“Good morning.” She heard Rafael’s voice. He was standing in the door. “Better?”

“What are we doing here?” she asked sharply.

“We’re safe. Nobody’s going to look for us here,” he answered confidently. “I have breakfast ready downstairs.” He left.

“Whose house is this?” Sarah had time to ask, raising her voice so he could hear her.

“Mine,” she heard him say before his steps told her he was going downstairs.

She was astonished. She took a deep breath and inspected the bedroom. It was the same as she’d left it that night when life spun out of control.

She thought about what Rafael had revealed and decided he’d chosen to give her the easiest answer, the one that needed no more explanation, but he was very mistaken. He wasn’t going to get away so easily.

He appeared again in her life at a crucial time. This time she wouldn’t be satisfied with an excuse. She wanted to know everything… now.

She left the room impetuously in her night clothes, which were from the previous day, and bumped into the open door of the bathroom. Set across from a clear glass window, a bathtub challenged her decision to go downstairs immediately and demand satisfactory answers. She stopped and decided she might not have another opportunity to take a much needed bath. Better take advantage now than be sorry later. She returned to the bedroom and opened the closet. She was surprised to recognize the clothes she hadn’t worn since she’d abandoned the house and sold it with the furniture and furnishings to avoid any further contact with that traumatic environment. Now, forced to but also grateful, she chose what to wear from her old clothes. It had to be practical. She picked out pants and a blouse, nothing fancy, took some underwear from the drawer, recovering little by little the habits and gestures the bedroom demanded of her when she lived there, as if she’d never left. All she needed was a towel from the bottom drawer, and she went into the bathroom, delighted by the prospect.

Twenty minutes later Sarah wrapped herself in a towel and left the bathroom, rejuvenated and smiling. Her glance crossed the windowpane, and in an instant she felt a shiver of fear. Two holes like those she’d seen in the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, before these, that brought back the past and confirmed she was awake. It wasn’t a bad dream-if only it had been. She looked around the room fearfully, much more well-lit in the morning light than on that night. She could see the body of the man fallen over her.

Forget it, forget it. It’s over, she made herself think.

Everything was exactly as she’d left it, which amazed her. She’d left the house a long time ago. It wasn’t normal for some change not to have taken place, especially since she’d only had the most basic furniture for someone who didn’t need much, was at the beginning of her career, and wanted to save money for something better. It was all very strange.

The lower floor consisted of a living room and kitchen. In the living room where the stairs came down was a big sofa, pushed against the wall with a window. Stretched out on it was the friendly older man she still hadn’t been introduced to. In the kitchen, Simon Lloyd, more relaxed, was leaning on a table reading the paper. There was no sign of Rafael.

“Do you feel better?” Sarah asked, sitting down on one of the chairs.

“Oh, good morning.” He raised his eyes from the newspaper. “I’m much better. You?”

“Not bad,” she replied, looking around. “Yesterday I completely disappeared. Sorry,” she excused herself.

“You did well. After the night we spent…” He changed the subject. “Who are these people?” Simon asked in a whisper, like a child who didn’t want to be caught.

“They’re friends,” was all she said. “Did you sleep some?” A change of subject is always useful when you don’t want to say more.

“A little,” he replied, scratching his head. “I spent more than an hour answering John’s questions. It was an interrogation like in the movies.”

“John? Who’s John?” Is he the old man lying on the sofa?

“John Doe. The one who saved us in the hospital.”

“The one lying on the sofa?”

“No, stupid. So you don’t know them? That one’s named James Phelps. He’s a man about town. The younger one who carries a gun and carried you upstairs.”

“What did they ask you?”

“Well, let’s say we reviewed my whole life from birth with more emphasis on last night. Truly therapeutic.”

He didn’t give the impression of having been pressured in any way. He was practically cheerful, smiling.

“What’s funny?”

“Who could be named John Doe?” He laughed out loud.

“Tea, coffee, milk?” asked Rafael, who had entered the kitchen unnoticed. Simon’s laugh froze.

“Coffee with milk.” Sarah asked for one of her morning favorites.

Rafael quickly turned to a table where everything was ready. He took a cup he’d previously cleaned and rinsed and poured a little coffee in it. Then added milk. Slipped a plate underneath and carried it to the table, where he set it in front of Sarah. He passed the sugar, offered her a clean spoon, and then went to get a tray of chocolate and nut muffins, fresh scones, bread, butter cookies, orange juice, and some slices of York ham and cheese.

“Where did all this come from?” Sarah asked, curious and marveling over the delicacies.

“From the bakery three buildings down on the other side of the street,” Rafael answered. “It’s fresh.”

“I can back that up. I’ve already tasted it, and I guarantee it,” Simon added, feeling much better. Rafael’s presence didn’t seem to cause him any fear.

Rafael created a mixture of inexplicable feelings in Sarah. It was almost a year since she’d last seen him, as she never tired of reminding herself. She felt nervous fear and shivers in her stomach, but that could mean a lot of things. What really struck her was the idea that she’d always been with him during this period of time, never absent. Almost like friends in a café or pub who see each other almost every day.

Calm down. Think about it. Stop. He’s a priest.

“We have to talk. I have a lot of questions that need answering… truthfully.” She was trying to put her slippery thoughts out of her mind.

“Eat your breakfast in peace, and then we’ll all have a talk,” Rafael said calmly. “Ah, and if you look back and analyze everything that’s happened, you’ll see that I never said or did anything that wasn’t true.” He got up and went out of the kitchen, leaving her with Simon and the banquet ready to be devoured.

Sarah didn’t think about the food, but about his words. She was sure that what he’d said was true. He’d never lied. Perhaps he left something out when he felt he shouldn’t be the one to give her certain information, but that was far from lying. He was right. She’d probably been too hard on him.

Simon got up and grabbed some clean silverware.

“I think I’m going to help. That’s a lot of food for you, and you’re not going to finish it.”

“He carried me to the bedroom?” Sarah wanted to know, picking at a delicious-looking chocolate muffin.

“In his arms,” Simon said mischievously with a scone stuffed in his mouth. “Don’t you remember?”

No, she thought, but didn’t say so. “I have a vague impression.”

“And now, what’s the next step?” He could barely get the words out of his stuffed mouth.

“Don’t think about that,” Sarah warned, sipping the coffee Rafael had prepared for her, prompting a slight smile.

Simon laughed and made her blush.

“What’s going on?” she asked, a little upset. “What’s going on?” she asked again when he didn’t answer.

“The two of you aren’t fooling anyone,” Simon finally answered.

“Who?” She wasn’t good at acting as if she didn’t understand.

“You and John?” Another chuckle.

“Come on!” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Good morning,” a friendly voice greeted them. Phelps’s peaceful theological studies didn’t agree with this rebellious life his clerical destiny had led him into.