She was confused now. Why was he telling her all this? She had a hard time concentrating on his words, as she watched him move around the room, bursting with impatience.
He continued to speak, almost as if he were talking to himself. “Tomorrow I’ll be going out in the campo again, probably for a couple of weeks.” He turned as she gave a little moan. “I have to, Kate. I’m going to talk to the men and women in the villages about the coming reform. They need to organize. I’ve been talking with people in Lima. What the people of the Altiplano need is technical know-how, roads, and cheap credit. But no one in the government is going to hand out these things. It’s up to us to help them speak out.” He glanced at her apologetically. “Sorry. I get carried away, I know. Can you understand why this is so important?”
She stood and faced him. “Of course. Part of why I love you is because you do care so much.”
He laughed and laid his hands firmly on her shoulders, and for an instant held her in a cautious embrace. “Someday I’d like to find out the other part of why you love me.” He held her away from him then, and she found she could not lift her eyes to his. Kate stared at his mouth, and her breath came in short jerks.
Abruptly, he turned from her and zipped up his windbreaker. As he opened the door, the bells in the tower chimed out the noon hour. Kate watched as he took the steps two at a time. He stopped, faced her and said with a grin, “It’s great to be back. Great, because you’re here. Hasta la vista.”
“Hasta la vista,” she called, her words fading in the quiet air. She sighed and straightened the chairs. So this is how it would be. He would breeze in every once in a while, completely upsetting her hard-won balance, and then take off again with a regretful but impatient air. She lectured herself sternly. What did you expect? You yourself set the rules. Just be grateful for what you have.
But it wasn’t enough. Seeing him like this made it harder—like food placed just out of reach in front of a starving person. She joined Josepha and Jeanne Marie in the dining room, and as they stood with bowed heads for grace, Kate gripped the back of her chair in a silent appeal for help.
Now time played tricks on Kate. Gone was the steady rhythm of the days. She found herself jerked back and forth between long unending hours of waiting to see him and speeded up moments of sheer joy in his company. She tried to hide her love and wondered at the fact that everyone around her seemed so oblivious to the truth she was living.
One evening before the sisters said Compline, Jeanne Marie looked at her and said, “I can’t get over the change in Father Tom.”
Kate held her breath. Sister Josepha nodded and agreed. “Yes, he seems so much more relaxed since he came back from Lima. I guess the break did him some good.”
Jeanne Marie went on. “It’s not just that. He comes over to see us in the evenings now. I thought we’d never get rid of him tonight.”
She laughed and yawned, but Kate could feel Jeanne’s shrewd eyes watching her. Kate said nothing. His casual visits to them in the evening when he was not out in the campo were both a torment and a great delight for her. She longed to be alone with him but feared it, too. She usually managed to walk him to the door when he left, and in the darkness of the cold entrance parlor they would link hands and gaze at one another until she felt she would drown in his eyes. He always tried to keep the mood light. She thought her intensity frightened him.
Once he had grabbed her hand and brought her palm up to his lips. “Isn’t there a line in Shakespeare that says something like, ‘Let lips do what hands do,’ or something to that effect?”
She looked up, willing him to kiss her. But he only kissed her hand and turned away. Her hand burned where he had kissed it. “Romeo and Juliet,” she said finally.
“Oh, and look what a bad end they came to.” His tone was light, but as he left that night he had looked back at her, his eyes dark and unreadable.
Later, lying in bed, Kate felt ashamed. She was burning up with desire while walking around in the habit of a nun. What had happened to her? She was luring on a priest, a man who had vowed celibacy not because he hated women but because it was the price he had to pay to be a priest. Maybe Tom had been right to want to break it off early, and now he was the one being careful, holding back. She would break her vow of celibacy in a minute if he wanted her. The icy clarity of that realization washed over her and she sobbed in the dark, muffling the sounds in her pillow. She tried to pray, but what would she pray for?
Kate reached for the crucifix she kept always by her bed, the one her father had given to her the day she entered the convent. The figure of Christ was silver, and the cross itself of a dark wood like ebony, framed in silver. She ran her fingers down the nearly naked body of the young Christ. Help me—help me to not hurt him,
