“Maybe it wasn’t a stable hand.” Jarret climbed out of the pool and walked toward them. “Maybe the maid did it in the conservatory with a wrench.” He cocked a brow and dove back in.
Selena laughed. “Maybe it was one of the maids, though I can’t see why. I can’t see why anyone would take anything from us. Papá is so generous to the employees. They often eat dinner with us. They are like family.” She paused. “You know what? We had a party two days before anyone noticed things were missing. Maybe it was a party guest.”
“What’d the thief take anyway?” Jarret treaded water near Selena.
“The first thing was a jade statue of Saint Francis Xavier. It was in the little chapel.” Her eyes popped wide open and she spoke in an excited tone. “We’re having another party tomorrow. It’s for you guys. But the same guests will be here. Maybe they will try again.”
“Jade?” Roland said. “That sounds valuable.”
“I’m sure it was,” she said.
“What do you think they did with it?” Roland said.
“Sold it, I guess.”
“Where would you sell something like that?”
She shrugged. “Online? Or maybe to a collector.”
Jarret climbed out of the pool again and sauntered over to Roland. “Maybe it’s at a pawn shop. Why don’t you stop worrying about it and get in the pool? You said you could swim. Let’s see you do it.” He stood with a hand on his hip.
Roland bristled, and his jaw twitched. It would be foolish to snap at Jarret in front of Selena. Jarret always got the upper hand. Besides, he couldn’t think of anything smart to say. He forced his irritation to take a back seat and said to Jarret, “I wonder if Papa would let me help appraise things. It’d be good to get that done before someone tries to steal something else.”
“What do you know about any of that junk?”
“I know a lot. I help him all the time with that kind of stuff. I can look things up. You could too, if you wanted to.”
“I got something for you to look up.” Jarret grabbed Roland by the arms and yanked him to his feet.
“Don’t!” Fearing what Jarret had in mind, Roland struggled like a cat about to be bathed.
Jarret laughed. He whipped Roland around in a semi-circle, from the chaise lounge to the edge of the pool.
“Don’t, don’t—” Fear gripped him. He couldn’t. Not the water. Not like this.
The instant he lost balance, time passed in morbid slow motion. He twisted his head to glimpse his doom. He squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath . . . His stomach lurched as his body slammed down. Icy cold water bit his every nerve ending.
Sinking into coldness. No air. Grasping, reaching, arms and legs flailing . . .
He forgot how to swim.
He opened his eyes in time to see an arm reach around him from behind.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CALLING
Keefe
Keefe stood on the front stoop of the Brandt’s house, running his hand over his fresh crew cut, waiting for someone to answer the door. Butterflies flitted in his stomach. He hadn’t felt this nervous since his first date. Why now?
He’d made Nanny cut his hair in the morning, despite her protests. She, like Jarret, wanted him to grow out his curls. Then he had spent more time than a guy should picking out the right shirt and pants: a slate-gray polo and blue cargos. He wanted to look clean and simple to make a good impression.
Why? Why did he want to make an impression on the Franciscan friars?
Just hearing about them, when Peter had mentioned them to Roland, stirred up a strange feeling in his soul. Maybe it was simply curiosity.
The front door opened and Peter swung the screen door out. “Hey, there you are.” He stepped back, nodding for Keefe to come in. Then he gave Keefe the once-over, a grin spreading on his face. “You’re kind of early.”
“Am I?” Keefe found himself assuming the meek posture Roland typically took, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his cargos. He’d never considered himself shy, though he usually played shadow to Jarret.
Cheerful conversation, high activity, and savory smells filled the house. Mrs. Brandt and Peter’s aunt worked in the kitchen, one stirring something on the stove, the other arranging dishes on the bar countertop. Peter’s little brother Toby paced back and forth from the long dining room table to the countertop, talking to himself and gesturing. A family he’d never seen before, probably guests staying at the bed and breakfast, sat in one of the three booths by the windows. The sliding glass doors that led to the guests’ rooms were closed. Men’s voices came from down the hall. The friars?
“Uh, we’re over here,” Peter said.
“What?” Keefe turned.
Peter walked around the couch and crouched by the TV. “I’m trying to keep Toby out here so he doesn’t bug the guests.” He pressed buttons on a remote until a bowling game showed on the TV screen.
Caitlyn had been sitting on the floor but started to get up when she saw Keefe. “Hi.” She put her hands behind her back and dipped her head, her big green eyes peeking through a tangle of red hair.
“Hi, Caitlyn.”
“Can I get you something to drink?” She smiled, rocking on the soles of her feet.
“No, thanks. I’ll wait. Peter said I’m early.”
“Are you here to see the Franciscan friars?” she said.
His cheeks burned. “I’m here . . . um, I don’t know.” There was no point trying to keep this secret from her. The whole reason he’d stopped seeing her was to listen better to God’s voice. For almost a year now, he’d had the impression that God wanted something of him. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Still on the floor by the TV, Peter grinned at him over his shoulder.
Keefe turned away and sat on the couch. When he had called Peter to invite himself over, he’d burned with embarrassment then, too, only no one was around to see it. Their conversation had gone in circles. He should’ve been straightforward. Instead, he started with, “So uh, we’re kind of like friends, aren’t we?”
“What? Who? You and me? Uh, sure. What’s up?”
“Um, it’s kind of lonely around here with my brothers gone and my father . . . gone and . . .”
“Lonely? Or isn’t it kind of nice? ‘Cuz I think it’d be real nice. Especially with Jarret . . . Uh, never mind. You probably wouldn’t . . . feel . . . the same.”
“So I was wondering if maybe I could come over one evening, like Wednesday.”
“Over? Here? Or did you want to go do something? I’d like to do something. You don’t have a car, though, do you? Why does Jarret have a car and you don’t?”
“We need a car? I can borrow my father’s, I think. But I really wanted to visit. You guys have guests, don’t you?”
“Guests? Well, yeah. With the bed and breakfast, you know, we always have guests.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Ohhhhh. I get it. You’re interested in our guests. Let me guess. You want to see the monks. We don’t get monks often.”
“They’re brothers, aren’t they? Friars?”
Peter had laughed. “So what’s your interest in the brothers?”
Keefe had cleared his throat. Sweat broke out on his neck. “Nothing. I didn’t say I was interested in them. I just said, well, I said it was kind of lonely over here. But if you don’t want me to come over—”
“No, no, now don’t get your undies all in a bunch. Come on over. That’d be great. The brothers will join us for dinner. At six.”
“Six. Okay. Thanks.”
So it had been arranged, Peter obviously aware of his curiosity though not aware of his motive. But what was his motive?
The sound of a sliding glass door brought him back to the moment. He craned his head to see.
A couple stepped into the dining room and sat at one of the three booths. The booths could each seat six, and there was one left, but the friars would probably be seated at the long table in the middle of the room. Pete
r’s folks would most likely want to talk with them.
“Toby!” Peter dashed to the dining room, chasing Toby.
“So have you?” Caitlyn said.
Keefe spun to face her. Caitlyn had taken a seat right next to him on the couch. He’d totally missed what she said. “What? Have I what?”
“Have you heard from Roland? How does he like Arizona?”
The glass door slid again.
Keefe forced himself not to turn around. He’d see them soon enough. Why was he so anxious? “Oh, I haven’t really talked to him. My father said everyone’s fine, and the Zamoranos have a swimming pool.”
“Oh, that’d be nice. Do you like to swim?”
Peter had Toby by the hand, leading him around the couch. “You love bowling. I got the Wii game all set up. You can go first.”
Toby took the remote offered him, while whining something about his mother.
The men’s voices grew louder as they came down the hall.
Keefe spun his head to see. Was it them?
Mr. Brandt and Father Carston, the parish priest, came down the hall deep in conversation. They took seats at the long dining room table.
“So how does it feel,” Peter said and Keefe turned to face him, “to be without your better, or shall I say worse, half?”
“Peter!” Caitlyn said. “You’re terrible.”
The glass door slid again.
Keefe spun around.
It was them! The room grew silent, all eyes on the friars. Dressed in long brown robes with white cords around their waists and sandals on their feet, they processed into the dining room. Most of them smiled and nodded or gave a simple greeting to whoever looked at them. A few had beards. All wore their hair short. The youngest, maybe in his twenties, had a shaved head.
Mr. Brandt scraped his chair back and stood. “Please, sit with us.” He motioned for them to join him at the long table.
Keefe jumped up, glancing at Peter. “Shouldn’t we go sit down?”
“Oh.” Peter came up behind him. “We’re eating out here. Mom said there’s not gonna be room in there. We’ve got way more guests than usual, what with half a dozen friars staying with us.”
The six friars took seats as directed, on either side of the long table, Father Carston and Mr. Brandt on one end and a few empty seats on the other. Mrs. Brandt and Peter’s aunt would probably join them, but there were two more empty seats.
The glass doors slid open again and another couple strolled through, heading right for the long table.
Keefe sighed.
Father Carston led in prayer, asking God for a special blessing for the friars’ work, then everyone formed a line at the buffet counter. Toby ran to his mother. Caitlyn, Peter, and Keefe took up the end of the line. One of the bearded brothers stepped out of line, leaned over the table, then got in line behind Keefe.
Keefe glanced over his shoulder, once, twice, a third time.
“Hello, I’m Brother Lawrence.”
“Wow,” Keefe said, his mind drawing a blank.
Brother Lawrence smiled. “Who are you?”
“Uh . . .” Keefe glanced at Peter.
Peter scrunched up his face, showing Keefe how stupid he was acting. “He means your name.”
“Yeah, um, Keefe, Keefe West.” He wiped his sweaty hand on his cargos and shook hands with Brother Lawrence. Then he turned away and forced himself not to look again.
Once they loaded their plates and returned to the couch, Peter sat grinning at him. “So you’re really interested in those friars, aren’t you?”
Cutting meatloaf with a spoon, Keefe shrugged.
“Do you need a knife?” Caitlyn said. “Didn’t you grab a fork?”
“No, I can see it,” Peter said. “You’re, like, unnaturally interested.”
“Unnaturally?” Keefe glared.
“Don’t be silly,” Caitlyn said to Peter. “I think they’re cool. Aren’t you fascinated by people who give up everything to follow God? I am. If I didn’t want to have my own children so badly . . .”
“Oh, give me a break,” Peter said. “You’re saying you’d consider being a nun.”
“Or a sister.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A nun typically lives in a cloistered monastery . . .” The voice came from behind them. “. . . devoted to the contemplative life for the good of the world, while a sister lives, ministers, and prays within the world, actively engaged in the works of mercy.”
“Oh, hey.” Peter blushed.
“May I join you?” Brother Lawrence lifted his plate of food. “Somebody took my seat.” He nodded to the table.
Peter jumped up. “Oh, that’s my little brother. I’ll go—”
“No, no.” Brother Lawrence put up a hand. “I’m kidding. I gave him my seat. He wanted to sit by his mother.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Besides, I’d like to sit out here. My mother never allowed us kids to eat in the living room. I kind of like the idea.” He smiled.
Peter got up and went to the recliner. Keefe scooted over on the couch to make room for the brother. They ate in silence for a moment until Brother Lawrence complimented the food.
“Don’t you like meatloaf, Keefe?” Peter said, grinning.
“What?” He realized he hadn’t been eating. He’d only been staring. “Oh, sure.” He took a bite.
“So, tell us what you do,” Caitlyn said, leaning past Keefe. “We were just talking about how interesting it is when people give up everything to follow God.”
Brother Lawrence nodded, gazing at the ceiling as if considering how to word his response. His golden-brown, thick-lashed eyes had a most angelic quality, as if he saw more than a mortal should. His age was hard to guess. He could’ve been in his thirties or forties, but he had a youthfulness about him.
“Well,” he finally said, “we’re a group of friars. We live a common life of prayer and penance. Our particular order has a commitment to live and proclaim the Gospel of Life. We’re devoted to serving and defending the most vulnerable of our society: the pre-born child, the severely disabled, the poor, the homeless . . .”
Caitlyn ruled the conversation, asking question after question. Keefe only listened. But every word Brother Lawrence spoke clicked in his mind, fitting perfectly like a giant puzzle coming together. The more he learned of their daily life, their origin, and their unique mission, the more he longed to know.
“How did you know you were called to this way of life?” Caitlyn said.
Keefe’s heart skipped a beat.
“Hmm.” Brother Lawrence set his plate down. “Well, as a young man I felt this great spiritual longing. I began to pray more intensely, read the Bible more, attend daily Mass. I was going to college to become an engineer, but I felt this tugging at my soul. I had a great unrest, like I say, a longing.”
He looked at Keefe who, this time, didn’t look away. He couldn’t look away. He understood completely what the man meant.
“Nothing worldly could satisfy me,” Brother Lawrence said. “I wanted more, to give of myself more. I think, now, it was the Holy Spirit moving me, urging me toward my vocation.” He smiled, looking at the others. “I find peace in all I do now, even when things don’t work out.”
The brother faced Keefe. “Our Lord says, ‘If you want to be perfect, go and sell all you have and give the money to the poor, and you will have riches in heaven; then come and follow me.’ He invites a few, those who are chosen, to go a step beyond the commandments and to voluntarily embrace the evangelical counsels. When you are called, you find no rest in other pursuits.”
Toby bolted into the room and snatched a remote. “Play bowling with me?”
Peter threw his hands in the air. “We’re eating. I thought you were eating at the table.”
“Toby all done,” Toby said, his eyes on Brother Lawrence.
“I take it that you want my seat.” Brother Lawrence smiled and stood up.
Keefe watched the br
other walk away, part of him wanting to follow, wanting to hear more. But a strange peace had overcome him, so he decided to remain where he was.
Almost a year ago, he’d had a similar feeling of peace. He’d been in Italy on a trip with his father, when they stumbled upon an old church and a Eucharistic miracle. God had spoken to his heart, overwhelmed him with love, and changed the direction of his life. He’d made a promise to listen to God’s voice and to obey him, knowing that the Lord would always be with him no matter the challenge.
Could God be calling him to the religious life? Or was this idea merely his own? He was only seventeen, hadn’t graduated, and had no idea what his talents were. Maybe the life of the Franciscans appealed to him because it would take him away from his present challenge: helping Jarret.
Ever since Jarret had gotten involved with Zoe and especially since their break-up, he’d seemed troubled, lost. Alone. He needed someone to turn to, someone to help him straighten out his life and get on the right track.
They’d always been close, until Keefe changed. They could become close again.
No. God would not want Keefe to abandon his brother. God wanted people to love Him where they were and help those around them, especially those closest. God had made them brothers, twins, for a reason. It was wrong to consider becoming a Franciscan friar. If he went down that path, Jarret would never speak to him again.
Maybe the brotherhood was in his future. But not now. He wouldn’t feel right abandoning someone to please himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
INVITATION ON THE BREEZE
Ellechial
Streaks of blood red colored the evening sky. Flames flickered in tiki torches and in candle decorations on patio tables. A Mariachi band in silver-studded black charro suits and wide-brimmed hats played lively music while couples danced on a flagstone patio. Friends strolled through the cacti gardens. Servants, bearing drinks and snacks on trays, weaved around groups of men in Stetson hats and women in Mexican party dresses. Seventy-eight people mingled in the Zamoranos’ backyard. One hundred twenty demons prowled around them.
One hundred and one angels stood guard.
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