Light, so much light. Every blade of grass, every leaf on the trees seemed to emanate with its own separate light. Lydia did not recognize this forest. It was not like any back home, or any in Dijon she had seen. Where was she? How did she come to be here? From above sunlight sifted through the tree leaves creating an unearthly glow. She felt a strange sense of weightlessness. Slowly, she walked through the beech mast. The aroma of earth and beech was strong and sweet. Up ahead in the shadows she saw the figure of a man. Abruptly, Lydia stopped. He turned to her and waved. Did he know her? Did she know him? Perhaps he was someone she had met on the pilgrimage. There was something vaguely familiar about him. She returned his wave. He came toward her. When he reached her, she did not recognize him and yet the sense of familiarity remained. He smiled a very gentle smile and said, “At last we meet Mademoiselle Wade. Please tell my Isabelle I love her and miss her. And, thank you for helping her. You are an answer to my prayers for her.” There was an unusual depth of warmth in his brown eyes.

Was this Henri? He was dead.

With a slight bow, he extended his arm, and said, “There is someone here to see you.”

From the grove of beeches, stepped a woman. It could not be! It was Aunt Rachel! Her hair was down and free. She ran to Lydia and hugged her tightly. For the first time in ever so long, Lydia felt safe. Aunt Rachel whispered, “You are doing so well my child. So well. Do not lose heart.”

From behind Lydia another voice said her name. It was the voice she had not heard in over a year. Aunt Rachel released her and Lydia turned to the voice. It was Moder. She looked healthy and strong. In her arms was a baby, wiggling and kicking. Moder tilted the baby so Lydia could see its face. The child opened its eyes. The eyes were soft brown with amber lights. A dream she had came to mind. Was this the same child that Moder had held in that long ago dream of Samhuin? In the dream, Moder and Lydia’s dead sisters had glowed with a strange blue light, whiled the baby had been bathed in golden light. In the dream Lydia had thought the baby was her baby. In the dream she had been terrified Moder would steal her child and take her to Death. The word Death reverberated through Lydia. Where was she? Had she passed beyond the realm of the living? Was this place heaven? She took a step toward her Moder and the baby. All at once the entire landscape shuddered. Shadows fell into deeper darkness. The light of the sky flickered. She reached out for Moder and the baby. Just before she touched them everything went dark. Everything! She cried out. She had not gotten to hug Moder or speak to her. She so wanted to feel Moder’s arms wrapped around her. She wanted to hear her voice again. Slowly, dim light penetrated Lydia’s closed eye lids. She felt the warmth of tears running down her cheeks. A cock crowed. She heard the sound of purring and felt a small furry body in the center of her chest. When she opened her eyes, Patch gave her a sleepy wink.

It had just been a dream. Just a dream and yet Aunt Rachel and Moder had seemed so real, as had Henri and the baby. Had the dream been a heavenly visitation or was it just a trick of sleep?

What did it mean? For the second time her mother had appeared to her with a child. Why? She had no desire for a child, ever.

After Lydia had washed and dressed she went down the ladder with Patch on her shoulder. Isabelle was stoking the hearth fire. When she turned to Lydia, her face glowed in the fire light. She glowed like the baby in Lydia’s dream. An uneasy feeling settled over her. The longer she was awake the more she felt like the dream was more than a concoction of sleep. One thing was for sure, she would tell Isabelle about Henri. She said, “I had a visitation form Henri in my dreams.”

Isabelle went suddenly rigid and fear filled her eyes. Hoarsely she asked, “Was it a good dream?”

The part about Henri was, the part about being separated from Moder hurt too much to speak about. She told Isabelle, “Do not be frightened Isabelle. It was good to meet Henri.”

Visibly, Isabelle relaxed. Eagerly she asked, “What did he say? How did he look?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“He looked very well. He has the kindest eyes I have ever seen.”

Mutely, Isabelle agreed.

“He told me to tell you he loves you and misses you. He thanked me for coming to help you. He said I was an answer to his prayers for you. Even in heaven he still prays for you, Isabelle.”

Isabelle asked, “Truly?”

“Oui.”

Isabelle rushed over to Lydia and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you for sharing that with me. You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that. Henri loves me, he would want me to do what ever is best for me and God will guide me. I must trust that.”

There was something about the way Isabelle looked that unsettled Lydia. In her stubborn opinion, despite what Na Simeon had said yesterday, she believed what was best for Isabelle was to continue running the candle shop for the rest of their lives!

*

Later when the Gerard’s arrived, Tobias was driving the wagon, beside him was Marguerite. As he helped Lydia into the wagon, his eyes met hers. They were almost lightless. Did he think something had happened to Jon Paul and his papa? He put her down in the back of the wagon and then lifted Isabelle up. Madame Gerard sat on the opposite seat with Peronelle. The little girl was holding her hand. Madame Gerard said, “Thank you both for coming to add your prayers to ours.”

Isabelle said, “Lydia and I are honored to be included." Lydia nodded her agreement.

Peronelle told them, “We miss Uncle Jon Paul and Grandpapa. They have been gone ever so long. I have been asking God over and over to send them home, but so far they have not come.” She glanced up at her Grandmama. Obvious concern showed on her small face.

Lydia wanted to say, “They will come home,” but she knew better. It was possible they might never come home. It was a terrible possibility.

The rest of the ride to the chapel was a quiet one. The only one who did not seem out of sorts was Marguerite.

At the chapel, as soon as they walked in, people began to ask, “Have you any word?”

Tobias and Madame Gerard answered with a painful, “No.”

The fear that had been growing about Jon Paul’s well being flamed into near panic inside of Lydia. It was one thing to be afraid alone, it was much harder to be with others who shared the same worries. As her mind raced from one disastrous scenario to another, Lydia did not hear much that Friar Judas said during Mass. Only one thing penetrated the chaos in her mind. He recited a scripture, not in Latin, but in the common language. He quoted, “Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone...”* Jon Paul was not alone. He was with his Papa. Surely they would protect each other as she, James, Brother Matthew and Antone had worked together, shared their warmth and kept watch together. They had been four though, and Jon Paul and his papa were only two. Still, two were better than one, but not as good as four.

New fear knotted up inside of Lydia. If Jon Paul did not make it home, how would she feel? Sad, so very sad. People came and went too much in this life. If he did come home, would she take Na Simeon’s advice? The words, “Two are better than one” pierced her to her core. In this moment terrified of Jon Paul’s demise, she knew what she would choose. She was however uncertain if that choice would hold if he returned safely alive..

After the service, several other members of the congregation remained to pray for Jon Paul and his papa. It seemed they were not the only ones who had not yet returned from Troyes. There were a few other merchants who were also missing. Everyone knelt at the altar rail. Peronelle’s was beside Lydia. Her hands were firmly clasped in front of her. Friar Judas began to pray, “Oh Merciful Father, please grant our request...”

Lydia felt tears gather on her lashes. One slid down her cheeks then another. Was it possible she had begun to care for Jon Paul? If he never returned home...he must return home. Beside her Peronelle was openly weeping. She placed a protective arm around the child. Would that she had the power to protect this child from loss, but Lydia knew she could not even protect herself.

Friar Judas’ prayer was long. The entire time he prayed Madame Gerard, on the other side of Peronelle had her back straight and rigid, only her head was bowed. How many times had she knelt here and prayed for her family? How many time had the request she made been granted? Lydia prayed so hard that God would not deny this mother her son and her husband.

When the prayers were over, Father Judas shook everyone’s hand. He told Madame Gerard, “I will continue to pray.”

“Thank you,” said Madame Gerard. Though no tears fell, her lashes were wet.

The ride back to the shop was also silent. It was an unbearable silence. When they reached the shop, Tobias helped Isabelle down first and then he helped Lydia. As he placed her down on the street, he said, “Whether in heaven or on earth, I know my brother is thankful for your prayers.”

Deeply touched, Lydia could only nod. She turned away from him and went swiftly into the shop.