebec)

"I've been there!" said Marie-Claude. "It's just north of the tip of Maine. I took a bus through there."

John picked the opening cords to 'Time in a Bottle' and said, "Romée loved this song. She asked me to play it over and over." Then he changed and began playing a familiar tune. "She loved this too."

"The Log Drivers Waltz?" said Marie-Claude with a smile.

"They go birlin' down and down the white water...

That's where a log driver learns to step lightly.

Birlin' down and down the white water

The log driver's waltz pleases girls completely."

His playing was delightful, and his singing was magical. She joined in and sang the song that she grew up with, the first English song she ever sang. When they were done, Marie-Claude laughed. "I played that for Romée on the violin, she said it was the official song of Canada."

"We should play a song together sometime," said John. He got up and poured the water from the kettle into the teapot and covered it with a cozy.

"My goodness, did you learn all that when you moved to Canada?" asked Marie-Claude.

"No. My folks, pure Polacks both, insist on proper tea, especially at the supper table. That's where me and my brother Paul learned to drink our tea."

"What do you plan to do when you get your diploma?" asked Marie-Claude

"Join the faculty. That's where all the single pastors hang out, right?"

"You're not going apply to a church?"

"No, I'm single, single male pastors are looked on with suspicion."

"Get married!" said Marie-Claude.

"I'll hand out applications in class on Monday." The tea was good and strong, just the way his dad Cecil liked it, but John couldn't keep his eyes open. "I'm so sorry. I'm such a failure. First time I have a beautiful woman in my apartment and I can't keep my eyes open."

"Go lay down, I'll clean up," she said, and she washed out the teapot and filled the kettle so it would be ready for the next time he wanted tea. She looked over at John and he was asleep on his mattress, fully dressed. 'He called me beautiful!' she thought to herself. She took a deep, shivering breath and smiled. Then she leaned over and kissed his temple and whispered, "Silly American angel."

She locked the door behind her and drove over to Hôpital Mémorial and found the chaplain's office was still open. Père Louka Martin looked up and saw Marie-Claud and smiled. "Come in fille (daughter), how can I help you?"

"I want to thank you for helping with the passing of my beloved Romée Beaulieu. It was such comfort that she crossed over without misery."

"It wasn't me, dear Doctor. It was all her friend, the young pastor, Jean Jarecki. He stayed with her through her darkest hours, then guided her to salvation as the pain no longer had control of her."

"How long was he here?"

"He was here all night long for a week, he would only go home for a few hours, from Nine AM to about two PM."

Marie-Claude frowned. Those were the hours he was working for her. "She was in pain?"

"It was horrible, she didn't want anyone but me and Jean Jarecki, and her nursing staff. She swore us to secrecy, she wanted no one to see her like that, especially loved ones." Père Louka sighed. "It was hard on Jean; she was his first death. It really shattered him, it filled him with serious doubt but he will be fine. He is a resilient young man."

"Thank you."

She went home and sat up for a long time.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Two days later, John returned to work. He took over class for Doctor Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais, who was still out. As usual, he fielded questions from the girls in class. "Where were you when you were away? Did you and Doctor Dagenais get married?"

"Married?" chuckled John. "What gave you the idea that Doctor Dagenais and I eloped?"

"Not eloped, you two argue like you already are married."

John laughed at that for a long time. "Thank you, I needed that laugh. Now, does anyone have any important questions? Mary Beth?"

Mary Beth was a sweet girl, and she didn't seem the type to be in a divinity school. She looked more the Art History type. "What is your mother going to say when you bring home a black wife?"

As he was laughing he thought, 'am I that transparent?' Finally, he said, "My mom originally sent me away to seminary, so she's going to be shocked at any bride I bring home." That caused the entire class to laugh. Normally in an evangelical college, classrooms filled with laughter are rare and John's class was enjoying this. They rarely get to speak to him. Marie-Claude was a "hands on" teacher and she loved educating her "guppies" and "Loulous" as Romée would say, so John got little time in front of the class.

"Where did you get that weird American accent from?" asked Simone Béringer.

"America." And the entire class roared with laughter. "What's so funny?"

"You speak French so well; we thought you were from Manitoba or Saskatchewan."

"No, I'm not from Saskatchewan, and unlike most Americans, I can spell Saskatchewan. But I come from not far away in Buffalo and I learned French so I could attend this college. Ok, one more question and then we move on to mundane things, like our lessons for today. Jocelyne?"

"Are you better now? You didn't look well last week and Doctor Dagenais was worried about you."

"I volunteer at the chaplain's office at Memorial Hospital and a dear friend of Doctor Dagenais was in Hospice. I stayed with her friend, and as the time came close she was in tremendous pain, so the chaplain and I stayed with her around the clock. I was with her when she died and it was the most horrible, but also the most beautiful thing I ever saw."

"Beautiful?" Jocelyne asked. "But she died!"

"That sounds like a lesson. Bibles out! John chapter sixteen verse twenty one. Matthias, when you find it, read it for me..."

John was definitely an old school-teacher and an old-school theologian, but the students responded to his style and his interpretations. After a grueling return to the classroom, he went to his tiny office and saw that his preliminary thesis was returned with a note sometime last week when he was sleep-deprived and paying attention to nothing but Romée. The note was blistering. It called his paper flat. It stated that his understanding of the subject matter was weak, and it didn't fit the "Modern Church." It was his first failing grade ever, and to make matters worse, it came from the woman he loved.

John sat in his office and stared at the wall for a long time. He knew that his paper was sound, he knew that his interpretation was correct, and he knew that the "modern church" was a modern fable. He only has one option available. To educate his teacher.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

The snow was just beginning to fly in Montreal when Marie-Claude returned from her weeks of meditation. She found a hotel upriver and got a room where she could watch the boats go by and drink tea and weep for Romée. She didn't know what was going on in her classes, but the chancellor assured her that a competent substitute was working out marvelously and was sticking to her lesson plan.

She knew it was time to return home when she found she was wondering... Saint-Louis-du-Ha!-Ha!? What was that all about? It took a little research, but she discovered that a Ha!-Ha! was a wall that was built in a ditch used to stop sheep from wandering off, but it didn't block the scenery. Saint-Louis-du-Ha!-Ha!'s principal claim to fame (other than its name) was a large, impressive Ha!-Ha! that was built there. As she drove home, she wondered what John was going to say to her about his paper. She was merciless, but it was his first try at a doctoral thesis. This was how you learn as a candidate.

When she returned to her office, she found that all the assignments she handed out were turned in and stacked neatly on her desk. Also, all the assignments that she planned to hand out were handed out by John, and they were turned in. Each one had a note from John explaining what he thought the grade for each paper would be if he were grading it, because he never assumed that he should grade for her. She almost always went with his suggestions, and she decided that next semester he would grade the underclassmen's papers. She didn't hear him come in; he had made tea in his office and when he saw her door open; he brought her the tea.

John placed a teapot on her desk. It was pink with yellow daisies scattered randomly on it. The tea cozy matched the pot perfectly. He poured her a cup of tea and made sure that sugar, lemon, and milk were ready if she needed it. Her methods of flavoring her tea changed with her mood. He sat down across from her with a mug of coffee. It had a quote that said, "Life is tough, tougher if you're stupid." And a picture of John Wayne. He had a pleasant smile, but the fact he was drinking coffee out of the John Wayne mug meant to Marie-Claude that he was upset. "You saw my note," she said.

"I understand that it is a preliminary dissertation... but outdated? Out of touch? Old fashion? We're teaching a philosophy that is 5,000 years old so old fashioned is a perfect grade."

"It doesn't coincide with today's society," said Marie-Claude.

"Then it's an A+ paper," said John. "Aristotle teaches us that 'a thesis is a supposition of some eminent philosopher that conflicts with the general opinion.' You just said I did that, so I win."

"Jean," Marie-Claude sighed. "The world is moving on; your interpretation of the bible is not fitting in today's world."

John's face went stony. "Doctor Dagenais," he finally said. "I am God's servant, not his editor. I cannot teach fiction. I believe his word is His word. Please, allow me to show you want I mean, and if you are not convinced by Christmas, I will find another way of making a living."

"Go ahead, give it a try," she said. Marie-Claude rifled through the papers on her desk and when she looked up again, he was gone, but his coffee mug remained. "Quitter," she muttered. He left Buffalo Seminary, and she was sure he was going to quit École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec as well. So why does her stomachache to think of him leaving?

But he didn't leave. He was back, day after day, each time refuting a point that she had made in class over the semester. He didn't just use the Bible; he used great minds like Charles Spurgeon, C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, and Rabbi Jacobson. She was shocked to see her old friend Rabbi Lou in her class, but Rabbi Louis Jacobson sat with her at length and explained how the Apostle Paul wasn't teaching anything new to his disciples, he was teaching a purity of Jewish Law. "What about the women's position in the church?" she asked. That was a huge point of contention between her and John.

"Women are different from men, as men are from women, but together... together they make a beautiful team leaving no ayes undotted, no tees uncrossed. That is why most of your congregations and mine reject a single pastor or rabbi. Even the wedding vows are different! A man vows to love his wife, but she takes no such vow. Why is that? Because women need no reminder for that!"

In the end, although she blamed John, it was Rabbi Jacobson's knowledge and wisdom that caused Marie-Claude's undoing. John came in early on a Wednesday and her office was locked. He knocked and there was no answer, so he used his key and opened the door and was greeted by an empty office. He put the tea on and sat down on "his side of the desk" and reviewed the day's lesson plans. Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned. "Oh, Doctor Chauvin," said John as he rose to greet the vice chancellor.

"Marie-Claude will not be coming in, she has resigned." He looked John in the eye and said, "I suspect that you had something to do with that."

"I didn't cause any such thing! I merely defended my doctoral thesis," insisted John as he offered Doctor Chauvin a cup of tea.

"Well, she resigned and apologized for leading our lambs astray with false teachings."

John nodded. "A crisis of faith, I have them from time to time." They sat at her desk and John poured himself some tea. "I told her that if I could not convince her, I would leave École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec. I didn't ask her to leave."

"Go have words with our Doctor Macy, if you can speak as well as you brew tea, she will be back."

"There's that word again, Macy. What is that?"

"Romée didn't tell you?"

"Romée mentioned the name Macy, she called Marie-Claude that quite often at the end, but she never explained that name," said John.

"That was her love-name for Marie-Claude. Her original name was very common, unfit for a fashion model as Romée said. So she told Marie-Claude to come up with a stage name and in the meantime she would call her Macy. She came up with Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais but Romée continued to call her Macy, and our Marie-Claude associated the name Macy with Romée's love."

"What was her original name?"

"Marie Tremblay. In Quebec it is as common as your Jim Smith."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Marie-Claude was numb. She had placed her letter of resignation on Doctor Chauvin's desk with an apology, saying that she should have taken the assignment he had offered her months ago and left. She got home, tossed her bag and her purse on the table, then sat down on the couch, staring out the window. It grew dark and the city lights came on and she wept a few bitter tears of anguish. How could she had been so stupid? She was hiding from le diable and he was there the whole time, corrupting her thoughts and misleading her teaching.

The sun came up, but the clouds remained. Some angry snowflakes fell from the sky and the day remained gray. "Doctor Dagenais?"

"Go away. There is no Doctor Dagenais anymore."

"Please doctor, I have been right where you are at, I lived there for a long time until my brother helped me. I was months away from receiving my holy orders when the reality of what I was studying crashed down on me. But it sent me here, to you. This is a time of strengthening if we use it properly... together." John looked at his instructor. Her long, flowing locks were unkempt and her eyes were sunken and red because she was crying all night. John's heart was breaking, seeing his love in such misery.

"How did you get in here?" she asked.

"Your door was open, I could see you crying, I'm sorry for every tear..."

"What do you want now?" she groaned.

He sat next to her and held her hands in his. "I have a plan, and it will work. Believe me."

"A plan," she scoffed. "You brought me to this point, what is your plan now that I am broken."

"God brought both of us to this point and if we follow his word he will bring us out of it strong and brave."

"You believe that?" Marie-Claude asked, and John smiled innocently and nodded. Silly boy! "How are we going to do that?"

"As for me, I am going to marry you and love you like no man ever has or ever will. We will be a team teaching, preaching, and making disciples, if we get a church we will do it there, if we don't we will do it here. And if God blesses us with children they're going to be as beautiful as their mother." He still had that innocent smile.

Over the past two years, she went from hating him passionately to being best friends. He still drove her crazy, but they were study buddies. They were a team and their students' grades were higher than other equivalent classes. They never spoke of anything that would be related to romance, or even a date. (Marie-Claude saw Montreal Canadiens games a necessity of life, not a date) They had tea and classwork together. The closest they came to a date was eulogizing Romée Beaulieu, then tea at his apartment after. Now he was talking about marriage? And children? She looked him in the eye and asked, "You want me to marry you?"

"Well yeah, that's the easy part of my plan."

"What's the hard part?" she asked.

"This." John knelt on one knee and held up a small box containing a diamond ring. "Getting you to want to marry me."

"You're crazy you know," said Dr. Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais as she looked at the tiny diamond ring. "I have nothing to give you, I have no dowery, I have no maidenhead, I don't have the big boobs you Americans want, I even gave my first kiss away. You're completely crazy."

"Yes, I've been a bit nuts since I met the devil." He had no clue why he said that. It just slipped out.

"You met the devil?" She looked at him in shock. The old fear started welling up inside and she could feel a scream growing in there. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No Doctor Dagenais! I was drugged at my brother's wedding by his sister-in-law and the devil came and tormented me."

"You met the devil?" Dr. Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais felt the blood turn ice cold in her veins. "What did he tell you?"

"I was in the hospital for days, they had to tie me down to keep me from clawing my eyes out. I could see him, I could taste him. He sodomized me and I screamed..." John shook in terror. "It was really foggy, I was yelling for my brother and the devil was trying to keep me from hearing Paul. He told me what he likes and what he's afraid of... and he told me what he is going to do to me in hell. You think I'm crazy don't you Dr. Dagenais."

"No. You are not crazy," the beautiful teacher's eyes actually started to tear up. "That is him," she whispered. "He raped me too... I once met le démon myself... uh..." she looked at the ring with the tiny diamond. "He told me I would hate the angel that was sent to help me... and I hated you when we met... oh God how I hated you, and I didn't know why."

"I know," said John. "I felt it and I had to work extra hard to win your friendship."

She took the ring box with shaking hands. It was time for a leap of faith, and she didn't know which way to jump. "I don't know what to do!"

"Tell you what, I'll close my eyes, and you try the ring on, and if you like it, tell me something, Yes, maybe, eventually, whatever comes to your heart. If not just give me the ring and the box back and we'll wait."

"Ok," said Marie-Claude. He covered his eyes and turned his back. With trembling hands, she tried on the ring and it fit! How did he know her ring size? She looked at the glistening white gold as it contrasted against her dark skin. He has never commented on her skin color, ever. He's mentioned her eyes, her hair, her smile, her hands, but never her skin color. But now she was transfixed. It was a pastor's ring, not showy or flashy, and just enough diamond to let you know it's an engagement ring, but not an eighth of a karat more.

She wanted to say yes!

She wanted to run away.

Marie-Claude took the ring off reluctantly. She wasn't ready for a leap that big, but she could start with a hop of faith. She snapped the ring box closed and John turned to look expectantly. Marie-Claude smiled and put the ring box down her shirt between her breasts and said, "I would like it if you called me Macy."

A wave of joy and relief washed over John. The name that means love to Dr. Dagenais, and each time he says it, he says 'I love you' to her. "Yes, Macy, I will be proud to call you that."

"What do we do now?" she asked, the earlier depression returning.

"Doctor Chauvin gave me this," and John handed her a folded letter. It was her letter of resignation. "He says you didn't date it properly. I suppose we could correct that, or we could put it aside and try harder next time."

"I think option B, no?"

"Oui," said John with a smile of relief.

"Now what?" asked Macy.

"Now you tell me where I am going to take you for dinner."

John moved behind Macy and began brushing her hair as she asked, "Then what?"

"Then we plan our life together. I don't know if I will be offered a position to teach here, but it is a decision we will make together if the offer comes."

"And if not?"

"We will apply to the churches that want us in Quebec and New York." When John said New York, she thought he meant Manhattan, a place she had no desire to re-visit. "I would love a nice country church in a little town... Arcade, Mount Moris, Perry..."

"What boroughs are they in?" asked Macy. Mount Moris sounded to her like a town on Long Island.

"No," laughed John. "They are little villages in the country hundreds of miles away from New York City. Trees and flowers and farms. We could raise chickens! Or maybe a cow and get milk every morning!"

Macy sighed in relief and, oddly, living on a farm sounded nice. Montreal was wonderful with buildings and people and restaurants and art, but she didn't know anyone here now that Romée Beaulieu and her agency were gone. The girls had scattered to the winds, half left when Claude Roy died when a burglar stabbed him in a small grocery store. Macy eulogized Claude, and later broken hearted Romée closed the agency. She lived with Macy for almost a year before finding another condo in the same building.

"La poulet!" said Macy as John started rubbing her tension tight shoulders. "We can have Coucou de Rennes, and Bresse Gauloise, and maybe Crevecoeur..." she said, listing breeds of French chickens. "Je veux élever des poules!" (I want to raise chickens!)

They walked to a nearby restaurant called L'œuf Épicé (the spicy egg) which had delicious egg based dishes. John wanted to try the Hachis Parmentier (a shepherd's pie with eggs in the recipe) but he and Macy both had the Croque Madame which is simply a ham and comté cheese sandwich on grilled white bread, with a sunny side up egg on top. And it's simply delicious. "I could live on these!" said John as they ate. Macy had a glass of wine, and John had American wine (Coca Cola).

"We must remember, when we are in school, Macy does not exist," said Macy.

"Yes Doctor Dagenais."

"And we must redo the lesson plan, especially for the freshmen." John thought about that, and Macy said, "What? What are you thinking."

"I believe that your lesson plan is sound, it's the conclusions you reach later in the school year that need to be double checked." Even though John knew that Macy now understood her errors, he needed to be diplomatic.

"Oui. I will put my teaching assistant on that task on Monday morning," said Macy, all business as always.

"Tell me about your angel, please?" asked John.

Macy paused with a bite of her sandwich. "He was... he was a lot like you. I was on Newfoundland and was riding alone on a bus for the first time ever and men started bothering me. He sat down and nicely asked them to let me nap." She smiled, thinking back on that day, years ago. "When I reached the ferry to Nova Scotia he appeared again to rescue me from evil men."

"I pledge to be there for you when you need me," said John.

"The time I needed you most, the time I ever needed anyone the most, you were right there for me, at Romée's passing. I did not realize how difficult it was for you. I did not believe you when you told me that Romée did not want me to see her. I spoke with Père Louka Martin and he told me about your courage. I cannot believe you were able to stay awake the whole time."

"Well..." John sighed. The memory of his time with Romée's passing was still painful. "They would come in and give her morphine which would give her some rest and we would both nap. But much of the time she was crying from the pain." He looked at Macy's big brown, tear-filled eyes. "The only relief she got outside of the morphine was when she told me about her daughter... you. She was so blissful when she remember you walking on the runway before Corrine, but she never told me what before Corrine was. I don't ever want to do that again... but I will if needed."

"Père Louka told me that you were très courageous and so sweet with her, and he was surprised that she was your first passing. He said he knew several le clergé (clergy) that would not do what you did." She gave John a kiss on the cheek. "Merci mon cher." (Thank you my dear) which caused John to blush.

As they walked back to her condo, John said, "Tell me about your first kiss."

"Oh mon cher, it was très gentil. We were on the ferry Blue Putee and I told my American Angel that I wanted to give him something for protecting me. He said, "I would love more than anything if you would freely give me your first kiss before some cad takes it" and we kissed there on the boat. Just once, but it was so special." Macy hugged herself and sighed at the memory. "What was your first kiss like Jean?"

"When I have one, I will tell you."

"No kiss? At your age!"

"I was going into the seminary. You don't kiss priests. Least wise the kisses you remember as a first kiss."

"I hope to be there to see it when you get your first kiss" and with a giggle she ran off. John shook his head and launched off after her.

<><><><><>

John and Macy learned quickly how to work better together. John had the questionable subject matter in her curriculum straightened out and they became a teaching team that the other professors sat in their classes to see in action. They found that if they lightened up on the students and allowed them to ask random questions about anything they liked as John collected homework and handed out graded assignments and other papers at the beginning of class; they got better cooperation in the more difficult portions of the class work.

"Monsieur Jarecki, do they speak Polish or English where you come from?"

"Thank you Josette. Fortunately for you the answer is yes. 'Personally, I speak English and French,'" he said in English. Then he said, "Ale moja babcia Dorta mówi tylko po polsku, and she's not alone." He finished that in French.

"What?" the class broke up in amazed laughter.

"I said, my Grandma Dorta only speaks Polish, and I said it in Polish." To John and Macy's surprise, the class broke into applause. "What! It was just Polish, a language I grew up with. French is much harder for me. Ok, one more question and we'll get on with it." There was only one hand up. Jocelyne. Jocelyne always asks the same question. "Jocelyne? Are you going to ask me if Doctor Dagenais and I are married again?"

"No Monsieur," said Jocelyne.

"Then go ahead and ask." Macy had entered the classroom and was standing at the front desk as John finished handing out papers and taking questions.

Jocelyne stood and said, "Have you asked Doctor Dagenais to marry you?"

John smiled and fought back a chuckle. "As I said, I will not lie to you. Yes I have asked her." The classroom erupted in squeals and gasps. "Ok let's get down to classwork. Bibles out, we're starting Ephesians today." But John wasn't sure if he could be heard over the uproar. Even the guys in the class were demanding at least one more question.

He turned around and looked and he saw Macy smiling at her desk; she wore a grin that would bring a tear to Romée's eyes if she was around. Happy Macy was back! "Allez! Allez! Allez!" called Macy. "Let's worry more about the Apostle Paul for the next hour, s'il vous plait!" (please) As John walked behind her, Macy thrust her hips forward and her eyes got big and round in shock. "Wooo!" she acted like John pinched her ass. "Monsieur Jarecki! Control yourself!" The class broke up in thunderous laughter. Probably more at John's shocked reaction than Macy's act. "He is upset that I have not answered him yet. Beware girls, he pinches!"

Back in their office, John laughed. She figured out a way to answer their question without answering their question. He began reviewing the homework that was handed in, but he was laughing, so it was difficult to grade the papers. Dr. Marie-Claude would never have allowed that in her classroom. But Macy is enjoying it.

As he finally settled down and got to work, he heard a voice behind him call, "Monsieur Jarecki?"

He looked up and saw it was Bernadette Arnaud. Bernadette was cute, short, and slim with large breasts for her size. She had dark brown hair, huge brown eyes and her skin tone was a deep tan, unusual for late October in Montreal. "Yes Bernadette?"

"Are you really going to marry Doctor Dagenais?"

"Not until she answers me."

"But you guys haven't kissed yet!" Bernadette sounded worried.

"Are you worried about us or are you moving in and trying to snag one of us."

"I'm worried... what if you don't like the way she kisses?"

"It could be worse, she may not like the way I kiss. Don't waste your time worrying about us, we will be fine.

"I just can't see someone your age that hasn't kissed someone yet.

John looked up at her. "My age?" How old do you think I am?"

"Thirty."

John choked on his tea. "I'm twenty four." He took a deep breath and said, "Bernadette, both Doctor Dagenais and I have had a difficult journey to reach each other. Now that we found each other we will not let each other get away."

"I just can't see someone your age not kissing somebody."

"Bernadette, I spent my teens trying to become a priest. I didn't run around kissing people."

"If it were me I'd try to get as much done as possible before the lock-down."

"Thank you Bernadette. The lock-down is called 'Holy Orders.'"

"You're not worried that she is black?" asked Bernadette.

"Are you afraid that I will misplace her in the dark?" asked John.

"No, I'm worried that other people may not understand."

"If they don't understand and won't talk with us, they miss the opportunity to meet a delightful woman," and he waved goodbye to Bernadette.

About 45 minutes later, Macy joined him and she reviewed the homework that was handed in. "What did Bernadette want?"

"Why do you ask?"

"For one, you're blushing," said Macy. "For another, when she returned to the classroom, that entire corner of the classroom was all whispers...psst psst psst."

"She was worried that someone as old as me hasn't kissed yet," said John as he poured Macy a cup of green tea.

"Oh that's perfect," she said as she admired the tea. She leaned back and cradled the cup and took a sip. "Heavenly." Then she said, "Are you worried that someone your age hasn't kissed?"

"No. I know I can come over there and kiss you and that you will not fight me off... but I will not take what is not freely given."

"Yes," said Macy. "But it isn't my first kiss that's being given, it's yours."

John groaned. "I've wasted a lot of time, haven't I."

"Yes you have," said Macy, trying not to laugh.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

It was Noël Dans le Parc, one of the grand winter holidays in Montreal. Christmas displays and tree vendors in three of Montreal's parks and the public crowded to the parks. John and Macy walked through Parc des Compagnons de Saint Laurent hand in hand, and occasionally, a student would walk by.

"Joyeux Noël mes professeurs!"

"Joyeux Noël Joycelyn , Bernadette! Non, nous ne sommes pas encore mariés." (No, we're not married yet.)

That always caused giggles. Eventually, John whirled around and there were five of their freshman students following them. "You can join us if you want," he said, and soon the seven of them were wandering through the park's displays, trying the different foods and sipping hot drinks. They stopped at various tree vendors looking for a tree for Macy's condo. The intoxicating scent of fresh cut pine mixed with spiced hot apple cider filled the air.

"No tree for your house Monsieur Jarecki?" asked Joël.

John held up a small branch that he had tucked in his sleeve pocket. "Got mine already."

"That will not fit in your apartment," laughed Macy.

Eventually Macy settled on a tree and she gave the vendor her address and they promised it would be delivered within 24 hours.

They continued through the park and John told the students about Christmas in Tiorunda and what a Christmas celebration in a Polish family is like, and they were amazed. They believed that Christmas in America was shallow and meaningless, and John said, "Sometimes that is true. Like Canada, the US is made of many peoples from all over the world, so all those beliefs sometimes make the holiday confusing."

"Not Quebec, we are all French."

"Ahem," said John as he pointed at Macy, who was almost shocked. This was his first reference to her race.

Joycelyn and Bernadette giggled at their silly statement, but Jean-Michel came to Bernadette's defense and said, "France had colonies in Africa."

"Oui," said Macy. "My father believed that his family came from French Senegal after World War One." She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Records were not kept among illiterate fishermen."

Snow spiraled down from the sky, adding to the festive atmosphere. Booths created a Christmas village and the smells of the different foods filled the air. Then John saw it, the biggest ice skating rink he had ever seen. It wove around the park like a slot car track, a long straightaway followed by several reversing curves, making a large looping course.

"You want to try it?" asked Macy.

"Oh yes!" said John. "I haven't skated in ages!" They found a bench and sat down and put on their skates. Macy wore white figure skates and John laced on a pair of hockey skates.

"Hockey skates? You play hockey?"

John nodded. "I was drafted by the Buffalo Sabres and sent to their farm club in Hershey Pennsylvania where I set the all-time scoring record for a rookie defenseman..."

"You're not supposed to lie," taunted Macy. "The Buffalo Sabres' farm club is the Rochester Americans."

"Oh... right... Well... I watched my dad sell Rick Martin a car. Does that count?"

"Come on Gilbert Perreault. The French Connection is waiting for us," said Macy as she helped John to his feet.

"Wait, you know the Sabres?"

"How could I not know the most fabled offensive line in the NHL?"

They got on the ice, and it took a full lap for John to get his feet moving properly, but once he did, they fell in step with each other. Hockey skates have a much taller blade than figure skates, so Macy was only 5 inches taller than John instead of the usual 7 inches. It helped. They skated arm-in-arm with each other, as comfortable as a couple that had been married for decades. "What do you want for Christmas?" asked John.

"Nothing. Let us get each other minor gifts, maybe a sweater."

"Do I have to take all that lingerie back?" asked John.

"Of course not! Lingerie is not a gift, it's a necessity!"

"Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais I love you with all my heart."

"You tell me that all the time, John Matthew Jarecki."

"Someday you'll respond."

"Oui, someday," she said with a smile that told John she was hiding something.

Love blossomed and bloomed in the gentle snows of a Montreal Christmas. As they walked back to Macy's condominium, they had taken off their mittens to hold hands. They crossed the street and Macy changed sides as the tradition of the woman walking on the outside, away from the street, continued in Montreal. As John's right hand clasped her left hand, he felt something... the ring! She was wearing their engagement ring!

"Is this what all the girls in third period were chittering about?" John understands French very well, but when a room full of girls are all talking at the same time, he loses all ability to understand the lingo.

"Oui, I made up my mind when you were telling them about your poutine (French fries, cheese curds, and gravy) theory of emotions."

"That's a good one isn't it? What do you think about it?"

"Needs work, but it shows me two things."

"What's that?"

"One, you have a good grasp of how emotions are different between men and women."

"What's number two?"

Macy sighed and smiled a smile that could light up the gloomiest day. "I now know I have good taste in men... Do not laugh at me!"

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm happy!" He pulled her close for the first real kiss of their relationship. Their lips met and her tongue darted out to meet his. His fingers tangled in her long raven locks and they both whimpered their pleasure as they kissed, blocking tourist traffic and making a show of their love.

When their lips parted, Macy said, "I love you Jean, I am sorry you had to wait but I had to be sure... where did you learn to kiss like that?"

John shrugged and said, "I just made it up as I went along."

"You did very good, A+!"

"Did you tell the girls about your fiancé?" John asked.

"Oui."

"What did you tell them?"

"He is short."

"They'll never figure out who it is," John said with a frown. He's barely five foot seven, she's six foot two.

They ran hand in hand through the city of Montreal, stopping at every fountain and statue to kiss, and each kiss was sweeter than the last. For them, the city was in bloom and the scent of the flowers filled the air, while for everyone else, the snow fell in the sub-zero temperatures. Finally, they stopped at a café for coffee. "Now what dearest Jean?" Macy always pronounced John as Jean and John just loved it.

"I would like to start applying to churches that are hunting for a pastor, I'd like it to be in Buffalo or Plattsburgh, maybe here in Montreal."

"I mean about us," said Macy.

"We get married and we get a parish and you set up a woman's ministry and..."

"And... wait," said Macy. "We need to talk."

The way she said it sounded like she was announcing she was going to leave. John swallowed down a lump in his throat and said, "Wh... what is the problem?"

"It is about sex," she said grimly.

"Oh god... don't tell me... you're a guy."

"Have you ever seen a guy with breasts like these?"

"Yes."

"Well... I am not a guy... but when I was far too young I had a bad introduction to sex and I do not like even the idea of it."

John nodded his head sadly. "My meeting with Satan has me confused also. I don't know what to think sometimes."

"I wouldn't doubt that we had the same meeting with the devil," said Macy.

"Can you cuddle with me... after we are married? We can work our way up to cuddling naked. Oui?"

"Oui."

John brightened. "Then we work from there!"

Macy chuckled, her Jean. He could face a mountain with a teaspoon and smile and say, "I just have to dig!" Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same due to lecherous photographers and older models and their sick desires. They formed her ideas about sex when she was 15, and she was careful to guard herself after those early experiences. It's an enormous mountain for John's teaspoon to move.

"When do you want to get married?" asked John.

"Graduation week; you get your Th.D. and we run off on our honeymoon. It will be so romantique!"

"My parents will be here; I can introduce them to you and we can run off before they say something embarrassing. Oh no..."

"Jean, what is wrong?"

"My parents... they have money... They may want to share... I have seen what money does to pastors..."

"Oui! It is le fléau... a scourge."

John took both of her hands and said, "I pledge no extravagant gifts, we accept nothing we cannot repay."

"A vow of poverty?"

"If that's what we earn then that's what we live on."

Macy took John's face in both hands and leaned across the table and kissed him long and hard, then said, "I did select the right man!"

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

John woke early on Christmas morning, forwarded his phone to Macy's apartment, and carried a stack of packages the few blocks in the inky morning dark. Already people were moving about, heading to a relative's house for Christmas morning or to work. He answered every Joyeux Noël with Wesołych Świąt, the joyful Polish Christmas greeting of his youth.

He stopped at a bakery that was opening and picked up delicate baked goods for a Christmas morning feast, then continued to Macy's condo. "Joyeux Noël!" he whispered as Macy held the door open for him. "Why are you crying?"

"I always cry on Christmas morning," sighed Macy.

"Why?"

"I always wake up alone on Christmas. I grew up with no friends, my father and brothers always took the boat out on Christmas, and mother was always gone... Then my father and brothers always came back drunk and I had to hide..."

John set his packages down and took Macy in his arms. "Hush , this is the last Christmas you have to wake up alone mon bel amant." (my beautiful lover) They kissed long and sweetly. "Mmm, you kiss so good," he sighed as they rubbed noses.

"Tell our children, it all comes down to proficiency." By "our children" she meant their freshman students.

"Practice makes perfect," said John as their lips met again.

"Oui, it is so difficult waking up alone on Christmas morning, naked, aching for my man."

John could only imagine her tall, lithe, mahogany brown body, small firm breasts, hard black nipples, narrow waist, round hips..."You're killing me Smalls..."

"Pardone?"

"It's from a movie." He moved into the kitchen and set up a platter with the pastries he had purchased on the way over. "My brother Paul will call us any minute now."

"He is in Japan!"

"Yes, he can arrange free calls home on the weekend and Christmas." John put on coffee and he held Macy close and they kissed as they waited for the coffee to brew. "The calls are transmitted over the radio, so it's a challenge sometimes." The phone rang at about six AM and Macy answered it. "Bonjour. Joyeux Noël!" said Macy cheerily as she answered the phone.

"Hello, this is Randy at the MARS station with a call for John Jarecki."

"Please wait," said Macy in English. "It is for you Jean. It is Randy who says he's on Mars."

John chuckled and realized that he was going to have to explain the Military Affiliate Radio Service to Macy after the call. "Hey Randy, this is John."

"Merry Christmas John," said Randy. He's been patching calls to John since Paul got assigned to Japan, and he was shocked to hear a woman answer the phone. "You know the rules, this is a radio transmission, do not expect privacy, and we need to keep the conversation in English. Ok, Kadina, we have your number three on the line, go ahead."

Even through the static and the whistling of shortwave radio, John heard his big brother's voice. "Hey Johnnie! Merry Christmas! How was Santa to you? Over."

"Merry Christmas Paulie! This is my merriest Christmas ever. Let me introduce my cadeau de Noël, that means Christmas present Randy. Paul this is Doctor Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais. Macy, say hi to my brother Paul.

"Allo Paul! And Merry Christmas."

"Over," said John.

"My goodness! Marie-Claude, you sound delightful! What are your intentions toward my brother? Over."

"After I grade his doctoral thesis I may allow him to take me to dinner and a show. Over."

"My brother is dating his advisor? Way to go Johnnie! I told you it would work out. Over."

They talked happily and all too soon their five minutes were up and they said their goodbyes and Paul promised to have Melony join him on the next call. Back home in Montreal, Macy said to John, "You're smiling, why?"

"That's the first time I ever heard you speak English."

"So?" asked Macy.

"You have a very sexy accent and a very sexy voice. Now I know how Gomez Addams feels," John grinned.

"I don't understand," said Macy, and John had to explain the Addams Family to her. "So if I speak in English it turns you into some kind of sexual beast?"

"Uh... well... yeah."

"Hot damn!" said Macy in English with an evil grin.

"Tish! You spoke English!" and soon they were wrestling and tickling on the couch.

When they settled down, Macy said, "Paul sounds wonderful."

"He is, he's my big brother and he's about your age. When I had a melt down and couldn't take the Roman catechism any more I ran to Arizona where he was stationed. He pumped me back up and said, 'You take all those credit hours from that seminary and put them to use in a divinity school.' I heard about École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec so I taught myself French and showed up on your doorstep."

"You taught yourself French?"

"Yeah, it took two years but I was able to get a postgrad position!" He handed her a stack of boxes and she opened them one by one, grinning that sweet, beautiful smile that he was falling deeper in love with. John indeed had given Macy lingerie; he gave her multiple types of sheer flowing lacy gowns and teddies. She gave him a beautiful, 100% Irish wool sweater. In return, she received a 100% Scottish wool sweater from John. "How did you know my size?" she asked.

"Same way you knew mine, I read the tags on your clothes." Lately they have been doing their laundry together.

"I didn't realize that men knew that trick," said Macy as John handed her a gaily wrapped gift.

"When I told my mom that I quit seminary she decided to start telling me all these little tricks. She said that I had some catching up to do. Open your package."

Macy opened the package and inside were hand knitted mittens with a matching scarf and hat. "These are beautiful! Where did you get them?"

"Mom made them. She went crazy and sent me doubles of everything, so your sweater may be a bit big."

Macy found an envelope in the box marked Not For John. She opened it and found a note. "To my John's girlfriend. I don't know your name but I know you are there by the way that my John's smile returned. He smiles when he calls me even though he's trying to keep you secret from me. I can't wait to meet you, and if you need anything please call me."

"Katarina... Is that your mother's name? It is beautiful."

"Yes. She's a darling. She's very smart but she acts stupid to catch people off guard."

"She must be sweet to raise a man like you. Make me tea s'il te plait?" asked Macy with a kiss.

"I brought a Christmas blend I hope you enjoy."

As he left, Macy picked up the phone and dialed. Soon a sleepy sounding woman answered with, "Hello?"

"'Allo! Katarina? Joyeux Noël! My name is Macy Dagenais and I got your note in the cadeau de Noël that your John gave me.

Suddenly Katarina was wide awake. She and Cecil had been up late watching their favorite version of A Christmas Carol and sipping spiked egg nog. "Macy? Hello! I'm sorry, I just woke up."

"I apologize Maman Jarecki, we just got off the phone with Paul and I opened your gift and I called to thank you. The mittens and scarf are beautiful. The sweater is a bit large but it is warm and soft, I love it!"

"Oh I'm so glad you like it... Cecil! Wake up! John got a girlfriend for Christmas!"

Macy's laughter rang through the house that Christmas morning. She could picture Père Noël handing her to John. She and Katarina talked for a long time and when they ended their call, Macy was in tears. "What is wrong?" asked John.

"Nothing... I just realized that I have a family."

John put his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. "Yes you do, for better or worse."

Later in the day Macy asked for the third time what John had planned for Christmas dinner and he finally said, "I made something incredible for Christmas dinner!"

"What did you make?"

"Reservations."

As they walked through the snow that evening, flush with joie de Noël and their blossoming love John said, "We celebrate the birth of our middle eastern savior, I figured we'd celebrate it with middle eastern supper," and he led her to the Khyber Pass, an Afghani restaurant near his apartment. The restaurant was tastefully decorated in Middle Eastern décor, and the menu looked exotic and tasty.

"What is the difference between the brochette d'agneau (lamb kebab) and the brochette de cotelettes d'agneau? (Lamb chop kebab)?" asked John, as they looked at the menu. Neither had lamb in the past and both wanted to try it.

"The Barea kebab (lamb) is made with seasoned ground lamb, the Chopan kebab (lamb chop) is made with large pieces of lamb as you may be used to when having a kebab," said the waiter, who was not from Afghanistan. He was an Asian American by his accent. His French was stilted, and he clearly was learning the language.

They got both kebabs, and both were delicious! John preferred the ground lamb, which was spiced, and Macy preferred the chops. They planned to come back again before they left Montreal to find their future. "Hey buddy," called John in English after they finished.

"Yes?" said their waiter as he came to the table.

"Where ya from?" asked John.

"Albany."

"Buffalo," said John and he slipped the waiter a 20. "Shhh. Merry Christmas."

The waiter was shocked; they don't tip in Canada, and when Canadians come to America, some Canadians boldly refuse to tip the wait staff, which is one thing that John hated about Canada. "Thank you! Merry Christmas!" said the waiter.

Back at Macy's condo, John was feeling glum. It was getting near time for him to depart to his apartment, but he would be back in the morning for the start of Boxing Day. A day when Canadians threw holiday parties getting ready for the New Year. "I suppose I should go," said John as Macy ducked into the bedroom.

"No, wait." Soon Macy came out wearing one of the lingerie items John gave her. It was a white see through bra and panty set with a white mesh cami and it looked spectacular on her. John was achingly hard in an instant as she stood and slowly twirled in front of him. "You like?"

He finally got a view of her cute, tiny ass and he got even harder. "I love... I love so much..." said John.

"Come," said Macy and she led him to the bedroom.

"I... I don't think I should be in here," stuttered John.

"Are you going to rape me?" she asked.

"No, of course not." He felt insulted that she might ask that.

"Then we are safe, no?"

"What if we can't control ourselves?" asked John.

"With our histories? I don't think there's much chance of that happening, do you?"

"So true," said John with a sigh.

"This is the first time I wanted to share some of myself with a man, and I chose you John Jarecki. Please let it happen."

"It is the first time for me also," said John. "And I'm so scared, I don't know what to do."

"We kiss and touch, fingers, lips, tongues only," said Macy. "And if either of us says Kabab, everything will stop."

"Yes, good rule," and John said Kabab over and over in his mind so he wouldn't forget their safe word.

With trembling fingers Macy undressed John and soon he was wearing only his boxer shorts and Macy pulled him into bed with her. "I always wondered what it would be like in bed with a man who loved and respected me. Somehow I knew it would be you the day we met. Even when I hated you I knew it would be you to take my heart."

For the next hour, John and Macy explored each other with gentle fingers and kissing lips. By flickering candlelight, they gently probed each other's body, driving each other and themselves crazy. Soon they were both naked and Macy saw his cock and John could tell she was afraid. "No, it's ok, I think it's tame," she said. "My first one was not on a leash."

The expression sounded so funny John couldn't hold back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh," he said as he contained himself. The idea of unleashed penises sounded funny.

"It's the only way I can describe it. For you I know that no means no, for that pig, it meant nothing."

"No, I understand, after my meeting with Satan I understand." John found out the hard way that no meant nothing to Satan as well.

They continued to explore each other. John touched a woman's vagina for the first time and was entranced by Macy's black pussy. It was like her lips were clenching in terror, but he kissed her and she melted. She whimpered in joy and held his head in place. Her fragrance was intoxicating, like fresh mown hay on a warm summer day. He crawled between her long, slender legs and kissed her pussy over and over. His hands cupped her tight ass cheeks and held them as he kissed.

"Non," she said, but it wasn't fear. "I want to save something for our wedding night." She pulled him up next to her and wrapped his hand around his cock. "Show me how you like it."

Soon his hand was stroking up and down his cock while her fingers circled her clit. Each lover drove themselves to ecstasy while they kissed their fiancé. They both came loud and unashamed. When John came, his semen flew everywhere and covered them both. His warm fluid set Macy off and she had a screaming orgasm and she sank her teeth into John's shoulder. For both, it was the first orgasm in the company of somebody else. They shuddered in the afterglow of their mutual lovemaking and after a kiss, John whispered, "will you marry me?"

"I will now!" grinned Macy.

As they cleaned each other up and after a taste of each other's fluids, a sleepy but happy Macy said, "Kabab, mon amour. Joyeux noël." (my love, Merry Christmas)

"Kabab, oui mon amour," said an exhausted John. "Bonne nuit ma chérie. Joyeux noël." (Good night my darling, Merry Christmas)

John awoke with an extremely happy, Happy Macy bringing him a breakfast in bed. She was wearing a cute Christmassy shortie nightgown with panties adorned with snowmen. "Arise! Boxing Day is broken! And I have a special boxing day gift for you." She handed him a flat box wrapped with wrapping paper that was decorated with wrapped Christmas presents.

He unwrapped the box as Macy buttered a croissant for him. It was a copy of his final dissertation and at the top was a letter from Doctor Anaclet Basile, head of the review committee. His letter said he was pleased with the dissertation and would be glad to see Mister John Matthew Jarecki on March 15 for the Viva, the oral examination. "I only have 80 days to prepare!"

"Oh hush!" she demanded. "You will do fine. I remember my first doctoral defense; it was only scary for the first ten minutes. After that it was terrifying."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Actually, John's defense, the oral examination that was the final test of his dissertation, went exceedingly well. The committee was impressed with the American who learned to speak fluent French in just a few years. He was told that he had achieved their expectations and surpassed them with, "how do you say in America, colors that are flying?"

"Yes, that's good enough, Professor," said John with a huge, relieved grin. It would be months before he discovered his final valuation, but he was the very first doctoral candidate for the year to stand for examination, so they probably went harder on him than they normally would. Later, Macy told him she heard he did so well, he made the examinations difficult for the candidates behind him.

The last couple of months of the year were easy. Macy let him teach all of her classes for the rest of the year while she closed out and sold her condo. Free of studying, John was able to pack up his books in his apartment when he was not in school. At school, he changed the name on the door from Dr. Dagenais to Dr. Jarecki with a post-it-note. He closed out his tiny closet sized office and did his work from Macy's large office.

As John was correcting papers one morning, Dr. Joffrey Paquet, the chancellor, or as John called him, the Archchancellor, stepped into the office. "Is Doctor Dagenais here?" he asked.

"No sir, she's home packing. We're selling her condo," said John as he rose.

"Please sit Docteur Jarecki," said Docteur Paquet, who also sat. "I saw your grades. You did well for someone who speaks French as a second language."

"Third language, sir. "Zawisze uważałem język Polska za swój drugi język." (I always considered Polish my second language.)

"English, Polish, French, Latin, and Greek?" asked Docteur Paquet. "Very impressive Docteur Jarecki,"

"I haven't earned that title just yet," said John.

"Ah, it is just a matter of wearing a funny hat and robe now," said Dr. Paquet with a dismissive wave of the hand. "I will proudly hand you your diploma in a few short weeks and then everyone else can call you Docteur. But for now, I reserve the right to call you Docteur alone and do so proudly."

"Thank you Doctor Paquet."

"I saw your father sells cars, are your parents excited to have a doctor in the family?"

"Another doctor," said John. "My brother Paul is a flight surgeon in the US Air Force and he is working to become a cardiologist. And to be honest, they are very excited to meet Doctor Dagenais. Speaking of which, Marie-Claude and I have a request to make..."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

On the second to last day of the year, John thanked his freshman class. He sat on the desk and swung his feet. "Tomorrow is your final examination and every one of you will do well, I'm sure of it. Doctor Dagenais and I tested you harder than your exam will probe and you will all do fine. So, I guess we will spend our hour asking questions if you would like. Anything you want, or you can go study for tomorrow."

Nobody moved. "Well?" After a moment or two, he said, "Nothing?" Finally, a hand shot up. "Yes Joycelyn?"

Joycelyn stood and said, "Have you and Doctor Dagenais set a date yet?"

"Yes we have. Are there any more questions?"

The classroom was in an uproar. John's habits of telling half the story, burying the lede, and not offering any details drove them all crazy. "When is it?" demanded the class.

"Ok, ok, hush! Settle down." He stood and put on a tie and began tying it. "You have been such a wonderful class, you really have, that we want to invite you all. Would you like that?" When the class agreed, he said, "Joycelyn, could you come stand here? And Joël, could you come up front and stand here next to me? Good!" He pulled on a black blazer and said, we only need..."

The class didn't notice John handing Joycelyn and Joël a ring each because just then, Macy and Doctor Rodolphe Chauvin, the vice chancellor, and the man who put Macy and John together on his doctoral project, entered the room. The students gasped when they saw Macy was wearing a dress instead of her usual pant suit, but also she was wearing a white veil and carrying a small bouquet.

The students watched in shock as the couple they teased and taunted about getting married all year long got married right in front of them. "It has been quite a while since I performed a wedding ceremony," said Doctor Chauvin. "I must say, none of them had been as exciting as this one. I know you two know the form of the marriage and I know you are very ready; therefore, I happily say, loved ones... We are gathered here today to prepare for our final exam, and to join Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais and John Matthew Jarecki in holy matrimony."

They faced each other and joined hands, then their eyes met and they both smiled and happily relaxed. The waiting and loneliness were over. This is it. They will finally become whole. "Doctor Jarecki?" asked Doctor Chauvin.

Without wavering, John said, "Macy, I promise to love you always with my whole heart, to honor and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us."

"Doctor Dagenais?"

"Jean, I promise to cherish you always, to honor and sustain you, to follow your lead wherever we go, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us."

Doctor Chauvin happily said, "Jean and Macy, you have come together this day so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of this minister of His word and this community of family and friends and so, in the presence of this gathering, I ask you to state your intentions: Have you both come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? If so, answer by saying 'I have.'"

"I have," replied John and Macy.

Doctor Chauvin then said to John. Please take the ring you have selected for Macy. As you place it on her finger, repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring I thee wed."

Macy looked down at the ring on her finger. Her wedding band was nestled against her engagement ring and they looked so perfect together that she nearly cried. "Macy, are you ok?" asked Dr. Chauvin.

"Yes sir." Her glance at him let Dr. Chauvin know that any further delays will be dealt with.

"Then Macy, please take the ring you have selected for John. As you place it on his finger repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed."

Joycelyn almost dropped the ring. She was so nervous she was shaking, but Macy took it and placed it on John's finger and said, "With this ring, I thee wed." She looked up at John and the smile on his face was blissful, content. Like an angel. Like an American Angel and her heart started beating faster.

Doctor Chauvin said, "Those whom God has joined, let no man put asunder. In so much as John and Marie-Claude have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, having given and pledged their faith, each to the other, and having declared same by the giving and receiving of rings, I pronounce you husband and wife. I ask you now to seal the promises you have made with each other this day with a kiss."

John lifted Macy's veil and pulled her to him for a kiss, and the class stood and applauded. While they kissed, Macy kind of lobbed the bouquet over her shoulder and it almost hit Joycelyn in the face.

They didn't run off after their marriage. Like everything else they've done this year for these freshmen, it became a lesson. They shook hands and thanked Doctor Chauvin, who said goodbye to the class and left. Macy sat on the desk next to John. "Ok, there you go," said John. "Now you know when we're going to get married. Any other questions that are NOT about the honeymoon?"

"When did you decide to do it here in front of the class?" asked Bethany.

John and Macy looked at each other, then John said, "Two days ago. We had asked the chancellor, Dr. Paquet if we could be married here on campus a couple of weeks ago, but on Tuesday we got an idea and asked Dr. Chauvin if we could do it as part of a class project."

"What was the point of the project?" asked another student.

"You, as pastors, are going to come up with unique ideas and requests for weddings," said Macy. "Also, Pauvre Jean (poor John) has had the alpha and the omega of being a pastor this year. He started with guiding a dear friend Romée to salvation. That is the hardest test of a pastor, especially when she was in as much pain as she was..." Macy paused and held his hand in hers. "Then he comforted Romée's daughter."

"What did you do to comfort Romée's daughter?" asked Joycelyn.

"I married her," said John. After the shocked questions came, John said, "Romée was Doctor Dagenais' stepmother." He patted Macy's hand and said, "Her last words to me were about you. She said to me, 'Love my Macy,' and I did, and I do."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you that you were on her mind at the end. I didn't want you to feel an obligation to her."

Macy kissed John and turned to the class and said, "facing death is the hardest thing a pastor can do. I know many pastors who quit after losing too many members of their congregation. John did fabulous. Weddings can be trying too, but they rarely come to death."

"You used funny nicknames in the ceremony, is that ok?" asked Benjamin.

John nodded. "If you're a pastor and you're setting up a wedding, be sure you follow rule number one. Have your wife deeply involved. That's very important. Your wife is your quarterback, uh... she's the center on your offensive line, she will make it happen. She's been a bride and she will know what is going on in the bride's mind, because a wedding is all about the bride. Rule number 2 of setting up a wedding states that if the bride doesn't like it, don't do it. If the bride wants silly, embarrassing stuff, in that case refer to rule number one."

"You are very wise," said Macy with a grin.

"Thank you," said John and they kissed.

"You two act like you've been married a long time," said Joycelyn.

"You're the one that said back in August that we fight like we were married, am I right?"

"No that was Bernadette!"

"That was a difficult time, we were learning to communicate. It wasn't fighting, it was really bad communication skills on my part. I knew I loved Macy; I didn't know how to say it because we have some serious baggage. We're still learning how to help each other with our baggage, but when we realized that we were a team we had to talk it out," said John.

"I did not have great examples for parents, but John does," said Macy. "So, I'm learning from my in-laws." She grinned happily. "I can't wait to meet them in person."

"Oh yeah? Wait until mom finds out she wasn't invited to the wedding."

<><><><><>

John and Macy didn't walk into their wedding night completely ignorant. For the past few months, they learned how to touch each other and please each other as they gently taught each other the foibles imposed on them by the events of their past. They both knew that for them, sex was not easy, but they had other talents they could fall back on if vaginal penetration did not work.

Together, John and Macy walked, still dressed for their wedding, to the Khyber Pass restaurant and ordered the first meal they had together on Christmas day, Lamb Kabobs. They even had the same waiter who greeted them speaking English. "You look like you two are going to get married," he chuckled.

"Done! We finished that up three hours ago and we're starving."

They fed each other bits of Lamb Kabob like any other newlywed couple would feed each other bits of wedding cake. Finally, they walked back to John's apartment, their apartment now that Macy's condo was sold, and they dined on a small cake that John picked up at "his" bakery around the corner and Macy's delightful coffee. John also had a bottle of sparkling cider that Macy fell in love with. Soon they made their way through the stacks of boxes to the bedroom, which was a mattress on the floor and several warm comforters.

With trembling hands, they undressed each other and kissed ravenously. John's hard cock was pressing against her tummy, aching to get inside her and she ached to have him there, but both were tainted by their pasts, so they moved slowly.

On the bed, John kissed his way down to Macy's marvelously firm little breasts topped off with perpetually hard nipples. "Why do you even wear bras?" he asked as he nibbled and suckled on her breast.

"To hide these nipples!"

"Why?" he asked as he twirled them between thumb and forefingers.

"They're always poking out..." she panted. He was really getting to her.

"That just means that you like me."

"Oh stop!" she said, but as he kissed his way lower and lower she sighed, "don't stop!" John kissed her tight little pussy. The outer lips were closed tight against him, but he learned that there was a magic place to kiss and he began kissing and flicking his tongue over her pussy. Her hips rose as his tongue dug and tickled her cunt. Finally, his tongue hit that spot and she gasped and grasped his head and held him immobile. "Yes! Eat me!" she gasped as he tried to be gentle, but it was so much fun making his love go crazy.

"Now!" Macy gasped. "Do it now!"

John crawled up between Macy's legs and he knew enough to lube his cock before trying. Fumbling, he tried to line up his cock with her opening, but she had to help him. She reached down and grasped his cock. "There," she whispered, and John could feel his cock slide in a little. It felt so good and warm! He slid in deeper and Macy's knees rose to give him better access. "Easy..." she sighed, and John slid in more and more. Her pussy was so warm and moist!

He entered her as far as he could and he pushed up on his arms to look down on her and smile. She smiled too as she got used to the invasion of her body. Then suddenly she shrieked and rolled over, pushing John away. She curled up in a ball and shivered, lost in her own world of terror. John curled up with her and hugged her and wept with her. "It's OK, I'm here for you," he whispered.

Macy rolled over and buried her face in his chest. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." she whimpered.

"It's ok. We knew we were going to have problems. And we have our work arounds."

"We can't make a baby with a 69." She whimpered. They were getting quite good at 69.

"Babies will come when babies come," said John, reciting what his mom said was an old Polish proverb. "One step at a time, both of us. You with me?" John said in English.

"I'm with you," sniffed Macy.

"Tish! That's English!" and John tickled her and she swore and called him all kinds of names as he raised her spirits.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

The Amtrak Adirondack pulled into Montreal station a couple of hours late, but when Cecil and Katarina Jarecki stepped off, they were met by their youngest son, John. "Johnnie! My Johnnie!" cried Katarina. "You're so skinny, don't they feed you here?"

"Living on a budget mom, and I walk everywhere."

"Where is Macy?" asked his dad as Katarina inspected her son for wear and tear.

"She was called in to the university. Graduation is tomorrow and everything is in an uproar, like every year. She said not to wait up, she'll catch up with us at the graduation ceremony. You guys hungry?"

"Famished, what do you have here?" said Cecil.

"I found a Polish restaurant that you may love not far from the university."

"I'll start out with a hamburger and fries and we'll save your Polish restaurant for Macy," said Cecil.

"He wants to see how she deals with proper food," said Katarina. "You said she was a model so she's probably skinny like you." With a squeal of joy, she hugged her son. "I can't wait to get you home and fatten you up!"

Cecil had rented a car, but he gave the keys to John, which might have been a mistake. John hadn't driven in three years. But they made it to a family-style restaurant where John ordered for them in French which really impressed Katarina. "You've gotten so good!"

"Well, I have spoken nothing but French for three years. Macy still says that I have a funny accent, but she's from a small village out east and they tell me she has an accent too."

"You don't speak English at all?"

"No, the first time I ever heard Macy speak English was Christmas when Paul called. How are he and Melony doing?"

"It's a surprise so don't let him know I told you," said Katarina between bites of her tuna melt. "When Melony gets back from Korea in a few weeks they're going to try to have a baby!"

"Oh, that's great!" said John. He tried to smile, but he wondered if he and Macy will ever get to the point where that would be possible.

"What's the matter," Katarina asked.

"Nothing."

"You know your mother," said Cecil. "You can't hide anything from her."

"Johnny, tell me," said Katarina. "It is ok, you can talk to me about anything."

John sighed and his shoulders slumped. There's no way he can get away from this table without telling them. "It's Macy, she was raped as a girl and she was drugged just like I was at Paul's wedding..." He sighed sadly. "She had the same vision of Satan."

"Don't worry about it," said Katarina. "Just worry about getting married first. Babies will happen only when babies happen. Isn't' that right Cecil."

The rest of the conversation was taken up by Cecil's review of Amtrak. Even though there were occasional problems, they took a train from Depew station to Albany where they caught another train to Montreal. "I'll never fly again, it was beautiful! What's so funny?"

"You lived in New York over fifty years and you didn't know how beautiful it was?" asked John. "But you're right. If I had the time and money I would have been riding back and forth on Amtrak... you know what would be better? A boat up the Saint Lawrence!"

"The Thousand Isles!" said Katarina. They discussed possible summer vacation spots for after Johnny came home from college.

<><><><><>

"Where did you leave them?" asked Macy.

"They're up in their seats in C section, three rows back, right on the aisle," said John. It was graduation day, and it was crazy! "You put your married name on the program!" said John as he read the program with a huge grin. Mom is going to shit.

"Yes," said Macy firmly. "It is my name now. I'm going to use it." She left John with a huge smile. They came so close to successful sex last night, they were getting better, and now she publicly has stated that she was his woman. She headed off to join up with the faculty and John headed over to join up with the doctoral candidates. They were separated by color, gray gowns with purple-colored chevrons for the divinity college. He wore an eight-sided tam and was handed a golden honors tassel to put on his tam.

Soon, they were led out to the seating area for the graduate students. There were about a dozen doctoral degrees to be handed out, thirty master's degrees and over a hundred bachelor's degrees. From what John saw, all of his freshmen and sophomore students were there to see the fun as well.

The Chancellor Doctor Paquet, and the vice chancellor, Doctor Chauvin, both spoke individually, then together they gave Macy a special plaque and certificate of appreciation for her years of service to the university and there was some kidding about conducting actual weddings in her freshman class which caused a lot of laughter among the students and the faculty. "We wish you future luck Doctor Dagenais-Jarecki and please let us know where you land."

"What are they laughing at?" asked Cecil.

"I don't know," said Katarina, who took French in high school and has forgotten every word.

A fellow that was sitting behind them leaned forward and said, "That professor held an actual wedding in her classroom. They said it was a teaching success but difficult to reproduce."

"That's a good idea," said Katarina. "Then they will know what to expect when they're ordained."

They hugged and kissed and Macy sat down, trying hard not to cry. In a few minutes, she's going to be alone in the world with John, where Satan can find them. But first they must graduate their lambs. One by one, they called the doctoral candidates up to the stage. John was number three, and his grades were high enough to earn him the golden honors stole. As they called him up, the girls in the senior class went wild. Macy was right the minute she met him. The girls were going to eat him up. As his advisor Macy presented him with his stole and diploma, accompanied by a kiss on each cheek, but as his wife he got a more meaningful kiss. As they kissed, their students went wild, clapping and cheering.

"The French are very romantic," said Katarina.

"If they weren't kissing so much we'd get out of here at a decent hour," groused Cecil.

"That was John!" gasped Katarina. "I missed it because they didn't say his name."

The guy behind them leaned forward and said, "In French, John is pronounced Jean."

"Oh," said Katarina. "That's very interesting."

After what seemed like an entire day, it was over and John found Macy in a crowd of faculty who were wishing her luck. "I wouldn't be leaving if you offered my Jean a position," said Macy.

"The man who held weddings in the classrooms? What is next? Confirmation in the cafeteria?" laughed a teacher, who clearly didn't know what actually happened.

"I was thinking of starting small," said John. "Maybe a bris here and there..."

"Let's go find a home, first," said Macy. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Where are my in-laws?"

"Come with me doctor," said John.

"Yes doctor," replied Macy and they walked into the crowd that was still milling about. The freshman class that showed up swarmed them and thanked them for teaching them. They gave Macy a handful of beautiful spring flowers.

"Nothing for me?" asked John.

"You got our teacher, what more do you want?" demanded Joycelyn, and she gave him a tearful hug. "Good luck sir."

"Thank you darling," said John as he gave her a kiss on each cheek. "I give you permission to graduate with honors. I expect to hear that happen."

"Yes sir!" said a tear filled Joycelyn.

Finally, John led Macy to where his parents waited for them. From the looks on their faces, Macy realized they neglected to warn them about her skin color. "Nous ne leur avons pas dit que j'étais noir!" gasped Macy. (We did not tell them I am black)

"Ne vous inquiétez pas, ils comprendront," said John (Don't worry, they'll figure it out) earning a punch in the arm from Macy. "Mom, dad, this is my advisor, my guide, and my partner Dr. Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais-Jarecki. These are my parents, Cecil and Katarina."

"Marie-Claude Solange... So many names!" gushed Katarina. John had said Dagenais-Jarecki so quickly with such a French accent that his mother didn't catch it right off. "We were hoping to meet Macy."

"Must be hard to keep all those names in line," chuckled Cecil, who didn't understand what Katarina was figuring out.

"John!" snapped Katarina. She looked at the program and found Marie-Claude's name. Her brow furrowed, like she just caught him crossing Genesee street without permission. "Dagenais-Jarecki?"

"Yes mom, we eloped three days ago. This is your daughter Macy."

"When were you going to tell us?" gasped Cecil.

"Right now, actually."

"Oh My God!" cried Katarina as she hugged Macy. "Welcome to the family!" and before he knew it, his parents were gushing over Macy, telling their new daughter-in-law all about Johnnie when he was little.

"He still is little," said Macy as she hugged John, who was pouting.

"Merci pour votre soutien," muttered John under his breath (thank you for your support).

They walked to Bistro La Fabrique, a place that John would normally consider too expensive and too "froo-froo" as his dad would say, but dad's business was doing fine and he had no problem with the prices. As they ate, John and Macy told Katarina and Cecil of their three-year courtship. "I hated him when we first met, and I was warned that I would hate him," said Macy. "I should have known it was you. All along my American Angel was you." Then she whispered to John about her LSD trip, "I should tell them but..."

"It's ok," whispered John. "They will understand, they were there when I went through it myself."

"When I was a teen I was poisoned with LSD and the devil appeared and told me I would hate my angel when we meet. Years later I had met no Angel and then Jean showed up. He was too nice, too cute, and I should have loved him from the beginning but I hated him. I should have known that Satan was trying to keep us apart. Jean would do such wonderful things for me and I would hate him for it."

"We became study buddies and teaching partners" said John. "Then her step-mom... Romée was in hospice and I was with her every moment..."

"Pauvre Jean," sighed Macy. "It was so hard on him. She was in so much pain and he was there for her all night long and he was there for me all day long. He was there a full week as she writhed in agony, then he had to come back and work for me. And she made him promise not to tell me."

"It was difficult, I was getting two hours of sleep a day. After that our relationship changed," said John. "She hated me for not telling her Romée was dying."

"But I was so proud of him for not breaking a promise to my dear Romée and telling me," said Macy as she looked at John with pure admiration.

Katarina and Cecil watched and listened in fascination as John and Macy completed each other's sentences. It was almost like watching a tennis match. And as they were eating, they would feed each other favored bits of their meals. Even dinner was a combined event for them. "When did you get engaged?" demanded Katarina.

"Oh, that was back in... September?" said John.

"Maybe October... I forget," said Macy.

"How can you forget?" asked Katarina.

"It's not like I said yes," said Macy.

"I waited months," said John. "Every Monday our freshman class would ask, 'are you married now?' then one Monday they asked, 'Did you ask her?' and they went crazy when I said yes... and nothing else." John grinned a wicked grin remembering their agony when he did that.

Macy told them all about the poor freshmen who were cheering them on from the sidelines. "Then the last day of class they asked Jean if he set a date, and he said, "Oui. Today!" And we got married there in class and used it as a lesson."

"I picked our puppy Joycelyn as her brides maid and our friend Joël as best man and the vice chancellor came in and performed the ceremony," said John.

"Then we stayed with them and discussed the need for pastors to be flexible when planning a wedding," said Macy brightly.

"Don't try to make every wedding a boiler plate ceremony or suffer the wrath of Bridezilla!" snarled John as he and Macy laughed and kissed.

"My goodness, you two tire me out!" cried Katarina.

"Here," said Cecil and he handed Macy a thick envelope. "This was to be John's graduation gift but it appears he no longer wants money. So use some of it for a honeymoon getaway, and then save the rest for our grandchildren."

"We don't..." John started, but his mother interrupted right away.

"It's for the babies, not for you!"

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

With their apartment closed and their belongings shipped, John and Macy spent the night in the hotel with Cecil and Katarina, then they escorted their parents to the train station and wished them a safe journey and as Cecil and Katarina chugged off toward the south, Macy aimed her little Alpha toward Nova Scotia. The first night of their honeymoon was spent in St.-Louis-du-Ha!-Ha! They were both dying to see the Ha! Ha!

After touring the New England coast, John and Macy pulled into Cecil and Katarina's driveway, and John was shocked that his mom didn't come out on the front porch to welcome them. "Nobody drives up and down this street, especially in an Alpha Romeo without mom noticing," said John. He helped Macy out of the car and they walked up to the house with the broad front porch and went around back.

They entered the back door and there was Katarina; she was frosting a cake for them but gave up on it and was just staring off into space. "What's wrong mom?"

"It's Melony... she's dead."

John felt like his heart was crushed between two bricks. Melony gone? It can't be! Poor Paul! "What happened?"

"They don't know, she died in the cockpit while on the ground at a Korean air base."

John pulled his mother into his arms. She was trembling and was going to cry any minute. She had a soft spot in her heart for Melony. She called Melony "a sweet girl that had the misfortune of rich parents." He looked and saw Macy standing in the kitchen, looking dazed and confused as well. She spoke to Melony several times on MARS calls and enjoyed speaking to her. She was eagerly looking forward to meeting her sister, and she told John at length about the plans she had for when she and Melony met. He pulled Macy into his arms along with Katarina. This is not what he wanted when he came home. He didn't want to apply the lessons learned from Romée's death, not for a long time.

Later, he tried to call Paul, but the line disconnected just after he said, "Paul, it's me John." That happened several times. Then he called Paul's commander, who said, "The major is having a bad time over this. You'll have to give him his space."

"No sir, space is the worst thing for him, he needs help."

"Doctor Jarecki, I am the commander of a combat squadron, I have two hundred men and women depending on me for their very lives. Between you and I who do you think is best equipped to deal with death?"

John couldn't believe the colonel said that. In response John said, "for the commander of two hundred men and women, I think that is the wrong thing to be proud of." Then he looked at the phone. "Weird. The line went dead."

"I think he hung up," said Macy, who was listening on the extension. "He did not sound too bright."

"These came for you," said Katarina sadly. She handed John several envelopes. "Job offers?"

"Maybe!" He opened one from Niagara-On-The-Lake NY but the letter said, "Thank you for your interest but we filled the position."

Macy opened the next one from a suburb of Montreal. "Doctor Jarecki appears to be a good fit with our church, how many children do you have? What color are they?"

John and Macy stared at each other in shock. What kind of Christian church asks that question? "What did I tell you about having striped kids!" said Katarina which caused John and Macy to break up into laughter.

There were several in their area that seemed interested, so John gave each of them a call and arranged appointments to come speak with the pastor search committee. On a warm spring day, he and Macy walked up to Main Street in Williamsville and stopped at the dry cleaners on Main St. and Las Robles to get his suit pressed and her dress ironed. Then they walked through the village. "You grew up here?"

"Yeah, I was six when we moved here. I went to elementary school over there, and this big stone monster is mom and dad's church and that's where we used to hang out..." He led her to Ellicott Creek, where he and Paul played as boys. There was a huge waterfall and John said, "We used to go swimming up there at the top of the falls."

"Weren't you washed over the edge?"

"No, there's a hole in the rock that's about three feet deep and ten feet across. It was like a swimming pool.

That night, John called Paul and got his answering machine. "Paul, this is John. I don't know why you're mad at me, I want to talk to you, please share your pain with me, let me try to help you!"

Several days later, he called again. "I have answered several job offers and it's not working out. We get the feeling that they don't want us because Macy is black. One place said they wanted me to work for free, another wouldn't hire me because we don't have children. Call me on MARS, please. I'm at Mom's house."

<><><><><>

"Springville?" asked Macy. "Have you ever been here?"

"Nope," said John. "My god is it pretty!"

"Oui! C'est beau ici!" (Yes, it's beautiful here)

They purred through the village in a tiny Ford Fiesta that John bought from his dad for fifty dollars and soaked up the regional flavor of the area. "This place... I don't want to say it," said John.

"Say it," said Macy.

"No I don't want to jinx it."

"Dis-le!" (say it)

"I feel this place calling to me," said John in French. "I feel something good... a kinship with the area."

"Pourquoi tu parles Français?" (Why are you speaking French?) Macy asked.

"Pour la chance." (For luck)

They pulled into the parking spot across the street from a beautiful, old, white wooden church. They've been to one dozen interviews, and this was the first one that was in a church that looked like a church. It looked like a little white prairie church with a steeple and double front door. In John's eyes, it was beautiful. Everything else they've seen were monstrosities. Overpriced modern junk architects sell to unknowing congregations. They look exciting outside. John didn't want exciting, he wanted peaceful.

This building came from a simpler time, a time when hymns were melodic, not hypnotic. A time when the word was spoken with honesty and strength. John worried he didn't have a strong enough spirit to preach in such an edifice to do it justice.

He walked to the passenger side of the Fiesta and opened the door and let Macy out. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect," she gushed. "Let's keep it."

"Lucky number thirteen," said John. Hand in hand, they climbed the steps and a large, smiling fellow met them at the door. "Hi, I'm John Jarecki and this is my wife Macy."

"August Didomissio, please call me Gus, everyone does. I'm a deacon on the board and we're anxious to meet you. I just heard you recently got married," said Gus. "That's great... you didn't do it for the interview, did you?"

"No," said Macy. "We did it for me, I couldn't keep my hands off of him," she said as she pinched John's behind.

"Hey girl," warned John.

Gus led them through the simple church, and John loved it. "It's beautiful," he sniffed. They were led into the back room where six people were waiting around a U-shaped table with a chair in the middle for John. John spied a stack of folding chairs and grabbed one and opened it up next to the empty chair and he and Macy sat down. "We're a team," explained John. "If you hire me, you get both. I'll do the teaching and preaching on Sunday plus teach Sunday school, perform marriages and funerals. Together Macy and I will do counseling, pre-wedding classes, and new member classes. Macy will be involved in all church activities including visiting the home bound and children's church. She is an ordained minister so if something happens and you have no objections she can cover for me on Sunday."

"What if we say that we don't agree with that," asked a dour-looking woman on the pastor search committee.

"Please tell us now, and we'll thank you for your time and answer the other responses we received," said John.

Several hours later, Katarina was setting the dinner table and Cecil was reading the Buffalo Evening News when John and Macy burst through the door. They were chattering in rapid fire French, and both looked happy and excited about whatever they were talking about. "What is going on you two?"

"We got an offer!" cried John, and he scooped his mother up and swung her around. "Springville Congregational asked us to give a sermon on Sunday. We have to get ready, I have to write the sermon, I need to find the sheet music, did our instruments come yet?"

"Slow down! What instruments?"

"My guitar and recorder, her violin and clarinet."

"Yes, they're in your room in the basement. Hey! Aren't you going to eat supper?"

John popped back up the stairs. "No time, gotta practice." He kissed Katarina's cheek and dashed down the stairs.

"Nothing changes," said Cecil as he turned to the sports pages.

John and Macy worked hard on their Independence Day sermon and memorial. John had heard about the Sullivan Ballou letter from the PBS series on the Civil War, and loved the background music it was set to. "What if someone accuses you of stealing PBS's idea?" asked Macy.

"They're publicly funded, so my tax dollars helped pay for that idea. If they complain, I'll just ask for my money back."

For a week, they practiced Ashokan Farewell. It was going to be a solo for Macy on her violin, but Melissa Kraft volunteered to play the piano and they practiced several times in Springville with Melissa and her son. John played the guitar with them and muttered that he wished Paul were there to help. John practiced reading the Sullivan Ballou letter until he got the timing perfect and was able to end on the last note of Ashokan Farewell. He also practiced his sermon and trimmed it until it was a butt friendly 32 minutes.

"You're as ready as you're going to be," said Melissa. "Go home and rest. Get an ice cream and relax and we'll see you tomorrow morning."

John and Macy got an ice cream at a little dairy store on their way home and got lost... until John recognized his dad's largest dealership in Orchard Park. "When you said he sold cars, I thought he..." Macy couldn't articulate what she thought. She was thinking of a tiny corner lot that had maybe 30 used cars available. Now she was looking at acres of Mercedes and BMWs. There were Bentleys, Porsche's, Maserati's, Ferrari's, and the occasional Bugatti.

"This is dad's biggest location, the rest are smaller, and Ford/Lincoln dealers," said John. "We're going to put your spider there in the shop this winter and let Darwin do his magic on it."

"When you said your folks had money, I didn't realize you meant money."

"Paul is going to come home and manage this, he's got the business mind."

It was dark when they got home and they crept down to the basement and there in the dark they whispered and laughed like little kids. Their whispers became kisses, which became caresses, and Macy said, "Now Jean, I am ready."

John crawled between her legs, and she tugged his cock into position. He gasped, and she sighed happily as she felt him enter her. John felt Macy's pussy wrap around him and clench him in her wet, silky grip. "I love being inside you!" he whispered in French.

They crooned and worshiped each other in French as he eased in and out. Her long legs came up and wrapped around him, her ankles hooked together, and she urged him faster. "Fais-le" (do it) she urged him. "Oui! Baise-moi ma chérie (fuck me my dear)" Their bodies slapped together as he fucked harder and harder, "Ah! mon connard! (Ah! My fucker!)" Macy's encouragement set him over the edge and he came in her with an explosive orgasm. His body shuddered with every spurt and Macy wrapped herself around him, trying to share the joy. She didn't have the heart to tell him she felt very little this time.

Macy's reactions to John's sexual advances were confusing even to her. Sometimes she deeply loves it and she cums happily and easily, but that was rare. Most times, she feels enough excitement to produce lubrication for him, but she doesn't cum. The genuine confusion occurs when John goes down on her and it's too much, it's too good and her orgasms are so powerful, they are terrifying.

He lay gasping next to her and Macy said in French, "that was amazing, my love,"

"You didn't cum," whispered John. "I am so sorry."

"We are getting closer my love, maybe next time. It felt good. But if I want to cum there is always le tour de la moustache." (mustache ride)

"Oh, dear god I love you," said John as they laughed in the dark.

<><><><><>

"We haven't been up here in ages," said Cecil as they exited the 219 Expressway into the village of Springville. He was driving his new Explorer Titanium, sitting up front with Katarina. John and Macy were sitting in the back.

"We were here for a fireman's convention," said Katarina.

"Turn right here, and the church is up that way a bit," said John. They were on a road that got a bit of traffic, not a lot, but the church had a big sign out front.

Special Independence Day Service

Guest Speaker: Dr. John Jarecki Th.D.

Potluck Dinner to Follow Service

"That looks so fancy!" gushed Katarina as she wrapped up her knitting and stuffed it in her knitting bag.

"That is a beautiful old church, John!" gushed Cecil, who knew what he liked. Like his son, Cecil didn't go for a new-fangled church building that looked like Noah's ark, or the Arc of the covenant, or some alien spaceship.

"It's the people that make this place awesome," said John as he led his family into the church. They shook hands with everyone he could, but not too many people recognized him. As far as they knew, he was the guy with the pretty black wife whose dad looks like that guy on TV with the Ford dealerships.

"You ready to go boss?" asked Gus Didomissio with a grin.

"As ready as I'll... as WE'll ever be," he corrected himself. He had to remain humble and remember that Macy is actually more qualified for this job than he is, and that this is a team effort. They arrived early so John said, "This half row here is reserved for us. Don't let anyone take it."

"Ok," said Katarina. She then said, "Cecil, could you get my knitting from the car please?"

Meanwhile, John and Macy ducked downstairs and pitched in to help set up for the potluck dinner. He helped set up tables and chairs and Macy arranged the buffet table. Her cheerful attitude and her infectious laugh made such a splash with the women in the basement that Tammy Schatz, president of the Women's Ministry, said to John, "Even if they don't vote you in, we want Macy in our ministry."

"Merci beaucoup," said Macy as she washed out a crock pot in her new dress. John helped finish drying a serving platter and urged her to hurry. The service was scheduled to start soon.

"How many children do you have?" asked Tammy.

"Give us a chance," said John. "We just got married." They were met with shocked stares and John continued, "We thought you knew; we eloped a couple of months ago."

"What?" came the collective cry.

"Oui! We were teaching at École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec and we got married on the last day of school in the Freshman's theology class," said Macy with a huge grin.

"The kids loved it," said John as he pulled on his blazer.

This news caused a joyful outcry and a lot of laughter and before they knew what was going on, the women's ministry was planning to throw Macy a bridal shower. "Didn't we elope to avoid all this?" John asked Macy.

"Maybe you did, but I love a good party," said Macy.

They returned upstairs to the sanctuary and sat with Cecil and Katarina. "Are you sure that I'm not going to purgatory for being here?" asked Katarina.

"Non," whispered Macy. "You may get bonus points for following along in your bible."

Katarina gave John a questioning look, and he nodded yes. Nervously Katarina opened her bible.

Several hymns were sung, then Dale Hansen read the announcements then pointed John and Macy out and introduced them as a hopeful for Reverend Maundy's position, then said "Greet each other with the joy of Christ," and John and Macy were inundated by well-wishers.

Finally, the time for the congregation to shake hands with each other was over, and the head deacon Dale Hansen called for everyone to return to their seat and introduced Doctor John Jarecki, Th.D. With shaking legs John stood and Macy stood up next to him and gave him a kiss and he headed up to the lectern. He opened his bible and said, "Hello, I am John Jarecki, and that woman that gave me a kiss..." then he looked extremely happy and said, "She is really friendly! You Springville people are just awesome!" which drew a lot of laughter.

"That is my wife, the lovely Quebecois Doctor Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais-Jarecki, but she loves it if you call her Macy. While she is from Quebec, I am from Cheektowaga. I'm a Buffalo boy through and through, I was weaned on beef on weck and learned early about that other trinity, The Sabres, The Bisons, and the Buffalo Bills."

Macy took a peek around and looked at the congregation. John had them in the palm of his hands! They were leaning forward waiting for every word, laughing at the laugh lines and smiling at the rest! She was utterly astonished and incredibly proud.

John continued. "I'm a Doctor of Theology, and Macy has a Ph.D. in theology. Now that sounds similar, but there's a big difference. As a Doctor of Theology, I can take today's lesson, John chapter fifteen, verse thirteen and explain what it means to us Christians. With a Ph.D. in theology, Macy can tell you what it means to everybody else."

And that started his first public sermon. Macy watched for his tells that showed if he was nervous, but there were none. He was in love with this church, and this church loved him. His thirty-two minute sermon took thirty-six minutes, which was not bad. When you're nervous, you speak faster, when you're comfortable, you speak slower.

Macy got up as the sermon finished and she stood next to John and she picked up her violin and Melissa sat down at the piano. As John read the Sullivan Ballou letter, a letter home from a Major in the Union army who was sure he was going to die, Macy and Melissa played the sweet strains of the Ashokan Farewell. They finished the dramatic reading perfectly.

Then, as taps was heard being played on a trumpet outside, John said, "Sullivan Ballou died a few days later at the Battle of Manassas." He took off his reading glasses and said, "My sister-in-law Air Force Captain Melony Jarecki died in the service of her country. Her husband, my brother Major Paul Jarecki is still in the service, and I pray every night he returns safely to us..."

It took John a long time to pull himself together after that. He's done a dramatic reading of the Sullivan Ballou letter before, but that was before Melony died and Paul turned his back on him. Macy finally got him back together, buttoned his collar, tightened his tie, and dusted off his jacket as they spoke in French.

"Do you think it went well?" asked John.

"You really delivered a beautiful message," said Macy. "I would not doubt if they requested the Sullivan Ballou letter every memorial day."

"I don't know if I could take that again."

Macy held him close from behind and rested her cheek on his shoulder and said, "I will hold you like this and you can lean on me for support. Now let's go, papa is getting hungry." Cecil insisted that his darling daughter-in-law called him papa.

The potluck dinner was a joyous affair. It was like those family reunions where everything goes right. John, Macy, Cecil and Katarina sat with deacons Dale Hansen and Gus Didomissio. They were talking to John and Macy about places to live in Springville like the congregation had already selected them for the opening. Dale and Gus made sure that John and Macy knew everybody's name as they came up to talk to the young pastor. John's head was swirling with names and faces, but Macy seemed to remember everyone.

"Are all protestant churches like this?" asked Katarina.

"Mom, what did you expect?" asked John. "Sacrificing babies by the light of the full moon?"

"NO!" gasped Katarina. "Well, maybe a little." Causing everyone to laugh.

"My momma is old school Catholic," said John.

Katarina harrumphed. "We sent you to seminary hoping to see you come home with a black cassock, instead you come home with a black wife."

"What?" laughed Dale Hansen. Everyone at the table roared with laughter.

"Mom, stop. It was funny when Macy said it."

"Macy told that joke?" asked Gus as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Oui! Is funny, no?" asked Macy.

"She's going to be teaching mom French next," groaned John.

When they finished eating, John got his guitar out and started strumming some cords and plucking notes as he does when he's thinking about something. Macy got out her violin and played a short version of Ave Maria, to the applause of everyone there.

"Got a song in there for us pastor?" asked Gus.

"I'm not a pastor, but yeah, I have plenty of songs and hymns in here." He played a few songs including "On Top of Spaghetti" which was a tremendous hit.

"Do you do anything together?" asked Tammy Schultz.

"Honestly, we were so busy with classwork... music never came into the conversation until we got here. I played only one song for her," he said with a smile. "I like to think of it as 'our song,'" he said, and he began singing.

"For he goes birling down and down the white water

that's where the log driver learned to step lightly.

Oh birling down and down the white water,

The log driver's waltz pleases girls completely."

That brought a few laughs from his fellows who grew up watching the CBC.

"One more?" asked Gus.

"Oui, we shall do my favorite... my biography." And with that Macy put her bow to her violin and Amazing Grace came out. The notes were pure and simple, and John gently strummed along on the guitar. She was playing and singing with her eyes closed and John stood and played his guitar, facing her. So close she could feel his notes as he played them as the congregation sang around them.

He knew she was thinking of the years in the fishing shack, the years of hate in school and returning hate for hate, of the long run to Montreal, of the horror she felt when she found out what the ad was for. The rapes, the LSD and then finding peace in a divinity school and falling madly in love with an American Angel. Her voice was pure and beautiful as she sang, and tears leaked from her closed eyes.

When the song was over, she opened her eyes, and her American Angel was standing right there in front of her and she threw herself into John's arms with an "Awwww" from everyone watching.

"Are you ok?" John asked in French.

"I am now," she said as she buried her face in his shoulder. "I did not realize... I didn't know..."

When the singalong was finished, the head deacon Dale Hansen stood and said, "Folks, I think it's that time. John, Macy, could you step outside for a few minutes?"

"We'll be right out front," said John and he and Macy climbed the stairs to get outside.

Out on the front stoop of Springville Congregational Church John stood looking out over a valley, a farmer on the other side of the valley was cutting hay and another farm had a few dozen head of dairy cows slowly munching their way across the pasture in the warm sunshine. "I really love it here," said John. God, "I wish Paul were here."

"It smells so nice, and the birds are singing, it is beautiful here," sighed Macy. To her, this was a tropical paradise compared to Quebec.

"It's close enough for mom and dad to come up on occasion and spend time. I bet there's parades in the summer and picnics in the park."

"It would be wonderful."

Just then Ernie Kraft, a member of the board, came outside with them. Ernie was a farmer, a big, powerful old guy, and he never looked happy about anything.

"I was talking with your mom, Pastor John. It sounds like the two of you had a tough row to hoe up there in Quebec."

"It was quite tough on my bride," said John.

"And I was tough on you," said Macy as she adjusted his tie and straightened his jacket.

"Maybe you can find peace here. That may be what Dale was talking about when he told me to ask if you would join us now."

Nervously, John and Macy followed Ernie back into the church basement and the entire congregation watched them come down the stairs. As they stepped off the stairs, everyone in the basement shouted, "WELCOME HOME!"

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

John and Macy walked through the ancient farmhouse and looked at it with wonder. To Macy, it was cavernous. To John, it was a work of art. Built in the late 1800s, it was solid, beautiful, and huge. (It was huge to John and Macy.) As they walked through, Gus looked at a 'punch list' of everything he found that needed work. "The boiler just passed its inspection, the plumbing is solid, electrical... we can work with that."

"What's wrong with electrical?"

"That fusebox has to go, we can replace it with a circuit breaker panel with no problem... the only thing I see that needs immediate attention is this fuse box."

"The kitchen!" insisted Macy. "I cannot feed my man in that monstrosity!"

"Dear, please? He's just saying what it needs most," said John in French.

"And I am saying what I need most. Who is more important, the basement or me?" demanded Macy.

"What is most important is preventing the house from burning down."

Macy glared at him, then said in English, "Bah! While you are playing in the basement I will start with the kitchen." And she headed upstairs.

"What is she going to start?" asked Gus.

"Wait for it..." John held up a finger and suddenly the sound of banging and clattering of wood filled the air. "That."

When John and Gus got upstairs, they found Macy had torn the doors off of all the cupboards.

"Now you must fix the kitchen!" she said.

<><><><><>

John and Macy sent announcements out to all of their guppies and loulous. After a few months, they found a home! It wasn't a big paycheck, but they were able to buy the old rectory. John started tearing out the ancient cabinets and replaced them with maple cabinets that he made himself. He was getting carpentry training from Gus Didomissio. Macy worked several days a week as Cecil's executive assistant. That position paid nearly as much as John's position as pastor, and Macy had full medical coverage for herself and John. Also, all maintenance and repairs needed by her Alpha Romeo were free.

The church wasn't poor by any means and they started building a new church near the old one to cater to the larger congregation and see to the needs of the elderly and disabled. On her note to Dr. Chauvin, she added, "My pauvre Jean, his brother continues to avoid communication, but Jean continues to try. It is tearing Jean apart every time Paul refuses to speak to him. Papa is considering a dangerous route, to lock them in a building and let them fight it out. I am so terrified!"

Two weeks later, she received an answer from vice chancellor Chauvin. It was in French, so she didn't read the entire thing to Mama, but she gave it to John with a worried look on her pretty face.

"My dearest daughter. Listen to Papa. Sometimes brothers can only communicate with their fists before they learn to use their hearts. While your fighting with Jean when you first met was without hitting, in some ways the pain inflicted was much worse. It is so good that you admit your love for each other now. Like our Father, Papa knows his boys best. Please tell us when Jean's church will be dedicated and we will be there."

"He's right," said John with a sigh. "Paul and I never fought, but we saw brothers fighting often enough." They were whispering in French on the night before the operation went into effect.

"I do not want to do this, please don't ask me," wept Macy.

"If he hits me it will hurt for a little while. If he continues to ignore me the pain will never end. He's ignoring mama and papa too. They don't have long, we need Paul."

Macy curled up in John's lap and wept on his shoulder. When did he become so wise? It's like the student blossomed and became the teacher. "Please don't die."

"And miss holding you like this every night?"

"What are you two talking about over there?" asked Cecil, whose study of the sports pages was being interfered with by the whispering in a foreign language.

"Sex," said Macy. John's eyebrows shot up, and she whispered, "We will be in a few minutes."

"Yeah, sex," said John.

"Speak up! I can't hear any of it," said Katarina from over on the couch, where she continued to knit baby caps and mittens.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

"...in one of our first discussions over Plan B, I clearly stated that my wife, a flier, was allergic to levonorgestrel and that a birth control pill would make her horribly sick, and a Plan B tablet would kill her. I told him that this was one of the reasons birth control pills are only taken under a doctor's care and Plan B tablets are prescribed, not sold." Doctor Jarecki was testifying under oath in a military court. Even if Macy didn't have a photograph of him, she would have recognized him. He looked so much like his brother. Paul was taller and his nose was larger and he looked more distinguished. But John was sweet and cute, that was important to Macy.

"You spoke with other people about your wife's medical condition?" asked the defense lawyer. Macy didn't study law. She studied psychology enough to know that this guy was incompetent.

"Yes," said Paul Jarecki. "This was not a secret. Melony was not alone in her allergy, and she wanted as many people as possible to know about it to hopefully find an alternative to levonorgestrel."

To Macy, the civilian lawyer looked nervous, like he was aware he was losing this case. He whirled and said to Paul, "Is it not true that you're a doctor in the twilight of your career that you are lashing out trying to take down one of the last men to see your wife alive?"

'Oui,' thought Macy to herself, 'he's losing. Losing badly. Now he is trying to undermine a secondary witness.'

"Yes. It is true," said Paul. "General Blecher was one of the last men my wife saw alive, but he was also the only man who went TDY with her that I know to have an odd fascination with the drug that killed her. So yes, if he is found innocent, good for him. If he is guilty I hope he gets the maximum penalty."

"Don't go there," said Macy under her breath.

"You know Dr. Jarecki, that could be death," said the civilian lawyer.

"Yeah, I know. What's your point?" asked Paul.

"No more questions, your honor."

"The witness is relieved," and Paul headed back to his seat. He was not testifying anymore, but he wanted to see the rest of the trial.

"I warned you not to go there," muttered Macy. She got up and moved forward in the courtroom, and sat next to Paul, who had just been released by the prosecutor. "Doctor Jarecki, I need you to come with me," she muttered softly. It felt funny saying it to call someone other than John, Dr. Jarecki.

Paul leaned away from her and looked her up and down, then softly said, "Please go." He went back to watching to courtroom drama play out.

"Doctor Jarecki, I work for Cyryl Jarecki, and he needs you." She handed him a very special business card that Papa only hands out to special clients. It doesn't have his name listed as Cecil, it's Cyryl. He only had one box of them printed up and in the months that Macy had been working for him, this was the first one that she's handed out. Only high end buyers get them. Not the kind that "diddle" with a Mercedes, either. People at this card were looking at a Bently, or a Rolls Royce.

"What does he want?" Paul asked.

"He wants you." She handed him an envelope that was thick with papers. Paul opened the envelope and looked, then gasped. "These are your orders," Macy said. "You've been assigned to the Western New York VA Hospital as Director of Cardiology. Follow me." She picked up his overnight bag, and his antique looking doctor's bag that his parents gave him so long ago and following Papa's orders, she left with his luggage.

"I don't need this," said Paul as he chased the tall black girl across the parking lot. "I'm almost retired."

"And you'll be able to retire around family and friends," she said as she threw his bags in the trunk and opened the rear door of the Mercedes limo that was waiting for her.

"What about my rental car? My BOQ?" said Paul as he climbed in the back of the limo.

"That is all being taken care of for you. Your belongings are on their way to Western New York as we speak. Give me the keys to your rental car and I will return it."

Paul grumbled under his breath. Her French accent was so deep he could hardly understand her. "This is like being in a spy novel," he muttered.

"Believe it or not, you have friends in high places, Doctor Jarecki. They care for you and miss you."

"I never caught your name," said Paul.

"I am Doctor Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais-Jarecki." Her accent was so heavy that Paul didn't understand any words after Marie.

"Where are you from. France? When I was stationed in Germany I got to go to Paris, and they all talked like you."

"I am from Montreal." Before Paul could ask more questions, the limo pulled onto a private airstrip near Wright-Patterson Air Force Base and Macy led Paul onto a Piper Cheyenne 400 III, a six passenger twin engine turboprop. It was very luxurious inside the plane.

"Do you mind if I get some sleep? I've been flying around for days." Paul had been at Randolph AFB in San Antonio, Texas, teaching when the request to testify at Buzz Blecher's trial came up. He just landed in Cincinnati that morning and drove to Wright-Patterson in time for the trial. Now that his part in the trial was over, he can screw off for a little while. He took a sip of iced tea that Marie syllable syllable syllable brought him and was asleep before he could take another sip.

Paul woke up when the tires of the Cheyenne hit the ground at Buffalo International Airport. The plane pulled into a parking spot at Prior Aviation on the north end of the airfield and soon shut down. "Follow me S'il vous plait," said Macy and she climbed off the airplane and held open a rear door on a Bentley Continental Flying Spur Saloon.

Paul hopped in the luxury cruiser while Marie syllable syllable syllable put his bags in the trunk then she got in next to him. As the big luxury saloon eased out of the airport, Macy pulled some papers out of her briefcase and started going through some paperwork in a leather folder, tapping away on a calculator. "Checking my dad's sales figures?" asked Paul.

"Huh? Oh non, Doctor Jarecki, that task was done during the flight. Now I am double checking the treasurers figures for the Springville Congregational Church's budget."

"Why?"

"Because the treasurer asked me to. We are building a new church and want to come in under budget."

"This is a nice car, is it yours?" The Bently was pure luxury. Dad must be doing gangbusters in the Mile Strip Road location that were all European luxury cruisers.

"No, your father loaned it to me. He thought you would like riding in it."

"Kind of a reward for you?" asked Paul.

"Are you implying that your father gave me this car in exchange for sexual favors?"

"Stranger things have happened..." Paul knew that was the wrong thing to say the moment he said it. He didn't need a black fist to stop millimeters from his nose to remind him.

"I respect your father too much to do what your remarks required."

Paul gulped, then saw a sign out the window as they turned on to Union road. "Hey, stop at Charlie the Butcher's! They serve a great beef on weck there!"

Macy had three beef-on-weck sandwiches since moving to Western New York. She realized that if she has another, she will become addicted and they won't get her through the new front door of her house. "I am sor-ree, dinner will be a bit later after your meeting with Mr. Jarecki." They left the airport and swung up Union Road, then pulled on to The Thirty-Three and barely got up to speed before it exited on to Harlem Drive. "Ah, the old neighborhood," said Paul sarcastically as they drove up Maryvale drive then turned into Cedargrove Heights. "This used to be named Tiorunda."

"I know, Mister Cecil told me." They drove through the evening neighborhood and Macy said, "Did you know Doctor Jarecki, that your father is offering financial help to the poorer families here. It is his way of saying thank you to the little neighborhood that sheltered his family when his business collapsed years ago."

The Bently stopped in front of the ancient Four-plex that they lived in when Paul was young, and he stepped out of the car. Macy stepped up to the door of the apartment building and opened it for him.

"I used to live here," said Paul.

"I know. Doctor Jarecki told me."

"Huh? I never saw you before."

"Monsieur Paul, including you there are three Doctor Jarecki's." Marie syllable syllable syllable held the door for him and he stepped inside.

He walked slowly through the kitchen, letting long forgotten memories flood into his mind. The ancient stove was updated, as was the ancient refrigerator, and they were pulled away from the wall. It looked like the apartment was getting ready to be painted. He stepped into the living room and a single bare bulb illuminated the room and in there were mom and dad, Cecil and Katarina. "Mom!"

Cecil and Katarina hugged Paul, then scolded him for not letting them fly out when Melony died. "Mom, that was an eighteen hour flight."

"So?" demanded Cecil. "It was for you. For family."

"Now I know we should have came anyhow," said Katarina.

Paul fought to hold back the tears. "I'm sorry, I wanted to talk to John so bad and when he was gone I went crazy I guess..."

"We know honey," said Katarina, patting his shoulder. "And now you two can make it right." With that, Cecil and Katarina led a reluctant Macy outside and locked the door.

"Non! This is wrong, he is so much bigger than my Jean!" gasped Macy as the brothers confronted each other inside.

"The boys never really fought before," said Katarina.

"Doesn't sound like John is fighting at all," said Cecil.

"He is, he's fighting the way that hurts Paul the most," said Macy through her tears. When she and her Jean fought, Jean did the same thing to her. She began weeping. "Have you ever seen the movie Ghandi?" she asked through her tears.

"John is laying down in front of armored cars?" asked Cecil.

"Oui... In his way."

Just then, the sound of an "Ooof!" came from the apartment and Macy began crying harder. There were more hits, and she heard a body hit the floor. Cecil and Katarina hugged Macy, but she was inconsolable. She knew John would not raise a hand against his brother, and that he would try to get Paul to lash out at him and flush his anger from his system.

Then they heard the old knock, "shave and a haircut" and Cecil opened the door. Paul was helping John stand and Macy flew to John. "Jean! My Jean! Are you hurt, where did he hit you?" She peppered John's face with kisses and Paul watched aghast as John was tended to by the most beautiful woman he had ever met.

They consoled each other in French, then John said, "Paul, this is my beautiful wife, Doctor Marie-Claude Solange Dagenais-Jarecki."

"Call me Macy."

"Macy, this is your only rival for my affections, my brother Paul." Even through his pain, Macy could see the joy in John's smile. This was all worth it.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

Ernie Kraft came up to Gus and said, "Do you want to know what would make John happy?"

"A step ladder," said Gus with a grin. The overhead cabinet hulls were hung in John and Macy's kitchen, and he was spending most of his time on a ladder putting on the finishing stain and varnish.

"No, if we could get that bell up there to ring," Ernie said, pointing up at the old church steeple.

"I got a rope but I've never been up there to string it..."

"I've been up there, it's not operated by a rope, I mean it can be but it's got one of these." He opened the back of his truck, "The White Whale" and showed Gus was looked like a box with a hammer bolted to the side and another box with dials and switches. "The one with the hammer is the ringer, this is the control box, it's mounted downstairs and connected to the ringer with three cord bell wire. You set the time and day on the control box and it tells the ringer when to hit the bell."

"We have something like this, it doesn't work," said Gus as he inspected the boxes.

"I got this one on eBay. Money back guarantee if it doesn't work."

Gus grinned at Ernie. This would truly put a smile on Pastor John's face. "Let me get my tool belt."

<><><><><>

The new church building was a beehive of activity. Dozens of people were working hard to make sure that the new church would open on Pastor John's schedule. The whole Jarecki family was busy working on the new building. Katarina was working with the women's ministry to set up the new kitchen and make sandwiches for the workers, while John was installing a dishwasher with his dad's help. Paul ended up helping Macy carry boxes of books from the old church to the new building. "John doesn't like this building?"

"Non. Jean loves that old building that is where he preached his first sermon! But he realizes that they need more room, especially for the handicapped and disabled who can't get in the old building. Besides, John's flock has outgrown that beautiful old building."

"Are you going to sell it?" asked Paul.

"No, the church graveyard is attached. Who wants to buy a cimetière?"

Just then, Gus leaned in the office door. "It's almost noon."

Macy looked excited. "Does Jean know?"

"He will in a few minutes."

"Gus, this is Paul, oui, frère Paul. Paul, this is August. He's kind of in charge of this building."

"Well, I did build it, but John is in charge," said Gus as they shook hands. "Gus Didomissio, general contractor. It's good to meet you. Let me guess, you and John reunited last week on Thursday?"

"Yes, who told you?"

"John's smile. He's done nothing but talk about you, and now he's just walking around grinning." Gus urged Macy and Paul to the main door of the church. From there, you could see the countryside and directly ahead of them was the old church building.

"What are we looking for?" asked Paul.

"Wait for it," said Gus with a huge grin. Macy couldn't hide her smile as well. Gus looked at his phone and said, "three... two... one..." then from the old church came a gentle clang, followed by a louder clang, then louder.

"The bell!" shouted John as he raced from the kitchen in excitement. "You fixed the bell!" He nearly shrieked in joy as the old bell in the church steeple clanged the noon hour. Decades ago, the ringing device broke, and the congregation gave up on the bell. This morning Gus climbed up and replaced the rope, lubricated the bearings, then installed the new ringing device that was salvaged from another church and put on eBay that would ring the bell at the times set.

All work stopped as the bell rang out loud and true. The sound was pure, and it echoed across the valleys. John threw his arms around Gus and kissed his cheeks. "Thank you! Merci Beaucoup! Nothing is impossible!"

Macy was laughing, and John turned to her, and they hugged and kissed. The ringing of the old bell signified something different to everyone that heard it, but grumpy old Ernie Kraft said it best when he said, "That is the sound I grew up with. Wherever I was working I would hear that bell coming across the fields and I knew what time it was." He place a bearpaw sized hand on Gus's shoulder and said, "Thank you for giving it back to us."

The ringing of the bell soon faded, and the gathered workers of the Springville Congregational church began clapping and cheering. The bell was a thing of a different age, when there were no cellphones to tell you the time and watches were expensive and rare. A village like Springville depended on the church bell that rang at noon and six, calling the villagers to worship on Sunday morning. The ringing of the bell was a clue to villagers to set the time on their alarm clocks.

"Hey Gus, I bought a house in town," said Paul. "Any chance you could give it a look and tell me what you think?"

"Sure, where's it at?"

"It's the Victorian at the corner of Howard and Second."

Gus gave Paul a huge grin. "I've been dying to get into that place for years!"

"Here you go, knock yourself out," said Paul, and he handed Gus the keys. "Make up a punch list for me and we'll talk."

"What would you like, restaurant quality kitchen, planet fitness in the basement, and bedrooms like a palace?"

"You're the man!" A fist bump started an incredible friendship.

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

NEW CHURCH BUILDING DEDICATION

SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM PASTOR JJ

FELLOWSHIP MEAL TO FOLLOW

"Pastor JJ?" asked John.

"It is what the children call you," said Macy as they looked at the big sign out front of the building.

"And what do they call you?"

"Moi? To them I am Madam Macy. They call their classroom Chez Macy." She tugged at John's sleeve. "Come, our flock awaits." She led him away from the sign and they walked across the lawn to the new church.

John chuckled. He has noticed quite a few of the little ones speaking French words, and they're using them properly too. As they reached the new church, he looked back at the old building. It was stark in its simplicity and perfect for its time. "Sorry, old buddy," he whispered, and Macy led him into the new church.

The foyer was crowded with congregants and visitors and those looking for a free potluck. Then he heard Macy's squeal of delight as she cried, "Joycelyn!" John followed the rapid fire French and there was Joycelyn and Joël standing hand in hand, and Joycelyn was clearly pregnant. Cecil and Katarina came over to see what the uproar was about and John said, "Mom, dad, this is Joël Beaumont and Joycelyn Saint Claire..."

"Joycelyn Beaumont!" Joycelyn called out, causing another squeal of delight from Macy.

"When did you get married?" gasped Macy as she hugged Joycelyn.

"Eleven months ago!"

"They were our maid of honor and our best man at the wedding... and this is Doctor Chauvin!" said John as he excitedly shook the vice chancellor's hand. "He assigned me to Macy for my doctoral dissertation and he officiated our wedding."

"It's an honor to meet you Doctor, we've heard so much about you," said Cecil.

"You should have a school photographer to record the weddings," said Katarina as she shook hands with Dr. Chauvin.

"So far there has only been one marriage, but we will keep that in mind if we expand the doctoral program."

"Your graduates will be performing marriages; you should have a picture of their first ceremony." She pointed out a photograph on the wall of John and Macy performing a marriage in the old church. "They always work together."

"That is what Docteur John taught us," piped in Joycelyn. "The pastor and his wife are a team."

Soon they were all seated, and Macy walked forward to play a Bach concerto with Melissa Craft. As they neared the end, John stepped forward and joined them on the recorder. As they finished up, Dale Hansen, the head deacon, stood at the podium and said, "We have guests from all over today. Let's seek them out and welcome them to Springville Congregational."

Dr. Chauvin was shocked at the friendliness that was shown by the Americans that greeted him and welcomed him to their little village. It took quite an effort on the deacon's part to get the parishioners back in their seats so John could give his sermon.

John's sermon was a joyful recollection of when he first walked into the old building and how much he worried about not having the purity of faith to preach in a way that befits such a beautiful old building. "Although I've only been here a few years, that old building and I fell in love with each other. I will never forget the warmth you all showed me on my first day. I saw the packed balcony and knew that we were going to have to expand, and now seeing you all here today I have to sadly say, Gus... we need a bigger building." It was funny but true. The church was packed with worshipers and visitors and they were out of space.

After the dinner, John and Macy took their visitors from Quebec to their house where they could talk. The kitchen was still being rebuilt, but the stove and refrigerator worked, and the spring water they drank made the best tea! John placed the teapot on the coffee table in the living room and poured tea as Dr. Chauvin recited the history of John and Marie-Claude Solange. "Oh did they fight each other!" said the good doctor.

"We didn't fight, we just disagreed," said Macy.

"Disagreed to the point where you were inquiring if a guillotine was available in the area," said Dr. Chauvin. "Marie-Claude would push and push and push..."

"Let me guess," said Paul. "John would smile and say 'yes ma'am' and take it until she was exhausted."

"Exactly! You taught your brother to fight?"

"No... he taught me."

"I have sad news Marie-Claude."

"What?" her hand slipped into John's hand.

"Your uncle and cousins have passed away."

Macy looked at the doctor blankly, then said, "Who?"

"Jacques, Valentin, and Roland Tremblay." When he didn't get any response, he tried again. "There was a horrible storm..."

Finally Macy said, "He wasn't my uncle... Jacques was my father."

"He told you that?"

"Oui, when he wasn't pinching my cul." (ass)

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Dr. Chauvin started speaking in French, but Macy stopped him. "Docteur, please, this is my family, they do not understand French and I have nothing to hide."

Dr. Chauvin cleared his throat and said, "Jacques Tremblay was your father's brother. Your father and mother Joachim and Tatiana Tremblay worked for Newfoundland Power. Your parents were killed in a car wreck and your uncle received custody of you when you were six months old." Macy shrugged and Doctor Chauvin said, "You seem to be taking this calmly."

"For thirteen years I lived with strangers that grabbed my ass when they got drunk. Did they ever report me missing? Who was that woman that I was told was my mother?"

"No, they did not report you missing and that woman probably was a nanny the province assigned."

"All she did was eat our food and sleep with Jacques. I don't even know her name."

"The school reported you missing after 30 days, but by that time you were in Montreal. You would have been found if you had gone to a public school."

Macy shrugged. "I passed the provincial High School equivalence exam and nobody said a word. No one was looking for me. As far as I am concerned, my mother was Romée Beaulieu and my father was Jacques Chauvin, and thank you. Your care was wonderful, you treated me with love and strength, and you gifted me with the love of my life and this wonderful family." She looked around and smiled and said, "I'm a Newfie!"

Later that evening, they strolled into the village to have dinner at the Train Station, a boutique restaurant in the old B&O train station, and Dr. Chauvin spoke with John as Macy spoke with Jocelyne. "She doesn't seem to be processing the news well," said Dr. Chauvin.

"It will probably hit after she turns off the lights tonight," said John.

"If you have any problems, you let me talk to her," said Katarina.

"I will momma." He hugged his mother and whispered in her ear, "You worry about Paulie, he needs all your love. Marie-Claude and I will handle your news when the time comes. She has developed a network of other psychologists and they deal with each other's issues all the time."

"Comment se passe la partie intime de votre mariage?" Dr. Chauvin just asked John how the intimate portion of his marriage was.

"Nous nous améliorons. Tout doucement. Avec amour." (We are getting better. Slowly. With love.) said John.

"N'ayez pas peur de demander de l'aide." (Do not be afraid to ask for help.)

"Thank you doctor. Ok, this restaurant is really cool, when the lights inside begin flashing that means a train is coming. Everyone runs outside to take a picture..."

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

It was hot! It was too hot to be in Paul's cabin. Even poor Wonka, Paul's service dog, couldn't take the heat. He didn't follow Paul around as Paul puttered in their enormous garden. The poor dog lay on the picnic table under the patio roof and watched Paul working without his shirt. The sky was cloudy, and it was so humid that a thin fog filled the air with haze.

Macy finished collecting her chicken eggs. Then she and John each picked up a fishing rod and called out to Paul. "We're going fishing, care to join us?"

"No, you're not going fishing, you're going skinny dipping."

"Are not," called Macy.

"Are so," said Paul.

"Are not."

"Are so. I can't leave, the shop is going to deliver my tractor, I have to be here when it gets here." Paul has been maintaining his property for several years with a John Deere lawn tractor, and now he said he has a new tractor arriving.

"Ok, hit the horn when it shows up and we'll come see." John and Macy started walking back to the pond and about halfway back, they both peeled off their t-shirts. There was no breeze to cool them, so they were soon covered with a light sheen of perspiration. When they got to the shore of the pond, they pulled off their shorts and sneakers and walked naked into the pond.

The water was cool and refreshing, and if you dove deep, it felt delightfully chilly. "You're going to have to apologize to Paul for lying to him." said John in French. Most of their conversations were conducted in French.

"Why? I told no lie!"

"You said we were not going skinny dipping, yet here we are."

"This is skinny dipping?" asked Macy in surprise.

"What did you think skinny dipping was?"

"Making love outside."

"You are so silly," he said in English, and they kissed in the cool water. "Come on," he said as he started tugging her toward shore.

"You want to take me to the water falls and ravish my body with your lusty intentions." Last year, they found a waterfall in the forest and made love there successfully. Ever since then, their love life has steadily improved, but it's always best at the waterfalls. There's no rhyme or reason to it they could discern, but it worked.

"Of course."

"Catch me if you can," she said with a huge grin, and she suddenly started swimming away from John toward the center of the pond. The fisherman's niece took off like a rocket, leaving John to helplessly flail away at the water behind her. She sprinted toward the diving raft that Paul had anchored in the center of the pond and was halfway up the ten foot high ladder by the time that John pulled himself onto the raft.

"That's an unfair advantage!" called John as he pulled himself up onto the raft. "You know how to swim!" He watched in awe as his gorgeous, beautiful wife ascended the ladder, her wet chocolate brown skin glistening in the hazy sunshine.

"Oui! It is that!" she cheerfully called, and John dashed up the ladder after her.

"Non!" she squealed and got to the top, but she looked down and saw the water. To Macy, it looked like the surface of the pond was 100 feet below. She backed up from the edge and John clasped her hips and pulled her back to him. "NON!" she shrieked and his tongue circled her asshole, then it pressed against the tight pore and wiggled, trying to gain access to her depths. "Mauvais trou!" (Wrong hole!) she squealed.

"Piteux," (sorry) said John, and he started kissing her asscheeks.

"Je n'ai pas dit d'arrêter," sighed Macy. (I didn't say stop)

John tickled her until she started laughing and rolled over on the diving platform and was facing up. "Yes! With your tongue!" she gasped in French as John's mouth latched on to her pussy and he began suckling at her pussy. The delicious sensations he was bringing out were driving her crazy, and that ass licking! "Your tongue felt so good in my ass!" she gasped, knowing that her dirty talk inflamed John.

She felt two fingers slide into her pussy and another finger press against her ass. She relaxed and let the invader in. "Oui! ta bite est la prochaine dans mon cul!" (Your cock is next in my ass!) Their tussling and teasing had her so hot she couldn't wait. "Baise-moi!" she shrieked as she pushed his face away.

John moved up a rung or two on the ladder and his cock was in line with her pussy. Macy propped herself up on her elbows and watched as his cock sank into her pussy. "Si bon!" (So good!) she crooned as he eased into her, spreading out her delicious walls. He moved in and out, slowly getting faster and faster.

"Si bon!" she gasped. "Si bon! Si bon!"

"Si bon!" he agreed with a growl. He grabbed the wooden handrails and fucked for all he was worth. She hooked her legs over his arms, giving him more access, and he was able to plunge deeper. Their bodies slapped together wetly, and he grunted with every thrust.

"Baise-moi!" she shrieked as she started to cum. "Baise-moi!" (Fuck me!)

With a roar, he joined her in ecstasy and he came, flooding her pussy, spurting in her over and over as she came along with him. The waves of ecstasy washed over them again and again until they subsided into delicious oblivion. John bent over and kissed his darling wife. "Dear god that was good." He gasped.

"Why is it so good out here and not at home?" wondered Macy.

"Is it because we are too polite at home, and out here, we have fun and not worry about being polite?" pondered John between kisses.

Suddenly they heard the rumble of a tractor motor and the Meep! Meep! Of a six volt automobile horn. "What is that?" asked Macy.

John looked up and saw a tractor heading toward them from the cabin. "It's Paul!"

"Mon Dieu!" (My God) shrieked Macy, and she wiggled out from under John and slid off the diving platform. John jumped off after her and he noticed as he plunged down that Wonka was dashing toward them.

Paul pulled his tractor on the beach as John and Macy swam toward him. "What do you think?"

"I thought you said you were getting a new tractor."

"It's new to me. It's a 1950 Ford model 8n. I had the shop rebuild it from the ground up. Hey, I thought you said you weren't going skinny dipping."

"Sorry, she thought skinny dipping meant making love outdoors," said John. "We lied about not doing that too."

"You!" Macy punched John in the arm as hard as she could while Paul hopped off the tractor. He pointed to the forest as he kicked off his sandals. "Look, it's a bear."

"Bear?" gasped Macy, and she turned to look. "Where?"

"Keep looking," said Paul, and he used that excuse to drop his pants and join them in the pond. He sat in the shallow water and Wonka sat next to him.

"Wonka, we need a swimming buddy."

"Soon, mon cher frère," (My dear brother) said Macy as she treaded water just out of John and Paul's reach. "I know she is out there..." She thought for a moment, then said to Paul, "Is it possible to be too polite in bed?"

<><><><><> ֎ <><><><><>

The snow was incredible! John was so happy that Macy's Alpha Romeo Spider was in the showroom window of Jarecki Imports Inc. It's a tiny car, and it needs an equally small friend to share the showroom window with. Usually, Paul's 1970 Boss Mustang sits in the other showroom window. Their dad didn't believe in putting new cars in the window. The customers couldn't touch them there. They can't take them for test drives if they're sitting in the showroom window. That's why show cars go in the showroom window, race cars go in there as well.

John finished blowing the snow from their driveway for the seventh time in 3 days, and he's going to have to do it again before they head over to church tomorrow. Wait - will they plow the street? Oh well, his Quebecois, Macy, had trained him on snowshoes and cross-country skis, so they should make it to church.

John put the snow blower away, thinking for the 100th time that he needs a "doghouse" for it, then went in the house and peeled off his frozen boots, parka, and parka pants. "Go warm up in the shower," said Macy. "I will get dinner ready for you."

John finished his shower and came downstairs in warm flannel pajamas and big warm slippers. Their house was nearing completion. All they needed was a color scheme and several gallons of paint. Macy had a fire in the fireplace, a Christmas movie on tv, a melty grilled cheese sandwich, and a hot mug of her famous tomato soup. Say what you will say about living in Quebec, but they know how to warm you back up after a day spent working in the snow. He finished up dinner, then he and Macy cuddled and watched the movie. They were getting to the point where the movie was forgotten and they started making love on the couch when John's phone rang. It was Paul. John answered the phone with, "Hey Paulie! Did you see the game? I love Saturday games, in my profession they're a God send! Go Bills!"

Macy rolled her eyes and shook her head when Paul said, "We won? Ooo-rah!"

"Yes sir-ee! We're going all the way this year!" said John.

"Umm, Ixnay on the ame-gay, on-Jay. I have a Denver fan sitting next to me. Hey - did you lose power in town? Ours went out right before the last field goal. It was out for a couple of hours."

Denver fan? John and Macy turned toward each other. What did Paul mean about that? They had only swapped brief texts that said "I'm Ok" throughout the storm. Why would he say that he had a Denver fan with him? "Nah, we have been good all day," said John. "So, what may be the nature of this call, if I may so inquire of youse." Making a tight-lipped face, Macy got up to put the dishes in the dishwasher. When they get into the funny Damon Runyon accents, they'll tease each other all night long.

"It's like this," started Paul. "I met the most wonderful woman in the world, she's been snowbound with me since Wednesday and we are discussing marriage one way or another, with or without you."

Macy raced back to the living room and plunked back down on the couch to hear this. "I find that impossible since the most wonderful woman in the world has been married to me for over 10 years. Let me talk to this imposter," said John.

"Hello John," said Andi.

"You sound wonderful enough, what is your name?"

"I'm Adrianna Roberts, but I prefer Andi. I'm a doctor like Paul and..."

"Andi - run," said John. "If you value your life RUN. I've been treating Paul for years, he's dangerous. Grab your coat and RUN!" The phone went silent for a long pause. Then John said, "Is she still there?"

"I'm still here."

"That may not be a good thing," said John. "I'm going to need some alone time with Andi. Paul, go and check on my chickens while I chat with Andi for a bit."

"Ok, I'll give you a half hour or so."

"If she's marrying you she may need longer," said John. "Are you gone yet?"

"Yea I'm gone. You can start," said Paul as he zipped up his parka.

"He's not gone," said Andi.

"I could tell by the tone of his voice," said John. "GO old man!"

"I'm going, I'm going," and Paul slipped out the door with a smile toward Andi.

John turned to Macy and said, "Do you want to start?"

"Why me?"

"She's your sister-in-law. I'll go put on tea."

"'Allo, Andi? Please call me Macy, it is what my friends call me."

"You have a wonderful accent Macy."

"Thank you. I met Jean when I was a professor at École de Théologie Évangélique du Québec. Jean was my doctoral candidate. How did you meet our Paul?"

Andi told Macy all about getting trapped in the snowstorm and how Paul came to rescue her and she was so snotty to him. "He just treated me nice however," said Andi. "I'm not used to that."

"Oh oui! Is that not the truth! I was so mean to pauvre Jean, but he just smiled and came back for more. What has Paul told you about his work?"

"He said he was head of cardiac at the veterans hospital when he retired from the Air Force, that he consults at several hospitals in the Western New York area, he does something with cars, I didn't quite understand what he was talking about."

"Ok, I am also a psychologist, can we play a game or two to see where you and Paul stand?"

"Sure," said Andi. She deals with psychologists at university hospital a lot, they have lots of mind games.

"What if I told you that Paul was a poor farmer and you're sitting on his farm. That cabin is where he lives."

"To be honest Macy, so many dreams have come true here, I want to stay right here in front of the fire forever. It has been so wonderful for me and the girls. If this is where we will live, we can make it work. I know we can, but he has told me that he has a house in town."

Macy made a few cryptic notes in French, then continued. "Ok, what if I told you that he was a hardworking doctor with three boys and has a three bedroom split level along with his cabin and he's up to his nose in debt."

"I am up to my nose in debt, also. That would give us a common mountain to climb, it would be nice to have a partner that understands my problems and I can understand his." Andi paused and thought of a nice suburban home. "I can see Paul like that."

"What if I told you that he was fabulously wealthy and owns a huge six bedroom mansion with built-in pool?"

"Paul? He's not the type," laughed Andi.

John brought Macy a pad of paper and a pencil and wandered off as Macy dealt with Andi. Macy first wanted to weed out a gold digger. Then find out if Andi was just trying to find someone to help her pay for the twins, then find out her true feelings for Paul. Macy had to do all of that and not let Andi find out what she was doing.

Macy and Andi talked for a long time and as they talked, they enjoyed chatting with each other until by the time Macy turned the phone over to John; she was excited about meeting Andi and the girls.

"Ok, Andi" started John. "I'm going to be the bad guy. My job is to convince you that marriage is not fun unless you work hard to make it fun. It's not easy."

"I know..." said Andi. "I didn't tell Paul, but my first husband, he hurt me... he would make me do things..." then she whispered, "I don't think he is my girl's father."

Macy came back into the living room from the kitchen and found that Andi was crying. "You cochon!" she gasped. "I leave you alone with Andi for one minute... ONE! And you have her in tears. What did my cochon de mari (pig of a husband) say to you Andi?"

Andi sighed and said, "even when you yell at him it sounds romantic. He must be like Gomez Addams when you talk!"

"There is that name again, I must investigate," said Macy. "We normally converse in French, but when I speak English he shouts "TISH! That's English!" and starts kissing my arm. I do not understand."

"It is an old American TV comedy," said Andi.

"Ok, back to the subject at hand," said John. "First, you must tell Paul what you told me. Do I have permission to discuss it privately with Macy?"

"Yes, weee, or however you say it."

"It is pronounced oui. Ok, we can arrange the wedding, but if you want to be married in our church we have classes you must attend. Otherwise, Macy can perform the ceremony outside of the church, I cannot."

"I don't understand."

"Contractually any weddings I perform must be performed in either of our church buildings. Macy is an ordained minister and a wedding officiant, but she is not a pastor at our church. She needs permission to perform a ceremony at the church, which is not a problem. If you would like her to officiate, she can perform ceremonies outside of the church, and the pre-wedding classes are also required by Macy."

"There truly is value in the pre-wedding classes," said Macy.

John continued saying, "In these classes we require six two hour long meetings with Macy and I before the ceremony and we assign homework."

"Can I ask both of you to perform the wedding?"

John and Macy looked at each other and smiled. "Of course. The wedding is about the bride and the bride's desires."

Macy grinned and snuggled close to John. That's two paychecks!

<><><><><>

The snow stopped on Saturday evening and the Village of Springville began plowing their way out of the snowfall that night. Gus Didomissio started plowing the church parking lot, and it was so deep and so full that he was still plowing as the Sunday School classes pulled into the parking lot. Macy was nervous and paced through the building rather than sit in the Sunday school and assist John.

"Is there a problem?" asked Melissa the pianist. Macy's nervous pacing distracted her from preparing the music for today's worship service.

"It is Paul," whispered Macy. "He has a fiancée! He is bringing her here."

"What is she like? Is she nice?"

"She sounds wonderful, she is a medical doctor, and has two children."

"Paul should be ecstatic!" Paul was a target for the single women of the church. Even Melissa, a widow, 'took a run at Paul' and even though he understood her passion in music, she had no background in medicine so their conversations didn't really include anything he did, and he eventually said, "Thank you Melissa, you are an incredible person but I don't think it's working." Melissa played a few bars of the Bridal March and said, "Where did he meet her?"

"He dug her out of a snow drift," said Macy and she nervously headed back to the foyer. Through the glass door, she saw Paul's truck pulling into the parking lot. She calmed herself. "You've walked on the catwalk in Rome and Paris and Milan, you've survived Fashion Week in Manhattan, you've got a Ph.D. in Psychology and Theology, you can do this calmly... calmly... calm..."

Then she saw the small blond woman leading two tiny little girls. They looked no older than three and were so darling! They both had a little purse hanging from the crook of the arm and both had a little plush toy in the other hand as Paul and Andi led them in... this was exactly what Paul had been waiting for his entire life! Macy's heart melted, and she heard John say, "hang on!" but it meant nothing. She dashed out into the parking lot, her long raven hair flowing behind her as she dashed toward them.

"Is this her mon frère?" she cried to Paul in a delightful French accent. When he nodded in the affirmative, she threw her arms around Andi and gave her a huge, warm hug. "Ma belle-sœur."

"Andi, this is Macy, John's wife. I think she called you her sister-in-law."

"Oui, I did," said Macy as she hugged Andi with a tight, loving hug.

"We talked last night," gasped Andi. It was a really tight hug.

"It is so good to meet you!" cried Macy.

"And these are my Love Bugs, Sandy..."

"Bug bug."

"And Madeline..."

"Bug bug."

"Oh, they're so cute!" Macy crouched down and hugged the twins, who were reveling in the attention. "They're so tiny!" Macy mouthed up to Andi.

"There wasn't room in mommy for two of them, so they moved out at 28 weeks," said Andi.

"We were too big," said Sandy, the more boisterous of the twins.

The rest of the day was a blur for Macy. Andi sat next to her through the service and they whispered like teenage girls through the service and later at Paul's house. They had coffee and more giggling. They whispered about spending the night in the cabin with a Jarecki man and the fun that it can entail. Like Macy, Andi loved to laugh, and their laughing was contagious. "... then I told him flat out before we went into the sauna that there would be no activities that could potentially get me pregnant until there's a bouquet, a ring, and a preacher. And then I'm the one who jumps right over the line, I pull off his towel, get a view of the... scenery... and I say to myself "maybe just a flower and a Lifesaver."

"Stop, please stop," Macy was laughing so hard that her sides hurt. She knew about John's "scenery". If the view is anything like that with Paul, it is amazing that Andi was able to muster the self-control to push him away.

"I guess I said it out loud..."

"You didn't!" gasped Macy between bouts of laughter.

"Well in church Paul presents me with a flower and a Lifesaver, that YOUR husband handed him... in CHURCH!" Andi tried to look indignant, then started laughing again. "I haven't laughed like this since..." she looked concerned. "Oh, God ...since pre-med. God how I missed laughing like this."

"Oui, it is so good, and good for the soul too. Like you I grew up with no sister and I had a wild youth."

"You were a wild child?" gasped Andi.

"Oh oui, I was leaning over praying to the porcelain god singing "never again" at the age of fourteen!"

"Oh, that's good, I was sixteen at that point."

"At fifteen I was toying with a semi-professional hockey player in Luxembourg City."

"NICE!" gasped Andi, her eyes huge in admiration. "How did that turn out?"

"Not good, I bought dinner, then he expected me to hand him dessert. I said no and he punched me and left me alone in a strange city."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Then I was raped by a photographer and another model. The doctors do not know if I can have children because of that... Poor Jean he wants babies so badly..." Andi joined Macy in her tears and from that point on they were inseparable.

They were always there for each other. Shopping with the twins became Macy's favorite thing to do, and Andi had such an eye for color! She picked the new colors for the master bedrooms in her house so perfectly that Macy asked for her help in picking colors for John and Macy's house and the choices were perfect.

Andi and Paul were very busy and their time was minimal, but they completed the pre-marriage courses. Being doctors, Macy expected Andi and Paul to ask intelligent questions, but Macy and John were incredibly impressed with the caliber of questions Andi was asking.

Andi's wedding was a Christmas gala! The dresses she picked out were beautiful, but her best friend was the maid of honor, and Lucy was not a "girly girl." She would scold Andi and Macy for talking about fashion too much. But it worked out. Andi and Macy wore matching dresses along with the twins, and John, Paul and Lucy wore matching tuxes. The only one in the wedding who did not match anyone was Paul's service dog, Wonka, who escorted the twins down the aisle.

Another thing that brought them closer together was their honeymoon cruise. Paul had given Andi a yacht, and they loaded as many of their friends as they could on the yacht and ended up on a private island near the Bahamas. There was a beach on the island marked Women Only and the girls would spend their time there nude, talking about their men. Andi eased down into the water and sat in the soothing ocean and groaned, "I ache... I should have used my mouth last night."

"Do you like swallowing your husband?" asked Macy.

"I love it!" gushed Andi. "I don't know why but I always loved it. How do you say 'blowjob' in French?"

"Tailler la pipe."

"Tallyay la tea?" asked Andi.

"Close enough," said Macy. "When John learned French, he learned the language but not the slang and the idioms and when we met, I was in no mood to instruct him, so he never learned. After we married, our love life was difficult, fun and exciting, but not satisfying. So, I would offer him a blowjob. I'd say Voudrais-tu une pipe, and he thought I was offering him a tobacco pipe to relax."

"Oh no!"

"I didn't know he didn't understand so I would get upset. He missed out on a lot of blowjobs."

"I hope he's getting his blowjobs now," said Lucy, who didn't appear to be the type of woman who liked to give a blowjob.

"Some, but we are in a race with the bébé machine here," she said, pointing at Andi. "I do not wish to waste a single drop."

"A race?" asked the chef on Andi's yacht, Yi.

"A baby race," said Andi. "First one to the delivery room wins, and we both think we got knocked up on Valentines day."

"Huh?" That made no sense to Macy Oui, Valentines day is in the future... she and John were going to spend the night in the cabin.... Spent the night in the cabin... "Valentines day is 45 days away... that's weeks... ago... no ahead of us..." Nothing made sense to Macy.

Andi got up and walked over to where Macy was sitting. Macy was instantly jealous of Andi's large, bobbling breasts as the blond leaned in and shook her shoulder. She said, "Macy? Are you ok?" but it wasn't Andi's voice.

"Oui je vais bien."

"In English darling, he doesn't understand French," John whispered in her ear.

"Ah! I am sorry..." Macy blinked and refocused and it wasn't Andi, and their beach was gone. She was dressed, and she was in Springville. A man she had never seen before was leaning over her with a concerned look on his face. He looked down at her from different angles. He was wearing a fire department uniform and was shining a small flashlight in her eye. "Who are you? Why are you touching me?" demanded Macy.

"It's ok, I'm right here," said John. He was crouched next to her and was holding her hand. She was on a chaise lounge in Paul and Andi's back yard. "You fell asleep and wouldn't wake up," said John. He looked like he had been panicking and was now flush with relief. "I crawled out from under you and you never woke up, even Paul couldn't wake you up so I called 911."

"I was dreaming about us," sighed Macy and she brushed her hand on his face. "We were in Montreal and we were teaching again..." Suddenly she grew horribly sad. "I wish Romée and Katarina were here," she began weeping. "I want to share our bébé with them. I want my maman!"

"Chut mon amour (hush my love) , they're watching us from above, I know they are," said John. "Romée and Katarina would never let this opportunity to go by without them." Theologically, this was wrong and Macy knew that, but that was not what she wanted to hear at that moment.

"I think she'll be all right," the Emergency Medical Technician told Paul. "She should go to the hospital and get checked out but if you're treating her..."

"Advising. I'm advising her," said Paul. "There's an enormous difference. I don't get paid."

"I want to see Joycelyn and Joël again," whimpered Macy. Her head spun with the wild, convoluted paths that brought them together, and how she tried to chase her American Angel away at one point.

"Joël is preaching in Quebec City," said John. "Let's take time next summer and go visit them and we can meet their babies. They have three now."

"It happens," said the EMT to Paul. "Too much sun on the first really warm day of the year, then you sit down and take a nap and you're out for a couple of hours." They watched Macy and John cuddle and whisper to each other. "I still insist on getting her checked out, maybe check with the OB/GYN to make sure the baby is ok."

"I'll be sure to tell them," said Paul, as he watched his "little brother" snuggle with his wife.