They began to walk, with the dog trotting between the two of them.
“So, will you tell me, Pascale, how did all this possibly happen? How is it you're alive?”
“My beloved Jonas, you should ask Danny. Back before, in the canyons, I talked to him, about love and counting. In its way it might help, but nothing I said would ever be enough.”
There was silence as they walked on. The desert was alive with flowers and they seemed to imitate Pascale's way of saying something by not saying anything.
“Well, perhaps you can answer me this. Was it all meant to happen? I mean it could not be an accident, if you're alive now. So, who planned it? Or is it really an incredible accident, an incredibly beautiful one?”
“That's easy, Jonas. You planned it, Palmiro planned it, I planned it, the Immortals planned it. And, yes, I will say something you could call ‘Accident’ planned it! For the source of all accidents is incredibly beautiful, and loving, more than I can possibly tell you.”
Jonas seemed to hear a capital A given to the word, and he felt perhaps she'd answered him, or at least the answer allowed for no more questions. They walked on in silence for another while, then she said, “Palmiro and his friends are seeing the whole planet from the outer atmosphere. The storms are beginning to break up. The North is changing too. Palmiro and the others must tell the Teppers everything. You too, Jonas, you must write the story, and send it all to them.”
They arrived at the courtyard, and sat down under the tamarix. At the table a meal had been prepared, of fish and rice and Jonas recognized the bottle of wine he had brought with him from Adorno's. He was reminded of the first meal he had shared with her in this place and of the feast they had celebrated at their betrothal in the canyon. Now she served the food and poured the wine and the place was filled with light and warmth.
She said, “Also, you must go back and tell Danny and Eboni everything, and Omar too.”
“Danny and Eboni, yes, I can do that. But Omar, he won't believe it.”
“It doesn't matter. Tell him anyway.”
They continued eating together and he felt such peace and happiness it was as if time had ceased passing, and really he did not know how long they were there together.
“Will you stay with me?”
“Yes, of course, Jonas. But you know I also have to leave you. You will not see me again.”
Jonas knew at once this was true. He said, “Before you go, will you kiss me?”
She said nothing but leaned in close and kissed him on the mouth. It was only the most fleeting touch and she was gone. But he kept his eyes shut in the ecstasy of time. He was completely motionless and did not feel his body. Rather, the whole earth around him was his body, and it was on fire with love. As he continued without moving he knew she was no longer there and when the intensity lessened and he opened his eyes, he would be alone.
At last he did so. The courtyard was the same, with the horse standing in the corner and the tamarix tree in the middle and him at the table. The kiss with which she left him still burned on his lips. He looked down and the dog was there right by his foot, observing him and waiting. After a moment he leaned over and patted the animal. It lifted its head and licked his hand.
Almost at the same time there was a movement at the gate. Jonas looked up and saw it was Stavros dismounting from his horse. The man from Anthropology lifted the latch and came through. He looked around curiously, narrowing his eyes at the dog, but he could see it was peaceful. “I came to check how you were. Was there someone here with you? I could have sworn I heard voices.”
Jonas smiled brilliantly at him. “It was Pascale, Stavros. Pascale!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anthony Bartlett emigrated with his family to the U.S. in 1994. He gained a Ph.D. in Syracuse University’s Department of Religion in 1999, and went on to teach theology in seminaries and local church programs. Born in 1946 he was ordained a Roman Catholic priest in his mid-twenties, resigning the clerical ministry in 1984. Currently residing in Syracuse N.Y., he and his wife lead a small study and prayer fellowship, Wood Hath Hope. He is the author of Cross Purposes, The Violent Grammar of Christian Atonement, and of Virtually Christian. He blogs at http://hopeintime.com/
Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven Page 58
