by Mary Pearson
entourage had been predetermined by a vote conducted in the Senior class home rooms. It was a popularity contest which Stacy was sure she had no chance whatsoever to win. She was vaguely comforted by this knowledge. She would not have wanted to leave Arthur for much of the dance to attend to her “royal duties” anyway. The results of this vote would be given at the conclusion of the Grand March.
Once again Stacy’s family and this time, Arthur’s parents—whom Stacy had never met—were in attendance. The applause was more than respectable when Stacy and Arthur took their walk down the runway, but she would not have called it thunderous. Such was not the case for Libby and Darius. They almost brought the roof down. When the two of them were named King and Queen, it came as no surprise—least of all to Stacy. Arthur looked at her with concern when she didn’t make the court, but she simply shrugged. It really was inconsequential who was picked as Prom King and Queen. In a couple of weeks they would leave this artificial world never to revisit it. In any event Stacy had developed a clear focus for her life. The things she had learned in the past few weeks and months made her realize how much more lucky she was to have someone like Arthur on her arm and in her life, than she would have been if she were still with Darius.
The band began by playing the oldies, as they had with the winter formal, and the preliminary songs were for royalty only. When they struck up the chords of the first dance which was open to all in attendance, Arthur took her by the hand. “They’re playing our song,” he whispered in her ear. It was Unchained Melody, the only song they had danced together at the last dance. Stacy was so glad he remembered. They didn’t talk at all during this one—it was too special—but after that it was as if she had gone to the Prom with her very best friend. They had so much in common and had spent so much time together, plus the fact that Arthur had already assured her that he was not expecting anything physical, so to speak, Stacy had never had such a good time on a date. They danced when they felt like it, they nibbled at the refreshments, sometimes they just talked. They had so much to talk about—books and future plans and childhood stories—they could have talked all night. They talked about Stacy’s senior presentation. Stacy told him the one point she wished she could have made, but didn’t know how to work it in, was about gnosis. If sexual union of a man with a woman was all that, why should celibates--like Uncle Joe, her mother and grandmother, not to mention Catholic priests—even bother to live? Their life, according to gnosticism, was not worth living anyway. Arthur agreed that such an ideology was ridiculous, at best. Far from expressing freedom, undisciplined sex had a tendency to enslave the person who engaged in it.
At one point in the evening, Darius was surprised as he turned around, punch glasses in hand, and saw Stacy rapt in conversation with Arthur. She caught an expression of infinite pain and loss which played across his features for a moment, but then he composed himself and disappeared into the crowd.
“So,” Stacy said as they swayed to the strains of the very last song of the evening, “you never kissed Libby—not even once.”
“Nope,” he said.
“Then I don’t suppose you’re planning to kiss me tonight…?”
“Nope.”
At this, Stacy’s heart sank a little bit. After a pause, she asked, “Just when do you think you might kiss me?”
Arthur shrugged. Stacy didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved.
“What if I were to just kiss you, then?” Stacy always had been a troublemaker.
“I wouldn’t kiss back.”
Stacy couldn’t help but be intrigued. When she was with Darius the kisses had been so free as to become annoying at times. Holding back certainly didn’t make things any less interesting. Her heart was beating faster than ever.
When she crawled into bed that night, trying not to wake Emily, she might as well not have bothered. Her sister immediately snapped the light on and sat up in bed. “So tell me everything,” she demanded. “Did they make you queen again?”
Stacy shook her head. “They voted Darius King, though.”
Emily scowled. “That figures.” Then she looked at her sister with concern. “So did you regret going then?”
“Not at all!” Stacy was emphatic. “I had the best time of my life,” she assured her sister, “really.”
“But it really stinks that Darius should be given rewards after what he did!” Emily continued to fume.
“That’s the way of the world.” Stacy sat on her sister’s bed and crossed her legs. “Don’t expect that just because we’re doing the “right things” God will give us wealth and health and success. Are the servants greater than the Master?” Stacy quoted scripture to remind her sister that Jesus had said we, like He did, must pick up our cross and carry it. “The world has always loved it’s own,” she continued to paraphrase Scripture. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Darius were one day elected the mayor of this city. Nor,” she did not hesitate to add, “would it bother me. Neither money nor success can bring a person the least bit of happiness. Of this I am completely sure.”
***
“How was it?” Stacy dropped into the chair beside the young girl’s bed. Her mother following close behind her, took the other vacant seat.
“Painful.” Junie grimaced as she changed position. “Painful, but worth it. Just wait til you see her!”
“I can’t wait. Where is she?”
“They had to clean her up and weigh her properly.” She reached for the control to her hospital bed and raised the top part so that she was sitting up. “What’s in the bag?”
Stacy had almost forgotten. “Oh, We have presents.” She handed Junie the shopping bag full of packages wrapped in delicate pastels. “Open the big one first. Grandma Annie made it.”
Junie fumbled with the wrapping, finally managing to extricate a lovely white and pink quilt. “It’s so soft!” the younger girl exclaimed, hugging it to her cheek.
Just then the nurse re-entered with a freshly-scrubbed baby-fragrant bundle. She handed her to Junie. “She’s missing her momma,” she said.
“Her momma’s missing her,” Junie hugged her close. “Do you want to hold her, Stacy…? Rose…?”
Stacy spoke before her mother got the chance. “Could I…?”
Junie smiled and gently transferred the tiny child into Stacy’s waiting arms. “You are so precious,” Stacy murmured, sniffing her impossibly soft cheek. Then, with a glint in her eye and a sidelong glance, she said, “I firmly hope your momma didn’t make a mistake when she named you after St. Anastasia.” She shot a quick look at her mother.
Rose didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, well at least you ‘will rise again’“, she said, and they both laughed. Junie laughed too, even though she didn’t know why.
THE END
For more information…
About the Shroud of Turin:
Portrait of Jesus? By Frank C. Tribbe, 2006 by Paragon House
Resurrected: Tangible evidence that Jesus Rose From the Dead By Gilbert R. Lavoie, MD, 2000 , Thomas More
Report on the Shroud of Turin By Dr. John Heller, 1983, Houghton Mifflin
About St. Pio:
Padre Pio the Wonder Worker Edited by Brother Francis Mary Kalvelage, Franciscan Friars of the Immaculate
About Eucharistic Miracles, including Lanciano:
This is My Body, This is My Blood by Bob and Penny Lord, 1997, Journeys of Faith
About St Faustina and Divine Mercy:
Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska, edited by Sister M Elizabeth Siepak, 1979, Marian Press
The music of Danielle Rose is available from World Library Publications.
