meandered among the icons of its whitewashed church and wandered along the pebbly beach, gazing forlornly at the sea urchins that lined the rocks below its waterline. She'd also visited the sprawling monastery at Panormitis where, to her surprise, she'd met three Athenian businessmen in their early forties who were staying in its stark guest rooms and who had told her they were there for a few days of rest and contemplation and what they had intriguingly termed 'renewal.' In fact, it was virtually impossible to get away from the Church's presence on the island. The churches were the focal point of its villages, and, like all Greek islands, Symi had dozens of tiny chapels scattered across virtually every hilltop. No matter where you were, there was always a reminder of the Church's influence within sight, and yet, oddly, it didn't feel oppressive to Tess. Far from it. It seemed an organic, intrinsic part of the island's life, a magnet that drew its inhabitants closer and gave them comfort and strength.
Reilly's condition was improving all the time. His breathing was much less strained, the puffiness in his lips and around his eyes had subsided, and the waxy pallor had gone from his cheeks. He was now walking around the house, and that morning he had said they couldn't stay hidden away from the rest of the world forever. Now that he was up to it, he would need to make arrangements for their return. Leaving the house with what felt like the weight of the world on her shoulders, Tess knew that she would soon have to confront the issue and discuss with him what she'd found.
She had spent the rest of the morning back at Marathounda, where she'd retrieved die chest that had held die codex, and was presently walking up to the doctor's house when she bumped into the two women who had brought her the food and clothing. They were coming out of the small church and were clearly delighted to see her. They told her they had heard the news about Reilly's recovery and hugged her warmly, gesticulating and nodding in unison to express their heartfelt relief. Their husbands were also with them. The men shook hands with her, their faces beaming with sympathy and relief, before the foursome trundled off, waving back with bright smiles and leaving Tess standing there, watching them, lost in her thoughts.
And that's when it finally sank in. The realization that had been clamoring at her from deep within for days, the confusing feeling that had overcome the instincts of a cynical lifetime, but that she was still denying. Until now.
I can't do it to them.
Not to them, not to millions of others like them. The thought had been preying on her mind, day and night, since she'd found the codex. Everyone she had met in the last few days, all the people who had been nothing but unreservedly kind and generous to her. This was about them. All of them, and countless others throughout the world.
This could wreck their lives.
The thought suddenly made her sick to her stomach. If the Church can inspire people to live like that, to give like that, particularly in this day and age, she thought, then it must be doing something right. It has to be worth preserving. What did it matter if it was based on a story that embellished the truth? Is it even possible to create something with such a phenomenal power to inspire, she wondered, without straying outside the strict confines of the real world?
Standing there, watching the two couples walk away and melt back into their lives, she couldn't believe she'd even contemplated any other option.
She knew she couldn't do it.
But she also knew she couldn't avoid telling Reilly any longer.
***
That evening, after avoiding him for most of the afternoon, she led him up to the castle ruins. She held onto his hand with a sweaty palm, her other arm tightly gripped around a small bundle that was wrapped in the cardigan. The sun was almost gone, and the sky was now gleaming with a light, pinkish haze as it held the last of the day's light.
She placed the bundle on a partially collapsed wall and turned to Reilly. She found it hard to meet his look, and her mouth felt dry.
'I . . .' All of a sudden, she wasn't sure anymore. What if she just hid it, ignored it, and never mentioned it to him? Wouldn't he be better off not knowing, especially given what happened to his father? Wouldn't she be doing him a favor by never bringing up the fact that she had found it, seen it, touched it?
No. Much as she would have liked to do that, she knew it would be a mistake. She didn't ever want to be less than truthful with him again. She'd already done enough of that for a lifetime. Deep down, she was hoping that, despite everything, she and Reilly could have a future together, and she knew it would be impossible for them to grow closer with such a huge unspoken lie between them.
She was suddenly aware of the intense stillness around her. The sparrows she had heard earlier were silent now, as if in sympathy with the moment. She steeled herself and tried again. 'I've been wanting to tell you something for a few days, I really wanted to, but I needed to wait until you were well enough.'
Reilly looked at her uncertainly. She knew her unease was obvious. 'What is it?'
Tess felt her insides seizing into a tight knot and simply said, 'I need to show you something.' She then turned and peeled off the layers of the cardigan, exposing the codex tucked inside its folds.
A fleeting glance of surprise crossed Reilly's features before he lifted his gaze and studied her. After what felt like an eternity to her, he asked, 'Where'd you find it?'
She couldn't say the words fast enough, relieved to get it all off her chest at last. 'The falcon was washed up on a beach a couple of bays down from where we were found. The lift bags were still attached to it.'
She watched as Reilly examined its leathery cover before taking it carefully into his hands and glancing at one of the pages inside. 'It's amazing. It just looks so . . . basic.' He turned to Tess.
'The language. Can you read it?'
'No. I can just tell that it's Aramaic.'
'Which I'm guessing is the right language, the one it should be in.'
She nodded uneasily. 'It is.'
He just stared absently at the ancient binder, his mind locked in thought, his eyes surveying every inch of its cover. 'So what do you think? Is it real?'
'I don't know. It definitely looks the part, but you can't really tell without sending it to a lab—there are many tests we'd have to run on it: carbon dating, analyzing the composition of the paper and the ink, checking for calligraphic consistency ...' She paused and drew a nervous breath. 'Only here's the thing, Sean. I don't think we should send it to a lab. I don't think we should have anyone run tests on it.'
He cocked his head, thrown. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean, I think we should just forget we ever found it,' she stated emphatically. 'We should burn the damn thing and just—'
'—and just what?' he countered. 'Act like it never existed? We can't do that. If it's not real, if this is some Templar forgery or some other hoax, then there's nothing to worry about. If it is real, well then . . .' He frowned, his voice trailing off.
'Then no one should ever know about it,' she insisted. 'God, I wish I hadn't told you about this.'
Reilly looked at her, perplexed. 'Am I missing something here? Whatever happened to 'the people deserve to know'?'
'I was wrong. I don't think it matters anymore.' Tess heaved a ponderous sigh. 'You know, for as long as I can remember, I could only see what was wrong with the Church. The bloody history, the greed, the archaic dogma, the intolerance, the scandals of abuse ... So much of it has become such a joke. I still think a lot of it could use one hell of an overhaul, without a doubt. But then, nothing's perfect, is it? And if you look at what it does when it works, when you think about the compassion and the generosity it inspires . . . That's where the real miracle lies.'
A slow, rhythmic clapping of hands suddenly echoed across the deserted ruins around Tess, startling her.
Turning to where the sound was coming from, she saw Vance stepping out from behind a stone wall. He kept on clapping, each slow clap distinct from the next, his eyes riveted on hers, his mouth twisted in an unsettling grin.
Chapter 85
'So you've seen the light. I'm really moved, Tess. Our infallible Church has got itself another convert.'
