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was taking for him, another sacrifice that had to be made. And it wasn't practical for him to become Jewish, as they had agreed that morning. The studies to do so would have taken years. There was no rabbi nearby to teach him, if Antoine would even consider doing that. But for reasons practical and otherwise, it just didn't make sense. And it seemed too much to ask of him. Beata felt she had no choice but to convert, if she wanted to marry him and have their union sanctioned and blessed in the eyes of a religion, in this case his. And as she listened to the priest, she felt it was what she wanted to do. The Bible had always intrigued her. She loved the stories about Jesus, and had always been fascinated by the saints. Perhaps, she told herself, this was what was meant to be. And although it was the only religion she knew, Beata had never been so certain of her deep bond to Judaism. She was ready nonetheless to give it up for him, and embrace Catholicism. She felt it was part of what she owed him as his wife. Their love had required sacrifices of both of them from the beginning. And this was yet another one she was making for him.
They chatted with the priest for half an hour, and Beata promised to come back the following afternoon. He said he would have her ready for both conversion and marriage within two weeks. He followed them out and waved as the two young people drove away. Antoine was driving with his right hand, and seemed at ease doing so, as he rested the fingers of his damaged left hand on the wheel.
“So, what do you think?” Antoine asked, looking concerned. He felt as though he was asking so much of her, and if she truly objected to converting, he was willing to be satisfied with a civil ceremony. He didn't want her to do anything that violated her own beliefs. He had no idea how religious she was, or how strictly she adhered to Jewish traditions. He knew her family was Orthodox, which was why it was so unthinkable to them that she should marry out of her faith. But he did not know how profoundly she herself believed, or how painful it might be to her to relinquish her faith for him.
“I think he's a nice man, and it will be very interesting to study with him,” she said politely, but Antoine was relieved to see that she didn't look upset. She was oddly calm about what she was doing, as she had been about every step she took along the way.
“How do you feel about converting? You don't have to do it if you don't want to, Beata. We can just get married at the mairie. You've given up enough for me already.” He was deeply respectful of her.
“And so have you,” she said fairly. And then after a long moment, as she looked out the window as they drove along, “I think I would rather marry in church. Particularly if it means a lot to you.” She turned back to him with a small smile that lit her eyes.
“That is incredibly generous of you,” he said, wishing he could take a hand off the wheel to put an arm around her, but obviously he couldn't. “I love you,” he said gently, and then after a few minutes, he thought of something else. “What about our children? Do you want them to be Catholic or Jewish?” They were all questions they would have asked in a normal courtship, but in the dire circumstances they'd been in, and with the distance between them, they had never had the time or opportunity to ask each other these things. Beata sat and thought about it before she answered him, and then looked at him with a serious expression. She had taken everything they'd said that morning very much to heart. These were important, even life-altering, decisions.
“I think if I'm going to be Catholic, and you are, and it is what we both believe, then our children should be, too. Don't you?” If nothing else, it seemed practical to her. She had never had her parents' deep sentiments about religion. She went to temple to please them, and because it was their tradition. And she had always found the Bible fascinating and exciting. She was convinced that, married to Antoine, she would develop a