by Mary Pearson
was wearing a gold-beaded white satin dress. “You decided to come,” she greeted Libby, who was reapplying lip gloss.
“I let Marcus bring me.” Libby fluffed her curls. “I almost wish I hadn’t come. I’m tired of Chad pestering me for a dance. It makes me feel bad for his date.”
“Maybe you should just dance with him once,” Stacy suggested. “Get it over with.”
“I don’t want to encourage him at all,” she said firmly. “But enough about me. Girl, you are it! You have everybody mesmerized with that fantastic dress. Wherever did you get it?” There was just a hint of jealousy in her voice. Stacy gratefully told her about her mother’s gift. After a hug and a promise to call each other, they returned to their partners.
“If I can have everybody’s attention…” Stacy disengaged from Darius’ arms at the sound of the announcement. “We are ready to announce tonight’s King and Queen.” A hush fell over the hundreds of assembled teens. After a pregnant pause the announcer continued. “Everyone please give it up for… King Darius and Queen Anastasia!” Stacy felt something being placed in her hair and she reached up to touch a crown. With a shriek that was almost frightened she watched all the other couples back away, leaving her alone with Darius on the dance floor. He confidently reached out and took her hand and as the band struck up the beginning chords of what was this year’s coronation dance —Kelly Clarkson’s, A Moment Like This—he led her onto the dance floor. With anyone else, Stacy would have been petrified, but as she danced with Darius, everyone else seemed to fade and disappear. She only could see Darius; she only could feel love.
The rest of the dance was a blur of photos and congratulations and dancing, mostly with Darius. When it came time for the dance to end, she wished it never would. Seeking to prolong the magic, Darius drove her to a hill that overlooked the city. The night sky was filled with stars and, since it was warm for early December, the couple decided to walk for a bit. A few times they stopped to embrace. The whole night had been so perfect, there almost seemed no need for words. When they had reached the most scenic point on the overpass, and surrounded by stars so big and so bright, she could almost hear them whispering to each other, Darius dropped down on one knee and took Stacy’s hand. “I can’t believe I never noticed how beautiful you are until tonight. I love you, Stacy,” he said. Then he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. “I feel so good with you on my arm! Stacy,” he whispered in her ear and his breath tickled, “Let’s move in together.”
Stacy sighed and kissed him back. When she was through with the kiss, she corrected him. “You mean, ‘Let’s get married’. Catholics don’t believe in living together unless they’re married.”
Darius smiled a bit condescendingly. “How quaint and antiquated,” he said, but his words were not harsh. “Alright,” he kissed her again, “let’s get married. I wouldn’t want to come between you and your beliefs.”
It was hard to let go of such a magical night, but Stacy knew her family would worry if she didn’t get back home soon, so she told him she’d better call it a night. As she tumbled into bed, exhausted but exhilarated, she remembered to thank St. Jude for coming through after all, and she apologized for having doubted that he would.
Blood in Glass
It wasn’t until the following morning that Stacy realized what it was that had been gnawing at the back of her brain all night. The ruby and pearl necklace her grandmother had given her was gone.
It was still early and there was some time before she and her family had to go to church. After searching the house fruitlessly, Stacy figured she must have lost it at the dance, in Darius’ car, or at the scenic overpass. She hastily called Darius, waking him, and he assured her he would search his car right away. Then Stacy called the school. On Sunday there was no one available to answer the phones, but she knew there would be people in the gym taking down decorations, so she borrowed her mother’s car and sped the few intervening miles. She combed the place, again without success, before enlisting the help of everyone who was working on the undecorating committee. Then she found a janitor and made him open the lost and found for her, all to no avail. The necklace was not to be found at the school.
By now it was light enough to see outdoors, so Stacy drove the car to the scenic overpass and retraced her steps of the previous night. She kept thinking she was bound to see it glinting in the bright morning light. There had been no new snow overnight and the tracks she and Darius had made still appeared undisturbed. She was grateful to see no other prints. Apparently no one had been there since the two of them. Absurdly she wondered if a bird or other animal would be attracted to the bright jewels. She could just picture her family’s heirloom as part of some eagle’s nest.
After several hours of searching and feeling frantic and dejected, she hung it up and headed back home. Her mother was in the kitchen drinking coffee with her grandmother and Reecie was having a bowl of cereal. Emily was in the bathroom, getting ready for church.
The anxiety must have showed on Stacy’s face. “What’s wrong?” were her mother’s first words.
“Oh, Grammie!” The tears came down Stacy’s face like a flood. “I lost the necklace!”
Grandma Annie enveloped her with a hug and brushed away her tears. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to lose it, and, remember, it’s only a thing. Let’s say a prayer to St. Anthony,” she suggested. “He’s in charge of finding lost things.” So they all held hands and said the St. Anthony prayer. “Now,” her grandmother told Stacy, “We’ll put it out of our minds and he will take care of it. Dry those tears and get cleaned up. We’re going to church and afterward I’m taking you all out for breakfast. We want to hear about last night.”
Mass was comforting to Stacy. The Gospel reading was about the parable of the rich man who put up silos to store his excess grain. Then he decided to sit back, rest, and enjoy his wealth. “Fool!” Jesus said to His disciples, “This very night his soul will be demanded of him.” This reading, coupled with the sermon by Fr. Joseph, helped her to gain some perspective on the value of things. Still, her grandmother’s necklace was more than a possession. It had sentimental value because it had belonged to her grandmother’s mother. She hoped St. Anthony would find it for her and she didn’t think she was being too attached to earthly goods in hoping this. She would gladly pass it down to Reecie or someone else, if she could only get the chance.
After church they went out for breakfast at a cheap hotel, the Oasis, which nevertheless put on a good breakfast buffet, and their pancakes were delectable. Uncle George came with them, but Zeke was out with Arthur somewhere. When they were seated, and after much discussion, the family decided they all knew exactly what they wanted to eat so there was no point in getting the buffet, however adventuresome it may be to try a little of this and a little of that. While waiting for their orders, Stacy told her family about the contest, she recapped dancing with her different teachers, and when she recounted how she had been crowned queen, Emily squealed and the rest of her family congratulated her with hugs. Even Reecie looked up from her crayon picture with a questioning smile, “Congratula-ta-tions” she said, imitating the others. Then she went back to drawing.
“Well, I guess you got your fifteen minutes of fame!” This comment came from Uncle George.
Stacy didn’t know what that meant, so she looked to her grandmother, who clarified, “They say everyone will have one moment in the spotlight at some time in their life.” Stacy kind of hoped last night wasn’t the only time something big would happen to her. She was still quite young to have all the good stuff be finished.
“Will your picture be in the paper?” Stacy’s mother asked her.
“I suppose at least in the school newsletter. There were a lot of photos taken.”
Stacy stopped short of telling her family about Darius’ proposal. In the bright light of day it didn’t seem all that solid, so she decided to wait awhile, to see how things developed. By this time their food had arrived. As usual, everybody tried a forkful
off of everybody else’s plate—really they should have gotten the buffet, after all. Later in the meal, Grandma Annie informed the others that she had invited the Associate Pastor, Fr. Joseph, to come for dinner at six that evening. “So save some appetite!”
Stacy called Darius when she got back home, but he still had not located the necklace. No matter. She felt a measure of peace with the situation after praying with the family. She knew it was being taken care of. She would just have to be patient. She spent the better part of that afternoon finishing her homework, and she also did some more reading on the Shroud. By now she had nearly finished the second Shroud book she had purchased, Resurrected, by Dr. Gilbert Lavoie. There was so much good stuff in the books she had read, she regretted that the scope of her presentation wasn’t broader, but she needed to keep it concise to do a good job. She knew from reading these two books that the image of the man was not formed by any natural process, such as heat or paint. Multiple tests eliminated such methods as a possibility. The actual fibrils had been chemically altered—aged, so to speak. Her favorite chapter of this book was toward the end when Dr. Lavoie demonstrated how the Image which was on the burial cloth
