CHAPTER 12

Catherine laid out their schedules with practiced efficiency. Gibson 
would spend his mornings with Martha, learning to block others' 
thoughts, while Doggett and Reyes would be learning how to develop 
their potential under Sister Mary's tutelage.

Afternoons would be reserved for the opus dei. In Doggett's case 
this meant assuming the role of handyman, mechanic, and delivery 
driver. Reyes would tutor Gibson and Rosalita, and would also teach 
Agatha aboout computers. Their evenings would be spent with Tomás, 
memorizing their assigned code.

Doggett immediately set out for the garage, and checked the condition 
of the community's vehicles. Within minutes he felt relaxed and 
happy, his arms smeared with grease and oil, his shirt damp with 
sweat. He sighed at the realization that here in the garage he would 
be away from the prying minds of the spooky nuns. He could accept 
Gibson because of what he'd read in the X-Files, and he credited 
Monica with nothing more than good instincts despite her strange 
ideas. But he had to admit that despite his skepticism about ESP, 
the mere idea of strangers prying into his thoughts gave him the 
willies.

Reyes and Gibson stayed in the little library after the others 
departed. They sat at a wide oak table, lit by the bright desert sun 
filtering through gauzy white curtains that billowed languidly in the 
desert breeze.

Reyes picked up a stack of website print-outs that Agatha had set 
aside and leafed through them. She selected a packet, set it in 
front of Gibson, and said, "Let's start with a review of basic math," 
She smiled, ignoring Gibson's indifference. "Everybody's favorite."

"Let's not and say we did," Gibson snorted.

Reyes adopted a Valley Girl voice and answered, "That's so funny I 
forgot to laugh." She put her hand to her hair and gave it a broad, 
histrionic flip.

Gibson laughed in spite of himself.

"Oh... my... Gawwwwwwwwwd," Reyes drawled, still in her Valley Girl 
voice. "He CAN laugh!"

Gibson looked over his shoulder then leaned forward and 
whispered, "Shhhhhh.... Don't tell anyone."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Reyes said. "Stick a needle in my 
eye!"

"Ewwww!" Gibson made a face. "That's dis-GUS-ting!"

Reyes laughed. "I've never visualized that before"

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Gibson sang, giggling.

"Busted!" Reyes leaned back in her seat. "I actually think about it 
all the time!"

"Do not!" Gbson challenged.

"Do too!" Reyes answered.

"Nuh-huh"

"Uh-huh"

"No way!"

"Wa-ay!"

Gibson could barely speak by now. "What were we arguing about, 
again," he asked through his giggles.

Reyes wiped a laugh tear from her eye and answered, "That's for me to 
know and you to find out."

Gibson focused on Reyes' mind then said, "Thumb wrestling? What's 
that?"

Reyes put her arm out on the table and curled her fingrs to accept 
his. He followed her instructions and soon their thumbs were 
battling for the top position. Reyes won handily, trapping her 
opponent's thumb in a matter of seconds.

"Two out of three?" Gibson pleaded.

Monica pulled her hand away. "And what percentage would that be?"

Gibso grunted and threw his head into his palms. "NO!!!" He cried 
out in mock terror. "NO MATH!!!"

"Well?" Reyes asked patiently. "No rematch without an answer."

"Sixty-seven percent," Gibson grumbled, then thrust his hand to the 
middle of the table.

After another humiliating defeat, he asked, "Three out of five?"

Reyes pulled her hand away and raised her eyebrows in expectation.

"Sixty percent," Gibson sighed resignedly.

By the time the bells rang for the next series of prayers and chants, 
they had thoroughly reviewed percentages and long division. Reyes' 
advantage stood at a lucky thirteen to one.

"Let's take a break," Reyes suggested. "I don't think either of us 
could hold a pencil right now anyway!" she added, shaking her hand. 
Gibson stood up and shook his hand in rhythm with hers.

"I hope nobody is looking in the window," he laughed.

Reyes put her hand across his shoulders as they walked toward the 
courtyard. She dropped it to her side when they passed through the 
courtyard door, and she could hear Gibson sigh with relief. They 
strolled the perimeter of the courtyard to the light treble of the 
nuns' chanting their afternoon psalms. When they came to the bench 
near the rose bush, Reyes asked, "Do you know why 'sub rosa' means in 
secret?"

Gibson shook his head. "But I know you're dying to tell me!"

Monica sighed but ignored his remark. "The rose became a symbol of 
secrecy," she said, kneeling next to the rose bush. Taking a Swiss 
Army knif from her jeans pocket, she cut a rose from a lower branch 
as she continued, "...because in Greek mythology, Cupid gave it to 
someone who had overheard two lovers." She stood up and laid the 
rose atop the six-foot adobe wall. "And ever since, all 
conversations held underneath a rose were kept secret." She walked 
back to the bench and sat a few feet from Gibson.

Gibson looked at the rose, then to Reyes' impishly conspiratorial 
face.

"So," she smirked. "What happened between you and Rosalita?" Gibson 
looked at her warily, but Monica persisted. "I never betray a 
confidence," she assured him.