All the beds beyond were occupied, and there were almost a dozen patients hooked up to all different kinds of life-saving equipment. Only one had the curtain drawn around it, though it stopped short of enclosing the space completely.

Through the open sliver, I could see a priest standing next to the bed.

He was slightly stooped with age and his head was bowed in prayer. He clutched a Bible in his hands, but even as I watched, he set it down and then reached over, drawing the patient’s hand into his own, weaving his rosary beads between both their fingers so that they were bound together.

The tableau struck me so fiercely that I felt a stab of pain in my chest. As much as my religion had once been a part of me, as much as it had once defined me, I was no longer a part of that world like Daniel was, the world of faith and God and the church. I’d been cast out and was now an impostor whose lost soul could only diminish the effect of any miracles being worked.

As though feeling himself being watched, the priest lifted his head and turned toward me. Our eyes met for a second before I turned and fled.

CHAPTER NINE

Ruth

25 April 1994

Clifton, Cape Town, South Africa

I’m busy packing when Vince walks into the bedroom. His eyes are bruised with lack of sleep. “I went to the hospital to pick you up but they said you’d checked out early.”

“Yes, well. You checked out of the marriage early, so consider us even.”

“Ruth.” He groans. He looks awkward just standing there a few feet into the doorway, like he’s been marooned in currents he no longer knows how to navigate. He anchors himself by putting his hands into his pockets. “You don’t need to move out right away, you know. There’s no rush.”

“I know when I’m not wanted.” Even as I say it, I’m aware that I sound like my mother: martyrish. “Just give me an hour to finish packing and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Can I ask where you’re planning to go?”

“No.”

The truth is that I don’t know just yet. My options are severely limited. I once had four rental properties but only one remains, the proceeds from the sale of the other three poured into bad investments that I hoped would replenish the dwindling coffers. I’ve always had money but have never been very good at managing it. Of course, Vince knows nothing about any of this. It’s a point of pride that I’ve never needed his money. Until now, that is.