I, Saul (12 page)

Finally they reached the Siq, where crowds had gathered, and soon the shambling carriage was the only conveyance in sight.

“Oh, Augie!” Sofia said, “it's beautiful!”

The entire length of the narrow passageway, lit by the sky during the day but pitch black at night, had been lined with candles stuck inside paper bags. The eerie pink glow reflecting off the red-rock walls guided
them all the way to the end, where they found hundreds more of the lights scattered before the treasury building and throughout the city.

“It's called Petra at Night,” Augie said. “And you can see why so many people line up to experience it.”

“I sure can, but I wouldn't want to do this on foot. Those people must think we're royalty.”

“Aren't we? I thought you were Helen of Troy. That makes me Brad Pitt. Or something.”

At the base of the high place Augie told her, “You can go first and I'll shine the light on the path from behind you. It's steep and can be treacherous, but just keep moving. When you need a break to catch your breath, let me know.” He pointed the flashlight at their destination high in the distance. “It'll take a while, but we can do it. Just stay close.”

When she started up, Augie was impressed by the muscles in her long legs. “I think I'd rather shine the light on you,” he said.

“Dr. Knox! We don't know each other that well.”

“I'll behave.”

Sofia stopped occasionally, bending at the waist and resting her palms on her bare thighs, breathing deeply.

“You okay?” Augie said, offering her a bottle of water.

“Just need to refuel.” She drank deeply and started up again.

“Hey,” Augie said, “before you get too far, look down.”

Sofia turned and gasped, scanning the ancient city lit by all the candles. “That may be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”

“And you come from one gorgeous country. I promised you wouldn't regret this.”

“No matter what, I won't. Bet you wish you weren't weighed down by that sweatshirt. I'm sweating.”

“We're not at the top yet, girl.”

Sofia gave him a funny look. “Well, then let's get going, boy.”

Augie took the lead. He had always found the last part of the climb the toughest, and he was relieved to finally get to flat ground and reach back to help her up. He led her to an outcropping where she sat on a rock to catch her breath. “When you're ready, I'll show you the altars,” he said. “You'll see where the blood of the animals drained, where they put the coals, everything.”

Sofia lowered her head and breathed deeply. Finally she stood, hands on her hips. “I'm so glad you talked me into this. You can say, ‘I told you so.'”

“Just happy you're enjoying it,” he said, shining the light in her face, making her cover her eyes. “You have the best smile.”

“You make me smile,” she said.

After he showed her the altars he shone the light down into the valleys.

“I could stay here all night,” she said.

“You'd be lonely.”

“You'd leave me here?”

“It's been a long week,” he said. “I need my sleep.”

She laughed, then crossed her arms and rubbed her biceps. “Oh, no! I didn't want you to be right.”

“About?”

“Now that I'm up here, I'm cooling off.”

Augie set the light down and pulled the sweatshirt off his waist. “No, that's yours,” she said. “You planned ahead. I didn't.”

“Don't be silly,” he said, slipping behind her and draping it around her shoulders. “I brought it for you anyway.”

“You did not.”

“I did,” he said, turning her to face him. “My thermostat runs high.”

She relaxed as he helped get her arms into the sleeves. The sweatshirt enveloped her and the long sleeves hid her hands. He zipped it to her neck and put his hands on her shoulders. “Better?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

And in that instant Augie pictured Sofia with him forever. The vision raced through his mind, their waking together, eating together, going to church together, raising a family. The scenes were as clear as day and stunned him speechless. In the shadowy light he gently cupped her face. “You know, there's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here right now.”

He drew her face toward his, and as their lips met she wrapped her arms around him. When he pulled back they stood gazing at each other, inches apart. “August Knox,” she said, “I was not expecting that.”

“Need I apologize?”

“You'd better not. All the way up here I was planning what I was going to say when we reached the top. Like what a great guide you are. How smart. How wonderful with people. How passionate about these places and about your faith.”

“Okay, I'm listening.”

“That's not what I want to say anymore. I want to say what you said, about not wanting to be anywhere else.”

He drew her close again and they held each other tight. “Have we started something?” he said.

“I sure hope so,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

He pulled back. “Tears?”

“I'm already missing you, Augie. We fly home tomorrow. When will I see you again?”

“As soon as I can arrange a trip to Athens.”

Luke was sorry to see Mark go, especially after the lift he had given Paul. But with Paul's memoir waiting, Luke didn't mind having the old missionary all to himself again. The writings had the potential to be priceless. Paul had never penned a simple letter to a friend or a church without loading it with truth so poignant and beautifully written that the whole of the body of believers benefitted from it. Better than that, Paul's thoughts and reasoning seemed to be born of his rich relationship with Christ. He wrote with an urgency and authority that amazed and thrilled his readers. Would his memoir prove any less?

That evening in the dungeon Paul riffled through the parchments, asking Luke to move the light higher. Finally he pulled a huge sheaf of sheets from the rest and handed them to Luke. “We must not wait any longer. Take these and start reading them. Guard them with your life,
and bring them back to me. I need your counsel. We need to talk these through, make certain they are accurate, complete, and most of all meaningful.”

Luke tucked the documents away and rushed to Primus' home as if bearing precious gems. His body ached from the fatigue of the day, but his mind was alive. In his room he disrobed, then wrapped himself in his cloak and sat at his table, lamp lit, parchments stacked before him. He lifted the first and tipped it toward the light.

Augie Knox stood outside his dying father's room in the ICU, preoccupied with getting out of town. Growing up, had it not been for the oasis of his mother's gentle spirit, he would have died of thirst in the desert of his father's indifference.

Edsel Knox was widely respected, a precise, articulate, brilliant theologian. But nothing of the truth of what he knew so thoroughly seemed to reach his heart. He could explain anything. He seemed able to personally experience nothing. Despite all this, Marie Knox spoke lovingly to him and about him, caressed him, held his hand.

At home he was a roiling cauldron of silence. Jokes were anathema. Never a smile. Never a kind word. Not even a thank you for dinner. He
was not a TV watcher but rather a reader. When not studying theology, he read history. Before bed it was word games.

Edsel rose at the same time every morning, six days a week, shaved, showered, dressed, ate, left, and returned late every afternoon like clockwork. Even on Saturday he spent the day at his office. Sunday he went to services morning and night, napping in the afternoon.

Augie hated to think what he might have become had his mother not been, in essence, both parents to him. Yet he could never elicit one disparaging comment from her about his father. She defended her husband, spoke lovingly of him, and said she felt privileged to help him to be the man of the Word that he was.
Man of the Word maybe,
Augie thought,
but no man of God.

Had his parents ever—even in the distant past—enjoyed a magical experience like Augie and Sofia enjoyed at the high place in Petra? His father's reaction to the news of Augie's engagement was simply, “You think they're going to let their daughter marry so far out of her class?”

His mother said, “August is good enough for anybody.”

“Tell a Greek millionaire that.”

Augie shoved his chair back. “I wouldn't be the first man in this family to marry outside his class.” “August!” his mother said.

His father gave him a look that would have made Mona Lisa frown.

Now Augie wondered if the man ever fathomed how fortunate he had been to find such a wife. Who else would have put up with him for so long?

The elder Dr. Knox had proved maddeningly prescient. Nearly two months from their first kiss Augie arranged a short trip to Athens,
leaving just enough time to get back for his fall teaching load. During the flight he couldn't sleep, couldn't read, couldn't concentrate, paced whenever he was allowed, and jabbered so long to a flight attendant about Sofia that she said, “Tell me any more about her and I'm gonna have to be in the wedding.”

When the eternal flight finally touched down at Athens International Airport Eleftherios Venizelos, Augie was haggard and unshaven, but he found her smile above the crowd, and it was all he could do to keep from running over people to get to her. Had any couple ever been more in love, more destined for each other?

That night, after he had napped and freshened up, Sofia introduced him to her friends over dinner. They were pleasant and talkative, but Nomiki, one of the guys from her work, seemed to be studying Augie. Finally the man said, “You guys are in love, right?”

“Of course,” Sofia said. “Now don't start . . .”