Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,102

had recorded in Cochabamba at a studio. Maybe it wasn’t professional quality, but to Wara Noah’s voice was beautiful.

A door scraped across the wood of Rupert’s living room and she saw the older man and Alejo standing in the office. “Wara, dear, could you come in here for a minute?” Rupert was grinning, as if he and Alejo were in the middle of a joke. Alejo, however, had the pained grimace of a man who had just escaped the dentist after a root canal. What plots had they been hatching in Rupert’s office?

Wara reluctantly muted Noah mid-song and slid her bare feet to the floor. She headed towards the office, where Rupert motioned towards a swivel chair.

“We’ve already covered a few things for your upcoming trip,” he addressed both of them. “And the rest we’ll talk about later, after you’ve had more time. Wara’s flight’s leaving tomorrow, though, so it’s about time to put the finishing touches on her passport. Of course I have to make your docs with different names, since you’re both supposed to be dead. Now,” Rupert fought off a yawn and leaned into the swivel chair with a heavy squeak, “I’ve got you down as Paulo.” He fixed his eyes on Alejo, who grimly nodded. “Paul, the man who, like you, was healed from blindness by God. Now what about you, Wara Cadogan? Are you ready to change names?”

She had known Rupert was going to ask her this; he had warned her at breakfast this morning. After pancakes, she had taken a walk and thought: If Alejo is Paul, then I am Peter.

Once again she had seen Noah beside her on the bus, holding her hand with eyes full of grace and saying those words: You’re back.

At the seaside, after Jesus rose again, he brought Peter back. Peter swore with a curse he didn’t know Jesus and Jesus forgave him. Jesus brought him back.

Unfortunately, Peter was not a good name for women.

Thankfully, Wara knew quite a few languages.

“I’m thinking about…Petra,” she said carefully, trying out the sound of the name on her lips. “You know, Greek for ‘rock’.”

Rupert’s eyes glowed. “It’s good,” he said simply. “I love it.”

The living room was dim as they left Rupert’s office, closing the door on him as he powered up his spy computer to make some Skype calls. A single, white porcelain lamp with a scuffed shade was shining from the corner next to the sofas. Tabor and Sandal were nowhere in sight.

Preferring to say goodnight here rather than in the pitch black hallway on the way to their rooms, Wara turned towards Alejo, the words on her tongue. But Alejo was gone.

Then she noticed him crouching on the floor in front of her, head bowed towards the floor. He was crying.

“Wara,” he said gruffly, “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t remove his gaze from the floor and his hands shook. “I can never pay you for what I did to you. Please, forgive me.”

Wara took an unsteady step back and swallowed hard. Alejo was asking her to forgive him.

I’m Petra now. I’m here because He forgave my huge debt. And now it’s time for me to follow in His footsteps.

The words formed very slowly in her brain. “Alejo, it’s ok,” she said, then slid down to the warm wood floor in front of him. “It’s all taken care of.”

Starting visibly, Alejo lifted his head and peered at her with reddened hazel eyes. “But I can’t…”

“I know. I accept that you can’t pay. I forgive you.”

He let his head roll back towards the ceiling, then faced her again. “Thank you.” He lowered himself down to sit cross-legged as she was, not even bothering to swipe away the raw tears matting his eyelashes. “Thank you.”

She struggled to know what else to say to him. It was one thing to forgive him. Trusting him was quite another.

But what good is forgiveness if it’s only words?

One day at a time. And it had to start somewhere.

There was something she still hadn’t said to him, and it was important.

“Thank you,” she told him honestly, searching his face. “You saved my life. You gave up a lot to save me. Thank you.”

Alejo blinked, then his face found a hint of the famous Martir grin he shared with his father. They sat there staring at each other for a few minutes, letting the moment sink in. Then Alejo broke the silence, voice thick with relief.

“So, we’ll meet in three months, then. You’re going to see your parents?”

Wara