The Sparrow - Mary Doria Russell [37]
Yes, Anne thought, watching them, there it is. Now I see the attraction.
LATER THAT NIGHT, in bed, Anne nestled in close to George, who found himself a little breathless. Damn, he thought, I’ve got to start running again.
"Oh, sweet mystery of life at last I’ve found you," Anne sang. George laughed. "Lovely girl," Anne remarked, her mind shifting suddenly to Sofia, who was one of the few women Anne had ever met who merited the word exquisite: tiny and perfect. But so closed. So guarded. She had expected more warmth in a girl who’d attracted both Emilio and Jimmy. And probably George as well, if Anne was any judge, and she was. "Very bright. I can see why she set Emilio back on his heels. And Jimmy, too," she added as an afterthought.
"Hmmm." George was almost asleep.
"I could be a Jewish mother, if I put my mind to it. The real trouble with Jesus," Anne decided, "was that he never found a nice Jewish girl to marry and have a family with, poor thing. That’s probably blasphemy, isn’t it."
George got up on an elbow and looked at her in the dark. "Keep out of it, Anne."
"Okay, okay. I was only kidding. Go to sleep."
But neither of them did for a while, each thinking thoughts in the dark.
9
NAPLES:
APRIL 2060
JOHN CANDOTT WAS awake and dressing when he heard the knock, just after dawn.
"Father Candotti?" It was Brother Edward, calling quietly but urgently in the hallway. "Father, have you seen Emilio Sandoz?"
John opened the door. "Not since last night. Why?"
Behr, rumpled and pudgy, looked almost angry. "I just came from his room. His bed wasn’t slept in and he’s sicked up and I can’t find him."
Pulling on his sweater, John pushed past Brother Edward and headed for Sandoz’s room, unable to believe the man wasn’t there.
"I cleaned up the mess. Lost everything he ate yesterday," Edward called behind him, wheezing, as they hurried down the hallway. "Although that was little enough. I already checked in the lavatories. He’s not in there, I tell you."
John stuck his head into the room anyway and caught the lingering odor of vomit and soap. "Damn," he whispered fiercely. "Damn, damn, damn. I should have expected something like this! I should have been nearby. I would have heard him."
"It was my place to be here, Father. I don’t know why I didn’t insist on the room next door. But he doesn’t usually need me at night anymore," Edward said, trying to explain his lapse to himself as much as to Candotti. "I would have looked in on him last night but I didn’t want to interfere if he was— He told me he wanted to talk to you. I thought he might—"
"I thought so, too. All right, look. He can’t be far away. Have you checked the refectory?"
Trying not to panic, they searched the building, John, for one, half-expecting to find Sandoz’s body at each turn. He’d begun to wonder about contacting the Father General, or the police, when it occurred to him that Sandoz was from an island and might be down by the water. "Let’s look outside," he suggested, and they left the main building on its western side.
The sun had hardly begun to climb and the stone balcony was still in shadow, as was the shoreline far below. Stunted trees, contorted by the prevailing winds off the Mediterranean, were covered with a gold and green haze, and farmers were already plowing, but the spring had been gray and cold—Vesuvius, everyone said. Anxiety and chill combined and John began to shiver as he leaned over the wall, eyes sweeping the coast.
Then, awash with relief, he spotted Sandoz and shouted against the wind, "Brother Edward? Brother Edward!" Edward, hunched against the cold with round arms crossed over his barrel chest, had headed for the garage to count the bicycles.