The river’s weather changed with each bend, or so it seemed. The boat’s wake took on a strange silvery color, and the foam curdling off the parted stream sparkled like faerie dust. Somewhere a flower bloomed and a sweet fragrance reminiscent of the African violets Sister Helen grew wafted to her nose. She inhaled, and a smile tugged at her lips. So many times she’d caught Sister Helen tracing the delicate petals, sniffing, her eyes closed, her expression so serene, so at peace that it was easy to think of her as a nun, as a woman devoted to peace. Her chest ached. It had been so long since she’d seen Sister Helen. “Are you going to give me that cup of coffee? Or just stand there and tantalize me with the smell?” He cocked his head and slanted her his unique three-dimpled grin. She flinched, and the liquid slopped the mug’s sides. “Of course I am going to give you the coffee.” “Bring it on then, woman.” He motioned her over. “Why are you looking at maps in the dark?”
