by Marian Unn
Chapter 22
“There is something magical about this place,” he thought aloud, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the wooden statues that hung on the walls of the church. Crossing himself he kissed the rosary in his hand and kneeled at the front of the altar. “A beautiful and magical place indeed.”
“Papa, why are we here? And why did we come to this church?” a little girl asked, looking up to her father who beamed a smile. It was a beautifully long smile, one which the little girl had seen many times. So many, in fact, that she knew not the true beauty of this man’s smile. “You must always pay your respects to the Lord when first arriving at a new place.”
“Yes, Papa!” she blushed at her folly, staring long and hard at the altar and the cross that hung above it. Focusing as hard as she could, she tried to tell the Lord how sorry she was for not realizing something so obvious. But little children often find themselves unable to keep focus when attempting such serious matters as prayer, so it was no wonder her eyes wandered off. She then spied something peculiar that only the wandering eyes of a child would spy. “Papa!” she shouted, pointing at the foot that stuck out from behind the altar. Running around it, her father yelled after her to walk and bow and be more respectful and do all the things a little girl at her age did not yet consider.
“Papa! It is a man! I think he might be a priest!” The little girl looked to her Papa with big brown eyes, the same eyes as her father’s own grandmother had.
Upon seeing the priest, her father pulled him up. “Father, are you alright?” The man led the priest to the pew. Nodding slowly, the priest held up his head, which caused the girl to gasp. Standing meekly behind her father, she stared in awe at the deformed man.
The priest’s features were distorted and covered in twisted scars that spread across his face. “Ah! It is you!” her father smiled, “Long time no see, Father Robert.” Her father gently patted the priest, who nodded to him in appreciation. The priest’s eyes fell upon the little girl who stood behind her father clinging to his cloak.
“I do believe we met once before in-” he stopped, noticing the priest’s eyes on his daughter. “Oh, my, I forgot to introduce you. This is my daughter. I named her after her. Rosetta, say hello. This priest is your cousin.” The man softly pushed the girl towards the priest, but she retreated behind her father as quickly as she could. Paying no attention to his wary little daughter, the man continued to speak.
“You were about three, four years older? I don’t quite recall that time very well, I’m afraid, but then again...” he paused, a frown overtaking his face as he patted his daughter’s shoulder, “I don’t think I totally wish to recall either.”
Kneeling next to Robert, the man held the preacher’s hands. “I am sorry for not visiting, but me being who I am, it was difficult to- No. That’s not right. It was fear. Yes, it was very often the fear of the past that kept me from returning to this town.”
Tapping him gently, Robert shook his head and pointed to the cross. “Right you are, Robert, right you are.” The man smiled at him. “If only your Aunt were here, she would have loved to see you as you are now.”
The priest heard these words and nodded slowly, tears flowing down to touch his dark moustache. He nodded again, but did not speak. His voice was kind and angelic, beautiful even. In fact, it was so beautiful that people came from miles around to hear it, because it was not just a beautiful voice, but a miracle. His vocal chords had been damaged, and it had been nearly impossible for him to speak. But when he came to this town, he touched the remains of a deceased priest, a priest now known as Blessed Bartholomew of Vertensburg. It is said that when he touched the bones, he let out a soft moan, and then a word, and the boy who could not utter a sound without a cry, could speak! And not only that, but he was given ‘the voice of an angel’ as people called it. It was beautiful and serene! Though it is a shame the boy had grown to be such a quiet fellow.
“What she would have given to have been able see all the wonderful things that occurred so quickly and so rapidly after her death, especially with my father.” The man, Jobel, looked around at the little church, “She would have loved to have seen all of this, the way it once was, or so I am told.”
As the two men smiled at one another at the memories of the remarkable woman of their childhood, the little girl tugged at her father’s sleeve, “Papa, is the lady you are talking about your granny?”
“Yes, and besides meeting your cousin, Father Robert, we are also going to meet someone else very special today, too; your grandfather, that remarkable woman’s son. He is here, and I think it is time you meet him.” He kissed his daughter whose scrunched eyebrows helped to express the quizzical expression on her face, “But Papa, did you not say that Grandpa was a bad man?”
Tightening his jaw, Jobel nodded. “He did many terrible things in his youth and was indeed a bad man. But look at me and you. We are happy, and we are very much better than well off. It was by his doing that we are so. And it is by his doing that I inherited such a happy and prosperous nation. And although the methods by which he procured it, as well as his reasons, were all of the wrong sorts, he set it right. He recognized his mistakes. He then not only returned the nation to how it once was, but he transformed it for the better, establishing laws of equality and tolerance. He recognized rights ignored even by the government before him!”
“I do not understand,” Rosetta mumbled, blushing from her ignorance again. “That is fine, dear, you will one day see,” Jobel said. The little princess nodded to her father, as her little fingers wrapped round his.
The King nodded to his cousin, “I shall visit you again sometime. Goodbye, and be careful not to fall over. We are both getting too old now.” With a smile, the father and daughter left the little white church, which had so perfectly been restored to its finer glory.
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