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“I don’t recall leaving a box in a closet.”
“Open it.” I stood up and opened the box. Sorting through the contents nothing looked familiar until I got to a photo. “Is this father?” I handed her the framed photo.
“Yes. Where did you…”
“When was that taken?”
“I took this photo on my first trip to Paris.”
“Are you kidding?” I smiled.
“I remember the day I took that photo. I was sitting at a cafe and spotted this beautiful man and felt compelled to take his picture. I remember he came up to me right after I snapped it. He said, ‘I hope you got my good side.’ I remember his accent was incredibly sexy. I looked at him, and trying to be coy, replied, ‘All you have are good sides.’”
“Mother, I can’t believe you were that forward.”
She took the photo and brushed her finger across the glass. “He was a very handsome man.” A sad smile covered her face then she looked at me. “You look so much like him.”
I looked deeper into the box and pulled out a black leather book. “What’s this?” I took it out, opened it up and handed it to her.
She thumbed through the pages. “Oh my God. I was wondering what happened to this.” She placed the book on the table and continued turning the pages.
“What is it?”
“It’s your father’s prayer journal.”
“His what?”
She got up and walked over to the box, digging and fishing until she pulled out another large black leather book. “Oh, mon Dieu.”
“What is it mother?”
She pushed the box aside, placed the large book down on the table and started turning pages. “I have been looking for this.” She covered her mouth and I saw tears landing on the pages.
“Mother…”
She looked at me with tear-filled eyes. “This is your father’s Bible.”
“His what?”
“His Bible.”
I don’t recall my father being a religious man. I remember when we lived in Paris, we would go to church, but I don’t recall him doing anything that would be considered religious. “How did it get into this box?”
“I don’t know.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “Excuse-moi, Phillippe.”
She took the Bible and went inside. I thumbed through the pages of the journal, and landed on a page that said Prayer for Phillippe’s future.
Dear God, I pray Your protection over my son. I know this woman he is with isn’t Your best for him. It is my desire that he return to You and allow You to bless him the way You have blessed me. Father God, I know he desires more, but he won’t get more until he lets You in. I pray You will keep him safe, and that he opens his spirit and heart to You and that good thing You have for him. I know the woman You have for him is a good woman like his mother…a genuine helpmate, a partner, a precious jewel known only by him. Thank you, Father. Your grateful servant, in Jesus name, Amen.
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Oh, my God. This is dated a month before he died.
Chapter Twenty-One
gabriella
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