They had spoken little during the trip to Tucson. She had asked him only why he had divulged his magic name. Paulo answered that Valhalla had given him hers, and he could do no less.
Perhaps he was telling the truth, perhaps this was what he believed, but Chris wondered. She was a woman, and she saw things that men don't. She thought that Paulo might want to talk to her later that night.
Chris called the desk clerk and asked where the nearest bookstore was located. There was none nearby, he said; she would have to drive. She thought about it for a few moments, and then got the car keys. They were in a big city; if Paulo awoke, he would think that she had gone exploring.
SHE BECAME LOST IN THE TRAFFIC SEVERAL TIMES, BUT eventually found a huge shopping mall. One of the shops made keys, and she had a copy made of the keys to the car.
She wanted to have one, just to be secure.
In a bookstore, she leafed through a volume until she found what she was looking for:
VALKYRIES: the nymphs at Wotan's palace.
She had no idea who Wotan was, but that wasn't important.
Messengers of the gods, they led heroes to their death--and then to paradise.
Messengers. Like the angels, she thought. Death and paradise. Also like the angels.
They excite combatants with the love that their charm excites in their hearts, and through the example of bravery at the battlefront, mounted on steeds as fast as the clouds and as deafening as a thunderstorm.
They couldn't have chosen a better name, she thought.
At the same time, they symbolize both the inebriation of courage and rest for the warrior, the adventure of love in battle, encounter, and loss.
Right, absolutely. Paulo would want to talk to her.
THEY WENT DOWN TO HAVE DINNER AT THEIR OWN hotel--even though Paulo had tried to insist that they walk a bit, get to know this large city built in the middle of the desert. But Chris said she was tired, wanted to get to bed early, enjoy the comforts.
They made small talk throughout the meal. Paulo was exaggeratedly attentive. Chris knew that her husband was waiting for the right moment. So she made it appear that she was interested in everything he said, and showed enthusiasm when he said that Tucson had the most complete desert museum in the world.
In his enthusiasm, he mentioned that the museum included live coyotes, snakes, and scorpions, with a great deal of information concerning them. They could spend the entire day there.
She said she'd like very much to see it.
"You could go tomorrow morning," Paulo said.
"But Valhalla mentioned noontime."
"You don't have to be there."
"It's a strange hour," she answered. "No one spends much time in the desert at high noon. We learned that--in the worst way possible."
Paulo had thought it strange, too. But he didn't want to miss the chance; he was afraid Valhalla might change her mind, despite the ring and everything else.
He changed the subject, and Chris could sense her husband's anxiety. They went back to small talk for a time. They drank an entire bottle of wine, and she was sleepy. Paulo suggested they go right up.
"I don't know if you should go tomorrow," he said.
She had already tasted of everything--the meal, the place, Pau
lo's anxiety. She was enjoying the chance of confirming for herself that she really knew this man well. But now it was getting late, and it was time to give him a definite answer.
"I'm going with you. No matter what."
He was irritated. He told her that she was jealous, and that she was spoiling his process.
"Jealous of whom?"