Yes. I throw my arms around him, and we are lost in a long moment of hope.

Then we run with our whole hearts to the monastery. He must have arranged our arrival because they open the gates for us and Father Cantero takes us in.

“Thank you, Father,” I say to him. He wears the simple robes of a monk, bald head, kind smile as he brings us in.

“If it were Jesus knocking at the door, would I refuse him entry?” He looks at Fred, and I am suddenly reminded of his race. But it seems the monks, like me, care only for his heart, his bravery.

And Father Cantero seems to know why we are there. He leads us to a chamber, a prayer room and lights a candle.

Now?

Fred takes my hands. “We met on the road. He is also with the underground.”

A tremble shakes through me. “I know this. They hide Jews —”

“And others, perhaps. But tonight, they also hide us.”

I am ready and I turn to Father Cantero who is pronouncing wedding rites over us. I am not certain this is legal, but it is a wedding, nonetheless, before God. There is no one to ask questions, just Fred and I to give our assent, then he blesses us and Fred produces a ring.

“Where did you get this?”

“A shop in Pisa.” It is just a simple gold band, twisted with three cords.

He makes his promise, and marries me. And I make mine.

Father Cantero blesses us, and we are wed.

I am sure the private chambers charterhouse have never been used for the wedding night, but Father Cantero says nothing as he leads us to a second story room.

It overlooks the courtyard, a wide arched window in the stone walls, a red terrazzo floor and in the center of the room, a narrow bed.

“We will bring up something to eat,” he says. “Later.” Then he smiles as he leaves the room, and we must be indeed blessed to find ourselves at this moment.

Miracles.

The afternoon sunlight washes the room in shades of orange and gold as Fred turns to me.

I am suddenly shy, all of it cascading over me. Tory, the attack of the Oppenheimer, and now—

“Shh,” he says, and pulls me against him. “We have no hurry. Not yet.” He kisses my forehead, then pulls me down to sit on the bed next to him and wraps his arms around me. “Now, you will forever be my home.”

No hurry. I breathe out the words. Yes. “And you will forever be my home.”

I kiss him. And he kisses me, gently. Perfectly.

Then he lays me back on the bed and we know each other, finally.

RJ stuck the bookmark into the folds of the pages and closed the book.