“For your trust.”
“By reminding me you stalked me for weeks?” She gives me a cynical look.
I laid the last big secret out for her last night, even admitted some of my own sins. I’d crossed the line by listening to her at night, but I also hadn’t lied when I said I don’t have regrets. I’d do it all again. Now, though, I have to accept the consequences of those choices, so I’m feeling her out this morning to make sure it didn’t completely obliterate a chance for us to work together.
“I prefer to think of it as keenly observing details.” I take a long draw off my coffee. She might have slept. But I didn't. Not as much as my body needed. So it’ll be caffeine and crisp mountain air to keep me going today.
“A stalker would say that.” Her tone is flat, but when I look up, she grins at me.
“Then I’m a stalker. But one who takes the time to make you the recipes you like and order your jam. That should count as a peace offering.”
“What does peace look like to you?” she asks, taking a sip of her coffee-flavored cream as she waits for my answer.
“You tell me what you want, I tell you what I can do for you, and we come to a deal that makes us both happy.”
“Since when does what I want factor into it?” She hikes her eyebrow as she takes another bite of toast, with an extra smear of jam on it, and then washes it down with coffee.
“Always, as far as I’m concerned,” I answer without thinking. I want to give her whatever her little heart desires. I want to spoil her rotten and see her amused smiles. She deserves a reprieve from the hell she’s endured and her contemplative austerity at the convent. I also happen to believe the path to my family getting the answers we need lies in the exact same direction.
“Doubtful.” She gives me a look over the top of her toast that challenges me.
“So tell me, what do you want, Zephyrine Schaefer?” I lean back in my chair, assuming she’ll ponder all the options.
“Freedom.” She doesn’t need time to think.
“Besides that,” I grumble.
“No, I don’t mean this.” She looks down at the lock on her wrist. “Well, this too, but I mean free. Really free. From my father. From my husband. I want a divorce, or an annulment really. If I had that, I could take my final vows as a nun and put all of this to rest. Have a life I can call my own. Finally.”
“Youwantto be a nun?” I’m surprised.
She never seemed very good at it, not with her vices or her spirit. The kind of spirit that remained untamed despite everything she’s been through. If the abbess couldn’t do it in the years she’s already had, I can’t imagine she’ll ever be the picture-perfect angel they want. I assumed she was just hiding out there, that it was somewhere safe she could hide. Or at least somewhere her husband was willing to settle on.
“What’s wrong with that? There are worse things.” Her countenance turns stormy, and she flicks a glance in my direction before she finishes off her coffee.
“Yeah, a priest for one,” I hedge.
She glares at me and bites off another piece of her toast with the kind of vigor that has me wondering if she’s imagining it’s my head.
“It’s quiet. The convent is beautiful. I get to do work that helps people. Most of the nuns are friendly. I’m happy there.”
“You’re happy there? You sure? It didn’t seem like you quite fit in.” I don't believe it. Happy nuns don't share her taste in extracurriculars.
“Just because I’m not perfect…” A flash of hurt across her face makes me regret my question.
“That’s not what I meant. I just assumed it was a place you were hiding, not a place you’d chosen. If you chose it, then I’m glad you were happy there.” I’d try to be happy for her anyway.
“I chose to visit the abbey because my grandfather spent time there.”
“Did he take you there when you were younger?”
“No. He kept a diary of where he was during the war and his travels afterward. When I ran off, trying to get some time away from my husband, I used the diary as a travel guide. I followed in his footsteps through some of the cities and towns. It led me to the convent. He talked about visiting old friends there. Visiting the archives. The food. The nuns. The time in reflection. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about because he loved it there. I could tell the way he wrote about it. He spent more time there than anywhere else.” She looks lost in memories for a moment before she returns to me. “And I love it there too. Despite my shortcomings.”
“But it could be a place you visit rather than a place you live under the watch of the abbess.”
“I feel safe there. Or at least I did before.” She gives me a pointed look.
“Seemed like a real drowning risk to me.” I try to crack a joke. Not that I’m very good at them.
