Father Poole wanted Jonas to feel as at home as possible, and allowing him something as ordinary as a bed in which to sleep was a decent way to start. At the same time he sensed that throwing the boys together in the same room might cause friction and resentment between the two of them, or at least on the part of Zachary.
“I was half hoping,” he began, “that you’d see fit to lift your ban on sleeping arrangements and let the boy sleep in the spare room upstairs. That is, until I can procure him a proper bed.”
Sister Ignatius walked back down the stairs and stopped on the last step. She lifted her hands to the back of her head and began pulling out the bobby pins that were holding her cap in place.
“What’s wrong with the couch in the common room?” she asked. “It’s big enough for the boy.”
“Oh, come now, Sister!” Father Poole snapped. “That sofa is tiny, and the fabric pinches. Even with bedclothes covering it, it would be too uncomfortable for Jonas to sleep on.”
Rolling her eyes, the nun continued pulling out the pins from her hair. She took out the final one and removed her cap. “Father Poole, I don’t feel like continuing this conversation just now. I would like to retire for the night. If you’re so concerned for the boy’s comfort, why not give him your room? You then could sleep on the couch in the common room.”
Father Poole grunted.
Feeling the need to respond, Sister Ignatius added, “Then put him in Zachary’s bed.”
“With Zachary?”
“No, with Napoleon Bonaparte. Certainly with Zachary! We are caring for them now, and they have to do as we say. Besides, it will be only a temporary arrangement. I’m sure it will be fine for the time being. Now good night, Father.”
She ascended the staircase once again, went into Jessica’s room, and closed the door. Arthur Nichols, standing at the threshold of the living room and all but holding up Jonas, who was now asleep on his feet, appeared to be on the verge of collapsing himself.
“Here, Arthur,” Father Poole said. “Let’s get this boy to his room.”
“You plan on moving him in with Zachary?” asked Nichols.
“I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Father.”
The two men left the Benson house and walked through the grassy clearing that separated Ben’s home from the rectory. By the time they were halfway to the rectory, Jonas had fully awakened, thanks to the crisp autumn air. The wind had kicked up, and the sky had grown overcast with dark clouds.
They made their way into the rectory and up the stairs. Father Poole had begged Arthur Nichols to either retire to his home or stay the night, but Nichols reminded the priest that he had no choice but to go home since there was no spare bed for him in the rectory.
They heard a clanking sound coming from Zachary’s bedroom when they arrived at the top of the stairs. His door was closed, and it seemed as though he were talking to someone. Father Poole went to the door and knocked gently.
“Zachary?” called Father Poole politely.
As he knocked, the clanking grew louder and more panicky; then the talking ceased immediately. Phineas knocked again.
“Zachary, is everything alright in there?”
“Yeah, Father,” answered Zachary. “I’m good. Everything’s good. I like my room. Thank you.”
The boy’s voice was shaky, and Father Poole picked up on it right away. “Zachary, please open the door.” Father Poole sounded more insistent now, although the tone of his voice was still kind.
After a deafening silence of about twenty seconds, Father Poole raised his fist to knock on the door again, this time with more strength, but Zachary unexpectedly swung the door open. His eyes immediately leaped to Jonas Hodges who, although beside Arthur Nichols, felt as though now just he and Zachary Black were standing face to face.
Zachary’s mouth curled, and his yellow eyes narrowed. He began breathing heavily and clenched his jaw.
“Zachary,” said Father Poole. “This is Jonas, your new roommate.”
SEVENTEEN
True Colors Shine Through
A cold rain began to beat on the bedroom’s window. There was a brief silence. The introduction of Jonas Hodges to Zachary Black had left all those concerned in an almost catatonic state. As the rain increased, its assault on the window grew ever louder. Jonas became unnerved by the sound.
He walked in, lowered his head immediately while passing Zachary, and stopped in the middle of the room. He faced the window, keeping his back to everyone. Zachary’s grimace was too pronounced to be ignored.
“What the… ?” Zachary said, his eyes locked on Jonas. All at once every prejudice within the boy’s soul manifested itself. “AIN’T NO WAY IN HELL,” he declared, “I’M GONNA BE BEDDIN’ WITH NO NIGGER!”
Father Poole’s smile faded rapidly. He approached Zachary, grabbed him by the back of his collar, and said as sternly as anyone had ever heard him speak, “You will behave yourself, Master Black! Is that clear?”
Zachary shot a quick glance at Father Poole. As his yellow eyes met Father Poole’s, which were blue and tranquil, a feeling of disquiet came over the priest, who sensed a great deal of hatred and hostility in the boy. Phineas decided it would be better not to scold Zachary in front of Arthur Nichols and Jonas.
Father Poole slowly released Zachary’s collar and smoothed out the creases he had caused. He then put his hand on the crown of Zachary’s head and messed his hair playfully. “I think we’re all just a little tired,” he said. “What with your just getting settled in and all, and the fact that I promised you were going to have your own room. I know it’s a lot to digest all at once.”
The priest then walked toward Jonas, whose back still was turned to the three of them. His head hung so low that his chin was buried in his throat. Father Poole put his hands on Jonas’s shoulders and began to rub them.
“This is the only room in the rectory that has an extra bed,” he said. “It’s more than large enough to accommodate the two of you. After all, it will only be for a couple of days until I can get my hands on another bed. Then you two will have your own rooms! But I doubt by then you’ll want to switch, since I’m sure you’ll be great friends by then. Right, Mr. Nichols?”
The old schoolmaster had no words with which to respond.
Father Poole took Jonas’s hand in his own and led him over to the right side of the bed. He put a hand on the nape of the boy’s neck and urged him to sit down. The boy did so.
Zachary’s eyes widened again. “I SAID IT BEFORE, PREACHER, AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN SO YOU KNOW I’M SERIOUS! I AIN’T SLEEPIN’ WITH NO… .” He stopped when he observed the sternness of Father Poole’s brow. In a voice that no longer sounded quite as angry, Zachary said, “Fine. He can have this room. I’ll sleep in another one.” He then walked over to the left side of the bed, bent down, and pulled his bag out from under it.
Father Poole went to console Jonas, who was beginning to whimper. Mr. Nichols, who had been standing near the doorway the whole time, saw Zachary’s bag, which was bulkier than when the three of them had left the Black residence.
Zachary stormed out of the room, deliberately bumping into Arthur Nichols as he did so. Arthur watched him as Zachary made his way to the other end of the hallway, opened the last door on the left, walked in, and slammed it shut.
Meanwhile the old schoolteacher could hear Father Poole muttering something to Jonas, but he couldn’t make it out. Mr. Nichols then started down the steps. He longed for his nightly glass of brandy and a licorice stick before retiring to bed in the bosom of his beloved wife.
On the third step Arthur Nichols heard a thump at the opposite end of the hallway. Deciding that bed could wait a bit longer, he walked to the door behind which was Zachary and pressed his ear against it but heard nothing. As
much as a disciplinarian Mr. Nichols could be during his days as a schoolteacher, he was afraid of Zachary Black and couldn’t rightly say why. It all came down to what he had said before about not liking the boy’s eyes. They looked sinister to him; what’s more, they looked evil.
After standing quietly in front of Zachary’s door for about a minute, Arthur Nichols turned on his heel and walked back toward the stairs. Spotting something shiny, he bent down to pick it up. It was a ring, a rather large one, made of gold with a cross on top. Nichols inspected it more closely, turning it upside down. He immediately spotted a tiny inscription inside the band: “To Phineas. May God always shine upon you in the priesthood.—Love, Mom.”
Mr. Nichols returned to the room where Jonas and Father Poole still were. Jonas had just finished pulling down the bedclothes and was removing his overalls as Father Poole came walking out the door. “Oh, Father,” Arthur Nichols said. “I found this in the hallway. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to lose it.”
Father Poole was baffled. Fitting the ring loosely around the first joint of his index finger, he twirled it slowly with his thumb. His friend noticed an air of disquiet on the priest’s face.
After a long pause Father Poole said, “You say you found this over there on the floor?”
“Yes,” Nichols replied, “not far from the steps. It’s funny that we didn’t see it before.”
“I would have noticed it,” said Father Poole, brooding over the ring. I have a habit of surveying the floor every time I clear the landing. We sometimes get mice, and I always keep a sharp lookout for them.”
“Were you aware that you’d lost this ring, Father? Did you know it was missing?”
Father Poole closed his eyes for a moment and then said, “This ring was a gift from my mother upon my entering seminary. I’ve only worn it a handful of times because she would always remind me of how expensive it was and how it would break her heart if I ever lost it. I haven’t worn the ring in years. In fact, the last time I wore it was for my ordination. That was a good many years before I came here. It’s been sitting in a ring box in my dresser all this time.”
Arthur Nichols quietly added, “Until now.”
Father Poole walked quickly over to the far end of the hallway. Mr. Nichols was quick to respond. “Do you think… ?” then stopped short of any accusation. “I mean, do you need any help, Father?”
Without turning around, the priest answered, “No, thank you, Arthur. Thank you for everything. You’ve been a great help to me today and to the children. Kindly let yourself out. I’ll handle this myself.”
Father Poole went into his study, retrieved one of his copies of the Bible, and then returned to Zachary’s room. He swung open the door. It was pitch black; there was no moonlight. Father Poole slammed his hand against the wall where the light switch was and the brightness of the solitary bulb lit up the room brilliantly as its glow radiated off the white walls. Zachary was asleep on the floor, facing the door. The sack that he had been carrying now acted as his pillow. Father Poole bent down and violently yanked it away, causing Zachary’s head to hit the wooden floor with a thump.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the boy yelled, and sat up. He began rubbing the side of his head and squinted his eyes, which were still adjusting to the light. At first Zachary thought it was Arthur Nichols. He knew that the man didn’t like him, a feeling that was mutual for Zachary, and assumed the man had come back to make trouble for him. As his eyesight adjusted, the boy made out the tall, slender build of the priest. His blond hair came into focus, as well as his black clothes and white collar.
“Whatcha fixin’ to do, Preacher? Kill me?” Zachary said.
The rain continued to tap against the window as a brief flash of lightning shot across the dark sky. A few seconds later a distant clap of thunder could be heard, which was quite rare for this time of year. Father Poole had decided not to come right out and reveal what he had found. He deeply wanted to give Zachary the benefit of the doubt.
“I see you’d already gone to sleep,” the priest said.
“I was until you done pulled my sack from under my head.”
“A bit hard to sleep without a blanket in a cold room smelling of paint fumes, wouldn’t you say, Zachary?”
“I managed.”
Father Poole walked over to the window. “Better to be sleeping in here than out there, I think,” said Phineas. “Am I right?”
“Preacher, I don’t know what it is you’re getting at, so… .”
“I’m only saying, Zachary Black, that I saved you from abandonment. I don’t expect you to understand fully my motives for doing so, or to appreciate the risk I’m taking by letting you stay here. All I ask is that you be grateful and know there is someone here for you, even if your parents have all but disowned you. A stranger took you in because you are a child of God.”
Zachary rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Preacher, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
The rain began to let up, in contrast to Father Poole’s temper. “What can you tell me about this?” he said, throwing the ring to Zachary.
The boy, confused, reached for the ring, which had landed on his crotch. He picked it up slowly. “So what are you saying, Father?” he said coldly. “You wanna say I took this from you?”
“How do you know that was what I was going to say?” the priest replied.
“That’s what you’re fixin’ to do, ain’t it? Accuse me of burglarin’?”
“Zachary, did you take this ring from my room?”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“All I want is a simple answer, boy. Yes or no?”
“It’s late, Preacher. Can’t we do this in the morning?”
“YES OR NO?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed when the priest shouted at him. He tossed the ring to the side, stood up, and went for his shoes. “I’m not welcome here. I can see that. If you wanna blame someone for thievery, you best go ask that darkie in there. Ain’t it always them that’s stealin’?”
As Zachary shoved his right foot into a shoe, Father Poole began to undo the cord of Zachary’s sack. The boy turned quickly and snatched it away from Phineas.
“You ask me to be respectin’ your property. Then you’d best be respectin’ mine!”
He tried feverishly to retighten the cord, but not before Father Poole lunged at him and grabbed it again. The two pulled back and forth as in a tug of war until they heard a loud rip. The bag’s contents spilled onto the floor.
“GODDAMN IT!” Zachary shouted, throwing his piece of sack to his feet.
There lay two adult magazines, a pair of black socks, a gold-plated crucifix from the dining room, a pair of trousers, a toy horse, a pocket watch, gold cufflinks, two shirts, an array of silverware, a gold chain with a cross on it, bloomers, an opened pocket knife with dried blood on the blade, an imitation Fabergé egg, a glass ashtray, a slingshot, two gold-plated candlesticks, and a bird feather.
Father Poole’s mouth dropped open. He never thought that this boy, who should have been grateful to him for his kindness and generosity, could ever do such a thing. Zachary was now cowering, waiting for a thrashing, but the priest simply stood there, gazing down at the proof of sins this boy had committed.
“Thou shall not steal, Zachary. Were your parents not God-fearing people? Did they not teach you about truth and morality?”
Zachary didn’t say a word. He too remained frozen in place, staring down at the contents of his bag.
“My spare pocket watch, our silverware, my good cufflinks, our candlesticks and crucifix.” Phineas bent down and picked up the gold chain. “Did you take this cross from Mrs. Keats?”
Zachary still kept silent. Father Poole sighed in disapproval. “I want to help you overcome your wretched life, boy. Truly I do, b
ut I can’t abide stealing. This afternoon I thought I had reached into your soul, found the source of your anger, and tamed it. But now I wonder. Are hate and dishonesty all you know?”
Father Poole put the chain in his pocket and collected all the other articles that belonged to him and the church. He then started to leave, stopped at the threshold, and put his free hand up to the light switch. “You’re still welcome to stay if you wish,” Father Poole added, “but I want you to know something. If you do stay, you’ll need to start pulling your own weight around here.”
“Alright,” the boy replied. “I mean, I ain’t got no one else.”
Father Poole expected to feel an ache in his heart when he heard this, but he didn’t. He now saw Zachary Black for what he was—someone without a conscience, a boy who perhaps had no soul. He dropped the Bible onto Zachary’s bedding.
“I’ve always said in my sermons, Zachary Black, that there is good in all men, but I’m not so naïve to think that all men lead good lives.” Father Poole pointed to the Bible with his chin. “Read it, Zachary. It may give you a better idea of how we, as children of the Lord, are expected to behave. It might teach you things I can’t.” And with that admonition Father Poole switched off the light, wished the boy a good night, and slowly closed the door.
Zachary stared at the door for several seconds before picking up the Bible. He opened it and began reading: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.”
It was at that moment that Zachary understood what darkness really was—something not yet touched by God. And he related to it, he who’d never been helped by God, never loved, never watched over. He was, as his name suggested, black like primordial darkness.
Embracing Darkness Page 25
