God's gift

Flirting

Frances made good on her promise, popping by on Tuesday evening. The weather had turned sour, and her long coat was soaked through when she sat on Marie's bench. Tristan had just finished celebrating Vespers with a few faithful when he spotted her. A short dash into his office to retrieve a packet, and he was by her side.

— "Good evening, Father Tristan. How was your day ?"

He knew she asked because of his response last Thursday. A subtle way to pry, giving him the opportunity to elaborate or forget. He chose the latter, for he had many things to discuss with her, not all of them pleasant, before he left church.

— "It was a lazy day. How about yours ?"

— "A standard day in school. Lazy, really ? Is that even possible ? Don't you wake up at dawn for Laudes ?"

Father Tristan was impressed; she had done her research. And even though he was an early riser – the seminary threw them out of bed at 5.30 am – he wasn't naturally compelled to throw himself out of bed so early.

— "I do. But time is not always filled in between Laudes and Vespers."

— "I'm glad you had some time to rest in between obligations."

Father Tristan nodded imperceptibly; the more they talked, the less demonstrative they became. The tiniest of movements sufficed, now, to convey their meaning.

— "You know what busy mean, by all means."

— "I do", she responded. "But anyway..."

Frances grabbed her handbag from the ground, fishing out an A5 sized frame out of the dimensional container.

— "I brought you this. And no, it is not edible."

The little jab caused him to chuckle, and he received the frame eagerly. Even in the dim light of this rainy evening, the beauty of the picture captured his eyes.

— "It doesn't look as good than when you stand in the snow, but it sure doesn't feel that cold"

An eyeful to the snowy peak, with its ice dusted over the cliff, nearly caused him to shiver; he understood the sentiment. At the bottom, a paintbrush had calligraphied the words 'The power of God' with a sure hand, its lines elegant and pretty masterful. The overall result left him slightly speechless, and it took him a few seconds to understand what it meant. Had she taken the picture herself ? Drawn the lines ?

— "So you went skiing after all ?"

Frances addressed him a genuine smile, one full of mischief, as if she was hiding something she would never admit under torture. He mentally noted to ask her before she engulfed him in a distraction, causing him to forget altogether. Frances was an adept at leading him away from his initial goal. Her brain just fired too many items to take interest in; his mind just couldn't let all of them go.

— "Yes. And while I stood on the top of the world - it really felt like it - I was wondering what you would think of the view. It was so beautiful that I wondered if God and geology had worked together to make it so breathtaking. So here it is. If you like it, you can always put it on your desk when the days get too stifling."

It was such a little attention, but one that touched his heart deeply. A simple gesture that showed she'd been taking his teachings to heart. Tristan was not a mountain man; he'd lived most of his life away from them, and had not enough money for skiing. Those views, he'd only seen them in movies. He could only imagine how it felt to stand on the top of the world with the icy wind blowing in your face.

— "Thank you, Frances. I actually have something for you as well, but you'll have to wait until home. There's quite the crowd here today. I don't want them to see me bestowing birthday presents, they would never let me live it down."