“I’m sorry to hear about your brother. I’d prefer to keep some faith and to think that somehow, things are all in balance. The people here believe it’s all based on numbers. Everything, from our human wants to the grandest galaxy. I’ll quote Spinoza—he said, I shall consider human actions and desires in exactly the same manner, as though I were concerned with lines, planes and solids.”
A deep pain embedded itself in the middle of my forehead as I remembered the accident that took Ben’s life. “I have a recurring nightmare about the car crash. Ben and I and the others are travelling on the road. It’s a straight, long road. Lines of trees on either side. I can see the perspective of those lines ahead, like a long, thin triangle. It’s like Ben is trapped forever inside the triangle. Sometimes, when I’m driving and a straight road appears in front of me, I get these flashbacks, and I have to pull over until the shaking stops.”
Brother Vito held out his arms to me. I moved into them, and he held me.
“Your mind remembers what your eye did not,” he said gently. “On that day, you wouldn’t have even noticed the lines and the geometry of the scene. Your attention would have been on the people in the car or the small details of the scenery outside or your own thoughts. But in retrospect, you see it like Spinoza.”
I nodded against his shoulder, suddenly back in the raw, helpless moment when I was watching Ben dying. “It’s like Ben’s life was closing down to a point, just ahead of us. But I couldn’t see it then. We’d all been drinking, but that wasn’t why it happened. The driver had a stroke and most probably lost his eyesight.”
“Perhaps it was just going to happen, no matter what . . .” he said gently.
I shivered, not knowing whether that thought itself was soothing or not.
A female voice at the door made me twist around. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Poppy?” I said, stepping away from Brother Vito. He dropped his arms.
She glanced with discomfort at Brother Vito and me. “I came looking for you, Evie. I got worried—you dashed away quickly, and I thought something might be wrong.”
“No, I’m fine,” I told her, flashing a quick smile.
“We were just discussing philosophy,” said Brother Vito. “But I have some preparations to make for this evening’s challenge, and so I’m afraid we’ll have to leave it there.”
Poppy peered at the book that Brother Vito snapped shut.
“Thank you,” I told Brother Vito and walked out into the hall, out of his line of sight. The whole scene felt too intense to put into words—philosophy, geometry and Ben. I hoped Poppy wouldn’t quiz me.
But she grabbed my arm. “Tell me everything. I mean, how lucky are you getting to talk philosophy with Brother Vito? I love philosophy. Not Spinoza—he’s a sexist old windbag. But maybe Vito can come across me curled up in his library, reading one of the Stoics or something. And then he and I can have, y’know, the same kind of in-depth discussion you just had.”
“It wasn’t like that. We’d been talking about a . . . painful memory.”
“I have lots of those. Maybe Brother Vito can give me some comfort, too.” She winked.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like . . . I just really need to be alone for a little while.”
Poppy looked hurt for a moment but then either swallowed the hurt or had a change of mind. “Of course. I was just having a little joke with you. Go and curl up somewhere and have a good old rest.”
“Thanks. I mean it.” I met eyes with her to show her that I did.
Turning away then, I left Poppy behind as I wandered along the hall and into the garden.
Kara was sitting in a secluded corner, her arms locked around her knees in a large, round papasan chair, picking at her sleeve. She looked small with her limbs all wrapped up tightly like that, like a child. Today, I understood her wanting to distance herself from everyone else. Being here at the monastery was giving us all too much free time to think.
I stepped through the mandarin trees, the scent of the ripe fruit sweetening the air.
Sister Rose stepped through the garden, picking and gathering a bunch of flowers. She shot me a smile that was as apple-pie pleasant as her face.
A short distance away, Richard, Cormack and Saul were playing a card game, with pebbles for poker chips. For a moment, I ached to go and join them. Poker would take my mind away. No, poker would take me some place I didn’t want to be.
I found Ruth and her cronies huddled together, talking in quick, sharp voices. Strategising. Harrington looked around at me with a squinty face.