Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52447 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
They soared over the Andes for a good hour before landing. Afterward he took her for a picnic in the mountains, and they returned to the monastery, hot and sunburned, in the late afternoon. They went for a swim and stretched out in the last rays of the sun to dry. When she was quiet, her mind always fixed on one thing. This was the end.
It was late before she wrapped a towel around her body and told Lann, “I’m going for a shower.”
She hoped it sounded like an invitation, but he said, “I have some loose ends to tie up, so how about I meet you for dinner at nine?”
She nodded, and he kissed her hand.
At nine sharp, Lann opened the interconnecting door between their bedrooms. Kat had dressed in her blue dress.
He gave her an approving look. “I love that dress. It reminds me of a time when you wore it without underwear.”
She smiled. “I’m not wearing any now either.”
His eyes darkened. “I’m torn between checking for myself to see, and feeding you.” His lips curved wickedly. “I’ll feed you first.”
He offered her his arm, very much like he had the first evening they’d met, but this time she accepted it gladly, letting him lead her downstairs.
Dinner wasn’t served outside, but in the dining room. The table was set with gold brocade, crystal, golden cutlery, and candles. The fragrance of rose oil scented the room.
“This is beautiful,” she said with appreciation.
“I wanted it to be special.”
She took the chair he held for her, glad that he didn’t elaborate on why tonight’s dinner was different. Alfonso served crab pie for starters, and Teriyaki steak with grilled root vegetables for the main course. Dessert was homemade Panna Cotta with raspberry sauce and ice cream.
She was content to sip her wine and listen to Lann talk. Despite the fact that he wasn’t usually talkative, he was skilled at making conversation, and she appreciated that he made the effort for her tonight, almost as if he sensed her inability to conjure words.
He didn’t tell her where he was going after Santiago or what he was going to do there. Instead, he told her about his plans to renovate the church as a second phase of the remodeling. While he spoke, he held her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.
“What are your plans for after you’ve completed your thesis?” he finally asked.
She tried to sound cheerful. “Hopefully I’ll get a job somewhere back in the States.”
“And then?”
She shrugged. “Get married, have babies, and never stop flying.”
“I wish you all of those things.” He let go of her hand. “Just fly safely.”
She was going to say something, but Alfonso appeared with their coffee and tea.
When she’d finished her espresso and Lann his tea, he said, “Would you like me to show you what I have in mind for the church?”
“That sounds good.”
He led the way to the neglected church garden. They walked among weeds and untrimmed rose bushes under the faint yellow light that fell from the porch.
“The landscaper hasn’t gotten around to it yet,” he said, “but when the garden’s done, it will look similar to the square with the statue in the first cloister. Only, instead of a statue, it will have the fountain. Let’s go inside.”
It was as if he needed to do this, as if sharing his plans for the church would somehow connect her to his future.
“Are you leaving the bell tower for last?” she asked.
“I’ll start with the tower.”
Inside the church, he flicked on some spotlights. Their footsteps echoed down the path that divided the aisles.
He stopped in front of a statue of Saint Thomas. “I love this one especially, for his eyes.”
She took a closer look. Indeed, his eyes were striking. They seemed haunted, lost, and lonely.
“Why does he seem so sad?” she asked.
“Because he doubts. He can’t believe until he’s seen a miracle with his own eyes.”
She contemplated the statement.
“Do you know the painting of Caravaggio?” he asked.
“The Incredulity of Saint Thomas?”
“Yes. I love that painting. Sometimes I go to Berlin just to see it in the Sanssouci Palace.”
She looked back at the face of Saint Thomas. “Do you believe in miracles?”
His voice adopted a sad note. “Not the kind I’d like to believe in.”
When she turned her face back to him, he was looking at her intently. Who was the man she’d fallen for really? Would she ever know?
They continued their visit while Lann pointed out a few paintings and features as he walked her around the cathedral.
When they had done a full circle, he draped his arm around her shoulders. “I believe I have something to verify.”
She grabbed his wrist when he lifted the fabric of her dress. “Not here.”
“Why not?” he asked in a husky voice.
“It’s a church.”
“So it is.”
She slapped his hand away. “Have you no morals?”