Alberto slowed his pace somewhat, turned his head slightly and said, “Aquinas
had a famous philosophy teacher called Albert the Great...”
With that he bowed his head and disappeared through the door of St. Mary’s
Church.
Sophie was not satisfied with his answer. She followed him into the church. But
now it was completely empty. Did he go through the floor?
Just as she was leaving the church she noticed a picture of the Madonna. She
went up to it and studied it closely. Suddenly she discovered a little drop of water
under one of the Madonna’s eyes. Was it a tear?
Sophie rushed out of the church and hurried back to Joanna’s.
The Renaissance
…O divine lineage in mortal guise…
It was just twelve when Sophie reached Joanna’s front gate, out of breath with
running. Joanna was standing in the front yard outside her family’s yellow house.
“You’ve been gone for five hours!” Joanna said sharply.
Sophie shook her head.
“No, I’ve been gone for more than a thousand years.”
“Where on earth have you been? You’re crazy. Your mom called half an hour
ago.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I said you were at the drugstore. She said would you call her when you got
back. But you should have seen my mom and dad when they came in with hot
chocolate and rolls at ten this morning ... and your bed was empty.”
“What did you say to them?”
“It was really embarrassing. I told them you went home because we got mad at
each other.”
“So we’d better hurry up and be friends again. And we have to make sure your
parents don’t talk to my mom for a few days. Do you think we can do that?”
Joanna shrugged. Just then her father came around the corner with a
wheelbarrow. He had a pair of coveralls on and was busy clearing up last year’s
leaves and twigs.
“Aha—so you’re friends again, I see. Well, there’s not so much as a single leaf
left on the basement steps now.”
“Fine,” said Sophie. “So perhaps we can have our hot chocolate there instead of
in bed.”
Joanna’s dad gave a forced laugh, but Joanna gasped. Verbal exchanges had
always been more robust in Sophie’s family than at the more well-to-do home of Mr.
Ingebrigtsen, the financial adviser, and his wife.
“I’m sorry, Joanna, but I felt I ought to take part in this cover-up operation as
well.”
“Are you going to tell me about it?”
“Sure, if you walk home with me. Because it’s not for the ears of financial
advisers or overgrown Barbie dolls.”
“That’s a rotten thing to say! I suppose you think a rocky marriage that drives
one of the partners away to sea is better?”
“Probably not. But I hardly slept last night. And another thing, I’ve begun to
wonder whether Hilde can see everything we do.”
They began to walk toward Clover Close.