Embracing Darkness

by Christopher D. Roe

  “It’s still stealing, Father,” protested Sister Ignatius, “no matter how you cut it. Those funds are for church repairs, our food, and Argyle’s salary. We have to send a percentage of that money to Manchester. Have you been cutting back on that? It’s Church money, and what have you been doing with it? Paying Ransom’s blackmail and buying Christmas gifts for the kids. That money isn’t to help pay for your home for abused and abandoned boys!”

  They briefly turned away from each other, as boxers do when they return to their respective corners after a round. “I see, Sister,” said Phineas. “And where do you suggest I get the money from? The diocese gives us hardly enough to get by.”

  Sister Ignatius opened her mouth wide as if she were going to respond, but Father Poole beat her to it. “I’m not saying I don’t love Jessica,” he said. “I adore her and wouldn’t want to lose her. But what I’m saying, Sister, is that we are now breaking the law on many counts. We’re keeping three children who should now be wards of the state. We’re paying a bribe or blackmail, depending on how you look at it. So if you’ve got a better idea about how we should spend the parish’s money and still keep our head above water, then I’m all ears.”

  He was so close to her face that he could smell her perfume, which she applied only because she hated the smell of the pillows and bedroom in Ben Benson’s house. She had always said how they smelled like mothballs. Ironically she loved the aroma of turpentine, paint, and glue but hated that of camphor.

  The two kept their eyes locked on one another, both beginning to breathe heavily. Father Poole couldn’t detect any trace of glue on Sister Ignatius’s person, and it showed in her comportment. When under chemical influence she always seemed patronizing, yet now, clutching a copy of Sonnets of the Portuguese, she was balanced and appealing. Phineas liked her best when she was sober and clear-thinking. That is to say, he liked her just the way she was.

  He tilted his head a little to his right, and she arched her neck back, her face expressing both surprise and anticipation. She clenched her fists tightly, her sharp nails digging crescent moons into the word Portuguese as the priest drew his mouth closer to hers. He closed his eyes, as did she. Before either one knew it, their lips met.

  Finally, she gave in first, bringing her hand to the back of his head and pressing his lips harder into hers. He, in turn, pulled her body close until her chest merged with his. Then, as if they had planned it, the two simultaneously withdrew their lips, released each other, and pushed away. Their eyes locked on one another, and neither was able to speak. Father Poole said the first thing that came to mind.

  “I’m a virgin,” he blurted out, embarrassed, as if talking to a woman who was married with eight children.

  Phineas sank into a brief, yet utterly catatonic state and recoiled in shame. He truly lost his ability to verbalize a single word. Her previously clandestine femininity had finally reached out to Phineas and latched onto him with unyielding claws. When he was once again able to think clearly, he twisted his torso around, and she was right behind him. This time their noses touched. Again she grabbed him by the back of the head and pressed her warm lips against his. For several seconds the two just stood there, fondling one another. He pulled his head away briefly so that he could undo her blouse. She meanwhile removed his white collar and pulled off his glasses, throwing both over the desk and onto his chair, while he pulled off her blouse and reached back to unclasp her bra.

  The rectory was quiet except for Argyle Hobbs’s occasional slamming of the front door and Mrs. Keats’s walloping of pots and pans. Jonas was watching Jessica in the Benson house, which was where Sister Ignatius had left the two of them. Everyone was busy doing something, even Zachary.

  There were flurries in the wind, and the forecast predicted snow. This would be the season’s first snowstorm in southern New Hampshire, which for the region was long overdue. People in town attributed this winter’s late start to the past summer’s having extended into October. Those who’d said that a longer summer would mean a “doozie” of a winter were hoping for a blizzard, just for the sake of being able to say they’d been right all along.

  Before the snow was due to hit, Argyle was busy with grounds work when suddenly he could be heard shouting, “GODDAMN IT! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! SON OF A BITCH!”

  Father Poole and Sister Ignatius immediately leaped up from the sofa in his office. The two dressed feverishly. Father Poole rounded the desk and felt around the floor for his glasses and collar. As they went to leave the office together, Phineas pushed her back inside and said, “No! Let me go first. Wait a bit before you come out.” He then kissed her on the mouth.

  When Father Poole entered the hallway, Argyle Hobbs was standing in the center of the foyer and shaking his head back and forth. “GONE! GONE! GONE! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!” he shouted.

  “What’s gone, Argyle?” said Father Poole.

  “MY GODDAMN TOOLS! EVERY LAST MOTHERFUCKIN’ ONE OF ’EM!” he exclaimed. “Someone got into my tool closet out back. When I came over to get me a hammer to fix the stable roof on that there nativity scene, my entire box o’ tools was gone!”

  Just then Sister Ignatius emerged with her headdress on backwards and strands of hair sticking out from beneath it. Taking advantage of the fact that Argyle Hobbs had his back to her, she tiptoed over to the dining-room entrance and stepped on a creaky plank in the floor. Hearing the noise, Argyle turned and saw her. She immediately walked forward, trying to make it appear that she was coming from the kitchen.

  “Now what’s all this fuss about, Argyle?” she said, acting as cool as could be.

  Argyle quickly noticed the messy way she’d put on her headdress but dismissed it as trivial compared to the problem at hand.

  “What’s all the hullabaloo?” she added.

  “Argyle’s tools have gone missing,” Father Poole responded amiably to her. “He’d forgotten to lock the tool closet out back and… .”

  “I TELL YA SOME FUCKER STOLE ’EM!” burst out the groundskeeper. “I AIN’T NEVER FORGOT TO LOCK ANYTHIN’. THAT DOOR WASN’T JIMMIED OR BROKE. THAT FUCKER HAD HISSELF A KEY!” Limping over to the front door, he opened it and pointed down at “The Path to Salvation.” “See there? The snow’s sta’tin’ to fall real good. There’ll be footprints down that there path. I ain’t gonna rest till I get that son of a bitch in my hands and thrash his little hide!”

  “Now, now, Argyle,” Father Poole began. “No need to get hostile. Remember that people who steal do so not because they’re evil but because they have more pressing needs than those from whom they take.”

  “Father,” replied Argyle Hobbs as he started out the door. “that thief ain’t gettin’ away with this, no-how! I’ll find him. And when I do, I’ll be gettin’ the law on his thievin’ ass. That is, after I hang him up by the balls!”

  As he hobbled down the steps with a look of determination on his face, Sister Ignatius ran up to Father Poole, who was now standing at the front door. “Phineas, you can’t let him go to the police. What if they come up here and find Jessica? How would we explain her?”

  He stroked her chin. It was the first time she’d ever called him by his first name. “I know,” he said. “Ransom will just add her to our monthly bill. I’ll go talk to Argyle.” With that the priest ran out the door into the oncoming storm.

  For her part Sister Ignatius ran over to the Benson house, where she opened the door and shouted, “JONAS? JESSICA?”

  “IN HERE!” Jonas called out.

  The nun rushed into the living room and grabbed Jessica. Jonas jumped up. “What is it, ma’m?” he asked, looking worried.

  “Where’s Zachary?”

  “I ain’t seen him all day, ma’m.”

  “He wasn’t with us in the rectory. He’d have come down when Argyle started screaming. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that boy for hours.”

/>   “Somefin’ wrong wit’ Hobby?”

  “Yes,” she began, and then shook her head as if to correct herself in frustration. “I mean no. It’s nothing. But you and Jessica will have to stay upstairs for a while, just in case. And Zachary! We need to find Za… .”

  She stopped and thought about when she had last seen Zachary.

  “Jonas?” she said, dazed and staring at the wall.

  “Yes m’am?”

  “Take Jessica with you upstairs.”

  She handed the child to Jonas and then ran out the door. When she got to the edge of the summit where the incline began, she saw Phineas about halfway down the hill, still trying to talk Argyle Hobbs into coming back up.

  “PHIN…,” she began, then caught herself. “FATHER POOLE!”

  “What is it?” he called back in an anxious voice.

  “ZACHARY,” she cried out. “I THINK HE’S GONE TOO!”

  Argyle Hobbs curled his mouth in disgust and said, “I knew it! I knew it was him! It had to be, Father. That boy’s a thief! I knew it the first time I ever laid eyes on that son of a… .”

  Father Poole patted the groundskeeper on the back. “Alright now, Argyle. Let’s not get our bloomers in a twist. Let’s see whether we can figure this all out without getting the police involved, eh? Keep it in the family, right? I’ll replace any tools that are missing.”

  “BUT THEY’RE ALL MISSIN’!”

  “Then I’ll get you all new ones. Consider it a Christmas present from me to you.”

  When they reached the top of “The Path to Salvation,” Sister Ignatius ran over to meet them. All three then went back into the rectory and searched it from top to bottom. They even looked in the kitchen’s huge walk-in pantry. No Zachary. What was worse, soon after they’d begun their search the three discovered that more than just tools were missing. The door to the second-floor closet was wide open, and the bundle of presents that Father Poole had bought for the children was gone.

  “What would he want the toys for if he were just going to run away?” the nun asked Phineas.

  Father Poole thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. He ran downstairs to his office and picked up the telephone. “Mrs. Osborne,” Father Poole said frantically, “I’d like to be connected with The Toy Chest, please. I need to speak with Jasper Beck.”

  Sister whispered, “What are you calling the toy store for? If you’re going to place an order for more toys when we need to… .”

  Phineas covered the receiver and said quietly, “I need to see if Zachary’s been in. Maybe he… . Hello? Yes, Mrs. Osborne? No. There’s got to be someone there. Keep trying.”

  Sister Ignatius still didn’t understand what Phineas was up to.

  “Yes,” he continued. “Yes, Mrs. Osborne, I realize it’s after seven o’clock, but someone’s got to be there. I mean, it’s his busy season with Christmas just four days away. He must be helping a customer. Please keep trying and call me back when you get through.”

  He hung up the phone. The nun stood before him with her hands on her hips as if about to scold him.

  “Now would you mind explaining what’s in that mind of yours?”

  He grabbed her gently by the sides of her neck and sat her down in his chair. “Don’t you see? He needs money. He’d have to return the toys to the store for a refund. If Zachary’s been in the store to get the money refunded to him, then we know he’s the one who’s responsible and not some random burglar who made his way into the rectory, kidnapped the boy, and made off with everything.”

  Sister Ignatius shook her head slowly but her eyes were kind. “Oh, Phineas. How you still trust that little scoundrel. He’s no good, I tell you! Everyone has been telling you that. Everyone sees it. Why can’t you?”

  But her words fell on deaf ears as the phone rang. Phineas picked it up. Mrs. Osborne was on the other end.

  “Mr. Beck is on the line for you, Father Poole.” she said, sounding as though she were talking while pinching the bridge of her nose. “Go ahead, please, Mr. Beck.”

  “Father!” Jasper Beck answered. It was difficult to hear because in the background were lots of shouting and rummaging of boxes and people arguing. “What can I do for you, Father? I can’t spare you too much time. I’m a little busy right now.”

  “Listen, Jasper,” Father Poole began.

  “I suppose you wanna know my store hours to come down and buy some more toys, seeing as how you had that boy come and return all of the ones you already bought.”

  “Jasper! The boy!”

  “Normally I don’t like giving refunds, but he returned a few items I had just recently run out of, especially that train set. I got a ton of mothers here looking for one. I just sold the one that boy brought back and made two bucks more on it, so I can’t very well complain now, can I?”

  “JASPER!” Father Poole exclaimed, sounding as though he were scolding the toy-shop owner.

  “Oops! Sorry, Father. I know it’s wrong of me to do that. Trust me, if I were a Catholic, I’d run to confession this very minute. Or maybe after the store closed.”

  “Jasper, listen to me!”

  “There ain’t nobody here to help me, you know. I’m all by myself here, and I’m being mobbed!”

  “Jasper, the boy who returned everything. Did you give him $19.68 in cash, the exact amount I paid for all those toys?”

  “What’s that, Father? Oh, yeah. Nineteen some odd dollars. Yes, I did.”

  “Did he mention where he was going? Did you see which way he went?”

  “I’m sorry, Father,” Jasper Beck replied, sounding annoyed. “I can’t hear you very well, and this woman is screaming in my ear for another train set. Hold on a sec. ‘SORRY, LADY. I TOLD YOU I’M SOLD OUT!’ Father, I need to go. We can talk tomorrow if you like, but come before I open ’cause I can’t keep up with the crowds. Thank God for rich parents in these hard times, Father!”

  There was a click, and Father Poole knew that Jasper Beck had hung up. He leaned against the desk and exhaled loudly.

  “You were right, Sister. Lord Almighty, and just when I thought I was reaching him. He was lying to me the whole time!”

  She took his hand in hers and kissed him on the cheek. He looked surprised because at that moment he didn’t feel that he deserved a kiss. He felt like an idiot and, even worse, a failure.

  “It’s only a few toys and tools, Phineas. At least they can be replaced.”

  He walked to the window, hoping that Zachary would suddenly show up. “It’s worse than that,” he explained. “When we were trying to find him, I went up to my room. The door was unlocked, and my top bureau drawer was open. My gold ring, my gold cufflinks, my gold pocket watch—all are gone. He tried taking them from me once. He came back for them. This time he was successful.”

  Sister Ignatius put her hand on Phineas’s shoulder. He turned to her and buried his face on her breast.

  “I was going to sell them to help pay for things around here,” he added. “After you and I talked, that’s what I decided to do. I swear it. Now what are we going to do, Sister?”

  She stroked the hair on the back of his head and sighed. “Call me Ellen.”

  The two embraced for several more seconds but were interrupted by a creaking that came from upstairs.

  “What was that?” Father Poole asked.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “Argyle?”

  “Argyle went over to the Benson house to look in on the kids.”

  “Maybe he came back,” she said.

  “We didn’t hear him come in,” replied Father Poole. “He always makes a lot of noise when he comes in with that limp of his. You know that.”

  “Mrs. Keats?” the nun asked.

  “No. She never goes upstairs.”

  Then it occurred to th
e two of them that it could mean only one person.

  Phineas ran to the office door with Sister Ignatius right behind him. As they did so, a thunderous rumbling could be heard as Zachary plunged down the stairs and out the door, which the boy had left open when he snuck back into the rectory. He had come back to get the slingshot he’d forgotten in his bedroom. Phineas and Sister Ignatius ran after him as far as the edge of the summit. Zachary must have been racing on pure adrenaline as he made it down the nearly 1,200 feet to the base of the hill, and he covered the distance with lightning speed, laughing and howling triumphantly as he did so.

  “He’s laughing at us?” Phineas asked, paying no attention to the snow that was now descending.

  Father Poole walked slowly in Zachary’s direction but stopped when his foot hit something. He bent down and picked it up. It was the Bible he’d given Zachary, but it had been vandalized. The binding appeared to be bulging. He flipped to the back and saw that the last book, Revelation, had been completely ripped out. Sister Ignatius noticed it but said nothing.

  She walked up to Phineas’s side and pulled from her pocket a small book she had tucked inside along with her copy of Sonnets of the Portuguese. It was Alfred Lord Tennyson’s Idylls of the King.

  As they watched Zachary grow smaller and smaller in the distance, Ellen said, “It’s like Merlin and Arthur’s sister, Morgana.”

  “What do you mean?” Phineas asked.

  “Merlin trusted her too much,” she replied. “And when his defenses were down, she betrayed him, just as Zachary’s done with you.”

  While Phineas watched Zachary run farther and farther away, his howls growing fainter, Sister Ignatius read aloud:

  Then, in one moment, she put forth the charm