Page 72 of Of Love and Treason
“Very well.” The words came out husky and choked. Valens hesitated a moment, swallowing back the emotion burning his throat, then bowed and left, closing the door behind him.
XXX
NEWS SPREAD QUICKLYthrough the market. Even before she reached Paulina’s Bakery, strange faces with familiar voices bombarded Iris, all clamoring to hug her and offer congratulations—and to ask questions. Iris hadn’t realized anyone besides Paulina and Epimandos even knew her name. Not one of these other merchants had ever called out in greeting before.
Beatrix pushed her way through the crowd and took Iris’s arm. “Sorry.” She grinned, curls frizzing out at her temples. “In my excitement, I may have mentioned your news to a few people.”
“A few!” Iris laughed. “Did you post notices on every door?”
“They’re all dying to hear it from you, dear.”
The throng of shopkeepers followed Iris to the door of the bakery. Iris’s heart pounded. She hadn’t anticipated this. All eyes trained on her. She scrambled to piece together the story without naming Valentine—a difficult task anyway, but had there always been so many colors? Sunlight streamed in golden bars through the pergola over the street, illuminating faces and clothes in a dozen shades. Her mouth went floury and her hands started to shake. What was the question?
“Well?” The hairy man who’d stepped out of Minotaur’s Table spoke first. “Is it true?”
Iris gave a halting nod. “I—I was blind,” she stammered and took a breath. “For seven years. You all know that.”
Beatrix took her hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.
“All that time my pater and I tried every cure we could think of, prayed to every god and goddess of healing we could find, but they did not hear.” She stopped, distracted by two pearl-gray pigeons that fluttered down to perch on the pergola above the herringbone-tiled street. “But then I met a follower of the Christian God. And he prayed for me, that by the power of Jesus Christ my eyes would be restored—and I can see.”
There was a moment of complete silence before questions started in earnest. Iris did her best to answer, reassured by the pressure of Beatrix’s hand on hers. When the crowd swelled with customers, the shopkeepers dispersed.
Beatrix patted Iris’s shoulder. “You spoke wonderfully, my dear.”
Iris shook her head, unconvinced. “I didn’t explain anything like Valentine would have.”
“And you shouldn’t. You’re not him. God gives each of us the words to say when we speak, and while they’ll never be the same as anyone else’s words, they will be exactly what someone needs to hear.” Beatrix smiled and lowered her voice. “Have you seen him?”
Iris shook her head again. “Pater left last night after the meeting, and I haven’t heard if he released Valentine.”
Beatrix nodded, her mouth tightening as if to swallow back tears. “Will you go to Marius and Martha’s later?” She attempted a bright tone.
Iris nodded.
“Good. Come by my shop after closing and we’ll walk together.” Beatrix gave her hand one last squeeze and hurried toward her perfumery.
Iris hesitated on the street, wishing she could do something for her new friend as the ache in her chest grew. She shut her eyes, trying to remember the proper way to start a prayer. Did it matter? They’d all spoken to God like a friend.Please. Please release him.
Iris opened her eyes. Had the potter across the street always glazed his bowls with blue vines? Sparrows swooped overhead on the lookout for crumbs below. A woman in a yellow dress and gray palla pinnedto her lily-orange hair stood waiting for the glass shop to open, a basket on her arm. Two young women tested makeup on the backs of their hands beneath the pink awning of the cosmetic shop, already open and attracting customers. The sun streaking through the window slats high overhead promised an odd autumn day of blue skies, heat, and humidity. Steam already rose from the puddles in the street. Reluctant, Iris turned into the bakery.
Two people whom Iris immediately judged to be Paulina and Epimandos stood inside the door wearing, in turn, expressions of shock and sullen disbelief.
“Well. This is wonderful!” Paulina’s round face shone. “I worried when you didn’t come yesterday. We thought you might be ill.” She tucked a strand of bread-brown hair behind her ear.
Iris worried her hands. “I’m sorry. When it happened, I was so excited and distracted I completely forgot to come in.”
Paulina gave a laugh and shook her head, throwing plump arms around Iris in a quick, uncharacteristic hug. “I can only imagine!”
Epimandos cocked his head, stiff black hair shaved short enough to see his golden-brown scalp. “Does this mean she can help with deliveries?” His dark eyes squinted as if he suspected Iris of faking all this time.
“We’ll discuss that later.” Paulina stepped away from Iris. “There will be nothing to deliver if we don’t get a move on.”
The three of them worked quickly, trying and failing to make up for hours of lost time. For Iris, everything felt oddly familiar and strange all at once. Seeing the pale dough moving beneath her hands, dotted with the reds, browns, and greens of fruit and nuts, distracted her in a way that made her overwork the dough. After the second scolding from Epimandos, she looked around the shop instead, allowing her fingers to tell her when the dough was ready.
Slowly, as the sun and temperature rose, the volume of the market heightened to a cacophony of voices and clacking sandals. The bread was late, but few seemed to care as Paulina regaled them with the tale of Iris’s healing. Several times she had Iris come to the front and tell it herself. The afternoon heat brought a welcome lull to the market sonearly complete that the noise went from a roar to a rustle of leaves and the clicking of pigeon claws on the paving stones.
Iris helped Paulina lower the artichoke-green awning over the doorway.
