“I don’t know. He didn’t give me his name. I think he is a priest.”
Carlos follows Kate as she walks toward the living room. She stops in the doorway. Tom is kneeling by the fireplace, poking the logs viciously, sending sparks up the chimney.
She turns to Carlos then, surprised at the steadiness of her voice. “It’s all right. It’s Father Lynch. I work with him in Juliaca.”
Carlos meets her eyes for a moment. Then he disappears down the hall as silently as he had come.
Kate closes the double doors and stands still. Without turning, Tom says, “I watched you walk up the beach for a long time before I recognized you.” Then he rises and turns to her. “You little fool.”
Her smile freezes; she cannot move. She notices a white line around his mouth, his cold eyes.
He stands there looking at her for a moment. “They told me a man stabbed you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Let me see it.”
She walks toward him and pushes back the sleeve of her sweater. Then she pulls back the bandage gently. The wound gapes, red and livid, but a scar is beginning to form. “It doesn’t hurt much anymore.” She looks up into his face, searching for some flicker of feeling.
He takes her arm and bends to kiss it. She falls against him and lifts her face to his. Now he is kissing her on the mouth over and over, saying her name, “Kate, oh, Kate.”
Everything in her rises to meet him. She feels his mouth on her throat, and then on her breast. She gasps and he kneels before her, thrusting his head into her body like a hurt child, wrapping her in his arms. She bends over him, stroking his hair, and the sight of his dark, shiny head against her sweater fills her with pity.
“Tom, stop it. Stop it. Let me go.” Gently, she pulls herself free. His eyes are dark with tears.
A cold clarity has come over her as he caressed her. If she gave in now to her own desire, if they made love finally in this quiet, perfect place, he would hate her. Like some noble feudal knight, he would feel bound to her, obligated. He would renounce the priesthood and marry her. Then little by little resentment would begin to seep in, poisoning their love. She would never be able to make up for what he had lost.
She leaves him there on the floor like some wounded but still dangerous beast and curls up in a chair by the fireplace, watching him. For a while they say nothing. He hugs his crossed legs to his chest and rocks slightly as he stares into the fire. When he speaks his voice is low and unsteady.
“I looked for you all night the first night. I drove up and down the road from Juliaca to Puno. I called you every curse word I knew.”
She smiles a little, relieved to see his crooked grin as he glances at her. “Tom, I had to get away. I was suffocating there, so close to you. I think—in the last few days—things are becoming clearer—”
“Wait, before you say anything, let me tell you something. I’m going home, back to Ireland.”
Kate sits very still now. He continues, staring into the fire.
“My father is dying. He’s been sick for a long time, but my mother’s last letter sounded really grim. He has lung cancer. He’s been smoking since he was twelve, and he’s loved every damn cigarette he ever had.”
“I’m so sorry, Tom.” She wants to touch him but she is held fast to the chair.
“Anyway, I thought it would be a good time for me to go back. Two days ago I mailed a letter to Monsignor MacDonagh in Galway to tell him I’ll be there to help out for a while.” His words trail off at the end so faintly that Kate isn’t sure she has heard them. Two days ago? So just like that—he was leaving. She tries to breathe.
“Your mother will be glad.”
“Yes.”
The fire crackles in the grate, and the flames dance. Kate can hear the muffled roar of the sea in the distance. She imagines the beach now in the dark, the moonlight trembling on the wild water.
“Tom, I’ve made a decision, too. I’m leaving the convent. I’m not renewing my vows.”
He stifles a small moan, as if someone has kicked him in the stomach. She watches his face. “Oh God, Kate.” He shakes his head as if to ward off her words. “Fuck it!”
She laughs then, she can’t help it. He is scowling like a petulant fifteen-year-old. She goes to sit beside him cross-legged on the floor. Together they stare into the fire.
“Tom, listen to me. Don’t feel guilty. I would have come to this decision someday even if I’d never met you. Knowing you, feeling loved and loving you, it’s been the real thing. When I entered the convent, I was just a girl, not knowing myself. I didn’t understand what I was renouncing. I see myself differently now. Oh, does this make sense?”
He turns to her and smooths her hair back from her face. “No, nothing makes sense right now except how much I love touching you, your hair, your neck.” He kisses her then, and she tastes sadness like copper, bitter and metallic, in his mouth.
She leans her head on his shoulder. “I’m going back to Juliaca to finish out the year.” She’s surprised to hear herself say this. “The community spent so much money to bring me down here, send me to language school. Finishing the year in Juliaca is the least I can do. Then, when it’s time to renew my vows, I’ll go home.”
“What will you do?” He watches her closely, and there is a tentative look in his eyes as if she is someone he’s just met.
Kate shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably teach somewhere.”
After a long silence he takes her hand. “Kate, I can’t say to you what I’m