Maxence held his arm out to where Dree was standing and waved her over. He glanced back and saw her walking toward them, so he began the introduction. “My dear sisters in Christ, this is my friend, Dree Clark. And my admin. Yes, she’s my admin.”
Introductions were made all around, first in French and then in English for Dree, who stuck out her hand to shake and then allowed herself to be drawn in for a double-kiss and hugs.
Both Ndaya and Disanka furtively pinched Dree’s silky strands of blond hair and rubbed them between their fingers during the hug and then exchanged a knowing glance.
Majambu and Mpata clung to Maxence’s knees, and he rocked back and forth as they giggled and batted at each other. “I’m just so glad to see you. I can’t believe you’re here.”
The two religious sisters laughed, and they patted his shoulders and arms as they talked. “Why can’t you believe we’re here? You sent the man to bring us.”
Max’s joy froze into ice shards. “Where is your luggage? We can get you settled right away.”
“It is at the hotel. We like the room very much.”
Maxence asked, “Who came to you in Kinshasa and told you to come here?”
Ndaya said, “He’s a very nice man. He has helped carry our luggage and did all the things for us. He did a very good job.”
“What was his name?” Maxence asked.
Ndaya and Disanka frowned at him and then checked in with each other before Disanka answered, “His name is Michael Rossi. Didn’t you send him for us? Was it the cardinal who has sent him?”
The warm air cracked apart, turning cold and chilling Maxence to his bones.
Ndaya asked, “Is there a problem? Are you sick? Is that why you have sent for us?”
Maxence laughed and patted his abdomen, where he seemed to lose muscle first when he wasn’t eating enough. “You can see I have not been sick.”
Ndaya nodded. “You are not wasted like you are when you come back from long missions. Still, I will cook for you.”
“Good Sister Ndaya, I would like nothing better. Let us get you checked out of that hotel and into a proper house where you can cook good food.”
Disanka asked, “Is there not a convent where we can stay?”
Excellent idea.“On second thought, perhaps we should rely on our Catholic connections to take care of you. It would probably be best if you stayed in a convent with other religious sisters so everyone can look after one another.”
Disanka nodded. “Yes, Deacon Father Maxence. We are always more comfortable when we stay with religious sisters.”
“I’ll make some phone calls. In the meantime, there is a room here where you can wait.”
Ndaya swiveled her head, looking around the courtyard. “Do you know people in this castle, Deacon Father Maxence?”
He winked at her. “I have connections everywhere.” He turned to Dree and said, “We’re going to take them up to my office to wait for some friends to come and get them. I know you don’t speak French, but they have no idea who I am here. I’m just Deacon Father Maxence, and I have ‘connections,’ so they can wait inside until someone from a convent comes and picks them up.”
Dree was still smiling and nodding at Ndaya and Disanka. “Who are they? I mean, you just told me their names, butwhoare they?”
Maxence’s grin grew forced. “It’s not entirely inaccurate to say they are my family.”
Dree raised one pale eyebrow at him, a grin playing around the corners of her mouth. “Did you forget to mention you have two wives and a couple of kids?”
Max chuckled, the tension in his chest evaporating. “Ndaya and Disanka arebonnes sœurs,religious sisters, with a Catholic order in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. We met there five years ago. They’re nurses who work at a children’s home in Kinshasa.”
“Ah, I always knew you had a thing for nurses.”
He laughed. “Evidently. Majambu and Mpata were left in the surrender cradle on the same day. Majambu was about six months old, but Mpata was a newborn. They were both sick. It took months to nurse them back to health. They were abandoned by women who couldn’t take care of them or were leaving their husbands, or they might have been born into upper-class families who didn’t want to admit that their teenaged daughters became pregnant. There’s no way to know. I was new in the DRC at the time, working with Father Moses at a rectory near the convent. Anyway, Father Moses assists at the children’s home, and so did I. And we—bonded.”
“Did they call you daddy? I heard them saypere,which I think means daddy?”
“They call meparrain,which means godfather.”
