Lost and Found in Prague (28 page)

She noticed last night at dinner he had but two glasses of wine. She didn’t notice a great change in the way he ate.

“Exercise has become part of my daily routine.” He gives off a little humph. “My healthy lifestyle,” he says with a wave of the hand. “The move from Rome, clean country air, exercise, no smoking—that was the most difficult—healthy diet, fresh garden vegetables, fruits from the local market. I’ll have to take you to the village, quite lovely.” He points to a path that follows the curve of the hillside and she follows. “Most of the land is much too hilly for my walking, so I take a little drive.” He points down to where they have parked the truck. “But no drinking! A vintner who does not drink!”

“I read an article several years ago about a butcher who was a vegetarian,” Dana tells him. “Seems he had a bad heart and the doctor suggested he give up red meat. He continued to work in his butcher shop—I believe in Germany—but no longer ate meat.”

“A butcher without meat? Perhaps no stranger than a vintner without wine. What is life if one cannot enjoy it?” He laughs.

Dana takes a deep inhale of the lovely country air and gazes at the sky. Still cloudy, but she doesn’t believe it will rain. Giovanni points out a group down in one of the vineyards. “It’s been difficult for him,” he says, the words slow and thoughtful. “The loss of his wife.”

He doesn’t need to add more. Dana understands.

She knows what it is like—the loss, the anger. She understands that grief has many stages, that each who has suffered a loss will progress. Or not. That one is often stuck in anger. How well she knows this. Many say it is time that heals, but she doesn’t know if that is true. For some it never heals; for others it takes another life-changing event.

“I think you could become friends,” Borelli finally says, and she understands he is still speaking of his nephew. Dana remembers how, for years, she pushed others away. Opening up to friendship cannot be forced.

They stand together looking down, then walk again. The path narrows as it curves gently around the hillside. They walk single file, then finally arrive at a place where it widens and again walk side by side.

“How are you, Dana?” he asks. In his tone, she hears,
I really want to know. I’m not just asking to be polite.

“Good,” she replies. “Yes. Good.” She is. She knows this. “Is it strange how one must see evil, how one must suffer, to acknowledge good?”

“Not at all.”

“Something happened,” she says. “After I was shot.” She did not describe her experience in her letters to him. She feels what happened is impossible to describe in written words. “I believe I had what they call a near-death experience.”

“Tell me,” he says casually, as if he has had this discussion before. Perhaps he has. “Tell me what you saw.”

“I didn’t see Jesus,” she says with a little tease in her voice. “It was more a feeling, a feeling of total peace, complete, all encompassing.” She gazes over at him. “I don’t know if words could describe it.” She pauses. “Maybe love.”

“Well, then, maybe you did,” he replies.

He doesn’t have to tell her that maybe this was Jesus, because in her own way she has come to this conclusion. If not Jesus, it was surely God.

“You were there . . .” she says cautiously, looking to her side, a glance into his eyes to catch his reaction. “You told me to come back.”

“Back to earth?” he asks.

She nods and they both laugh. She realizes how strange this must sound . . . but she realizes that she wants him to say,
Yes, I remember, I was there.
She doesn’t want to think this was a mere illusion, a dream. And she wants a witness.

“How did I look?” he asks. “How did I look when you saw me in heaven?”

“I didn’t actually see you. . . . It was your voice.”

“A voice?”

“Well, honestly, I’m not even sure it was a voice, more of a . . . a feeling, a presence. I don’t believe there were actual words.”

“A spirit? The immortal soul?”

“Maybe.”

“I certainly hope if we’re allowed a body in heaven this isn’t the one I end up with.” He pats his belly. “When I was in my prime, I was quite an athlete.” Their pace has slowed and he turns to Dana. “Difficult to imagine?”

“Nothing about you is difficult to imagine.” As they reach a plateau, they stop to look down. Clouds cast broken shadows along the valley below.

“It was very brief,” she tells him, “yet it did give me some peace, some hope. I’m no longer angry with God. In a way I sense he is protecting me, just as he is protecting my son. Wherever he is. It seemed this sense of peace was a promise of sorts.” She searches for more words, but they do not come. She looks at Borelli, expecting something, not sure what she wants from him.

He holds her gaze, and for a moment she thinks he is about to quote scripture, something she’s never actually heard him do. He has never preached to her. Even in his letters. The night she told him about her son was one of the few times he’s seemed like a priest.

Something hangs in the air between them. A silence. But even in this Dana finds comfort.

“Hope,” Giovanni finally says, “yes, hope.” He motions down the hillside, and they walk without further words. About halfway down, he stops and points. The clouds have parted and the morning sun casts a glow on the entire scene below. Everything—the vineyards, the cypresses, the structures scattered along the hills—appears to be wrapped in gold.

“Now, have you ever seen anything quite so lovely?” he asks her.

She turns to Giovanni and smiles, but says nothing.

“Heaven on earth,” he muses, and they continue, walking side by side down the hillside.

LOST AND FOUND IN PRAGUE

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

1. How does the title,
   Lost and Found in Prague
   , apply to some aspect of the lives of each of the three main characters?
   
2. Dana travels each year during the Easter season to block out the reality of a terrible loss. How do the events of the story and the people she meets in Prague help her to face and deal with this loss?
   
3. How does the history of the Czech Republic, as well as the novel’s present-day setting in Prague, affect the plot, mood, and tone of the story? How do Dana’s personal history and her past experiences in Prague play important roles in the book? 
   
4. Dana describes Caroline, now Sister Agnes, as her childhood best friend, but feels the convent has created an emotional as well as physical wall between them. Does the resolution at the end of the book explain the reason for the break in their friendship? Do you think they would have naturally drifted apart? How would you compare this friendship to that of Father Borelli and Father Ruffino? Are friendships of childhood different from those of adulthood? Do you have friends from your childhood with whom you have later reconnected? Do these relationships have different dynamics as adults?
   
5. Dana and Dal learn that they share a common bond, with very different outcomes for each. How do you think this affects their relationship?
   
6. Dana is forced to work with two people she does not completely trust. Do you believe trust eventually develops between Dana and Father Borelli? Between Dana and Investigator Damek? How and when?
   
7. Before and since the revolution, Prague has been plagued by political corruption. The Czech police system is described by both Father Borelli and Dana as having elements of corruption. How do you see Investigator Damek? How does he work within this system?
   
8. Father Borelli is devastated by the dishonesty of his friend Father Ruffino, yet each of the characters deals at some point in the story with personal questions of honesty. Do you think each eventually overcomes the challenges? Is a person ever completely honest with herself or himself? With others?
   
9. Dal describes his wife as “a spiritual person, very religious. She believes in the goodness of people, in the loving mercy of God.” Do you believe being religious and being spiritual are the same? Of the three people in the story who have taken religious vows, Father Borelli, Father Ruffino, and Sister Agnes, which do you think is the most religious? The most spiritual?
   
10. Miracles have been attributed to the Infant of Prague. Do you believe in miracles? Have you ever witnessed an unexplained event?
    
11. Branko Banik is an important character in the story, yet he appears only in descriptions of Dana’s memories or in information revealed through Dal’s investigation. How does this influence your perception of him?
    
12. At the end of the story, who has made the greatest change in his or her life? Where do you see each individual’s life going from this point?
    

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