Winds of Fate [Books IV-VI]

Chapter 194: A Heart of Flesh

Her heart leaps in bittersweet joy. Torkin and Poco gawp at each other. Anton clenches his jaw and presses her hand even more. Eleanore cannot breathe. He is desperate, but he is hoping too. It is about us... The deal. She holds back her tears. You fear it.

You fear for me.

Oh, darling.

Padre Jaime looks at their hands together and understands when he sees their barren fingers, her pristine dress... her white mantilla. "I see... Yes." He sadly nods. "You said she is your wife, no? Were you wed by a judge or governor before? That is why you need the blessing of the church now?"

"No one. Just us both." Anton hangs his head. "We are both captains, and we married while out on sea, on her ship. But I promised Eleanore, Padre, that I will present her properly before God or a magistrate... and..." He winces. "Bueno, perhaps El Señor has a sense of humor and... has cared..." Anton concedes. "All this time..."

Padre Jaime nods gently, but Eleanore stares at her husband.

Anton sees her confusion and just touches her cheek. "Padre Jaime was the only priest in the city who helped me when I needed it the most," he tenderly explains, "he knows. Sí, Lenore. Him. Nigel. Mikey. However, I thought I would never meet him again... of course, I would meet him just as when we needed it the most and where we least expect it."

"Havana," Eleanore shivers at how everything aligns. "So far from Sevilla..."

"Oh." Carlo gasps. "Woah."

Padre Jaime smiles warmly. "Sí, Señor. The reasons behind our lives will not make sense while we are living in the moments. When we look back, only do we understand..." He raises a hand and gently caresses the air before him. "The One gently spurring us along the way. And hear His call, yes? A call touching our souls, every now and then. When we are most alone, left out by the world..."

Eleanore cannot breathe. That is what she had felt in Guántanamo, when she was about to die from that snake bite, all alone... No one could be there. No one else she could call... but the One above. Even Abuela Alcaunex' retelling of her life only made everything so daunting. Eleanore has always known. Not the past. Nor the future. There is One constant everywhere she goes, whatever happens to her... and He has shone through her own darkness, kept her from losing what little goodness is left in her, and changed her being, so much so, that she can only say she has been freed.

For only now does she truly believe. El Señor Jesús.

In His very name, for all time.

Salvador.

Savior.

However, her husband winces. "I am happy for those who have... found their... what they believe, Padre. Do not get me wrong," Anton morosely says, "but some of us simply do not."

Padre Jaime takes a deep breath, and Eleanore sees the old man also mutter a prayer quietly before he responds. "Antonio, you will marvel at what will happen to you once this is all over. And then you will understand. You will understand that no one is beyond the love and grace of the Savior, not even a man who has made a grievous mistake condemning himself... by his own hand."

Her heart soars, but that obviously grates Anton's patience, for he winces and closes his eyes. "I shall believe what I believe. Let me be," Anton calmly says, nodding at the priest, and Padre Jaime agrees without taking offense, "this is the least I could show to God above if He is watching me."

"Por supuesto." Padre Jaime raises his hands. "No one can believe for you, Antonio. We all have to believe. For ourselves." He solemnly nods and clasps his hands together. "But I want you to know this truth, from the very Word: the Lord came to this world not for those who are righteous, but for those who are ill. We all are ill to sin, even I, even Carlo here, and even Eleanore. Ask your wife; she understands."