Book Read Free

Immaculate Heart

Page 10

by Camille DeAngelis


  FATHER DOWD

  (sighing)

  From the beginning, Síle. From the very beginning. Why were you up on the hill that day?

  SÍLE

  We go up there to talk. There’s space up there, and the air is fresh.

  FATHER DOWD

  You’re younger than the others. How does your sister like you tagging along with them at the end of the school day?

  SÍLE

  I’m not taggin’ along, Father.

  The two exchange a look. She’s a smart girl; she knows he’ll only humor her, but she still has to let him.

  FATHER DOWD

  All right. Would you say you and your sister are friends?

  SÍLE

  I’d say we are.

  FATHER DOWD

  But would she have something else to say about it?

  Síle replies with a defiant lift of the chin.

  SÍLE

  Someday we’ll be better friends than we are now.

  FATHER DOWD

  I hope that’s so. And tell me, are you friendly with Tess?

  SÍLE

  Oh, aye. Tess is a friend. She’s always been kind to me.

  FATHER DOWD

  Tess is kind to everyone.

  (after a pause)

  And as for Declan?

  SÍLE

  What about him?

  FATHER DOWD

  They tell me he and your sister are going out.

  SÍLE

  I suppose they are. Once or twice I’ve seen them snoggin’ behind the garage. But they don’t hold hands or anythin’ whilst we’re all together.

  The priest responds with a look of distaste. He might be able to supervise the school dances, but he holds no jurisdiction behind the family garage.

  FATHER DOWD

  Do you get on with him?

  SÍLE

  Declan? He’s grand.

  FATHER DOWD

  He’s nice to you?

  SÍLE

  He gives me the second Snack bar when Orla doesn’t want it.

  FATHER DOWD

  It sounds like you get on better with your sister’s friends than you do with Orla herself.

  SÍLE

  (defensively)

  I love my sister.

  (pauses)

  But most of the time, whatever I say, it’s the wrong thing.

  FATHER DOWD

  Has the vision changed things a’tall? Between the two of ye?

  SÍLE

  Sometimes I think it has. Other times we’re just as we were, and she walks by me like I’m a piece of the furniture.

  FATHER DOWD

  Have you spoken with her about what the Blessed Mother said to each of ye?

  SÍLE

  Orla agrees we’re meant to take Our Lady’s message into the world.

  (desolately)

  When we talk about the messages, she forgets that I’m a pest.

  FATHER DOWD

  Tell me how it began, and do your best to recall the details. You went up to the hill after school, as usual? Do you remember what the four of ye were talking about?

  SÍLE

  Declan was tellin’ us about a man he met who worked on a cargo ship and that’s how he got to see the world.

  FATHER DOWD

  (scoffing)

  And how would Declan meet such a man?

  SÍLE

  (wryly)

  I couldn’t say, Father. He was about to tell us, and Our Lady broke in.

  FATHER DOWD

  None of that cheek, now. Tell us how it started.

  SÍLE

  Declan was talkin’, but all of a sudden he sounded far away, like I had a ringin’ in me ears, only there wasn’t any ringin’. It was very quiet, and there’d been a wind before but it died away all sudden-like. I found myself lookin’ up toward the statue in the grotto, but it wasn’t there anymore, and that’s when the light started.

  FATHER DOWD

  Tell us about the light.

  SÍLE

  It was so warm and lovely. Better than a hot cup of tea when you’ve just come in out of the rain. That’s what Her love feels like.

  FATHER DOWD

  Our Lady’s love for the world?

  SÍLE

  Her love for me.

  (pauses)

  And for the world.

  Here is another opportunity to put the girl in her place, and the priest pounces on it.

  FATHER DOWD

  Remember, Síle. This isn’t about you.

  SÍLE

  No, Father. But She doesn’t love us all the same. She loves us equal, but She doesn’t love us the same.

  FATHER DOWD

  She said that, did she?

  SÍLE

  She did. She said God made each of us in a new mold, and no mold is any more perfect than the others.

  FATHER DOWD

  But what did she say, in the very beginning? When you saw her in the light?

  SÍLE

  She said, “Do you know me, child?” And I said, “I do. You’re the Queen of Heaven,” and She smiled, and when She smiled, She just lit the whole world up. Everywhere was brightness.

  FATHER DOWD

  (softening)

  That must have made you feel very happy.

  The girl’s eyes fill with tears.

  SÍLE

  I was never happier in all my life.

  FATHER DOWD

  And what did Our Lady look like?

  SÍLE

  (sniffling)

  Not like She looks in the paintings and statues. She had a real face, like a real woman.

  FATHER DOWD

  What do you mean,”a real face”?

  SÍLE

  In the books and paintings and statues, the Blessed Mother always looks like a mannequin in a shop window. Haven’t you ever noticed that, Father? The real Mary looks like somebody’s mam.

  A wry little smile plays on the priest’s lips, but he quickly suppresses it.

  FATHER DOWD

  Now there’s an apt description … though not a particularly reverent one.

  SÍLE

  She had long black hair, and She was wearin’ Her blue mantle, but I could still see it flowed down to Her waist. And She had dark eyes. Smilin’ brown eyes, like She had a story She couldn’t wait to tell me. And Her hands were long and pale and She had them laid over Her heart, and all of Her was aglow, even Her toes. Her feet were bare, Father.

  FATHER DOWD

  What did she say to you?

  SÍLE

  She said, “I need your help. Will you carry my words out into the wide world?” And we said we would.

  FATHER DOWD

  You heard the others give their assent?

  SÍLE

  I did, Father. There were times She called me by name, but I knew She was saying the same thing to each of us.

  FATHER DOWD

  Did you ask her why she’d chosen you?

  SÍLE

  I didn’t, Father. It didn’t occur to me.

  FATHER DOWD

  It occurred to Tess.

  SÍLE

  Maybe She only came to the rest of us because of Tess.

  FATHER DOWD

  I can see you don’t believe that.

  SÍLE

  No, Father.

  FATHER DOWD

  You believe you were chosen.

  SÍLE

  We were chosen. I look back on all the months we’d been going up there to the grotto, and I see it now. I see why we were drawn there.

  FATHER DOWD

  Now, hold on a minute. You’ve admitted the four of ye only went up there to gossip.

  SÍLE

  We went up and spoke of ordinary things, that’s true. But She was calling us there. Waiting for the day when we’d be ready to hear Her.

  FATHER DOWD

  What changed? What was different about the first of November?

  SÍLE

  I don’t know, Father.

  FATHER DOWD

/>   All right. What happened next? Did she give you her first message?

  SÍLE

  She did, Father. She said we weren’t meant to suffer.

  The priest is visibly taken aback.

  FATHER DOWD

  She can’t have said that. Life is suffering, child.

  SÍLE

  She did say it. She said we’d built this world of suffering, and if we’d made it, we could unmake it … and build a new world.

  FATHER DOWD

  (contemptuously)

  And just how do you propose to build this new world?

  SÍLE

  ’Tisn’t as grand as it sounds, Father. She says we must build the new world out of the things we can’t touch or see. Love will be the new currency, She says. The only currency from now on.

  FATHER DOWD

  (sneering)

  That’s very poetical.

  SÍLE

  I didn’t make it up. That was exactly how the Blessed Mother said it.

  FATHER DOWD

  And what had she to say of sin, and repentance, and forgiveness?

  SÍLE

  She didn’t speak of sin, Father.

  FATHER DOWD

  Tess told me she had quite a bit to say on the subject.

  SÍLE

  I remember what She said to me. I remember it clearly.

  FATHER DOWD

  I’m sure you do.

  SÍLE

  Maybe She had different messages for each of us.

  FATHER DOWD

  That’s not what you told me to begin with. You said she spoke the same to each of you.

  SÍLE

  I THOUGHT SHE HAD, FATHER.

  FATHER DOWD

  (with a huff of frustration)

  How am I to tease out what’s actually occurred here?

  SÍLE

  I know what She said to me, Father. It may be the same or it may be different from what the others heard, but I know what I heard Her say.

  FATHER DOWD

  Right. So she’d nothing to say of sin. Then what did she say to you?

  SÍLE

  She told me to pray. First I should pray for my own sake, for it’s only after I’ve offered up my secrets that I’ll be free to pray that everyone else might do the same.

  FATHER DOWD

  Aye, that’s true, child. That’s why you must come to confession. You see, Síle: She spoke of sin after all.

  SÍLE

  Still, it wasn’t like how you speak of it in your homilies, Father. She made it sound as simple as washin’ your hands before dinner.

  FATHER DOWD

  It’s easy to sin. It’s the recognizing you’ve done wrong and asking the Lord for forgiveness that’s the hard part. Didn’t Our Lady tell you that?

  SÍLE

  She never used the word “sin.”

  FATHER DOWD

  You mean to say she actually spoke of “offering up your secrets”?

  SÍLE

  I don’t remember the words She used when She said that part. But I remember Her meaning.

  FATHER DOWD

  What did she say next?

  SÍLE

  You’re not going to like it, Father. I didn’t want to tell you before because you were already so—

  FATHER DOWD

  (sighs)

  Out with it, Síle.

  SÍLE

  She said to remind you of the sixth beatitude.

  The priest stares at the girl. He can’t even fathom her audacity.

  FATHER DOWD

  Remind … remind me?

  SÍLE

  I told Her you’d think I was being cheeky, but She said I shouldn’t mind. “Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God.”

  FATHER DOWD

  (explosively)

  I well remember the sixth beatitude, Síle!

  SÍLE

  I was only sayin’.

  FATHER DOWD

  “How shall the young remain sinless? By obeying Your Word.” That’s from the Psalms. You said before that the Blessed Mother told you your heart wasn’t pure.

  SÍLE

  (pensively)

  Sometimes I feel like I’ve done something terrible and I’m the only one who can’t remember it.

  FATHER DOWD

  No one’s implying you’ve lied to your mother or cheated on an exam. But it’s terribly easy to congratulate ourselves for leading fine upstanding lives when we harbor unkind thoughts and fantasies, and when we hold ourselves above others even if we pretend not to. Those are the secrets Our Lady spoke to you about.

  SÍLE

  But I don’t have unkind thoughts or fantasies.

  FATHER DOWD

  Everyone has unkind thoughts.

  SÍLE

  Even you, Father?

  FATHER DOWD

  Even I.

  (clearing his throat)

  Now tell me what happened when the Blessed Mother took her leave. What did she say to you then?

  SÍLE

  She said She would come to us again, and that She loved us all very much, and that I should keep a record of our conversations. A diary, like.

  FATHER DOWD

  She didn’t say that you should devote yourself to the catechism?

  SÍLE

  No, Father. Then She just sort of melted into the air, like a mist, only it was the light that went away. The world seemed so dim to us after that.

  FATHER DOWD

  (thoughtfully but firmly)

  I believe Our Lady left it to me to guide you in your devotions. You and Orla must come to Mass. No more having a lie-in on a Sunday. And I’d like ye to come to study group on the Tuesday evening.

  SÍLE

  Aye, Father. We will.

  FATHER DOWD

  And I’d like to see that diary from time to time.

  SÍLE

  Oh, but I couldn’t, Father. There are some things She says you aren’t ready to hear.

  Father Dowd grows even more red in the face. (She’s making it up, all of it. It doesn’t matter what Teresa said she saw.)

  FATHER DOWD

  You mean to say there’s more you haven’t told me?

  SÍLE

  (with sudden energy)

  Oh, aye! You know She’s been comin’ to us two or three times a week for all this time, and there’s so much She wants to say.…

  * * *

  Over the past several nights, I’d begun to feel more comfortable at Napper Tandy’s than I had even at Brona’s. It was a nice, relaxed place to have a drink, and up to this point, everyone had been very friendly toward me.

  But tonight there was a big game on, and the pub was crowded with raucous men in football jerseys, their eyes fastened to the television above the bar, cigarettes tucked behind their ears. Most of them rolled their own. “A rough sort,” my grandmother would have called them. Brona leaned into me and said, “I don’t care for the pub on nights like this.”

  “We could go somewhere else,” I said.

  Leo shrugged. “The match will be over soon.”

  “It’s only just started,” Paudie pointed out.

  “And we’ve only just started our pints!” Leo cried.

  At halftime the soccer fans made for the door to smoke their cigarettes, but a few of them lingered outside the snug. “Evening, gentlemen,” said one, as another came out with, “How’re ya, now?” The first man bobbed his chin in my direction. “Who’s the Yank?”

  “None of that, now,” Paudie said coldly. “We’ll have none of that tone here.”

  “He is a Yank, isn’t he?”

  “Céad míle fáilte,” sneered the other man from behind the first. “Ireland welcomes you home to her shriveled bosom.”

  “James Hennessey!” Brona piped up. “Your mam never raised you to speak that way, not to anyone.”

  Brona’s talking-to drew several more men to the table. I could see them staring at me out of the corner of my eye. “Sure, I don’t mean to offend ya, Mrs. Tuohy,” Hen
nessey said. “It’s just that this one shows up from America, and all he’s doin’ is askin’ questions about things we’re better off forgetting.”

  I leaned forward, eager to defuse this without any more help from a well-meaning widow. “Excuse me,” I said, “but I have no idea who you are. I can’t see why my presence here should matter to you in the slightest.”

  From the back of the crowd a shrill voice parroted, “I can’t see why my presence here should matter to you in the slightest!”

  Good grief. How had this pub suddenly turned into middle school all over again? “Pay them no mind, lad,” Paudie was saying under his breath. “They’re most of them on the dole.”

  “Ye ought to be ashamed of yerselves.” Brona was fierce, and I felt a little explosion of love for her deep in my chest. “Take that nonsense back to the schoolyard, the lot o’ ye.”

  The man in the green jersey flicked me a look—as if to say we haven’t finished with you yet—but there was no arguing with Brona Tuohy.

  “Nearly forty years of age, and would you look at them,” Brona sighed as the last of the men filed out the door.

 

‹ Prev