The Loved and the Lost by Lory Kaufman Page A

himself.
    Lincoln opened his eyes to see what Ugilino was doing. He was just squatting there, eyes open, a sad, blank look on his face.
    Ugilino was now remembering the last time he saw Father Aaron. It was in the market and Signora Baroni had cleaned and salved the big cut the Master had given him. She told him to go wash the rest of himself at the fountain before going home and Ugilino, now scrubbed and still wet, was starting off home when he saw Father Aaron talking to the herbalist.
    â€˜The Father has come to pay Signora Baroni for fixin’ my head,’ he thought. ‘The Father does not lie and cheat like everybody else. He does what he says he will do.’ Ugilino remembered walking up to the Father and herbalist, catching them by surprise. Father Aaron was talking to the Signora, and when he got close, he could hear they were talking in some odd language. He remembered only one strange word from the conversation. “. . . Australia . . .”
    Lincoln looked at Medeea. She raised her eyebrows, like she was asking Lincoln, “So, do you know what to do now?” Lincoln closed his eyes and went back into Ugi’s mind. Remembering what he was told to do in a case like this at one of the lectures, he dove deeper into Ugilino’s memory. Ugi might not be able to recall the conversation he had overheard, but it was there, buried. The neuron degradation might not make it possible for complete recovery, but it would be close.
    â€˜Ah, here it is.’
    â€œSo, Catherine. Have you been home to Australia lately?” Arimus had said in Earth Common.
    â€œYes, I was home a month with my family,” Signora Baroni answered. “I just got back a few days ago.”
    Lincoln’s eyes popped open again.
    â€œSignora Baroni is a History Camp elder?” he asked Medeea.
    Again, she shrugged. “We’ll talk of that later. Get back in there.”
    Lincoln put a hand to his head and leapt back into Ugi’s mind. Ugilino remembered the Father being surprised to see him as he turned. Then the priest smiled. Ugi, and thus Lincoln, watched Father Aaron looking at the different, freshly washed parts of Ugilino, touching his wet hair in a friendly fashion.
    â€œWhat language was that you and the Signora spoke?” Ugilino asked.
    â€œOh, Herbalist Baroni and I are old friends,” Arimus replied evasively, but still smiling.
    â€œThat’s what I . . . like . . . about you Father. You are friends with everybody. You have no enemies,” Ugilino had said, but now he cursed himself. ‘Why did I say ‘like’? I wanted to say ‘love’. Why, why, why?’
    That’s when Father Aaron had given him the satchel of herbs to take home for his mistress. He told Ugi to tell everybody he would be back in a month. Then he put his arm around Ugilino and walked with him a bit. Lincoln felt the warm feeling Ugilino got from knowing that someone was not afraid to touch his ugly body.
    â€œI’m going on a journey through the mountains, Ugilino,” the Father had said. “Pray for me as I shall pray for you. Remember, in this world where we don’t know when God will call us to him, believe in yourself and remember always, God loves you and . . . I love you.”
    Lincoln now knew Arimus was telling Ugilino this because he was going to fake his own death, and this would be the last time he could ever talk to the youth. Now that Lincoln could see into the mind of the boy, he felt sorry for him.
    Lincoln felt a break in his subject’s thoughts and opened his eyes again. Ugilino had finished his business and was standing up. A church bell began to peal in the distance. It rang eight times.
    â€˜I still might be able to get to the funeral,’ Ugilino thought as he pulled up his braise and quickly tied the cord. He began to run, remembering Father Arimus asking him, “Pray for me,” and tears began to run from Ugilino’s eyes again.