Free Inconceivable! by Tegan Wren

about specific details related to her medical treatment. He knew Rania was on her second round of chemo. He asked Treze if her new medication was causing her to have migraines as the previous medicine had done. His earnestness and sincerity pricked my heart. Sitting beside him, I noticed how his eyes softened. And they never shifted to his watch or the clock on the wall.
    After the last woman, Eva, gave her update, she added, “I know you may not have time, especially since you brought a guest, but would you play for us before you go?”
    Each woman in the circle smiled expectantly, and John stood. He walked over to a door, opened it, and wheeled out a harp. He set it near the circle and retrieved a small stool.
    As he played quietly, several of the women swayed. Others closed their eyes.
This is why he doesn’t play publicly. This is the only audience he needs.
    When he was done, the women gave him a farewell hug, a few added a peck on the cheek.
    “How often do you visit?” I asked when we were back in the SUV. The driver knew where to take us next, though I had no clue where we were going.
    “I come at least twice a year. Mette keeps me informed about each woman through email. Thanks for coming with me, by the way. I almost always come alone.”
    He spoke quietly, creating a seriousness and intimacy that surprised me. Even though the driver and Bernard were up front, it was a private moment. I physically jumped when John reached over and took my hand. John chuckled as though my unsteady behavior amused him.
    “Hatty, relax. I invited you today because I want to ask you a question. Would you be willing to spend time with me on a regular basis?”



reminded myself to breathe, suddenly aware I wasn’t taking normal breaths.
    “What do you mean?” The moment was heavy, ripe with possibility.
    “I mean I’d like to date you, or as we call it in our family, begin a formal courtship.”
    “Are you trying to woo me so I’ll plant stories on behalf of your family?”
    “Of course not. I’m trying to woo you, but my goals have nothing to do with journalism.”
    He likes me.
Likes
me, likes me.
Holy cannoli
. A minor bout of lightheadedness made me blink too much. “So, is this a date?”
    “No. In order for us to go on a date, you have to sign a contract that protects my family’s privacy and yours. Is that something you’re interested in doing?”
    “Are you asking me if I want to sign papers or if I want to date you?”
    “Both, I suppose.”
    “Then yes. To both.” The words slipped past my lips without forethought. In that moment, I saw a seedling planted squarely in my chest basking in the light of John’s attention. It bent toward the light of his humor, his smile, and his touch. I was so into this prince-slash-environmental scientist, he even influenced the metaphors that sprang to mind.
    Before I managed to verbalize any of the hundreds of thoughts competing in my brain, the car stopped in front of an imposing cathedral.
    “The church just closed to the public, so we have it to ourselves,” he said.
    “Is this St. Bavo’s? It’s one of the most famous cathedrals in Ghent, right?” It was the only tourist attraction I remembered from my online research of the city.
    “That’s right. Sint-Baafskathedraal to the locals. I’m impressed you know that. It’s named for the patron saint of the city. We’re going to see the famous Ghent altarpiece. Are you familiar with it?”
    “I’m going to have to plead American on this one. I’ve never heard of it.”
    He laughed. “Don’t worry. Unless you grew up near Belgium or studied European art history, you probably wouldn’t be familiar with it.”
    We got out of the car and walked into a cavernous vestibule that swallowed us whole. Inside, the church showcased the ageless tension between light and dark with its interior design.
    “I love European churches because they’re nothing like the modern Protestant churches in the states where you have