pray, sing, and dance in the rain, adoring God and the Virgin Mary. Now and then, people went back to speaking strange languages, waving their arms, and pointing to the sky.

'Someone here… someone who has a sick daughter-in-law… must know that she is being cured,' cried one woman.

The prayers resumed, along with chants of joy. From time to time, we would hear the voice of this woman again.

'Someone in this group who lost her mother recently must have faith and know that she is in the glory of heaven.'

Later, he would tell me that she had the gift of prophecy, that certain individuals can sense what is happening at some distant place or what will happen in the future.

Secretly, I too believed in the power of that voice that was speaking of miracles. I hoped that voice would speak of the love between two of those present. I hoped to hear that voice proclaim that this love was blessed by all the angels and saints—and by God and by the Goddess.

I'm not sure how long the ritual lasted. People continued to speak in tongues and to chant; they danced with their arms held up to the sky, prayed for the people around them, and petitioned for miracles.

Finally, the priest who was conducting the ceremony said, 'Let us chant a prayer for all of those here who are participating for the first time in a Charismatic renewal.'

Apparently I was not the only one. That made me feel better.

Everyone chanted a prayer. This time I just listened, asking that favors be granted to me.

I needed many.

'Let us receive the blessing,' said the priest.

The crowd turned toward the illuminated grotto across the river. The priest said several prayers and blessed us all. Then everyone kissed, wished each other a 'Happy Day of the Immaculate Conception,' and went their separate ways.

He came to me. His expression was happier than usual.

'You're soaked,' he said.

'So are you!' I laughed.

We walked back to the car and drove to Saint-Savin. I'd been so eager for this moment to arrive—but now that it was here, I didn't know what to say. I couldn't even bring myself to talk about the house in the mountains, the ritual, the strange languages, or the tent prayers.

He was living in two worlds. Somewhere, those two worlds intersectedand I had to find where that was.

But at that moment, words were useless. Love can only be found through the act of loving.

'I've only got one sweater left,' he said when we reached the room. 'You can have it. I'll buy another for myself tomorrow.'

'We'll put our wet things on the heater. They'll be dry by tomorrow. Anyway, I've got the blouse that I washed yesterday.'

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes.

Clothing. Nakedness. Cold.

Finally, he took another shirt out of his bag. 'You can sleep in this,' he said.

'Great,' I answered.

I turned out the light. In the dark, I took off my wet clothes, spread them over the heater, and turned it to high.

By the light from the lamppost outside the window, he must have been able to make out my silhouette and known that I was naked. I slipped the shirt on and crawled under the covers.

'I love you,' I heard him say.

'I'm learning how to love you.'

He lit a cigarette. 'Do you think the right moment will come?' he asked.

I knew what he meant. I got up and sat on the edge of his bed.

The light from his cigarette illuminated our faces. He took my hand and we sat there for some time. I ran my fingers through his hair.

'You shouldn't have asked,' I said. 'Love doesn't ask many questions, because if we stop to think we become fearful. It's an inexplicable fear; it's difficult even to describe it. Maybe it's the fear of being scorned, of not being accepted, or of breaking the spell. It's ridiculous, but that's the way it is. That's why you don't ask—you act. As you've said many times, you have to take risks.'

'I know. I've never asked before.'

'You already have my heart,' I told him. 'Tomorrow you may go away, but we will always remember the miracle of these few days. I think that God, in Her infinite wisdom, conceals hell in the midst of paradise—so that we will always be alert, so that we won't forget the pain as we experience the joy of compassion.'

He took my face in his hands. 'You learn quickly,' he said.

I had surprised myself. But sometimes if you think you know something, you do wind up understanding it.

'I hope you won't think I'm being difficult,' I said. 'I have been with many men. I've made love to some I've barely known.'

'Same here,' he said.

He was trying to sound natural, but from his touch, I could tell that he hadn't wanted to hear this from me.

'But since this morning, I feel as if I'm rediscovering love. Don't try to understand it, because only a woman would know what I mean. And it takes time.'

He caressed my face. Then I kissed him lightly on the lips and returned to my bed.

I wasn't sure why I did. Was I trying to bind him even closer to me, or was I trying to set him free? In any case, it had been a long day, and I was too tired to think about it.

For me, that was a night of great peace. At one point, I seemed to be awake even though I was still sleeping. A feminine presence cradled me in Her lap; I felt as if I had known Her a long time. I felt protected and loved.

I woke at seven, dying of the heat. I remembered having turned the heater to high in order to dry my clothes. It was still dark, and I tried to get up without making a sound so that I wouldn't disturb him.

But as soon as I stood, I could see that he wasn't there.

I started to panic. The Other immediately awoke and said to me, 'See? You agreed, and he disappeared. Like all men do.'

My panic was increasing by the minute, but I didn't want to lose control. 'I'm still here,' the Other said. 'You allowed the wind to change direction. You opened the door, and now love is flooding your life. If we act quickly, we'll be able to regain control.'

I had to be practical, to take precautions.

'He's gone,' said the Other. 'You have to get away from this place in the middle of nowhere. Your life in Zaragoza is still intact; get back there quickly—before you lose everything you've worked so hard to gain.'

He must have bad some good reason, I thought.

'Men always have their reasons,' said the Other. 'But the fact is that they always wind up leaving.'

Well, then, I had to figure out how to get back to Spain. I had to keep my wits about me.

'Let's start with the practical problem: money,' the Other said.

I didn't have a cent. I would have to go downstairs, call my parents collect, and wait for them to wire me the money for a ticket home.

But it was a holiday, and the money wouldn't arrive until the next day. How would I eat? How would I explain to the owners of the house that they would have to wait for several days for their payment? 'Better not to say anything,' said the Other.

Right, she was the experienced one. She knew how to handle situations like this. She wasn't the impassioned girl who loses control of herself. She was the woman who always knew what she wanted in life. I should simply

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