Just as Juliana reached for the old-fashioned door latch, a knock sounded on the door. Her heart skipped a beat and all she could think of was Andre. Andre knocking at her door because he’d promised her he’d never use the secret passageway between their bedrooms. Andre... And she was alone in her suite with Dirk, wearing a bathrobe with nothing beneath it but skimpy underwear. Until this moment she hadn’t realized how it might look. I haven’t done anything wrong, she told herself stoutly. But would Andre believe it? Believe her?
Then she shook that thought off. Why do I care? Andre doesn’t believe me anyway. Still, before she opened the door she called out, “Who is it?”
“It’s Maddie,” came the muffled response through the solid oak door.
Juliana let her breath out on a whoosh, and Dirk gave her a knowing look. “Thought it was him, didn’t you?” he asked, not needing to specify who him was.
With heightened color, she said, “Don’t be ridiculous,” and opened the door. “What is it, Maddie?”
“Oh,” the young woman said as Dirk exited Juliana’s room without saying a word, just a smile and a wave. She watched him walk away, then turned her gaze back to Juliana, taking in the robe and Juliana’s obvious lack of other clothing beneath it. “Oh, I...I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Her eyes betrayed what she was imagining.
“Come on in,” Juliana told Maddie, leading her into the sitting room and past the open door to the bedroom, wanting her to see the bed completely made up, nothing in the room out of place as it would be if she and Dirk had just spent the preceding hour in a passionate frenzy. And the clothes laid out on the bed ready for her to don them. She smiled to herself when Maddie finally relaxed her tense scrutiny of both rooms.
“Dirk wanted to know if I’d agree to change the filming schedule, and I said I would. That means we’ll be staying here longer than originally planned. Will that be a problem for you?” Maddie started to answer, but Juliana added, “If it is, don’t be afraid to tell me. You can always go back ahead of me—I’m fine with that.”
“Oh no!” Maddie shook her head emphatically. “I love it here. I don’t mind staying. Honest.”
Juliana smiled. “Okay, then. I’ll need you to change our flight reservations, but I’m not sure exactly when we’ll be leaving. I have to talk to the producer and the director first, get the revised filming schedule. I’ll let you know when I know.” She changed the subject. “So what did you come here for? What’s up?”
Maddie looked confused for a few seconds, then her confusion cleared. “Oh, I was going to ask if you heard about the landslide.”
“What landslide?”
“There was a terrible landslide in the mountains west of here. I saw it on the news. I mean, I saw the pictures, but I had to ask someone what it all meant because I couldn’t understand the announcer. They told me a whole village was pretty much wiped out. I don’t know how many are dead, but...it’s pretty bad.”
“Oh my God!” Juliana’s hand covered her mouth, and the only thing she could think of was Andre, how devastated he would be by this. These were his people. He would take the loss personally—she knew him well enough to know that. Her first instinct was to seek him out, comfort him however she could, but almost immediately she realized that was ridiculous. Andre didn’t need her. Not for comfort, or for anything else. “Oh my God,” she said again. “Do you know anything more?”
Maddie shook her head. “All I know is what I just told you.”
Juliana hugged Maddie quickly. “Thanks,” she said. “Thanks for letting me know. I probably wouldn’t have found out until tomorrow if you hadn’t come to tell me right away.”
After Maddie left, Juliana stood in the middle of the room for a moment. Her first instinct—to go to Andre—had been suppressed, but her second instinct was to pray. Pray for the villagers who were suffering tonight. And pray for those whose suffering was over, but who left behind grieving family members. The chapel, she thought suddenly. There’s a chapel just downstairs.
She moved swiftly, ignoring the casual outfit she’d planned to wear that was laid out on her bed, searching instead for a dress in the closet. Sleeves, she reminded herself as she rejected first one dress and then another. Nothing sleeveless for church. Maybe that was old-fashioned nowadays—she knew most Americans were a lot more casual in their church attire now—but that’s the way her father had raised her. And besides, Zakhar hadn’t moved with the times the way the United States had. Women still covered their heads in church here, and both men and women still dressed with care for church.