Of Images and Angels 6

They were looking for one of the many tourist information kiosks.
It was a short walk south from the Rotterdam central station. Among the many large buildings with odd shapes, they found the street. They did their best to keep track of the numbers. At one point she was sure they had found it, but it was a free-standing kiosk too far off the street in an open plaza. Preston stood staring into the glass front of a convention center. He pointed; “Is that it?”
There was a booth inside the lobby of the building. She doubled checked the address, then decided he was correct. This one had the same collection of pamphlets, maps, souvenirs, and transportation tickets as any other, but displayed differently. Preston decided this one included a wider array of languages than what usually festooned the ones at tourist traps. He stood back a bit and let Angie handle it.
“Konnten wir die Apfelwein-Anlage?” She held out the card Mr. Venkman had given her.
The woman behind the counter took the card and glanced at it. Without the slightest hint of a smile she dropped it somewhere behind her counter and pulled out a garish pamphlet with cartoon apples and jugs on the front. It was all in German, but she opened it and tapped a spot in one corner. Preston drew forward close enough to see that it was a single paragraph in tiny clear English text.
Angie looked up with a smile, took the pamphlet and turned to walk away. Part of Preston was thinking that this was getting pretty melodramatic. He started laughing and it was infectious; Angie chuckled but was not exactly sure what caused the hilarity. They were supposed to find a hostel called “The Room” down close to the water as their next landmark. The small typeface English paragraph in the pamphlet said they should walk down to the river quay directly nearest the hostel and someone would meet them. This made Preston just a little nervous, given how this whole mess started on a river barge.
They never got there. It seemed some portion of Rotterdam was always under renovation, with scaffolding and usually shrouds hanging from it. In sight of the hostel, they were forced to walk inside one of the half-darkened curtained side walks where noisy work was taking place above them. A workman suddenly stepped out and, with a very big smile, guided them inside the work area. He pointed to two folks dressed somewhat the same as they, who turned and walked off where they had been headed. The man placed hard plastic safety helmets on their heads and allowed them to watch from behind a billowing sheet of plastic. The couple walked all the way down to the nearest quay, stepped into a water taxi and rode off across the river.
Then the man guided them through a maze of temporary walls and curtains accompanied by the noise of various power tools along with the shouts of workers. No one seemed to pay them any attention at all. They approached a work van backed up under one of the tarps. The man opened one of the back doors and beckoned them inside, taking their safety helmets. It was loaded with rolls of carpet and thin foam padding, so they clambered on top. Preston couldn’t resist lying down lengthwise on a fat roll of padding and found it surprisingly comfortable. Angie arranged herself along a roll next to him. They couldn’t see who got into the front seat and started the motor, but decided it was too late to worry about such things any more.
Preston awoke to see Angie leaning back with her rump down between two of the large diameter rolls. He checked his watch; two hours so far and truck kept zooming along at highway speeds. It was a noisy ride, but they were able to talk by putting their faces close together.
She asked, “Why do you suppose he was so adamant about us remaining physically close?”
Preston didn’t hesitate. “Trust. Anyone trying to hurt us would naturally try to use one of us against the other. So long as we are together, we can watch each other and our trust grows. There’s no such thing as absolute trust, because we can’t even trust our selves, in one sense. But once we confide in each other, we become responsible for each other until it’s over with.”
He paused a moment, and then continued. “If you believe in God and angels, there are some things you just take on faith. You have to listen to something stronger and yet quieter than mere intellect. Something in the circumstances told me to trust you, and it appears you trusted me already.”
Angie nodded affirmatively.
“You can’t always test and analyze things. You can’t always trust the results when you do analyze. You have to learn to choose some things on factors beyond the conscious mind. For every demon there are two angels; when you run toward a clear conscience, things tend to work out in the long run. For now, at least, you and I can trust each other far more than anyone else in this world.”
She took his hand. “Did you mean it literally when you asked if I wanted to marry you?”
He explained he didn’t care about government or church permits, but at that moment he had been ready to make a genuine offer of lifetime commitment, and hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he was even more sure it was a good idea.
“I think so, too,” she said with a smile. He responded by half rolling over and kissing her lips until she nearly melted.