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"We're in Saint-Savin," he explained.
The name meant nothing to me. But we were in France, and that in itself thrilled me.
"Why this place?" I asked.
"Because the house I want you to see is here," he answered, laughing. "Also, I promised that I would come back here on the day of the Immaculate Conception."
"Here?"
"Well, near here."
He stopped the car. When we stepped out, he took my hand, and we began to walk through the fog.
"This place became a part of my life quite unexpectedly," he said.
You too? I thought.
"When I first came here, I thought I was lost. But I wasn't--actually, I was just rediscovering it."
"You talk in riddles sometimes," I said.
"This is where I realized how much I needed you in my life."
I looked away; I couldn't understand him. "But what does that have to do with losing your way?"
"Let's find someone who'll rent us a room, because the two hotels in this village are only open during the summer. Then we'll have dinner at a good restaurant--no tension, no fear of the police, no need to think about running back to the car! And when the wine loosens our tongues, we'll talk about many things."
We both laughed. I already felt more relaxed. During the drive here, I had looked back over the wild things I'd been thinking. And as we crossed over the top of the mountains that separate France from Spain, I'd asked God to cleanse my soul of tension and fear.
I was tired of playing the child and acting the way many of my friends did--the ones who are afraid that love is impossible without even knowing what love is. If I stayed like that, I would miss out on everything good that these few days with him might offer.
Careful, I thought. Watch out for the break in the dam. If that break occurs, nothing in the world will be able to stop it.
"May the Virgin protect us from here on," he said.
I remained silent.
"Why didn't you say 'amen'?" he asked.
"Because I don't think that's important anymore. There was a time when religion was a part of my life, but that time has passed."
He turned around and began to walk back to the car. "I still pray," I went on. "I prayed as we were crossing the Pyrenees. But it's something automatic, and I'm not even sure I still believe in it."
"Why?"
"Because I've suffered, and God didn't listen to my prayers. Because many times in my life I have tried to love with all my heart, and my love has wound up being trampled or betrayed. If God is love, he should have cared more about my feelings.
"God is love. But the one who understands this best is the Virgin."
I burst out laughing. When I turned to look at him, I saw that he was serious--this was not a joke.
"The Virgin understands the mystery of total surrender," he went on. "And having loved and suffered, she freed us from pain. In the same way that Jesus freed us from sin."
"Jesus was the son of God. They say that the Virgin was merely a woman who happened to receive him into her womb," I said. I was trying to make up for my laughter and let him know that I respected his faith.
He opened the car door and took out our bags. When I tried to take mine from his hand, he smiled. "Let me carry your bag."
No one's done that for me in a long time, I thought.
