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"I'm surprising myself. Before, all I could talk about was my childhood."
I stood and started back down the trail. The padre seemed to respect my silence and did not try to speak to me until we reached the road.
I took his hands and kissed them. "I'm going to say good-bye. But I want you to know that I understand you and your love for him."
The padre smiled and gave me his blessing. "And I understand your love for him, too," he said.
I spent the rest of the day walking through the valley. I played in the snow, visited a village near Saint-Savin, had a sandwich, and watched some boys playing soccer.
At the church in the village, I lit a candle. I closed my eyes and repeated the invocations I had learned the previous night. Then, concentrating on a crucifix that hung behind the altar, I began to speak in tongues. Bit by bit, the gift took over. It was easier than I had thought.
Perhaps this all seems silly--murmuring things, saying words that have no meaning, that don't help us in our reasoning. But when we do this, the Holy Spirit is conversing with our souls, saying things the soul needs to hear.
When I felt that I was sufficiently purified, I closed my eyes and prayed.
Our Lady, give me back my faith. May I also serve as an instrument of your work. Give me the opportunity to learn through my love, because love has never kept anyone away from their dreams.
May I be a companion and ally of the man I love. May we accomplish everything we have to accomplish--together.
When I returned to Saint-Savin, night had almost fallen. The car was parked in front of the house where we were staying.
"Where have you been?" he asked.
"Walking and praying," I answered.
He embraced me.
"At first, I was afraid you had gone away. You are the most precious thing I have on this earth."
"And you are for me," I answered.
IT WAS LATE when we stopped in a small village near San Martin de Unx. Crossing the Pyrenees had taken longer than we'd thought because of the rain and snow of the previous day.
"We need to find someplace that's open," he said, climbing out of the car. "I'm hungry."
I didn't move.
"Come on," he insisted, opening my door.
"I want to ask you a question--a question I haven't asked since we found each other again."
He became serious, and I laughed at his concern.
"Is it an important question?"
"Very important," I answered, trying to look serious. "It's the following: where are we going?"
We both laughed.
"To Zaragoza," he said, relieved.
I jumped out of the car, and we went looking for a restaurant that was open. It was going to be almost impossible at that hour of the night.
No, it's not impossible. The Other is no longer with me. Miracles do happen, I said to myself. "When do you have to be in Barcelona?" I asked him. He'd told me he had another conference there.
He didn't answer, and his expression turned serious. I shouldn't ask such questions, I thought. He may think I'm trying to control his life.
We walked along without speaking. In the village plaza, there was an illuminated sign: Meson el Sol.
