Katie's head snapped up in amazement. He had never called her "Katherine" before, and she was almost as stunned by that as she was by the incredible tenderness in his voice. Through a haze of tears she stared at him. He was walking toward her, a smile slowly dawning across his features and illuminating his whole face.
He stopped in front of her and prodded gently, "Tell me why, Katherine."
The warmth and approval in his smile began to melt the icy misery in Katie's heart. "I want to stay because I want to marry Ramon—I don't want to avoid the marriage anymore," Katie admitted with childlike candor. Her voice gained strength as she continued, "I promise you I'll make him happy. I know I can. And he—he makes me very happy."
Padre Gregorio's smile positively beamed, and to Katie's profound joy and relief he began asking her the same questions he had tried to ask her on Monday. "Will you put Ramon's needs before your own?"
"Yes," Katie whispered.
"Will you commit yourself entirely to this marriage, putting its success ahead of all other priorities in your life?"
Katie nodded emphatically.
"Will you honor Ramon and respect his wishes?"
Katie nodded vigorously and added, "I'll be the most perfect wife you've ever seen."
Padre Gregorio's lips twitched. "Will you obey him, Katherine?"
Katie looked at him accusingly. "You said you weren't going to ask me to promise that.''
"And if I did ask you?"
Katie briefly weighed the beliefs of a lifetime against her entire future. She looked right into Padre Gregorio's eyes and said, "I would promise."
His eyes lit with laughter. "Actually, I was only inquiring about that.''
Katie breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, because I'd never have kept the promise."
Imploringly she said, "Now will you marry us?"
"No."
He said it so kindly that for a moment Katie thought she had misunderstood him. "No?" she repeated.' “Why—why not?''
"Because you have not yet told me the one thing I need to hear you say."
Katie's heart flung itself against her ribs with a sickening thud, and the color drained from her face. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory of herself screaming those words, willing herself to say the words again, now. "I—" Her voice broke. "I can't. I can't say it. I want to, but I—"
"Katherine!" Padre Gregorio said in bewildered alarm. "Here, sit down," he said quickly, gently pushing her into the nearest pew. He sat down beside her, his kindly face a study of anxiety and concern. "You do not have to say you love him, Katherine," he hastily reassured her. "I can see perfectly well that you do. But can you at least tell me why you find it so painful to admit, and so impossible to say?''
White-faced, Katie turned her head and looked at him in helpless consternation and shuddered. In a voice that was a raw whisper, she said, "I keep remembering the last time I said it."
"Child, whatever happened, you cannot carry it around inside of you like this. Have you never told anyone?"
"No," Katie said hoarsely. "No one. My father would have tried to kill David—my husband. By the time my parents came back from Europe the bruises were healed, and Anne, their maid, promised never to say how I looked the night I came back to their house."
"Can you try to tell me what happened?" he asked softly.
Katie looked at her hands lying limply in her lap. If talking about it would finally exorcise David from her mind, from her life, she was ready to try. She spoke haltingly at first, and then the horror came pouring out in a torrent of choked, anguished words.
When she was finished, Katie leaned against the back of the pew, emotionally exhausted, drained of everything—even, she realized with a jolt of surprise—the pain. Hearing herself talking about David out loud had made her realize that there was no similarity between Ramon and David; none at all. David had been a selfish, egotistical, sadistic monster, while Ramon wanted to love and protect and provide for her. And even when she had defied, humiliated and infuriated Ramon, he had not physically abused her. What had happened in the past, belonged there.
Katie glanced at Padre Gregorio and realized that he seemed to have shouldered her whole burden. He looked positively shattered. "I feel much better," she said softly, hoping to cheer him up.
Padre Gregorio spoke for the first time since she had begun her story. "Is Ramon aware of what happened to you that night?"
"No. I couldn't talk-about it. And anyway, I didn't really think it was bothering me anymore. I hardly ever think of David."
"It was bothering you," Padre Gregorio contradicted. "And you have been thinking of him, whether you realized it or not. Otherwise, you would have simply confronted Ramon with your suspicion that he was not entirely what he said he was. You did not confront him because in your heart you were afraid of what you might learn. Because of your terrible experience, you automatically assumed that whatever secret there was in Ramon would be as frightening as the secrets you discovered in this other man.''
He was quietly thoughtful for several minutes, then he seemed to snap out of his pensive reverie. "I think it would be best if you confided in Ramon before your wedding night. There is always the possibility that, because of your memories, you will experience some understandable revulsion when you are again faced with the intimacy between a man and wife. Ramon should be prepared for that."
Katie smiled and
confidently shook her head. "I won't feel any revulsion at all with Ramon, so there's no need to worry."
"You're probably right." Unexpectedly, Padre Gregorio's expression darkened to an irritated, thoughtful scowl. "Even if you do react to the marital intimacies with fright, I am certain that Ramon has enough experience with women to be able to handle any problems of that sort."
"I'm absolutely certain he can," Katie assured, laughing at Padre Gregorio's grumpy, censuring expression. The old priest's narrowed gaze swerved to Katie's laughing face. "Not that certain," she corrected hastily.
Approvingly, he nodded. "It is good that you have made him wait."
To her mortification, Katie felt her cheeks pinken. Padre Gregorio saw it, too. His bushy white brows lifted and he peered at her over the rim of his gold spectacles. "Or that Ramon has made you wait," he amended astutely.
They both glanced over their shoulders as some tourists entered the church. "Come, we can finish this discussion better outside," he said. They walked down the steps and stood on the plaza surrounding the church. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.
Katie bit her lip and glanced toward the general store. "I suppose," she said with obvious reluctance, "I could bring back the things I bought there and say in front of everyone that Ramon wouldn't... wouldn't..." she choked on the word, "permit me to keep them."
Padre Gregorio threw back his head and the plaza rang with his laughter. Across the street several villagers turned to stare as they emerged with parcels from the shops. "Permit and obey… that is most encouraging," he chuckled. Then he shook his head at her suggestion. "I do not think Ramon would want you to do that. He would not want to buy back his pride at the cost of your own. You might offer to do it, however. That would help convince him you are truly repentant."
Katie slanted him a jaunty, teasing look. "Do you still think I lack meekness, docility and a respect for authority?"