but the sight of the casket interrupted her thoughts. She could not believe Uncle Edouard was dead. Her own father had passed three years ago, when she was just fifteen, after which her only uncle had become a surrogate father of sorts, as loving to her as he had been to his own childâuntil, that is, he chose to convert and send Amelie away to a convent five miles out of town. Catherine felt sure his actions had come not from personal conviction but rather to protect his daughterâs life in the wake of her husbandâs death as a martyr. Catherine suspected Uncle Edouard had also done it to save the familyâs printing business from the increasingly harsh, anti-Huguenot laws of the king.
âConvert or lose everythingâ was the refrain echoing across France, and many, her uncle included, chose to do exactly that. Uncle Edouard continued to work in the family business after the conversion, but otherwise, out of necessity, he had pretty much been cast from their lives. Jules had forbidden Catherine from having any contact with the man at all. She had not even been allowed to visit the family print shop or warehouse on the chance she might run into him there. And that was such a pity. Maybe if she had been allowed to speak with him when he was still alive, they could have found a way to make their peace. Perhaps she might even have convinced him to bring Amelie back home.
Thinking once more of her cousin, Catherine took another look around at the growing crowd of attendees and had to admit that Amelie still was not among them. She did recognize someone else, however, and the sight caused her to gasp. Her grandmother was there, sitting in a pew near the front, dressed all in black. And though her face was also obscured by a veil, Catherine knew without a doubt that it was she.Grand-Mèreâs stately demeanor, elegant posture, and finely tailored clothing easily gave her away. How heartbreaking this must be for her, Catherine thought, to bury her last child.
Uncle Edouardâs death had come as a shock to all of them, but especially to dear Grand-Mère . Uncle Edouard had stayed late at the print shop, alone, three nights before, and Jules had found him dead the next morning. The physician said his heart had failed.
Catherine dabbed at her eyes and focused on Father Philippe, who was now speaking in Latin from the marble pulpit. Thanks to her years of study in the language, she understood what he was saying, how Edouardâs death was not the end, but that for the Lordâs faithful, death meant life.
âThis is the communion of saints,â he continued, still in Latin, âthat we profess our faith in the Apostlesâ Creed. We believe in the Holy Ghost, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting.â
âAmen,â Catherine whispered. She believed in the catholicâuniversalâchurch too. She just wished it did not involve so much conflict.
After several readings and more prayer, Father Philippe spoke specifically of Uncle Edouard, saying he had been a good man, a good father, and a good son. He did not mention Edouardâs wife, who had died from consumption, the same illness that took Catherineâs mother near the same time, fourteen years ago. The two had been sisters, coming when they were girls to Lyon from the Plateau Vivarais-Lignon in the mountains southwest of the city. The two sisters married the Gillet brothers, Edouard and Thomas, making Amelie and Catherine double cousins. They had been as close as sisters their entire lives until they were forced to part. Now that Uncle Edouard was gone, surely they would be reunited soon, whether Amelie had been allowed to come here today or not.
After the eulogy was communion, and then the service would be done. As parishioners rose to partake in the sacrament, Catherine glanced toward the doors behind her and wondered if she should