The Book of Love by Kathleen McGowan

were closing for the day, Tammy explained to her that their car had been vandalized. She left out the bit about the gunmen and the robbery. They were hoping the monastery would offer them lodging for the evening, as it was known to house pilgrims of both genders on a regular basis, but pilgrims pursued by hooded thugs might not be the most welcome guests.
    It was a wise decision not to elaborate on their ordeal. The poor Belgian girl was so distraught by the report of vandalism in the idyllic beauty of Orval that she looked as if she would cry. One of the younger monks, Brother Marco, was called in to help in the crisis, and he set to finding rooms for the women as well as contacting a garage in Florenville to repair the car. There was an air of comfort and concern from the monks and the staff at Orval, and both women began to relax in the relative safety of the monastery. It was as if Matilda’s spirit still permeated the place, and while Maureen and Tammy were within her grounds, they were safe. Brother Marco invited the women to supper, which was taken in silence in the monastery’s dining hall. They were too exhausted and overwrought by their ordeal to accept, and he packed them some bread and cheese, as well as the Orval beer with the golden fish on the label, to take back to their room.
    The room was typically monastic and spotlessly clean, containing two single beds, a nightstand, and a washbasin. Maureen was grateful for every inch of it. She needed to call Peter and sort through the events of the day. Who attacked them and stole the book? What was the book? She felt sick at the thought that she may have had one of the treasures of human history in her hands for a few brief minutes, and now it was lost to…to whom?
    When Tammy left to take a shower in the shared bathroom down the hall, Maureen found Peter via cell phone at his home in Rome.
    He became understandably agitated as she recounted the events.
    “Didn’t I tell you to call me back and that it was important? I wanted to warn you that you were in potential danger.”
    Maureen was tired and prickly. “You should have told me everything, even with Tammy present. I trust her. And if Tammy had been injured…”
    She let the sentence drop. It was plain and implicit that Peter would have borne some responsibility if anything had happened to Maureen or her friend.
    “I’m sorry. Very sorry. And I’m just grateful that you’re both all right. Maureen, I want you on a plane to Rome in the morning. There is someone here you need to meet. I think he can help us to sort through everything. We can have a car pick you up at the monastery and get you to the airport in record time. Tammy can come with you if it makes you feel better.”
    “Thanks, Pete. Ah, the irony. You know, sometimes I am truly grateful for the power of the Vatican.”
     
    If ever there was a place to dream, it was within the magical monastery of Orval.
     
    Maureen was moving through the ancient ruined nave of the monastery. The filtered light shone through the skeletal rose window as she stepped carefully over the scattered stones. This time, she knew where she was going. She was heading toward the fountain.
    Then she heard the giggle.
    Maureen followed it, not surprised when the little girl with the bright copper braids was standing by the well, gesturing emphatically for her to come forward. She had yet to speak, although she looked supremely pleased with herself as she continued to laugh. The child pointed to the water, indicating that Maureen should gaze into its depths.
    As Maureen peered into the well, the surface shimmered as images began to take shape, coming into a crystal clear, cinematic focus. Maureen gasped at what she saw. Their attacker was entering a room, holding her precious book in his hands. She watched as the scene took place in what appeared to be a stone chamber or a basement. The room was filled with men, dressed ominously in strange, hooded robes that covered their