Read The Fountains of Silence for Free Online Page B

not,” replies Puri. “This is an orphanage.”
    Sister Hortensia appears in the front window.
    “Come, why don’t you speak to Sister,” suggests Puri.
    The woman quickly recoils and flees down the dark sidewalk.
    Poor thing, thinks Puri. She’s gone mad.

11
    The table stretches the length of the entire dining room. As each course passes, the volume level grows. Twenty faces, illuminated by candles, shift and sway as they talk, creating patterns of light on the plaster ceiling. Summer homes, college alma maters, and who knows whom—each guest chatting, loading their side of the scale.
    Ben Stahl, seated next to Daniel, sips his scotch and watches the guests intently. He leans in, his cigarette dangerously close to Daniel’s sleeve.
    “All right, newsboy. Give me one word. What do you see here?”
    Daniel hesitates, pulling at the noose of his tie.
    “Quick, what do you see?”
    “Competition,” says Daniel.
    “Exactly!” Ben waves in agreement and, in the process, flings ash onto his plate. “A long, dark hallway of fragile egos. Come on, another word.”
    Daniel scans the guests. “Wealth?”
    “Yeah, wealth, but that’s not exactly on the nose. For accurate reporting you have to find the perfect word. The perfect word captures every subtlety. The perfect word shows true comprehension.”
    Ben’s hand punches syllables when he says “perfect word,” launching ash confetti to the tablecloth. Daniel stares at the glowing embers as they burn through the expensive fabric. He desperately wants to capture it on film.
    “Are you listening, Matheson?”
    “Yes, sorry. The perfect word.”
    “Correct. The word here isn’t ‘wealth,’ Matheson. The word is ‘fortune.’ Think on that as you’re taking pictures in Spain.” Ben pushes his chair back. “I need to find a litter box.”
    Ben is right. The perfect word is like the perfect camera angle; it expresses the true nature of the situation. Change the camera position slightly and the picture tells tales. Daniel thinks of the photo he took of the nun and the baby. Maybe he should mention it to Ben.
    Across the table, Daniel’s mother is seated next to Mrs. Van Dorn. Their faces are animated, but they speak in whispers. His mother suddenly looks into her lap. She inhales deeply.
    Daniel recognizes his mother’s wearied look, her bookmark between chapters. She’s trying to hide it from Nick’s mom. He turns to Nick and searches for conversation.
    “Do you have any siblings?”
    “A sister. She’s in New York. My mom leaves tomorrow to visit her.”
    “And your school in Switzerland. What’s that like?”
    “Le Rosey? It’s better than a tired boarding school in the States. We spend weekends traveling. Lots to take pictures of. Plenty of visits to Madame Claude off the Champs, you know?”
    “No, who’s that?”
    Nick laughs. “Do you have a girl back in Dallas?”
    “I did,” he says, eyeing his mother to make certain she can’t hear them. “It ended just before graduation.”
    “Well, that’s lucky. Now you’re single in Madrid for the summer. Tell your dad you need to rent a car from the hotel. My family’s car is a diplomatic vehicle, so we can’t use that. But with our own car and your connections,” a sly grin spreads across Nick’s face, “we’ll have a big time.”
    “My connections?”
    “Of course. It’s all about connections, cowboy. Your father’s an oiltycoon, negotiating drilling in Spain. Who do you think is authorizing that deal?”
    Daniel nods just slightly.
    “That’s right. Franco. Sounds like your father’s an influential fat cat. My dad said the embassy is processing your family’s paperwork for the orphanage deal.”
    Daniel looks at Nick.
    “Wait, you knew, right?” says Nick.
    Daniel nods slowly. “Yeah. Of course.”

12
    Midday noise floats up from the street and through the balcony door of Daniel’s room. Bands of sunshine wash over the chair where he sits with a