"It was verified?" asked Tikhanov.
"By sixteen different doctors," said Edith. "Even the iliac bone, which had degenerated, began to grow back to normal. There are X rays to prove it."
"A miracle," said Ken with awe.
"It has already been declared a miracle," chirped Gisele enthusiastically.
Edith Moore retreated behind a modesty that Amanda was sure she did not possess. "The miracle is not official yet," said Edith. "I have one more examination with a famous specialist in Paris, Dr. Paul Klein-berg, who will be arriving here this week to confirm my—my full recovery."
"But that's open and shut," said Gisele, employing one of her favorite Americanisms. "Everyone in Lourdes knows you are the one, the latest, of a favored group closest to Saint Bernadette."
"Oh, I don't know," said Edith with a seraphic smile, but not actually denying it.
"So it does happen," said Ken with continued awe. "It can happen to anyone."
"If they have pure faith," pronounced Edith as high priestess.
Amanda, bending over her plate, felt sick to her stomach, with no desire to eat and with the single desire to get Ken away from the banal, stupid Englishwoman.
Tikhanov, his voice serious, said, "You attribute it all to the baths?"
'To everything here, to belief in the Immaculate Conception above
all else," said Edith. "But my cure happened after the bath on the last day of my second visit."
As Edith finished speaking, a rather large, florid gentleman—he reminded Amanda of pictures she had seen of Phineas T. Bamum—had appeared behind Edith, stooping to kiss her on the cheek.
"Reggie—" said Edith, pleased. "Everyone, this is Mr. Reggie Moore, my husband." She proceeded to introduce Reggie to everyone at the table, one by one.
"Edith," Reggie said, "I hate to interrupt your tete-a-tete, but I must see you alone on something that's come up."
"But Reggie," Edith complained, "I haven't had my dessert yet."
He was half lifting the miracle lady out of her chair. "I'll treat you to some ices later. Please come along." He saluted the others. "Glad to have made your acquaintance, everybody. Hope to see you again soon."
Pushing and then pulling, he was leading the reluctant Edith out of the room.
"So it is the baths," mumbled Tikhanov to no one in particular. He twisted toward Gisele. "You heard. She said it happened after the bath."
"Well, you're on your way," said Gisele. "You started your baths this morning."
"I am afraid I did not," admitted Tikhanov. "I prayed by the grotto, but I did not go in the baths."
"Then go this afternoon, Mr. Talley."
"I shall. But first I must find a room in the city." He added quickly, "It is a pleasure to room with your parents, Gisele, but it is too far from here, too removed. I want to be close to the baths. I must find a hotel room in this city. I have tried, and I will try again."
Gisele eyed him shrewdly. "Is that all that's bothering you, a hotel room in Lourdes?"
"I know it is impossible, but it is important."
"Maybe I can find you a hotel room, but it'll cost you extra. Are you willing to pay extra?"
"I will pay anything reasonable."
"Say four hundred francs, for me to give to a reservations clerk."
"I will pay it."
"Let me see what I can do," said Gisele, rising. "As a matter of fact, I'm moving into town myself tonight. One of my girl friends is going to Cannes for the week, and she's turning her apartment over to me. I have to be here for the overload of work. I'll walk you to the baths now, and you can start in. You can meet me in front of the Information Bureau at five o'clock, and we can drive to my parents, pick up our
things, and both move back to Lourdes tonight. If I can get you that hotel room."
"You will?"
"I think so," said Gisele. She waved to Ken and Amanda. "Excuse us. You heard our heavy business. Pleased to have met you both. Good luck."
Amanda watched the trollop leave with the older man, and finally she turned to Ken, intent on bluntly telling him what the taxi driver had told her, that Bernadette had never believed in the grotto or that its waters could cure, and had gone to another village to seek her own cure. But facing Ken, Amanda saw his expression. Oh, Christ, she thought, he's been lofted to another plane, all spirituahty and faith in his future.
"Mrs. Moore is quite a lady," he murmured. "She's done a lot for me, she's renewed me."
Je-sus, Amanda said under her breath. This was no time to shake him up with the truth.
Besides, she told herself, she had better be sure of the taxi driver's story about Cauterets. She had better go to Cauterets and find out for herself if what she had been told was actually a fact. Telling Ken about the incident could wait a day longer.
"Ken, maybe you should go up to the room and rest for a while."
"I'm going back to the grotto," he said doggedly, starting to rise.
Amanda stared at him. That her man, sharp and brilliant attorney, athlete and handball player, marvelous lover, had been reduced to this puddle of piety was almost impossible to believe. But here it was, and she would somehow have to deal with it, with him, a tougher case than any she had ever encountered as a clinical psychologist.
She sighed and stood up. "Very well."
"See you for dinner early."
She wondered what she would do in the desert of the afternoon. Maybe buy her future mother-in-law a souvenir, a plastic Virgin Mary.
Going up in the elevator to the fifth floor of the hotel, Reggie Moore had been uncharacteristically quiet, but Edith knew that he had something on his mind. She knew that he was waiting for the privacy of their room before speaking to her.
Once they were in their room, the door shut, Reggie all but pushed his wife into the straight chair at the table as he remained standing over her. Dutifully, Edith waited, letting him have the floor, prepared for him to speak what was on his mind.
He spoke. "Edith, I had to get you off alone. I felt there was something I must discuss with you."
"Couldn't it wait a few more minutes? Those lovely people at lunch, they were hoping to hear more about my cure."
"That's just it," said Reggie emphatically, "the very thing I want to talk to you about."
"I don't understand. What do you want to talk about, what very thing?"
"Your cure," said Reggie. "The minute I came on you with all those people, I knew those freeloaders had cornered you to get some advice and inspiration."
"But they weren't freeloaders. That nice Mr. Talley said he would pay for my lunch."
Reggie showed his exasperation. "Edith, I didn't mean money. I meant they were freeloading from your—your mind."
"I don't know what you mean."
She was used to Reggie speaking to her as if she were a child, and she was ready to endure it now.
"I mean everyone wants to use you," Reggie answered. "Everyone wants to draw strength from you for themselves, selfishly in a way. My point is you shouldn't be going around giving away your story for free. You shouldn't do it."
"But why not?" she asked, utterly bewildered. "What's wrong with it? If the story of my cure gives people inspiration, gives them hope, why shouldn't I tell it to them? I'm an example to them, a fortunate one who was blessed with a miracle. They want to hear that it's possible. Why shouldn't I tell them?"
Reggie was momentarily without an easy or logical answer. "Well, because—" he said hesitantly, "because—well, I'd feel better about what you're doing once the miracle is officially confirmed."
"Oh, that," she said, dismissing it, "if that's all you're worried about, you needn't bother. My cure has been confirmed, really. It'll be officially confirmed—a technicahty, as we both know—the day after tomorrow. I spent the morning with Dr. Berryer at the Medical Bureau. He's obtained the services of one of the two best men in the field—one with much experience in sarcoma cases—a Dr. Paul Kleinberg in Paris, who is arriving tomorrow
to review the papers on my case and have the final look at me."
"Tomorrow?"
"Absolutely. Dr. Berryer will phone me after Dr. Kleinberg arrives, and let me know when to see him on Wednesday. Dr. Kleinberg will then confirm the miracle and it will be announced."
"Well, in that case," said Reggie, displaying his relief, "that's different, and I shouldn't be worrying. Since that's happening, I guess it's all right for you to talk about your cure."
"Of course it is, Reggie. I'm glad you agree."
"Yes, I'm sure it's all right," said Reggie smoothly, "and, as you say, it does give so many suffering people the belief that they can be cured, too. Yes, I'll go along with you, Edith. You are doing wonderful missionary work, just like the first apostles, spreading the word of miracles." He paused, his face lighting up. "In fact, we should celebrate again. Jamet has finished remodeling the new restaurant—it's a grand place now—and he and I are having our reopening tonight—we're plastering the town with handbills announcing the great event—"
"How wonderful!"
" -- and I want you right there beside me to greet the guests. There should be a huge turnout. We'll have a special table and we've invited eight or ten important people, not just from Lourdes, but pilgrims from everywhere, to join us. I know they'll all be thrilled to meet you. And you can answer their questions. They'll be inspired to hear every detail of your story. What do you say, old girl?"
"Of course I want to be there, and tell them whatever they want to know. I don't mind if you're sure you don't mind."
"I insist on it," said Reggie with a half smile. He bent over and kissed Edith's cheek. "You're my little lady, my miracle lady. We're going to go far together."
8 • • • August 15
It was early afternoon, and Mikel Hurtado was sound asleep in his room on the second floor of the Hotel Gallia & Londres, and he might have slept much later into the afternoon if the insistent ringing of the telephone on his bedstand had not awakened him.
It rang and rang without stop, until Hurtado finally shook himself awake, realized it was the telephone, and reached for the receiver, almost knocking the phone over as he brought the receiver to him.
"Yeah?"
"Mikel Hurtado, please." It was a faintly familiar female voice asking for him in English. "Mikel, is that you?"
"It's Mikel. Who is this?"
The events of the early morning hours came back to him, the attempted rape next door, his own role in beating up the rapist, the gratefulness of the beautiful and helpless blind girl next door, her name was Natale, and at first he thought that it was this Natale phoning to thank him again.
But the voice on the other end of the line was deeper and now speaking to him rapidly in Basque. "I've been ringing a long time," she was saying, "and I was just about to give up, when you answered. Mikel, don't you know who this is? This is Julia. I'm calling from San Sebastian."
Julia Valdez, his colleague in the Basque underground, calling long distance.
He was immediately annoyed, becoming angry.
"We agreed you were not supposed to call me in Lourdes," he snapped out. "I want no calls here. Are you crazy?"
"I had to call," Juha implored. "It is important."
Resigned, he said, "What can be so important?"
"Your life," said Juha, lowering her voice.
She had always had a tendency to be melodramatic, he told himself, being so young and immature. So he remained calm.
"My hfe?" he said. "What are you talking about?"
"It's my fault, in a way," Juha was saying. "I'd better explain. Augustin came looking for you this morning."
Augustin Lopez, as leader of the ETA, rarely had time to meet with him unless it involved some pending action. Hurtado wondered if the assassination of Minister Bueno had been revived. He was instantly alert. "Do you know what he wanted?"
"He said that he must see you. Luis Bueno has set a conference on our autonomy to begin in Madrid right after the reappearance of the Virgin. The minister is so confident the reappearance will occur that he has set a definite date for talks. Augustin wanted to inform you, and to consult with you about a strategy and agenda for the talks."
"The talks," Hurtado said with contempt. "Augustin really thinks they will take place and amount to anything? He's becoming senile. Julia, that's what you called me about?"
"Mikel, no, I am calling about what followed. Augustin kept insisting that he must see you. I couldn't tell him where you were, of course. So I tried to stall. But he's pretty smart, the old man is, and he started becoming suspicious. He pressed me to tell where you were, when you'd be back in the apartment. I told him soon, promised him you'd be back in a few days. Mikel, he kept pushing me. 'Back from where?' he kept saying. 'Where has he gone?' He knew that I was hiding something. He pressed me and pressed me, and was beginning to lose his temper—and you know his temper, Mikel—and he started saying I was keeping something from him, and he demanded to know what, and would force an answer out of me unless I was honest with him. I had to tell him—"
"So you told him the truth," Mikel interrupted bitterly. "You told him where I was. You told him I went to Lourdes."
"Mikel, I had no choice but to be truthful," she begged. "He'd see through any he. He always does. I was forced to say you'd gone to Lourdes to—to see what was going on. Augustin saw through that at once. He wouldn't let me get away with it. 'You mean our Mikel has
suddenly got religion, hopes for a chance to see the Virgin Mary?' He was shouting at me. Then he said, 'Bullshit! He's gone there to cause some trouble, to do something, anything, to keep me from negotiating with Bueno, to force me to approve of direct action, of terrorism.' Au-gustin kept saying that, words like that, trying to make me confess that I knew what you were up to. When I refused to confess, he lost his temper grabbed me by the wrist, twisting it—"
'That doesn't sound like him."
"I know. But he was really out of control. He kept on shouting. He said. If Mikel has gone crazy, thinks he can get anywhere with an act of violence in Lourdes, he's got to know that all he'll blow up is our chance for a peaceful settlement with Spain. He is going to try something violent, isn't he?' Mikel, he was hurting me, painfully. I had to tell him the truth."
Hurtado's own anger rose. "You told him the truth?"
"I had no choice. Then Augustin said, 'Do you know where to reach him?' I said I did, but I'd never tell. I told him he could kill me first. He said, 'The minute I leave, you reach him. You find Mikel. You order him to stop whatever he is planning, to stop in my name. You order him to return to San Sebastian immediately. That is a strict order. If he attempts to defy it, he will be disciplined. I expect to hear from him today.' Mikel, those were his very words. Please listen to them. Augustin knows best."
Hurtado was furious. "Fuck Augustin. Fuck you, too, for being so stupid as to tell him what you did."
"Mikel," she pleaded on the phone, "be reasonable. He's smarter than I am. He knew without my telling him. He's just too smart."
He's also your father figure, your authority figure, and you want him to love you, Mikel thought, and he gave himself seconds to sinmier down and be reasonable. "All right, Julia, I shouldn't blame you. I know you were on the spot."
"I was, Mikel, I was, I'm glad you understand."
"But I'm not forgiving him, not forgiving his sudden softness," Hurtado went on implacably. "He wants my answer today? You can give him my answer today, in fact right now. Go and tell him I am not returning to San Sebastian, tell him I am not leaving Lourdes until I've done what I've come here to do. Got it?"
There was silence on the other end. Julia's voice finally filled the void. Her tone was a tremble. "Mikel, you—you're not actually going to—to do what—what you told me you were going to do?"
"You're damn right I'm going to do it."
"Mikel—"
"Stay out of this, Julia. I'm going ahead. No one is going to get in my way."
Julia's response was
hushed. "Mikel, if you could have seen him, you'd know. He won't let you. He will stop you. He'll say it is for the good of the cause. But he won't let you go ahead. He will stop you."
Hurtado gave an angry laugh. "Let him try."
With that, he hung up.
He remained seated on the bed, his legs still under the blanket, trying to think. He did not like what was going on, but what the whole matter came down to, Mikel felt convinced, was that Augustin would not move to undermine a fellow fighter in the movement. In the end, Augustin would be reasonable himself and loyal. It had been an empty threat to display authority. Augustin Lopez would make no real effort to stop him.
Feeling better, Hurtado looked out the window into the sunny afternoon. The grotto would be teeming with visitors right now. He would wait a few hours, wait until the crowd in the domain thiimed out before dinner. Then he would carry his goodies down to the grotto, and there, at the first opportune moment, secrete them in the small forest above. After that, he would walk back to the hotel for a hearty dinner, and after dinner bide his time until midnight, maybe an hour or so after midnight, to return to the grotto to do the job.
After the satisfactory lunch at the Gallia & Londres hotel, spurred by the incentive of a 400-franc bonus from Sergei Tikhanov if she could find him a hotel room (and certain that she could find him a room), Gisele Dupree decided to drive with her aflBuent chent to Tarbes right away to collect and move their belongings to Lourdes. There was still time, Gisele could see, better than two hours, before she was scheduled to guide a Nantes pilgrimage group to the grotto. Tikhanov readily agreed with her new plan.
On this trip she drove the red Renault fast, at breakneck speed, and they arrived at her parents' apartment in Tarbes in almost no time at all. Inside, she was able to pack her two suitcases swiftly. Tikhanov, who had unpacked very httle the night before, was in the living room and ready with his single bag when she came out with her suitcases and a note to leave for her parents.
The Miracle Page 20
