The words took him by surprise. "You’re going to be a priest, Julia?"

"As a priest I’ll have the capa – "

"Give me a goddamn break." His voice was loud. "You’re going to trade womanhood for a lot of male bullshit so you can have a free ticket at death’s door? There are people dying everywhere, Julia. Or have you narrowed it down to a few institutionalized Christians?"

"I won’t debate my aspirations," she said. "It’s what I’ve worked for. What I have to do."

The silence was vast then.

"So tell me," he said.

"What?"

"Whatever it is you can’t."

She took a moment to gather herself. "I keep wondering what will happen to you next, and how much more of you it will take, and if I can take care of you, and for how long. When you were in pain I tried to hold you, but you couldn’t stop screaming. It was horrible."

"They cut my spine open."

"I went to the nurse’s station for help. They were doing paperwork and chatting and we could hear you screaming. They told me there was nothing more they could do. It would take time they said and I wanted to scream. I went to your doctor. I went to see the director of the hospital. I was helpless. I can’t watch you suffer anymore. I can’t do it."

"You’re afraid to love me, Julia?"

"I can’t," she said and cried. "I’m sorry, Mitchell, it’s too overwhelming. I just can’t."

He thought a better man would have tried to comfort her but his eyes were already out to sea. It was the only place deep enough to bury his soul.

They were there and then it was gone. Like flint on stone. Love sometimes happens that way...

The tow line flew over the stern pulpit and Andy climbed into the cockpit. Mitchell hadn’t heard the dinghy. Christ, I didn’t even notice him row out from shore he thought.

"Hey, are you okay?" Andy’s voice unmasked his concern. "I went by and it looked like you were in a trance."

"It’s your skill with the oars," Mitchell said. "I was mystified. Did you get a hold of LaFleur?"

"Yeah, but he’s not home. He’s working at the hospital in Newport this month so he’s sending your money general delivery to the post office in Rye. It should be there tomorrow."

"He always covers a bet. Eventually. What the hell is in Rye?"

"Your money. He said it’s still okay to leave the boat at his place after Portland."

Mitchell reached for his grasping glove. "Let’s go."

"Now?"

"We can take a look at his place then anchor for the night up at Hampton Beach. We’ll be at Rye in the morning."

"Who’s waking who?" Andy started the vents and stripped the sail ties off the main. He strapped Mitchell’s hand to the tiller then raised the main and the anchor. Mitchell pulled the tiller to his chest to wheel the sloop in a tight turn away from the granite pier.

"I hope the best for you, Julia. Goodbye," he said. "You of all people know the meaning of

that word."