“I swear.”
“You swear to God?”
“Yes, I swear to God.” Father Poole took her hands in his, squeezed them tightly, and added, “I give you my word. Your boy will be safe. I’ll care for him as I would any child of the Lord.”
With a heavy heart Wilma consented to the plan and slowly kissed the priest on the cheek, leaving her lips pressed against his face for several seconds as if she wanted him to know how much he meant to her at that moment.
Because it was dark outside, and the streets were clear of people and traffic, it was easy for them to get away unnoticed. Jonas ran to his mother and hugged her. She held him tight, her face contorted as if in agony.
“You gots to be strong, son,” she said. “These be good men you goin’ wit’. They gonna take good care o’ you.”
She then kissed him on the mouth and hugged him around his neck tightly. When he jerked in pain, she remembered Ezra’s assault on the boy.
The two men took Jonas and left quickly. Wilma stayed behind in the alley, collapsed on her knees in despair and realizing that things were never going to be the same again. She knew that she was going to have a lot to explain, and she didn’t know whether she’d be able to pull it off. She knew that Ezra would never rest until he found his boy, found out who took him, and when he did there’d be hell to pay.
She went back inside the bar, where Ezra and Heathcliff were still unconscious. Standing next to Heathcliff, Wilma noticed something sticking out of his coat pocket. She bent down to get a better look. It was a gun. The petty thief had never had the money before Mr. Chandler’s largesse to buy himself a real weapon.
Wilma took the gun from Heathcliff’s pocket and walked over to her husband. She pointed it at Ezra’s forehead and wrapped her finger around the trigger, squeezing slowly. “As you was gettin’ ready to hurt our boy wit’ dat poker,” she said, “I saw right den an’ dere da devil hisself in yo’ eyes. You ain’t never gonna hurt my baby again.”
Just then Jacob Pease returned with a policeman. “FREEZE!” the officer shouted to Wilma. “DROP YOUR WEAPON, MA’M, AND STEP THIS WAY, SLOWLY AND WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”
But Wilma Hodges didn’t flinch. Not when Pease and the policeman stormed into the bar, not when the cop screamed at her to put down the weapon, and not when Heathcliff’s gun went off, sending a bullet into Ezra Hodges’s brain. In fact, the only time Wilma Hodges did move came when the policeman fired his own gun, killing her instantly.
Jonas seemed well enough to walk as the three of them reached the bottom of Holly Hill. The boy had a worried look on his face. They had heard two gunshots in the distance. Although none dared speculate who was doing the shooting, they all were thinking the same thing. It had to have come from the bar.
They made it up the hill in six minutes. Jonas was more confused than ever. Was he going to stay here for the rest of his life? What were those gunshots? Where were his parents now? Were they safe? Would he be safe on this hill? Would his father be furious with him for leaving the family? All these questions haunted Jonas while trudging up “The Path to Salvation.”
The three arrived at the rectory’s steps and were about to go up when suddenly Father Poole stopped.
“Why are we stopping, Father?” asked Arthur Nichols.
“I need to prepare Sister Ignatius for this.”
“What shall we do with the boy?” asked Mr. Nichols. “I don’t think we should leave him out here in the cold. He needs to lie down.”
“I know,” replied Father Poole. “Here, take this key in case Sister’s closed the house up for the night.”
“What’s this for?”
“It’s the key to the Benson house. Take Jonas up there and let him warm up on the living-room couch. It’ll buy me some time with Sister.”
Arthur Nichols was worried now. “What if she makes a big fuss? I mean, do you know her to be prejudiced against Negroes?”
Father Poole chuckled. “I don’t think his color will be as much of a problem as his sex. She, uhm, has a thing about the male sex. And the fact that I’m dumping two teenage boys on her in one day will be a shock.”
As Arthur Nichols and Jonas Hodges headed toward the Benson house, the priest entered the rectory. He could hear laughter coming from the common room. From its threshold Father Poole watched Sister Ignatius lift Jessica up, almost turn her upside down, and then lift the child over her own head again. Watching the scene, Father Poole thought that he had made the right decision in letting the little girl stay there.
The priest walked into the room with his hands dancing wildly in the air. “And how are the two of you doing this fine evening?” he asked.
Sister Ignatius smiled at Jessica and spoke for her in a playful voice. “We’ve had our dinner, which you’ve missed, bad, bad Father Poole.”
“Oh no!” he exclaimed with equal lightheartedness in his voice. “I guess I’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning’s breakfast, won’t I?”
The nun gave Jessica to Father Poole, who hugged her tightly and kissed her on the forehead. He then sat her on his lap and frowned at Sister Ignatius. Her smile faded as soon as she noticed Phineas’s expression.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I need to ask for your indulgence once again, Sister.”
“What’s wrong? Have you reconsidered our compromise?”
“Well, no, not exactly.”
“What do you mean? That’s no answer.”
The priest got up and placed Jessica on the cushion of the couch where he had been sitting. He then paced the room, trying to think of a way to break the news. He glanced out the large bay window of the common room from which he saw the lights on at Ben Benson’s house, something he hadn’t seen much since the old man’s death. How he missed his friend. Father Poole could still smell his cigarettes, still hear the creaking of his old rocking chair, still hear his distinctively Yankee voice. “The laughter of children on my hill” was the last thing he’d said to the priest; or something like it. Father Poole repeated the words while peering out into the evening gloom.
Sister Ignatius was confused. “Father?” she called to him, but the priest was still engrossed in his own private world of recollection. “Father,” she said louder. “Father, what are you saying?”
“Get some little ones up here. That’d be nice,” Father Poole replied in a low voice.
“Little ones? What are you saying?”
The priest turned to the nun. “That’s what Ben Benson said to me four years ago—that we need to get little ones up here.” He rushed up and grabbed her by the elbows. “So how ’bout it, Sister? What do you say?”
She shook her head in bewilderment.
Father Poole grew more and more excited at the thought. “Don’t you see what I mean, Sister? Ben envisioned it for Holly Hill. We’re up here away from the hustle and bustle of daily life, away from the harm that comes to wrecked children. Don’t you see? This is the perfect sanctuary for them!”
“For whom?” she asked, completely lost.
“Why, for Jessica and Zachary, and for others like them. Lost, alone, beaten, abandoned.” He paused for a moment and then continued, “Like another that Arthur Nichols and I found.”
Sister turned her head slightly.
“He’s a sweet boy who comes from a most terrible situation,” Father Poole added. “Of course, you’ll have to agree to let him stay.” He walked away from the nun and circled the common room. He did this twice and then made his way to where the hallway began. Now it all made sense to Phineas. “This enormous space was created for a reason, Sister,” he continued. “God wanted it big. No one knew God’s master plan. No one could explain why such a big rectory was constructed. This ‘hotel’ has been empty, dead, useless space. Well, not anymore. Oh, Sister! It must be part of God’s plan for us! For
our church! For the children of Holly!”
“Father Poole,” Sister Ignatius said calmly. She breathed in deeply and then screamed, “HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”
Ignoring the nun’s question, the priest said under his breath, “This could work.”
Sister Ignatius was getting furious. She blurted out again, “Father, will you PLEASE tell me what is going on in that head of yours?”
Jessica jumped off the couch as the two kept on talking and walked out of the common room.
“Sister,” Phineas began. “It’s really quite simple. We have a few children who need our help. So let’s just help them.”
She seemed perplexed.
“You see, we have Jessica and Zachary. That’s all well and good, but how can we accept these two poor lost souls and reject others who need us just as much?”
Sister Ignatius began to nod her head. “Meaning this new boy, right?”
Father Poole nodded.
“I think I’m beginning to understand what you’re getting at, Father.”
Father Poole smiled widely and continued, “Yes, Sister! We’d be achieving two goals: helping these children and granting Ben his dying wish. And we’ll be here to help any child who is abused or abandoned. It’s all so clear to me now, Sister. We’re blessed with so much here, and we have a chance to help these children. If you had seen what I saw this evening, Sister! A father strangling his own son. It was terrible. We saved this boy, Arthur Nichols and I.”
Sister Ignatius walked toward the bay window. “You took another child away from his parents and brought him here?” she asked.
“Not exactly. His mother gave him to us.”
“Gave him to you?”
“Sort of.”
“Where is he?”
“I had Arthur take him over to Ben’s place till I could… .”
“Persuade me?” Sister Ignatius finished his sentence. “Or perhaps blackmail me?”
“You know I’d never do anything like that, Sister. That is an unfair slander.”
The nun walked away from the window to collect Jessica and put her to bed. “No more unfair,” she said, “than your accusing me of the same sin earlier today. Or do I need to remind you of our previous conversation?”
“No, you needn’t remind me, Sister, but I ask you to set aside your scorn for me and think of these children. After all, isn’t that why we’re here? To help those in need?”
Sister Ignatius answered quickly. “You needn’t remind me of the reasons why I’m here.” She then called, “JESSICA! WHERE ARE YOU, SWEETHEART?” There was no response.
“JESSICA!” Father Poole called. “ZACHARY!” he shouted. “ZACHARY! JESSICA!” Sounding apprehensive, he asked, “Where’s Zachary, Sister?”
She thought for a moment. “He said he wasn’t hungry at dinner and was going to bed.”
They ran up the stairs, calling out both Jessica’s and Zachary’s names. Upon reaching the second floor, they went immediately to Zachary’s room. There, with the door open, Jessica was sitting on Zachary’s lap. He was bouncing her on his knee.
“Zachary,” Father Poole exclaimed. “Why on earth didn’t you answer when you heard me calling you?”
Zachary, still laughing, bounced Jessica again. “She really likes this. See how high I can get her? Almost over my head.”
Sister Ignatius snatched Jessica away from him and stormed out of the room.
“What the hell’s her problem?” said Zachary. “I was just havin’ a little fun. Jesus Christ!”
“Zachary!” Father Poole shouted, and then quickly composed himself. “Please don’t say that unless it’s in a prayer.” It was the first time he’d ever yelled at a child. Zachary lowered his head. The priest sighed and sat down on the bed next to Zachary.
“You had us worried sick. You could have let us know that you had Jessica when we were calling from downstairs.”
Zachary’s demeanor turned cold and expressionless again. “I told you I was havin’ fun with the baby. And I didn’t hear y’all hollerin’. So if I’m not supposed to have no fun around here, then just tell me, Father, and that way I won’t break no more of your rules.” Zachary touched the bloody bandage that covered his nose and winced as he felt a sharp pain followed by a trickle of blood escaping one of his nostrils.
“I’m sorry, Zachary,” replied the solicitous priest. “I guess that I overreacted. We were worried about Jessica, and, well, I’m just glad you were watching her for us. Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t hurt her, Father.” said Zachary as he licked the blood off his finger that he’d collected from his nose. “Shucks, I like little girls.”
Father Poole made his way over to the Benson house. As he entered, Sister Ignatius was standing by the threshold leading to the living room. Jonas had already fallen asleep upright on the sofa. “Now Sister,” the priest began, “regarding this new boy, he really is a remarkable child. His name is Jonas Hod… .”
But Sister Ignatius cut him off before he could continue. “Yes, Father Poole, but as I’ve just explained to Mr. Nichols here, you apparently have forgotten one little detail about this child.” She drew closer to the priest and whispered, “You forgot to tell me that he’s a Negro.”
“Sister,” Phineas began, adopting a rather forceful tone. “My job is to see to the welfare of these children. And I will not choose which ones to help based on the color of their skin. Furthermore… .”
Again the nun interrupted, this time taking hold of Father Poole’s arm and pulling him close to her. She no longer smelled of glue. “The boy’s race is a problem, Father Poole. And do you know why? Because black is not as easy to hide as white! I mean, how easy would it be for us clandestinely to house and feed a teenage boy or a female toddler? Not too difficult if they both look like us. If someone asked, we could say that Zachary is from a nearby parish and has come to assist in the Mass as an altar boy every so often. They needn’t know he’s an abandoned child living here. People don’t gossip about things like that, but they will about a black child without parents. A Negro child is missing in town, and we just happen to have one staying here with us. That gossip will spread like wildfire. And before we know it, the authorities will be knocking on your church door, and we’ll wind up losing all the children.”
“Now that you’ve mentioned it, what do we say about Jessica?” asked Father Poole.
“I’ve already thought of that. Until she’s older, no one will see her. She’ll stay in the house during Sunday Mass. We’ll have Argyle Hobbs watch her. She’s fond of him. No one will know she’s here.”
There were so many questions and not a lot of time in which to answer them. Father Poole scratched his forehead near where his hairline had started to recede. “Sister, if we can make an excuse for Zachary, then certainly we can do the same for Jonas. We’ll say he’s also come to assist in the Masses.”
“Really? And I suppose we can just show him off like a brand-new black china doll? Father, you know it’s not as simple as that.”
“Then during Mass we can have him stay with Argyle Hobbs and Jessica inside Benson’s house.”
Sister Ignatius began to pace back and forth slowly, pondering other foreseeable problems if they were to keep Jonas. “Ah ha!” she exclaimed. “What about money? How do you propose we’re going to feed and clothe all these children? This is a poor parish. You’ve already spent the last two years writing in vain to Archbishop Rivers, asking him for a raise in our allowance. He’s turned you down every time, citing cutbacks. The last bishop wouldn’t give you an extra cent either. What’s more, now with the trouble brewing in the stock market, I see dark skies ahead for all of us. 1929 just isn’t the year to turn into Santa Claus, Father.”
Just then Arthur Nichols stuck his head into the hallway. He looked exhausted. “I’m sorry to interrupt,
Father. Excuse me, Sister. We really should get this boy to bed. He’s had a hard last few hours.”
The two members of the clergy locked eyes. Father Poole’s expression seemed to say, Are you going to yield on this, Sister? Then the priest motioned to the spare room upstairs. Sister Ignatius had all but taken over Ben Benson’s bedroom for the time being to watch over Jessica, and the child stayed in her grandfather’s old room.
Sister Ignatius poked her hands into the pockets of her sweater vest. Jonas’s potential accommodations were first and foremost in her mind. “Alright, Father,” she said, sounding as though she’d given up. “Against my better judgment we’ll add this boy to the list of new tenants in our parish.”
Father Poole’s face brightened, and he approached her with extended arms, only to be repulsed when Sister Ignatius put her palms up to Phineas.
“Don’t mention it, Father. After all, according to you, we have room for the whole town up here. We may as well start a kindergarten. What do you say?”
Father Poole ignored the Sister’s sarcasm.
With everything nearly settled, Arthur Nichols went into the living room to awaken Jonas Hodges. Sister Ignatius began walking up the stairs to check on Jessica, since it was Mr. Nichols and not she who had tucked the child into bed. She wanted to make sure that the child had been put to bed correctly for the night.
Halfway up the stairs the nun stopped, turned around, and said softly, “But he stays with you in the rectory, Father. After all, we can’t have that boy sharing a roof with two females. As covert as our plan is, Father Poole, we must continue to maintain our dignity, mustn’t we?”
This posed a problem for Father Poole. Besides his own, there was only one extra bed, and it occupied only one room. That bed and that room had been given to Zachary Black. Formerly it had belonged to Argyle Hobbs, who would often stay up on the hill until late at night and, due to his failing eyesight and gimpy leg, didn’t like walking down the hill in the dark. So Father Poole two years earlier had invested in a bed and mattress for the groundskeeper.
Embracing Darkness Page 24
