by Regina Doman
Just as Leon started the engine, Bear’s cell phone rang. It was Fish. “Where are you?” his brother demanded.
“I found her!” Bear yelled back into the phone.
Fish yelled, “What? Blanche? How? Where? Where are you? How can we get there? Hold on—Rose, yes, yes, yes, he found her, please be quiet for a second—”
Brother Charley, followed by two tail-wagging Rottweilers, had run out to the car and was looking in the window, wanting to know what was going on.
“Our Lady of Mercy Hospital—it’s—here—can you explain to him?” Bear shoved the cell phone at a surprised Charley, who took it as Leon threw the car into reverse and screeched back seven feet.
“Uh—hello?” The big friar said into the phone just as Leon shifted again and they pulled away with a roar.
On the way to the hospital, Brother Leon (Bear found out that was his name) talked non-stop about the whole situation. Bear was so absorbed in listening and asking questions of his own that neither of them noticed the traffic accidents they almost caused.
If the friars who followed them in the van hadn’t already known the destination, they would have had no trouble figuring out which way Leon and Bear had gone.
After they parked in front of the hospital, Leon leapt out of the car, habit flapping behind him with Bear, his hair flying in all directions, hot on his heels. The odd pair dodged through the halls, Leon waving at the nurses and doctors they passed, not bothering to explain.
But when they reached the door, Leon drew up short and gestured to Bear to go in first.
“After you,” Bear said.
“No,” said Leon. “She’s been waiting for you. You take over from here.”
Bear stared at him. “How do you know?”
“Not too hard to put the pieces together. You go.”
Looking bewildered, Bear opened the door and went in.
Leon sat down on a nearby chair outside the door, took out his rosary, and in a deep and curious peace, began to pray. He knew his task with Nora, whatever it had been in the Divine Plan, was over.
He crossed himself. So God, about this priesthood thing...he began.
III
Bear tentatively stepped inside the room, and looked at her. She lay, deep in stillness, in the hospital bed, her face white as the pillow, but her cheeks were touched with the barest hint of scarlet. Her hair, torn and tattered, lay like a black cloud around her features. She was Blanche, not Nora, and despite her coma, she was still beautiful.
Princess, like a rose is her cheek
And her eyes are as blue as the skies...
He knew then that even if she never woke up from the coma, that he loved her, and that the years would find him sitting by her side, even if she never knew that he was there.
Sitting down beside her bed, he took her hand in his, and closed his fingers over it. His thick bandaged hands around her supple white fingers.
“Blanche,” he said to her softly, and he felt a tremor go through her. He had heard that often people in comas could hear, even though their bodies might not be able to respond. Talk to her as though she can hear you, he remembered Leon saying in the car. And he sensed that Blanche could hear him, through a cloud of blackness. “Nora,” she had called herself, “noir” for “black.” Maybe because of the blackness around her. Maybe feeling that she wasn’t worthy to be Blanche. But like all humanity, she was both Blanche and Nora, both white and black. And now, wounded by her ordeal, red.
He spoke with her for a long time, as though she could hear him, telling her about how his dad loved her, and how she had saved his dad’s life. How he had forgiven his dad. And how his dad wanted Bear to find her.
“Blanche, I’m never going to leave you. I’m sure you’ll get better. But even if you never do, I’m staying with you. You know I was thinking God might have had other ideas, but it’s clear to me now where He wants me to be. With you.”
He leaned close to her and spoke softly, in her ear. “Because…well, you should know this...but in case you don’t…I love you.”
He paused, his face just an inch above hers. He had never done this before, because he had never been sure it was the right time.
But now it was.
He kissed her.
I give you myself.
Somehow his hand found hers again, and he sat next to her, holding her white fingers. He wiped his eyes, and breathed deeply, feeling the peace. He knew he had done the right thing. What he was supposed to do.
IV
Sometimes it amazes me
How strong the power of love can be
Sometimes it just takes my breath away.
Bear felt her fingers squeeze his faintly, and thought it must have been his imagination. Stirring himself, he looked at her face. Her eyelashes were moving.
Fumbling around with his free hand, he searched for one of those buttons to summon the nurse with, but couldn’t find one, and he didn’t dare take his eyes off her face. Her fingers were tightening on his other hand, and he knew that she felt him. He had a sense of her rising upward, coming out of deep darkness…
The lashes lifted, and her blue eyes were visible. They found his eyes, and focused. He knew that she saw him at last.
Her lips moved. “Bear,” she breathed his name.
Now her grip became stronger and he recognized that it wasn’t a dream: she was trying to sit. The next moment she was in his arms as he gathered her up, saying her name over and over.
“It was so dark,” she was saying in his ear. “So dark, and I thought I had died, long ago, and far away, but then I heard your voice...” she broke off as he hugged her more tightly.
“Did you hear what I said to you?” he asked, his words muffled by her hair.
“I did.”
“I meant it,” he said. “I meant every last word. I—”
“I know,” she pressed her cheek against his. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Her voice was husky. “I love you.”
Now that he knew she was aware, and knew he loved her, and she loved him, he put his hands on her face and kissed her once more. It was only then that they heard and realized that they had an audience.
Bear looked over his shoulders to see the uncommon and extraordinary sight of seven friars minor, young, and old, rejoicing wholeheartedly in a manner that could only be called exuberant in the extreme. He had never seen a bearded friar in full habit dancing, but several of them were, shouting and cavorting and hi-fiving one another. He could have sworn he heard someone doing a rap beat.
He looked back down at Blanche in his arms, and saw her white cheeks blush deep red, but she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.
A Little Bit About This Book:
For some time, I had wanted to do a retelling of the over-familiar tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. This famous Grimm’s tale, made more famous by the splendid landmark film by Disney, has all the marks of a folk allegory of the Fall, with the heroine representing the baptized Christian soul, the villainess her demonic counterpart, and the prince as Christ, the savior from the sleep of death. And the seven little men can be thought to represent any number of seven sacred things: the seven virtues, seven gifts of the Holy Spirit, seven sacraments…the number is clearly not accidental.
I was fascinated by the repetition throughout the tale of the colors red, white, and black to represent the heroine. As I worked and reworked the story, which underwent a full fourteen major plot changes, I tried to use images of many things that are black, white, and red, like playing cards, chess games, and tapestries. In the end I assigned each of the three temptations of Snow White (variously interpreted as temptations of the flesh, mind, and soul) one of the three colors, and matched them with three (twisted) versions of womanhood that the mortal woman must reject.
The book turned out to have a great deal to say about vocations and life paths, which I hadn’t expected. Making the “seven little men” into seven “friars minor” was one character choice that paid
off quite well. And I enjoyed the chance to get inside Bear’s head, and flesh out the characters of Mrs. Foster, Jean, Rose, and especially Fish a little further.
On a lighter note, I tried to pay homage to the Disney Snow White film in various subtle (and not so subtle) ways. The rambunctious and physical slapstick of the friars owes a lot to the famous Disney dwarves, and although there is no one-to-one correspondence, readers will doubtless see some similarities between the eventually heroic Grumpy and the surly Brother George, as well as between lovable Dopey and the short, (relatively) beardless, outrageous (but hardly mute) Brother Leon. To answer queries some have made, many of the friars are based on composites of actual friars I knew while living in New York City, where I was a lay volunteer with the Community of the Friars of the Renewal. Of course, I took liberal poetic license with their original characters when writing the book. I’ve written two reflections about the writing of this book, both of which can be found on the book’s website, www.blackasnight.com.
Many people helped make this book into what it is through contributing their information and expertise on certain topics. I want to particularly thank:
Ed Childress from the Washington branch of the Drug Enforcement Agency, and Liz Jordan from the New York Branch for information on agency procedure.
Captain Schiro, Captain Stephen Marchi, Sergeant Mark Werner, and Chief Dispatcher Jamie of the Front Royal, Virginia police department for their help with police procedure questions and fact checks.
For location details, Sharon Perry, Airport Airspace Analysis Specialist, of the Federal Aviation Administration and Marie Riseman of the Public Relations Department at John F. Kennedy International Airport.
Ted Bowen from the Metro North Customer Service, for his helpful descriptions of New York trains and train tunnels and his enthusiasm.
Ellen Borakove, director of Public Affairs for the New York City Medical Examiner’s Office for explaining their procedures to me.
For information about medical matters, I am indebted to my friend Ceril Khoury, pharmacist, for her advice on drugs and comas; also to Sharon Jones, ER nurse at Warren Memorial Hospital for information on medical procedures. Also to Dr. Frank, for his extremely useful information on almost all of the above.
Numerous thanks goes to my “violence experts”–Andrew O’Neill and Benjamin Hatke, for their equally numerous fact checks. Also I am in debt to my friend Jason Manak, judo practitioner and computer animator, who was invaluable in helping me “choreograph” the fight scenes, since I still would have not the least idea of what to do if confronted with a villain in a dark tunnel, or a villainess with a semi-automatic.
For language help, I want to thank Maria Hambric, Joseph Meaney, and Mariangelis Burger for translations into Spanish, my aunts Charlotte Corrigan and Pamela Spinelli for phrases in Italian, and Geoffrey Douglas and Nicole Hamilton for Jamaican translations (And my brother David, who put me in contact with the last two).
I wish to thank Fr. Glenn Sudano, Community of the Franciscans of the Renewal, Fr. Peter Giroux of the Franciscans of the Primitive Observance, Fr. Bernard Murphy, CFR, and Brother Shawn O’Connor, CFR, for their insights into religious life.
And thanks to attorney Stephen Jerome and his lovely wife Kristin for help with final legal details.
Special thanks to:
Marie Meaney for proofreading and critique, poetic advice, and refreshing my information on Santa Cecilia with postcards from Rome.
Ben and Anna Hatke for babysitting help, Italian phrases, discussions, and proofreading.
Stratford Caldecott for some poetic advice and encouragement.
Barbara Nicholosi for mentioning Emily Dickinson at precisely the right moment.
Alan Gordon, New York lawyer and mystery novelist, for his important legal advice on several questions.
Sonia Tate Cousins, Esq., for referring me to Alan Gordon.
My wonderful aunt and attorney Pamela Spinelli, who not only gave me advice on Italian and legal help, but also searched out lawyers in the precise area of law that I needed to consult. Thanks so much Aunt Pam!
Having acknowledged the contributions of all of the above, I want to claim any factual or informational errors in the book as my own, as many times I extrapolated from data that was provided to me for the purpose of the plot.
For babysitting and tutoring my children on various occasions during the long process of this book, I want to thank Mary Accetullo, Erica Zepeda, Jaimie Berger, Anna Hatke, Christin McCaffrey and Jamie Dresch.
My friends Ben and Anna Hatke, Andy and Heather O’Neill, Nick Marmalejo, and my brothers and sisters all helped me work through various snarls and problems in the plot.
A most particular thanks to my “emergency Jamies,” Jaime Berger and Jamie Dresch, for the late-night phone calls and endless debates over tea at times when I had written myself into a corner and had no idea what to do next. And also Mandy Hains and Katie von Shaijik.
Albert Zuckerman, for his very useful book Writing the Blockbuster Novel. Not that this will be one, necessarily, but his book was able to explain to me when others couldn’t, just what was wrong with my manuscript.
I also want to thank those who willingly read the manuscript in its various incarnations, including my mother Michele Doman, Mary and Karim Accetullo, Joe Sharpe, Alicia Van Hecke, Eileen Cummings, Elizabeth McShurley, Christine Dalessio, and my family members Jennifer Doman, Mike Schmiedicke, Gretchen Nelson, Matthew Schmiedicke, and John Doman.
And last but not least, for all those who attended my reading of the final draft over the course of two weeks, including Anna Hatke, Joseph and Marie Meaney, Kathleen Blum, Sophia Cuddeback, Jamie Dresch, Linda Antunes, Lewis Kappell, Dr. Patrick Keats of Christendom College, students Julia Peterson, Amy Raab, Elizabeth Stephens, Rita Traugott, Elizabeth Black, Emma Fritcher, and Emily Griswold, Ben Bielinski, Adrienne Smith, and Mary Akers. Also Sharon Higby for announcing it to her classes, even though she couldn’t attend.
Great thanks must go to my editors and dare I say, friends and kindred spirits: Jean Ann Sharpe, Peter Sharpe, Lydia Reynolds, and the others in the Bethlehem Community who gave me the primary support I needed to finish this book and who published the original edition. Not to mention Francis Philips, who helped me along the home stretch.
As always, a deep debt of gratitude goes to my husband Andrew, who worked with me on this project 24/7 on several occasions to see it done. And my children, Caleb, Rose, Marygrace, Joshua, and baby Thomas, who were very understanding with a constantly-occupied mommy.
And for all the fans who wrote to me to ask about the progress of the book, and who promised their prayers to see it through–thank you. This is the result of your prayers. I hope you enjoy it thoroughly.
For this second edition of the book, I want to additionally thank my daughter Joan for her patience with Mommy, and for my son Joshua, who now, I know, prays for me from heaven. I want to thank my friend Joan Coppa Drennen, who created the lovely chapter headings. And I must especially thank my husband Andrew, my “secret weapon,” who spent much time trimming fat from the book, which had swelled disproportionately in the final days of writing the first edition. I hope this makes for a slimmer, trimmer story that moves more quickly and is more satisfying in the end.
For the 2009 cover makeover, I am indebted to my friends Veronica Randolph, who posed for the cover, to Craig Spiering, who took the new photo, and Theodore Schleunderfritz, who made the whole thing look beautiful. Also grateful thanks to Patrick Rose who stepped in at the last minute as the model for Bear on the back cover, and to Katherine and Elizabeth Sartor who helped me find him.
Regina Doman
Shirefeld, Strasburg, Virginia
2009
About the Author
Regina Doman lives near Front Royal, Virginia with her husband and their five children.
More information about her Fairy Tale Novel series can be found at www.fairytalenovels.com. Regina always welcomes email, feedback, and q
uestions from readers.
Table of Contents
1. A girl as white as snow and red as blood with hair as black as night...
2. 'My name is Snow White,' she said. 'How have you come to our house?' they asked.
3. They gave her permission to stay and keep herself hidden from the queen.
4. So Snow White remained in the house of the seven little men and kept house for them.
5. So during the day, the girl cleaned the house for them while the little men went about their work.
6. And the mirror answered the queen, 'Alas, Snow White is more fair than thee.'
7. When the queen heard this, she turned yellow and green with jealousy, and her heart had no rest, so deeply did she hate the girl. And so she plotted.
8. The hunter led the girl into the darkness of the forest, but he could not bear to kill her. So he said, “Run away, child, and hide,” thinking the wild beasts would devour her.
9. Thinking Snow White was gone forever, the queen questioned her mirror again.
10. When the queen heard Snow White still lived, she bit her lip until the blood ran down.
11. 'Good things, pretty things for sale,' the old woman coaxed, and Snow White thought, 'Surely there is no harm in this old peddler woman.' And she bought the bright silk.
12. The little men cut the ribbon, and by and by the girl began to breathe again.
13. The little men warned the girl, 'The queen will surely learn you are still alive. Be on your guard and let no one in if we are not here with you.'
14. When the queen realized she had failed to do away with Snow White once more, her heart pounded in fear and anger.
15. And Snow White saw no harm in the old woman, and let her in. The old woman said, 'What a fright you are! Let me help you comb your hair properly—for once.'
16. Once again, the little men revived Snow White, and warned her again to be careful of the queen, who would surely return.
