“We trust in the will of God!” The people cried together in a deafening chorus.
All over the world, after all the years of difficulty, decades of diminishing spirituality, so many people still believed.
But the plagues, the famines, the unexplained sicknesses, especially of children, continued unabated. Everywhere, people talked of the Apocalypse, perhaps the end of the world.
Which explained why so many were suddenly going to church.
Chapter 96
JUSTIN AND ROSETTI were nearly at the Galaher house and neither of them had ever seen so many birds. The woods were filled with them and so was the darkening sky.
As the English Ford hummed along the undulating country roads, Justin felt the weight of the heavy metallic sky looming overhead. He was being tested now. There was a powerful voice in his head.
You know that you shouldn’t be here. Your faith isn’t strong enough. You don’t even want to be a priest anymore.
You want to be with her. It’s the only thing that matters to you now. You love Anne Fitzgerald more than you love God. Leave this place.
Go to Anne.
Or die!
He couldn’t stop the troubling thoughts. He wondered if Father Rosetti sensed his inner torment. He turned the wheel of the car into the driveway that cut through an open field.
They had finally arrived at the Galaher house outside Maam Cross. But it was strange, Justin thought, staring at the unfamiliar stucco bungalow and barn that had appeared in the Cortina’s dusty windshield.
It isn’t as it was before. Something has changed.
“Something’s wrong,” he muttered as he stopped the sedan in front of the house.
Rosetti said nothing. He’d been silent for nearly the entire ride.
Justin studied the small house. There was an unremembered television antenna. It looked like a snarled branch caught on the thatched roof. It was hanging loose, as if blown down by a storm. The grass was pale now, no longer a lush loden green. The cottage seemed to be listing to one side.
It was all wrong, and he was almost certain his imagination wasn’t playing tricks. Everything looked different — or was it his imagination?
Tricks! he thought. The Devil plays tricks. Is the Devil here in Maam Cross?
As they arrived at the door, he saw Rosetti become highly agitated. He threw open the heavy wooden door without knocking. He searched the house in seconds, then burst back out. His eyes were wide with fear.
“The girl’s mother is dead, Justin. She’s hanging from the ceiling upstairs. So is the nun from the convent school! We have to find Colleen. Help me, Father.”
As they walked to the barn, a burly young priest appeared. A mop of red hair blew around his face. The priest blocked the entrance to the barn. His fists were clenched; his eyes were wide.
“Colleen is in here,” said the priest forcefully. “I’m Father Flannery from the parish. I’m taking care of her now. We care for our own.”
“Be gone, Satan!” Rosetti bellowed at the priest. “You have no power over me! You have no power over Father O’Carroll. You have no power here on earth! Not yet, anyway.”
Rosetti shoved the redheaded priest aside with a powerful motion of his arm. Flannery quickly regained his balance. He rushed at Rosetti and again threw himself between the priest and the doorway.
“You can’t go in! This doesn’t concern you! This girl is one of ours!”
“No!” Rosetti screamed at the top of his voice. “Never! You have no power over this poor innocent girl.”
As Justin watched, Rosetti grabbed a pitchfork that was leaning against the barn. “Move,” he warned, his voice thrumming with danger. “Move or I will pierce your infernal heart.”
“It’s my child,” the priest suddenly hissed, his face twisting with rage. “I’m the father of that bairn. I’m one of the child’s fathers!” he said, then laughed out loud.
“You are not the father!” Rosetti said. He held the pitchfork with both hands, leveled at Flannery’s chest. “You are from Hell — and to there you will return!”
With a powerful thrust, Nicholas Rosetti drove the pitchfork into the red-haired priest’s chest. He fell over backward and lay in the dirt of the front yard.
His blank eyes stared up at the heavens.
“Go straight to Hell!” Rosetti said.
Chapter 97
NICHOLAS ROSETTI CARRIED the young girl out of the barn. Colleen tucked her face under the crook of his chin. She seemed to turn herself completely over to his protection. She was so young, and so very close to giving birth.
“He was lying,” said Colleen. “I don’t know why. But he was lying. He’s not the father of this child. I swear it. You have to believe me.”
“I know that, Colleen. Don’t trouble yourself. You must be strong for the baby’s sake.”
Rosetti directed his next comments to Justin, who was following close behind him. “Sister Katherine wasn’t strong enough!” he said as they crossed the barnyard. “We have to be strong, Justin. Yesterday I told you I trusted you. I do trust you. I trust no one but you and myself. Watch the body of Father Flannery. If it’s necessary, kill Father Flannery again!”
Entering the cottage, Justin had a feeling of vertigo. The whole world seemed to be spinning out of control. The living room looked different. A big mahogany grandfather clock that reached to the beams was ticking somberly. It wasn’t there before.
My God, he had just watched the murder of a priest. He’d done nothing to stop it. Why?
Because he believed in evil? Because he was surrounded by it? Because Hell was right here on earth?
“The Beavier child should be born quietly too. Out of the public eye, just like this one,” Rosetti complained. “The crowds in Rome — a terrible mistake.”
“Why are we here?” Justin asked. “Why Colleen?”
“I have the same question, Father. We’ll see very soon.”
Bending low to avoid the heavy ceiling beams, Rosetti and Justin entered the small room off the kitchen. Justin turned back the threadbare bed coverings. He helped ease the pregnant girl onto the bed.
“Oooh, the pain is terrible,” Colleen cried. She clutched at the crucifix that hung from a chain around her neck.
Rosetti looked at Justin. “Will you please get me my stole, Justin? Also the manual.”
Colleen was having severe contractions and labor pains. Her small freckled face looked almost anemic. It was covered with perspiration. Justin could see movement in the swell of her belly beneath the blankets.
“Where is the doctor?” he asked suddenly. “Why isn’t the doctor here yet?”
Rosetti’s eyes narrowed. “We are going to deliver the child,” he whispered.
Chapter 98
THE SKIES OVER ROME had never been so dark and foreboding. Streaks of lightning stabbed the city. Rain fell in torrents.
The delivery room inside Rome’s Salvatore Mundi Hospital was calm and vast and sparkling white. It must have seemed as scary as a morgue to Kathleen, though. It certainly did to me.
Kathleen seemed fine again. She had screamed and lost control when the pope had entered her room, but now she was herself again, and she had no memory of his visit or her terrified, violent reaction to him.
A nervous group of Salvatorian Sisters in immaculate white uniforms and starched, veil-like headdresses were busily at work assisting the special team of doctors. Kathleen’s mother and father visited, but neither seemed comfortable in the birthing room. Nor did Kathleen appear to want them there.
“You’re staying, Anne?” she asked me as soon as they left.
“Of course. As long as you want me here.”
As two of the nuns effortlessly transferred her from the gurney to the sterile white delivery table, Kathleen closed her eyes. The nurses gently placed her feet in cold metal obstetric stirrups. This was it.
They swiveled down a mirror so that she could watch herself. She looked into her own eyes, and I wonder
ed what she saw there.
“No! Please!” Kathleen suddenly shouted in the bustling delivery room.
“It’s all right, Kathleen. Everything is fine so far,” she heard a calming male voice tell her.
We both turned to where the voice had come from.
A good-looking man in loose-fitting white scrubs stood there, his dark brown eyes sparkling with amusement. A harsh light was glinting behind him. It almost seemed to be winking out of the doctor’s right eye.
“I am Dr. Annunziata. You remember me? We met last night in your room. I would like to give you something to help with the delivery, Kathleen. What we call an epidural. Okay?”
Kathleen answered with a gut-wrenching moan. “I don’t feel well. I think something’s wrong. It feels odd in my stomach. It feels really bad. Almost as if there are more babies than one.”
Dr. Annunziata nodded sympathetically. “Just one baby, I promise. Believe it or not, everything is absolutely perfect so far. You are in glowing health, wonderful condition to have a beautiful baby today.”
“I hope so,” Kathleen mumbled.
A second doctor pierced a long sharp needle into her back. It hurt me just to watch the needle go into Kathleen.
Then Kathleen saw that I was looking on from behind a white gauze mask. “You won’t leave? No matter what?”
“No matter what,” I promised and gently patted her. I couldn’t leave if I wanted to. I had a job to do here.
“You’re going to have a beautiful baby, Kathleen,” Dr. Annunziata said. “This is my four thousand three hundred sixty-fourth baby. Did you know that? Absolutely true.
“Nothing to it,” the doctor whispered beguilingly to Kathleen. “Nothing can possibly go wrong.”
Chapter 99
NO ONE COULD POSSIBLY understand how she felt. Kathleen still couldn’t believe any of this was happening to her. In that regard, nothing had changed since the abortion clinic in Boston. She squeezed her eyes shut real hard.
It was brighter and more vivid behind her eyelids than in the hospital delivery room. She felt as if she were being lifted, then carried far away from Salvatore Mundi. Her baby was insignificant in the sweep of the universe and infinite time.
I am in so far over my head. This is so horrible. It must be a nightmare.
What is happening? Oh, my God, am I dying? she thought. Please, let me wake up from this.
“Push,” she heard Anne say, and that brought her back to the present for an instant. Father Rosetti had told her to trust Anne, no matter what happened. She did. Anne was the only one she trusted. Anne was the best person here, the most solid, maybe the holiest.
Through eyes opened only a slit, a scene came to Kathleen in a rush. It was nine months ago. It was the night of the dance, January 23.
She remembered everything as if it were happening all over again.
Her dress, the pale green satin Vera Wang that she had begged her mother to buy for her in Boston, was crumpled up underneath her breasts. There was a terrible weight on her chest. She could hardly breathe.
She saw herself in the speedy yellow Mercedes. Yes, she remembered that. Jamie was driving, and he looked drop-dead gorgeous. She could see every detail of his face and hair, and the way he looked at her. His good looks scared her but pleased her too.
The car had a dark, shiny interior and a gleaming instrument panel. The radio was blaring loud rock and roll, one group after another — Matchbox 20, Silverchain, Green Day, ’N Sync.
Then everything had changed — just like that.
They stopped to park, and he wanted to go all the way. He expected it. Jamie began yelling at her over the rhythm-heavy rock music. He was using words that were so sexual, so crude and suggestive. Kathleen held both her hands over her ears.
They were at gloomy, pitch-black Sachuest Point and it was late at night. No one was around but the two of them.
“I told you no!” she finally yelled back at him. “No means no. Please, Jamie. Please listen to what I’m saying. Don’t you dare touch me! Take me home. Is that clear enough?”
Then Jamie went really wild and berserk and nuclear. Kathleen felt a rough hand mauling her chest, grabbing at her between her legs. Jamie’s voice was suddenly much deeper, scarier. He outweighed her by a hundred pounds and he was strong.
She was terribly afraid of him now. So helpless in the dark, deserted park.
She didn’t know what to do, or how to stop him. She bit down hard into the back of his outstretched hand. Jamie screamed in pain.
He threw the door open on her side, then pushed at her roughly. Jamie was yelling obscenities at her, the worst she’d ever heard, even at school. His face was beet red.
“Walk home, Ice Queen! Walk, you cunt!”
Suddenly, another car pulled up in the lovers’ lane. Two boys got out. They staggered, looking drunk or stoned or both. She knew them. It was Peter Thompson and Chris Raleigh. Had they been following behind the Mercedes?
Kathleen stumbled out onto the crunching, frozen roadside. The raw smell of freezing cold ocean filled her nose. Her body tingled from the biting cold.
Jamie and the two other boys came up from behind. Jamie lunged at her. She had never seen anyone so out of control and angry in her life. The other two boys were almost as bad.
She didn’t want to remember any more of this.
She didn’t want to remember Jamie Jordan and what had really happened at Sachuest Point.
“Push, Kathleen,” she heard.
Chapter 100
SWEAT DRIPPED OFF JUSTIN’S forehead and ran down the sides of his face in rivulets. It was hot and dank and close in the small bedroom. It was also the most intimate experience Justin had ever had — to be present at a human birth, to watch this young girl deliver her baby.
He kept hearing the words over and over in his mind: If you can’t believe there can be a miracle now, a divine birth, how can you say that you ever believed?
Colleen Galaher was fully dilated and she was working hard to deliver the child. He was right there with her.
Justin wondered if the fourteen-year-old girl had been in any way prepared for the intense pain. He now understood a little of what it was like for a woman to have a baby. He felt humbled by the experience. He also felt tender and loving toward the patiently suffering girl. Most of all, he felt blessed.
If you can’t believe there can be a miracle now.
But he could, by God, he did believe!
Once or twice, his mind left the cottage room in Maam Cross. He wondered what was happening in Rome. He was terribly afraid for Kathleen and Anne. If anything happened to them he could never forgive himself.
In the last few minutes a profound change had come over him. He was starting to believe that Colleen was the true virgin, that hers was the true holy child. If that was so, what would happen in Rome? What was happening? Had Anne been put in danger by Father Rosetti?
In the small bed with the tattered blankets, the Irish girl cried softly and tried to be brave. She was much prettier than he had thought. The birth of her child was tense and scary, but it was also the most beautiful thing Justin had ever witnessed in his life.
“Be prepared for anything,” he heard Rosetti warn from the other side of the bed. “You’re drifting. Stay with us, Justin.”
“I’m right here, Father. I’m ready.”
“Are you ready for this?” Rosetti asked.
As he looked on, a tiny head began to slide from between Colleen’s thin legs. Suddenly, he was seeing life in a way he never had before. He understood something about marriage and love and sex that he had never understood before.
Justin reached out and gently placed his hand under the child’s tiny head. It had thick dark hair like Jesus’ as a man. He was rapt with awe.
“He’s here!” Colleen announced in a soft, reverent voice. “He has come.”
Chapter 101
“PUSH,” KATHLEEN HEARD.
She pushed. God, how she pushed. She pushed Ja
mie Jordan away and tried to run as fast as she could for the road out of Sachuest Point.
The skirt of her satin dress was slim and restricting. She pulled it up around her waist and ran. Jamie was insane about not getting what he wanted. What was he thinking? What was he doing? What about the other boys? Why were they here?
Behind her, both cars accelerated, shooting up sprays of gravel, white smoke, sand, and dirt. Jamie and the other boys were heading back to Newport without her?
Oh, my God, it’s freezing, Kathleen realized, and began to panic. He can’t just leave me out here. How can he be so mad? I don’t belong to him. He has no right. I didn’t lead him on. I didn’t promise him anything.
Tears blinded Kathleen. The harsh, strong wind coming off the ocean blew right through her clothing, blew her beautiful silver headband off her head. Dervishes of powdery snow swirled around her thin-soled shoes.
He has to come back for me. I’ll freeze out here. I could die. I will die!
Kathleen slowed to a walk on the crusty dirt road. She had no other choice. This was the only way back to town, and it was miles.
She pointed herself toward the distant pocket of lights that were the city of Newport. Everywhere she looked there was a faint, eerie ground glow. All around her, the ocean was roaring like a squadron of low-flying airplanes. No one would hear her screams for help.
One of her feet struck a sharp, protruding rock. She fell, striking the ground hard. She groaned and sobbed loudly. She had twisted her leg. Kathleen curled herself into a small, safe ball on the ground. That felt better — better than facing the freezing cold.
She wondered if she could sleep right here. Be all right in the morning — just sleep. No, she would be dead. She’d freeze to death.
How could Jamie and the others leave her out here?
Then Kathleen heard cars speeding back down the long stretch of park road. The bright lights were flashing through the bare-limbed trees and up the deserted, pitch-black road. Afterimages danced before Kathleen’s eyes, looping red and violet rings, waving streaks of silver, like in a dreamy dance hall.
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