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That evening, Christoph, Diana and myself went out to the barn and baptised the calf. Christoph lit candles in jam jars and hung multi-coloured bunting along the wooden beams. Diana and I watched as Christoph patted the calf on its head.
“We are gathered here today to baptise this child,” Christoph began. “And to recognise that she is the child of God.”
“Is it always like this?” I whispered to Diana.
“What do you think?”
Christoph held the calf’s face between his hands and kissed its head.
“Water is used in this ceremony to symbolize the water of life,” he continued. “Let us remember that the water used in this baptism is the symbol of immersion in the life of God. The life of God surrounds us, fills us, and flows through us, as us.” He signalled to Diana.
She handed me her candle and picked up the red bucket, then poured some water over the calf’s head. The calf jolted and tried to squirm out of Christoph’s grasp, but he held on to the animal tight, dipped his index finger in the remaining water, and marked out a cross on the calf’s head.
“Baptism marks the beginning of a journey with God which continues for the rest of our lives,” he said. “Let this be the beginning of our journey with Eva.”
The candles flickered around the barn. I walked outside with Diana while Christoph tended to the calf. The hillside was in darkness, the distant lights of Lucerne fizzled out one by one like the flames of matchsticks pinched out by fingers.
“Has he always been so religious?” I asked her.
We were standing a little way down from the barn. Below us, telegraph poles punctuated the shoreline, connecting a wire all the way around the hillside and down into the basin, to Lucerne. Down on the lake, all of the sailboats were tied up at shore. The empty tongue of water stretched between the dark mountains, and along through the valley.
“That was nothing,” she said. “He used to drive the calves down to the lake and baptise them in the water.” A few more lights flicked off in the town. “It was all after I told him about what happened in London. He was never a believer in anything before that.”
“He’s very content with his beliefs,” I said.
“Yes,” she said. “A calf was born on Christmas day a few years ago. He called her Jesus.”
It didn’t matter that it was a girl then. You could punch him in the face and he’d be convinced it was a message from God.”
“Well it’s amazing, what happened to you,” I said. And then, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean amazing, just unlikely.”
“Do you think you will sort things, with your girlfriend?” she said.
“I hope so,” I said.
“I think you would do better to travel alone. Women are nothing but trouble.” She laughed. In the darkness I couldn’t see the creases around her eyes and mouth.
“I don’t know. I want to see Eva,” I said. “Even though it would be good to just forget about her.”
“Eva? Do you not like cows?” Diana asked.
“Oh, no,” I said. “Eva is the name of my girlfriend.”
She laughed.
“I thought we had something in common.”
Christoph wandered out from the barn.
“John,” he called. “I’m going to have one beer before I go to bed, if you would like to?”
“Yes,” I said. “I would.”
He walked back into the house. Diana and I stayed outside.
After a minute, Diana said, “So what happened with Eva? Why did you break up?”
“She said it’s because we are so far from each other.”
“But you are here now,” Diana said.
“I know,” I said. “Women are nothing but trouble.”
“Some things just can’t be explained.” Diana stroked the hair on the back of my head. I felt like a six year old boy again.
“Will you go to see her?”
“I might do, tomorrow. To say goodbye.”
“Maybe,” she said, her hand moving away from my hair and resting on my shoulder. “Of course, she won’t want you if you chase her.”
“No?”
“If you want her to want you, you have to make it very clear that you don’t want her. So you should probably get as far away from her as possible.”
We both laughed. The ginger cat rubbed its head against my leg, pacing a figure of 8 between my legs.
“I want you to know something, John.”
The pine trees along the hillside shivered in the breeze. The picket fence away to the left of the farm rattled as loose barbed wire clinked on the metal gate. The cat ran away.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You cannot tell a soul,” she began, pausing to lock her arms across her chest. “I mean that. I have never told anyone this. Especially Christoph.”
“Of course, Diana.”
“I just have to tell someone.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“What I told you about the alleyway in London, about how I prayed to God to protect me,” she paused. Her eyes weren’t looking at me anymore; she was staring out at the lake, into the starless sky. “I made it up, John,” she said.
Silent tears streaked down her cheeks.
“Why?”
“To protect Christoph.”
“From what?” I asked. She moved closer to me, wrapping her fingers around my forearm. Her wedding ring pressed cold against my skin.
“It was me,” she said. “I was attacked.” She buried her head into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her.
“It’s okay,” I said, as you do when the worst things happen.
As I held her, I watched more and more lights go out in the distance. One light glowed brighter than any other. I looked at it for too long, wondering what it could be illuminating. I drew my eyes away from it, burying my nose and face into Diana’s hair. It smelt of vanilla and almonds. The glare had made an impression on my sight. It fogged my vision. I rubbed my eyelids with my fingertips, trying to make it go away. I could still see it behind my eyelids when I closed my eyes.
I could see it when it wasn’t there.
