"Does this mean I have your official permission to renew my suit?" Adam asked.
A ghost of a smile touched Lockhart's ashen lips. "Of course you do - and I won't ask you to promise me anything. But if you're even half the man I think you are, and my daughter has even half the sense I give her credit for, the two of you ought to be able to come to some understanding."
"I'll do my best to justify your faith in me," Adam said, smiling. "And here's my hand on it."
He reached down, enfolding Lockhart's skeletal fingers in a firm, light hold that was more than a handshake. Recognizing the grip of a Master Mason, Lockhart shot Adam a look suddenly luminous with pleasure and surprise.
"You…" he breathed.
Adam nodded, meeting the older man's gaze with steady reassurance. "Yes, I am your brother, sworn in faith. As your brother - and I hope as your friend - I swear that I will do everything in my power to safeguard the welfare and happiness of the daughter you love."
Lockhart's frail hand returned the clasp, tears welling in his eyes, beyond the need to speak. For a long moment, the two men remained thus, in silent affirmation of their common bond.
Then the sound of the door latch broke the spell. Their hands parted only seconds before Ximena and her mother entered the room. Adam rose easily to his feet.
"Oh, there you are, Adam," Ximena said, as she and her mother came to greet her father. "Good morning, Dad. Did you have a good night?"
"Actually, a bit better than most," he assured her with a smile. "Teresita, did you bring me the pictures from Emma's play?"
"I did," Teresa replied, "and I can assure you that our granddaughter performed exactly like an angel!"
While she sat down at her husband's bedside to share the photos, Ximena slipped an arm through Adam's and casually drew him aside.
"It looks as if you and Dad have been finding plenty to talk about," she remarked.
"We continue to discover how much we have in common," Adam said. "He's a fine man. Tell me, is there someplace we can go, away from here? A chapel, maybe?"
Ximena looked at him slightly askance. "There's a meditation room downstairs."
"Then let's excuse ourselves, shall we?" Adam said. "I'd like a few words with you in private."
Chapter Seven
THE meditation room was a tiny, intimate retreat tucked away on the ground floor at the far end of the lobby. Perhaps eight feet by ten, it housed two small pews capable of seating three to four people, a lectern against the far wall, and a stained-glass panel suspended in front of a floor-to-ceiling ivory curtain that filtered the light from a window beyond. The panel, done in blues and rich jewel-tones of gold and crimson, read: The Lord bless thee and keep thee. At the rear of the room, a small shelf held a vase of dried flowers and copies of the Bible and the Torah.
"Good, there's no one here," Ximena said, leading Adam inside and closing the door. "Now, what on earth did my father say to you that made you want to bring me all the way down here to tell me about it?"
Given the tragic ironies of the situation, Adam knew he was going to have to tread delicately. Smiling gently, he drew Ximena to sit beside him in the rear pew.
"He said very little on his own account," he told her. "Mostly, we talked about you. It won't come as any surprise to you to hear that he loves you very much. What you may not realize is the scope of the many aspirations he cherishes on your behalf."
A small, puzzled furrow appeared between Ximena's winged eyebrows.
"I know he's always wanted me to be happy and successful," she said. After a moment's hesitation, she added, "Have I somehow failed to satisfy him on those accounts?"
Adam mentally drew a deep breath. "Let us say that his satisfaction in life won't be complete until he feels that yours is."
Ximena's perplexity deepened. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Then let me see if I can help," Adam said, choosing his words carefully. "Forgive me if, for a moment, I sound like a psychiatrist again.
"Everyone has some notion of what it would take to make him or her perfectly happy. Happiness is frequently denned as that state of contentment which an individual experiences when he or she has satisfied a significant number of personal goals. It's a sense that one's life is in balance - an awareness of personal harmony that comes from living out one's highest aspirations and promises. In short, it's the conscious attainment of wholeness which thereafter becomes the rock upon which the rest of life can confidently be founded. 'Fulfillment' might be an apt one-word descriptor."
He broke off, his dark eyes earnestly searching hers, but she turned her gaze away.
"What are you trying to tell me?" she asked.
"If you feel your life is already complete as it is, then your father needs to be assured of the fact," he replied. "If not, it might set his mind at ease to know that you're at least aware of what you truly want, and have some notion how to go about getting it."
He paused to give Ximena a chance to offer comment. When she remained mute, only lowering her eyes, he forced himself to continue.
"Ximena, yesterday you asked me to promise to think only of the present, and I agreed," he reminded her. "Now I'd like to ask you to change that perspective. I'd like you to overleap all thoughts of the present and think about the future."
"How far into the future?" Ximena asked. Her face was pale and her voice strained, and she would not meet his eyes.
"Far enough to put yourself beyond any of the grief you're no doubt anticipating," Adam said. "Maybe five years from now. If you could shape that future any way you wanted, where would you like to be, and what would you like to be doing?"
Ximena plucked at a fold of her skirt, still not looking at him. "You'll have to give me a minute or two to think about that," she murmured. "You've got to understand that for over a year I've been teaching myself to take things one day at a time."
"I understand completely," Adam said. "Take as long as you want."
He settled down to wait, one arm resting along the back of the pew but not daring to touch her. After a moment, she buried her face in her hands and was motionless for a very long time. When she raised her head at last, she had recovered some measure of her usual composure. She spoke softly, and with great deliberation, as she redirected her attention to Adam's watchful face.
"My father used to say that building a future for yourself is a bit like designing a house," she said. "You draw up the plans to meet your expectations, then start in on the construction. Sometimes there are builders' strikes or shortages of materials, and sometimes you have to modify the plans, but you go on as and when you can.
"The way it looks right now, my future has more than its share of empty rooms," she said more firmly. "But I know what I'd like to put in them, if I were allowed to have my way."
"Please go on," Adam said softly, as she glanced at him for reassurance.
She nodded, her gaze shifting unfocused to a point on the back of the pew before them.
"My career will always be important to me," she said, "but it isn't everything and it certainly isn't enough. Above and beyond the satisfactions of being a doctor, I want to love and be loved in return. I want children to cherish and nurture in celebration of that union. I want the joy of growing old in fond companionship. In other words," she finished on a softer note, looking up at him beseechingly, "I want you."
Adam's heart swelled within him, and his hand shifted to her shoulder. But before he could say anything, Ximena laid a silencing finger tenderly across his lips.
"No, let me finish, darling. This isn't easy to say, and I don't want to lose my nerve. I know I've caused you no end of frustration in the last year or so, with all my dithering and indecision. At the same time, I guess the fact that you're here means you don't intend to hold that against me. With all you've put yourself through on my account, you deserve to hear me say that there isn't anything I wouldn't do to redress the balance - that is, if you think you're still willing to have me."