Anastasia's Grail
Page 11
bakery—fresh and frozen—to the church. Stacy’s mother would put on the massive coffee pots while Stacy and Emily frosted, cut and trayed bars and pastries. Grandma Annie would set up tables and chairs. Then, while Emily went to Mass, Rose would bake off the caramel rolls. They were always served fresh and warm from the oven. Usually Stacy would stay and visit with her mother and Grandmother, but today she went to the church service with her sister. She was inwardly glad that nothing had happened at the Darius party that would make it necessary for her to go to confession before Communion. On other occasions she and Darius had been a bit naughtier.
As they had for the previous eight years, Stacy and Emily poured beverages for the crowd that came down to socialize after Mass. Their mother monitored the rolls that were still baking, refilled pitchers with milk, juice or coffee, and retrayed pastries. Their grandmother helped folks to separate the gooey warm caramel rolls to keep the line moving. In between the two Masses they retrayed and finished baking. After second Mass there seemed to be more unfamiliar faces in the line. Stacy’s mom thought there might be some homeless who had gotten wind of the fresh, warm breakfast. She hoped so. The two priests who served Holy Apostles appreciated the opportunity to sit and visit with their parishioners and the rest of the folks could get to know each other better. It was a much appreciated ministry and the family had made it a priority ever since Rose and the girls had moved into town.
The only part that was dreary was the cleanup. Sometimes the people seemed to want to linger over their coffee for hours and Stacy would grow impatient to wash the trays, pots and tables (leaving everything cleaner than they had found it, as the sign on the wall demanded) so that they could go home to a leisurely Sunday afternoon. She was glad they didn’t have to do it every week.
Stacy was sitting by herself—her new ritual—during lunch the next day when Darius dropped into the seat opposite her. She stiffened when she saw him.
“Hey, Stace,” he leaned toward her earnestly, “I’m sorry for ditching you last Friday. I just knew there were some people who were doing stuff they shouldn’t be doing at that party and I didn’t want to be associated with them. I knew you’d be all right because you weren’t doing anything wrong. Besides,” his eyes seemed to reflect admiration, “you’re so smart I figured you could take care of yourself.” When Stacy didn’t say anything, he continued, “Well you did, didn’t you? I didn’t see your name in the paper.”
Thanks to Arthur. No thanks to you. “The paper said there were people using ecstasy at that party.”
Darius fidgeted. “Maybe one or two. It’s hard to control what sort of people come to an open affair like that.” He ran his fingers through his perfectly straightened hair. “Wait a minute, you don’t think I would do something like that to you!” Darius took her hand. “I swear to you, Stace. I would never hurt you. I care about you.” When Stacy still looked unbelieving he continued, “Just let me explain all of this to you after school. I’ll pick you up by the center door.”
“I’ve got work,” Stacy began, but he cut her off.
“Your family will understand if you’re late. I only want to talk to you for fifteen minutes.” His eyes were pleading and Stacy’s resolution began to waiver. “Fifteen minutes, Stace. I promise.”
Stacy reluctantly nodded.
Darius waited for Stacy after school. He hid himself while she lied, telling her mother that she needed to stay late to work on a school project and that she would catch a ride to the bread shop in a half hour or so. Stacy felt awful hiding the truth from her mom, but she knew that being truthful would be even harder than lying. She pictured the scene and shuddered. Part of her resented Darius for putting her in this situation, but deep down she knew it wasn’t his fault. She was the one who chose to tell the lie and she was the one who did it.
“Ok, she’s gone.” Stacy glared at Darius, who was wearing his best wounded puppy look.
“Can we sit in my truck?” he asked.
Stacy mutely nodded, following him to the parking lot. She climbed in the passenger seat and waited.
Darius surprised her by putting his head down. For a long while he stayed like this and when he finally sat up he was trembling slightly. “You know my mother ditched us when I was a baby. I live with my older brother ever since my old man went to jail.”
Stacy looked at him with surprise. “I didn’t know,” she said, seeing him with new eyes. “What’s he in for, if it isn’t too personal.”
“Embezzlement. Really I don’t want people to know. I’d rather have them think I came from a good stable family, like yours.” He took Stacy’s hand in his. “It’s been a lot better for me since we’ve been hanging out. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t my girlfriend any more.” He took a deep breath and looked her squarely in the eyes. His own were pleading.
I never knew I was. But Stacy found herself feeling protective. She squeezed his hand and said nothing.
True to his word this time, Darius dropped her off at the bread shop within a half hour. Her family was hard at work—Emily was forming the loaves which was Stacy’s usual job. Stacy was secretly relieved not to see Arthur there today. She could imagine how he would feel about the day’s turn of events.
Lady in Red
It was mid-November and the days were flying by. Stacy knew that she had to give her counselor a rough draft of her presentation on the Shroud before Christmas vacation. She still was unsure which direction she could conceivably take. From what she had read, Stacy had come to realize that the Shroud of Turin was a very controversial topic. It seemed people were either predisposed to believe in it or to disbelieve and if the latter, many seemed to need to refute it. That’s what was cool about the STURP team, though. Virtually none of them were predisposed in either direction. They had merely become involved for the sake of the scientific challenge. Much of what she had read so far was data which tended to support the hypothesis that the Shroud was the burial cloth of Jesus Christ. Now, as she was sitting in the lunchroom perusing her notes, Stacy began to wonder what other line of inquiry there might be—something that wouldn’t net her enemies on either side of the issue.
“So Libby just never sits here anymore, I guess.” Stacy looked up to see Chad’s disappointed face. He certainly was tenacious.
“I guess not,” she said. She smiled sympathetically and dived back into her book.
“Whacha reading?”
Was he still there? Stacy closed the book and handed it to him.
“What’s the Shroud of Turin?” He appeared mystified.
Was he just bored, or what? “The burial cloth of Jesus—supposedly. You know how he was taken from the cross and they put his body in the unused tomb of this rich guy, Joseph of Arimathea. Well, this is what they wrapped Him in.”
Chad scratched his ear. “Wasn’t Joseph of Arimathea Virgin Mary’s uncle?”
Now it was Stacy’s turn to be mystified. “I have never heard that,” she said.
“Well, I read it somewhere.” Chad thumped her book and got up. “If Libby ever comes back, tell her I miss her.”
Stacy just smiled. Libby really could do worse, she suspected. At least he appeared to be devoted. Just when she was beginning to sink back into her reading, she felt the presence of someone else opposite her. She looked up and into the eyes of Darius. “Oh, hi,” she said.
“How’s my lady?” It felt strangely old school to be called that. At least he didn’t say “old lady”.
“I’m good,” she said.
“I wanted to make it up for getting you involved with that party. Close your eyes.” When she did, he pressed something cardboard into her palm.
“What’s this?” She opened her eyes and found she was holding tickets. She looked at him curiously.
“Two tickets to the winter formal,” he explained. “It’s two weeks from Friday. We’re going.”
Wow. Stacy didn’t know what to say. She would have to get a dress somewhere. She had never been to a formal dance.
She took her sister with her to try on dresses the next weekend. There were two shops that typically catered to those seeking prom gowns and the like, so they went to the mall where they were located. Stacy tried on blue, fuchsia, green, gold, black and red gowns. Some of them were ok, but there was none she absolutely fell in love with.
“I like you best in red,” Emily told her as they were sitting down for a sandwich and soda.
“Which dress?”
“They were both nice…” her sister’s voice trailed off. But neither was spectacular, they were both thinking.
This was her first formal dance, she couldn’t help wanting her dress to be special. Stacy took a sip of her soda. “Let’s not buy either just yet.” After they finished lunch the two girls left the mall. Stacy had borrowed her mother’s car, so they meandered through the city, taking side streets and looking in store windows. This gave them the opportunity to play one of their favorite games. The two girls would take turns claiming the guys they saw walking on the sidewalk. “Mine,” Stacy shouted, and they took a good look at the plaid-jacketed bearded man on the left.
“This one’s mine,” Emily claimed a thin blond guy with a