"You must be sick of seeing me in the same clothes every day," I said, trying to a joke about something trivial to see if that would make all this seem real.
"I'm glad you're here."
He hadn't mentioned love again since he had given me the medal, but he had been in a good mood; he seemed to be eighteen again. Now he walked along beside me bathed in the clear morning light.
"What do you have to do over there?" I asked, pointing toward the peaks of the Pyrenees on the horizon.
"Beyond those mountains lies France," he answered with a smile.
"I know--I studied geography, too, you know. I'm just curious about why we have to go there."
He paused, smiling to himself. "So you can take a look at a house you might be interested in."
"If you're thinking about becoming a real estate agent, forget it. I don't have any money."
It didn't matter to me whether we visited a village in Navarra or went all the way to France. I just didn't want to spend the holidays in Zaragoza.
You see? I heard my brain say to my heart. You're happy that you've accepted his invitation. You've changed--you just haven't recognized it yet.
No, I hadn't changed at all. I was just relaxing a little.
"Look at the stones on the ground."
They were rounded, with no sharp edges. They looked like pebbles from the sea. But the sea had never been here in the fields of Navarra.
"The feet of laborers, pilgrims, and explorers smoothed these stones," he said. "The stones were changed--and the travelers were too."
"Has traveling taught you all the things you know?"
"No. I learned from the miracles of revelation."
I didn't understand, but I didn't pursue it. For now, I was content to bask in the beauty of the sun, the fields, and the mountains.
"Where are we going now?" I asked.
"Nowhere. Let's just enjoy the morning, the sun, and the countryside. We have a long trip ahead of us." He hesitated for a moment and then asked, "Do you still have the medal?"
"Sure, I've kept it," I said, and began to walk faster. I didn't want to talk about the medal--I didn't want to talk about anything that might ruin the happiness and freedom of our morning together.
A VILLAGE APPEARED. Like most medieval cities, it was situated atop a mountain peak; even from a distance, I could see the tower of a church and the ruins of a castle.
"Let's drive to that village," I suggested.
Although he seemed reluctant, he agreed. I could see a chapel along the road, and I wanted to stop and go in. I didn't pray anymore, but the silence of churches always attracted me.
Don't feel guilty, I was saying to myself. If he's in love, that's his problem. He had asked about the medal. I knew that he was hoping we'd get back to our conversation at the cafe. But I was afraid of hearing something I didn't want to hear. I w
on't get into it, I won't bring up the subject.
But what if he really did love me? What if he thought that we could transform this love into something deeper?
Ridiculous, I thought to myself. There's nothing deeper than love. In fairy tales, the princesses kiss the frogs, and the frogs become princes. In real life, the princesses kiss princes, and the princes turn into frogs.
After driving for another half hour, we reached the chapel. An old man was seated on the steps. He was the first person we'd seen since our drive began.
It was the end of fall, and, in keeping with tradition, the fields had been returned once more to the Lord, who would fertilize the land with his blessings and allow human beings to harvest his sustenance by the sweat of their brows.
"Hello," he said to the man.