Kate didn’t know what to say. She could tell by the slump of his shoulders the pain was still there. As they came around a bad curve, she saw three men waving their hands at them from the middle of the road ahead. A battered red truck, the paint almost completely peeled off the rotting slats of the back, was pulled half way off the road.
“Damn,” Tom muttered. “Stay in the jeep,” he ordered.
Kate watched as the men gestured excitedly. Finally Tom walked over to the truck, and his head disappeared under the hood. The men stood around the tall Irishman, waiting for his diagnosis. Kate wondered if Tom knew much about cars. She didn’t really know much at all about Tom, she decided, as he walked over to the jeep now, kicking small stones in front of him.
He leaned inside the window to speak to her. “One of the belts is broken. They want to hitch a ride with us to La Paz. I told them we don’t have room.” His eyes were troubled. “I want to wait here with them awhile to see if someone in a truck will come along and give them a ride.”
Kate nodded. She didn’t want to give them a ride either. It was their only time together. Was a few hours too much to ask? Yet she could tell Tom felt guilty about turning them down. They really didn’t have room. How could they all squeeze in?
Finally, after about fifteen minutes, Kate saw the men shake Tom’s hand. He said something that made them laugh and headed over to the jeep. They stared at her as Tom got in, and she held her head up and waved, hoping they were not scandalized. Tom said nothing for a few minutes as he drove off, and finally Kate broke the silence. “We really don’t have room, you know.”
“I know, but that wasn’t the real reason I told them no. I wanted this time alone with you. How’s that for a Good Samaritan priest?”
“I’m sure they’ll get a ride soon.” She wasn’t sure, but fervently hoped it was so for the sake of their peace of mind.
They drove steadily on through the morning. Sheer cliffs yawned below them at every curve. Clumps of blood-red hibiscus bloomed from green rocks, and the smell of lemons was in the air. Cataracts sent mist shooting up into the trees. The sides of the road were dotted with white crosses.
After a while Tom broke the silence. “I’m looking for a certain spot. There’s a little pool under a waterfall. I want you to see it.” Suddenly, he pulled the jeep over at a wide fork in the road. They had seen few cars and trucks during the ride, and now, with the engine shut off, the only sound was the cicadas’ drone in the heat of the approaching noon. They got out and walked a little way into a small grotto beneath the trees. A waterfall spilled from the overhanging hills. Ferns grew along the side of the pool; the noise of the water was deafening. Kate felt the mist on her face, cool and delicious. Tom took off his shoes and socks and waded into the water. His feet, white and long, shimmered like fish in the blue green water. She sat on a rock in the shade and trailed her hand in the pool. Then she splashed him, and when he turned to look at her she couldn’t breathe.
“I’ll always keep this picture of you, with the sun dappling your face, and the white habit spread all around you.” His voice was low and sad. She said nothing. Then he dried his feet on the grass and walked toward her. When he stood in front of her he reached for her hand and pulled her up. “Come on, we’d better get going.” She held fast to his hand, and all at once he pulled her to him, murmuring her name. He framed her face in his hands and began pushing back the headpiece around her face. Her veil slipped off and soon he was stroking her short curly hair, burying his face in it. Then she lifted her face to his kiss and felt his mouth close over hers hungrily. Somewhere, far away, she heard falling water.
He was the first to pull away, and he grinned shakily as he said, “We’d better go. All we need now is those guys in the truck to come along, and their evil suspicions will be confirmed.”
Kate followed him blindly to the car, her body heavy and strange. She rearranged her veil.
Tom kept looking at her. His eyes were happier now, and he reached for her hand, playing with her fingers as he drove. “God, we must look like a scene from the corrupt Middle Ages.”
He drove on through the twists and turns until the heat and the motion made her dizzy. She was dizzy all right, dizzy with love.
C
hapter Seventeen
After the trip to Coroico with Tom, time slowed for Kate. She missed Jeanne, who had written to request permission to stay in Coroico until the end of June to help Sister Rachel set up the new addition to the clinic. Several local doctors had committed their services to the Poor Clare nuns for one day each week, and people were starting to come in with more serious complaints. Josepha sent a telegram immediately giving her consent. Now it was just she and Josepha in the convent. Sister was kind but remote as she went busily about her duties. When they prayed together, Josepha got on Kate’s nerves with the peculiar way she hissed the ss’s chanting the Office each day. Kate was irritable, restless.
Now she wished she had confided in Jeanne Marie about
