Vestavia Hills. Christian Perego

continued: "I think I had it in my hand when I opened the cabinet's door. Who knows what I was looking for. Then I must have placed it inside without thinking. I was a little careless, sorry, John. I know you don't like untidiness, and finding a book among the dishes must have been a bad surprise!"

      Elizabeth might have guessed how true that was, but not for the reasons she thought.

      In reality, that was a nasty surprise for both of them, and both of them realized it.

      The young woman laughed with apparent nonchalance.

      The reverend said, "Don't worry. It can happen."

      "Thanks for finding it, let's just leave at that," and Elizabeth laughed again "you know, it must have been at least a couple of days since I picked it up, and I didn't even bother to wonder where it was."

      But this sentence brought back to Johnathan's mind the clear image of the book resting on the bay window table the previous afternoon. Now he was beginning to find it unbearable that his wife could lie to him like that. Unbearable and distressing, because he wondered what was behind that series of lies.

      He handed the book to Elizabeth, looking at her as you do with a child who has misbehaved, but he did not get back the remorseful look he expected.

      The young woman said, "Thanks, John. I'll try to give it back to Hanna today." And she found an excuse to excuse herself from the heavy air of that room.

      Abblepot stared at an indistinct point outside the window. In reality, he saw nothing in front of him, if not the image of his wife Elizabeth, now alongside John Keats' book of poems and love letters, and another man.

      He didn't know who this man was and what he looked like, but it seemed to him that there was no other explanation.

      That wasn't the only thing that bothered him. If there had been nothing else, he would have dealt with the matter with elegance.

      He would have approached the man making him understand the impropriety of his acts and inviting him, first of all, not to disrupt their family peace anymore, and secondly to confess his sin before the Lord.

      But there was more.

      Elizabeth didn't say anything about it.

      She didn't even get rid of that inappropriate gift.

      Lastly, Elizabeth had tried to hide it from him, because perhaps she did not intend, at least in the short term, to get rid of it: she wanted to continue reading it. Or maybe keep it.

      Of course, his wife's could be just curiosity. And, given the probable inconvenience of the content and the very existence of that book in their home, she didn't want to upset him too much.

      What if it did come from a friend of Elizabeth and she, young and conservative, had let herself go to a little bawdy curiosity?

      Perhaps even, Elizabeth may have found that book by chance, and now she was just a bit curious.

      Johnathan continued to review these last possibilities in his mind, hoping to find one of them plausible: but none left him with the serenity he would have liked.

      He prayed to God that he would regain the trust he always had in his wife. However, he didn't pay much attention to church things for the next days to come.

      Then he was bothered by anger and suspicion, which he felt growing to stay within him, like clouds that announce the storm that won't get away until they thunder.

      Then he asked God for forgiveness for those feelings that he had condemned so many times in his sermons and that now he could not let go.

      What he finally decided to do was miles away from the Johnathan Abblepot people knew.

      The reverend decided to fake a trip: basically to secretly spy on his wife.

      He let a couple of weeks go by, pretending he had forgotten entirely about that matter. So he forced himself to assume the most natural and usual manners with Elizabeth, being calm and focused on something else, so that she would reassure herself and would not suspect that her husband was still brooding.

      Johnathan felt like dying, because of the coldness he was planning to trick Elizabeth with and because of the way he was able to deceive her.

      But the pain he felt inside for what had happened was more reliable than those feelings. So he carried on.

      When it seemed to him that enough time had passed not to arouse suspicion, Abblepot told his wife that he would be gone a few days: he had to go to Dothan to speak with the reverend of that community; the reason would have been too complicated to explain.

      Johnathan Abblepot prepared a piece of unnecessary luggage, and one early morning when Elizabeth was still sleeping, he left the house.

      He hid in an area of the church which he only had access to; from there, and he could easily reach the attic: no one would have suspected he was hiding in there.

      A couple of days wouldn't take long to pass by: from up there, he could easily see the possible visits that his wife would receive and the trips she would make.

      He didn't have to wait long.

      That same morning, at rather late hours, Elizabeth walked briskly out of the vicarage, dressed in one of her older dresses, a handkerchief around her neck, and a hat in her hand. Abblepot watched her mesmerized for a few moments, then decided, as he had already contemplated doing that morning, that he would follow her.

      Although it was not that cold, the reverend put a handkerchief and a hat on that covered most of his face.

      He felt like when he was a boy and was playing hide and seek with his older brothers, but at the same time, he felt the guilt of what was not a game at all. Everything around him had the consistency of the dream, and he perceived his actions as if being performed by someone else.

      He struggled to keep up with Elizabeth. For a moment, he thought he had lost her when she reappeared not that far away. Abblepot was not now from Evelyn Archer's shop: Elizabeth went in.

      Johnathan waited for the few minutes it took his wife to get things done in the shop. When she came out, however, she didn't seem to have bought anything.

      Amazed, Johnathan saw his wife take a tour around the building; he moved to be able to see where she was going.

      The woman stopped in the back yard and leaned against the wooden wall.

      She seemed worried and edgy. She tilted her head as if she was taking a deep breath. She often looked around; perhaps she was waiting for someone.

      Abblepot was worried about getting discovered, but Elizabeth never looked over his side.

      It wasn't long before Martyn Trischer joined her in the clearing.

      Johnathan remembered several images of the young man hanging out around the church and vicarage, but he tried to remain focused on the scene he saw.

      Trischer and Elizabeth spoke animatedly, her more worried, him with more silent pauses. Abblepot saw him put his hand on his head a few times, scratching it slightly; then, he saw him approaching his wife as someone who wanted to reassure the other person.

      The last part of that scene, which must have revealed a lot to him by now, was a silent glance between the two young people, who were now holding hands. Finally, they parted.

      Elizabeth waited a few more moments, again with her head tilted against the wall; then, she set off, probably to go home.

      Abblepot did not follow her.

      What he had seen paralyzed him.

      It seemed definite: the book of love poems came from Martyn Trischer, he was almost sure of it; it was even more confident that his wife wasn't indifferent to the flirting the young man must have done with her.

      Abblepot clenched his fists in the pockets of his overcoat until they almost hurt; he did not know why but the thought and image of his church, benches, altar, and crucifix,