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“My uncle wouldn’t—oh, when am I going to stop trying to defend that man?”
“In time. Shelene, there’s something I need to ask you.”
“Oh? A thousand thoughts just filled my head. Unhappy thoughts.” She gripped his hand. “Don’t let it be something dreadful.”
“Well, it is dreadful in that you don’t like the weather.”
“England? You want to go back? I knew you would. Eventually. It’s because of Spain, isn’t it? A country torn apart. It may take years to rebuild. You want Antonio to be safe.”
“All those things might be true, but that’s not why. Oliver wants to go home in six weeks. I would like for us to travel with him. The wine barrels will be full. The harvest will be complete.”
“You mean just for a visit?
Roman nodded.
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“I was trying to say so.”
“You had me worried. I mean, it seems we are just settling into our new life and now you are talking about England again.”
“Notagain. Oliver is on the mend, and he wants to go home. I would like to introduce our son to my mother and family. I thought we should travel with him.”
“You won’t be tempted to stay? You won’t be tempted by your former mistress?”
He laughed. “Not when I have a wife who tempts me more.”
“I want to believe. I do. And I am trying.”
“I saw youtrylast night, and you made a believer out of me.”
She bumped hard against his shoulder, but she couldn’t help smiling. “That’s not funny.”
“Shelene, I understand that it is still difficult to believe me, to take me at my word when I broke it at such a crucial time, but it’s all I have to give you. I don’t know how much time it will take for my word to become a certainty for you—”
“How can I commit to what I don’t know myself?”
“A little faith.”
“A lot of faith,” she insisted.
“I don’t fault you for having doubts.”
“Then allow me to clutch my doubting pearls a little longer.”
“We are going to be so busy over the coming months you won’t have time to think of it. One day it will be like it never was. That you’ll trust me in the same way I trust you.”
“Will we be home byTodos Los Santos?” she asked.
“Hmm. That should give us six weeks in England. We’ll need to depart by mid-October to be home in time.”
“Home. That sounds wonderful when you say it.” The small conveyance rattled over the wood and stone San Miguel Bridge leading into Arco de la Frontera. She took a deep breath, knowing what she would have to do shortly. Face a man of God, not asking for forgiveness, but demanding an apology.
Roman hefted the window and carried it up the church stairs. Shelene hurried to open the large door. A young priest approached, one Shelene did not know. He was thin with a mop of reddish-brown hair and large dark eyes that appeared most sincere.
“We are here to see Father Etienne,” she said.
“I am Father Rivera, your new priest. You must be Señora Forrester, and this must be the legendary stained-glass window being returned to its home.” Roman propped the package in the aisle against one of the pews. The priest glanced up to the wooden barrier. “It will be such a wonderful surprise for the congregation this Sunday.”
