‘God!’ she said. ‘God, you feel so good!’ And without thinking of what he was saying, he told her that he loved her.
A shadow seemed to cross her face. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Just don’t say it.’
‘I’m afraid it’s true,’ he said. ‘I don’t have much choice.’
‘You don’t know me, you don’t know the things I’ve done.’
‘With Zemaille?’
‘I had sex with other people, with whomever Mardo wanted me to. I did things . . .’ She closed her eyes. ‘It wasn’t so much what I did, it’s that I stood by while Mardo . . .’ She broke off, buried her face in the join of his neck and shoulder. ‘God, I don’t want to tell you any of this.’
‘It doesn’t matter, anyway.’
‘It does,’ she said. ‘You can’t go through what I have and come out a whole person. You may think you love me, but . . .’
‘How do you feel about me?’
‘Don’t expect me to say I love you.’
‘I’m not expecting anything more than the truth.’
‘Oh!’ She laughed. ‘Is that all? If I knew the truth, things would be much easier.’
‘I don’t understand what you mean.’
‘Look.’ She took his face in both hands. ‘Don’t make me say anything. It’s good between us, it helps. Sometimes I want to say things to you, but I’m not ready. I hope I will be someday, but if you force me to say anything now . . . I’m perverse that way. I’ll just try to deny it to myself. That’s what I’ve been taught to do with things that make me happy.’
‘That says enough.’
‘Does it? I hope so.’
He kissed her mouth, touched her breasts, feeling the nipples stiffen between his spread fingers.
‘There’s something I’d like you to do for me, though. I want you to visit your father.’
She turned away from him. ‘I can’t.’
‘Because he . . . he abused you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think there’s some evidence you were abused by him.’
‘Abused,’ she said, enunciating the word precisely as if judging its flavor; then, after a moment, she added, ‘I can’t talk about it, I’ve never been able to talk about it. I just can’t bring myself to . . . to say what happened.’
‘Well?’ he said. ‘Will you see him?’
‘It wouldn’t do any good, it wouldn’t make him any happier. And that’s what you’re after, isn’t it.’
‘That’s one way of putting it.’
‘A visit would just upset him, believe me.’
‘I suppose I’ll have to,’ he said. ‘I can’t force you. I just wish I could get him more involved.’
‘You still think he’s innocent, don’t you?’
‘I’m not sure . . . perhaps. I don’t think you’re sure, either.’
She looked as if she were going to respond, but her mouth thinned and she remained silent for a long moment. Finally she said, ‘I’m sure.’
He started to say something, and she put a finger to his lips.
‘Don’t talk about it anymore, please.’
He lay on his back, watching frail shadows of the mist coiling across the white ceiling, thinking about Lemos; he could accept nothing, believe nothing. That the gemcutter had molested his daughter seemed both apparent and unlikely, as was the case with his guilt and innocence. He did not doubt that Mirielle believed her father had abused her; but while he loved her, he was not assured of her stability, and thus her beliefs were in question. And in question also were her motives in being with him. He found it difficult to accept that she was anything but sincere in her responses; her reluctance to voice a commitment seemed clear evidence of the inner turmoil he was causing her. Still, he could not wholly reject the notion that she was using him . . . though for what reason he had no idea. He was walking across quicksand, in shadows, with inarticulate voices calling to him from every direction.
‘You’re worrying about something,’ she said. ‘Don’t . . . it’ll be all right.’
‘Between us?’
‘Is that what you’re worrying about?’
‘Among other things.’
‘I can’t promise you that you’ll like what will happen,’ she said. ‘But I will try with you.’
He started to ask her why she was going to try, what she had found that would make her want something with him; but he reminded himself of her caution against pushing her.
‘You’re still worrying,’ she said.
‘I can’t stop.’
‘Yes, you can.’ Her hand slid down across his chest, his belly, kindling a slow warmth. ‘That much I can promise.’
Against Korrogly’s objections, the case for the prosecution was reopened the following morning and Mirielle recalled to the stand. Mervale offered into evidence a sheaf of legal documents, which proved to have been signed by Mardo Zemaille and witnessed by Mirielle, and constituted a last will and testament, deeding the temple and its grounds to Mirielle on the event of the priest’s death. Mervale had unearthed the papers from the city archives and produced ample evidence to substantiate that the signatures were authentic and that the papers were legal.
‘How much would you say the properties mentioned in the will are worth?’ Mervale asked Mirielle, who was wearing a high-collared dress of blue velvet.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Would it be inaccurate to say that they’re worth quite a large sum of money? A sizeable fortune?’
‘The witness has already answered the question,’ said Korrogly.
‘Indeed she has,’ said Judge Wymer, with a stern look at Mervale, who shrugged, stepped to the prosecution table, and offered into evidence the tax assessor’s report on the properties.
‘Did your father know of this will?’ Mervale asked after the exhibits had been marked.
Mirielle murmured, ‘Yes.’
Korrogly glanced at Lemos, who appeared not to be listening.
‘And how did he come to know about them?’
‘I told him.’
‘On what occasion?’
‘He came to the temple.’ She drew in breath sharply, let it out slowly, as if ordering herself. ‘He wanted me to leave the cult, he said that once Mardo tired of me he would drop me and then the family would be without a penny. The shop would be gone . . . everything.’ She drew in another breath. ‘He made me angry. I told him about the will, I said that Mardo had taken care of me far better than he had. And he said that he’d have me declared incompetent. He said he’d get a lawyer and take everything Mardo left me.’
‘Do you know if he ever did see a lawyer?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘And was that lawyer’s name Artis Colari?’
‘Yes.’
Mervale picked up more papers from his table. ‘Mister Colari is currently trying another case and cannot attend this proceeding. However, I have here a deposition wherein he states that he was approached by the defendant two weeks before the murder with the intent of having his daughter declared mentally incompetent for reasons of instability caused by her abuse of drugs.’ He smiled at Korrogly. ‘Your witness.’