Page 73 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure
“I remembered it from my youth. I, too, wanted to escape and start afresh, and I wanted beauty around me.”
He nodded, his eyes still focused on her face. “So you brought these women with you because you needed to be needed.”
“I brought them because they needed help, yes. Because I could do something to make their lives better at that point.”
“And in doing so, you have restored your own sense of worth, I think?”
“I suppose I have,” she said. “I didn’t do it for that reason, I want you to know.”
“Of course not. You did it because you are a naturally kind person, but in doing so, I suspect you have begun to heal yourself.”
“Yes,” she said. “I feel that I have a purpose, that I belong, which is what I needed.” She considered this, then added, “Actually, I have too much of a purpose at the moment.” And she told him the story of Yvette and baby Jojo.
He listened, saying nothing. “And how do you feel about being left with this child?”
“I want to do what is best for the baby,” she said. “I cannot let her be put into an orphanage. If Yvette does not return, maybe we will find a kind family for her. Otherwise we will raise her. I wanted grandchildren. I wanted a daughter after I had two sons, but that did not happen. She seems a little bit like a gift.”
“Then I’m sure she will be a very lucky young lady, growing up spoiled with three aunties around her.”
“Yes. She will,” Ellie said.
Outside a bell rang, solemn, melodious. The abbot looked up. “Ah. Sext has ended. My brothers will be preparing for the midday meal. I wish I could invite you to join us, but I think that would cause great alarm.” He chuckled now.
“You remain completely cut off from the rest of the world?” Ellie asked. “No visitors? No family ever?”
“Not quite,” he said. “In the summer months we hold an open house on the first Sunday of the month. A boat brings visitors over from the mainland, and we welcome them. We give tours of our workshop, our distillery, our art. It is good for our men not to forget what they left behind. You must come over when the tours start in May and see what we accomplish here. We have a happy life, I assure you, and I like to think that our constant prayers do some good, too.”
“Do you think that your prayers can prevent a war from happening?” she asked. “Everyone is worried. Can you ask God to remove Hitler and Mussolini?”
He laughed at that. “I don’t think God works in that way,” he said. “In fact, I wish I knew how he works. But I know one thing. He works through us. That’s why we are here—to be his hands and voice.”
“Have you always been so ... set on monastic life?” she asked.
“Not always,” he said. “I grew up in very privileged surroundings. A rich family. A small château. I was sent to the Sorbonne. I travelled. Visited America and Africa. Then I met a beggar. He was sitting hunched in an alleyway in the cold in Paris. He looked up at me and held out his hand. I was about to walk past when I found that I couldn’t. I lifted him up and took him for a meal. Then I gave him my coat and scarf and all the money I carried on me. And I went home deciding there and then that I would enter the priesthood and do some good, because, you see, that beggar I had just met was Jesus.”
Ellie felt tears prick in her eyes. She nodded. “But you decided on a monastic life instead?”
“No. I entered the seminary, but frankly I was not comfortable. I did not like what they were saying to us. It was very much holier than thou. ‘We are advising you on how to live your lives,’ not ‘We are trying to become better men.’ But I stuck it out until I was ordained. When the Great War broke out, I volunteered to be a chaplain on the battlefield. I held men who had had their legs blown off, or were hopelessly entangled in barbed wire, and I gave them the last rites as they died in my arms. I saw the worst of human suffering. After it was all over, I was assigned to a parish in Marseille. A tough parish. Lots of suffering made worse by the Spanish flu. I did what I could, but the darkness began to overtake me. Why was God allowing all this? I had a crisis of faith. What I was doing couldn’t make a difference. I was stupid. I should go and have a good life and forget about it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“My superiors told me I was burned out, spent from what I had been doing. They sent me on a retreat to this place. I found tranquillityand peace here. I took to the Benedictine lifestyle, the Rule. And I applied to join. I’ve never regretted it for a moment.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I must be keeping you from your duties.”
“One of the good things about being the abbot is that nobody can tell me what to do,” he said, with a boyish grin. “The bell will summon me to our midday meal, but you ... feel free to remain here until the rain has stopped. In fact, let me get you a bowl of soup from our refectory. You will need sustenance for the return journey.” Without waiting for a response, he went out. Ellie took the opportunity to rub herself dry and squeeze moisture from her wet clothes into the towel. Also to smooth down her hair. “I must look a fright,” she thought and then decided that this man didn’t care. He returned soon after with a large earthenware bowl of soup on a tray with a big hunk of coarse bread.
“I’ll leave you to eat it because I am required to say the blessing over our meal,” he said. “Also I have placed a bucket outside, as I am sure you will need to bail out your boat. What sort of boat is it? I hope you didn’t row over here.”
“Oh no,” she said. “It is a friend’s speedboat.”
“That’s good. So I wish you a safe return. I am Abbot Gerard, by the way, and you are?”
“Ellie Endicott,” she said. “Or used to be Endicott. Now I’m not sure. My maiden name was Harkington.”
“It’s up to you to choose who you want to be,” he said. “Well, Ellie, I will bless your safe return journey and your new life here.” He made the sign of the cross. Awkwardly Ellie crossed herself and watched him depart. She ate the soup, a hearty vegetable stew with bread that was still warm. Then she placed the tray outside the door, picked up the bucket and hurried to the archway. From an open door on the opposite side of the courtyard came the sound of someone reading aloud. The rain had stopped as suddenly as it started, and blue sky was already reappearing. The boat, as Abbot Gerard had predicted, did need a lot of bailing out, but she did the best job she could and was relieved when the motor restarted. Half an hour later she was back in the harbour at Saint-Benet, and the abbey felt like some kind of ethereal vision.
Chapter 29
