Jane and the Exodus

by T. R. Woodman

  A shudder ran up Jane’s spine, and her chest constricted at the thought of the people of Ironhead, once hopeful, now broken, and just like the town, Jane knew she was running out of time. She needed to hurry.

  Turning toward the chapel, she quickly climbed the concrete and brick steps to the great wooden doors and slipped into the narthex.

  In contrast to the rest of Ironhead, the church was beautiful, inside and out, with the age of the brick, stone, and wood only serving to make it more charming. It wasn’t a large chapel, but the structure was built over a century and a half before, and it was clear the masons and craftsmen responsible for the work took great pride in their efforts. The white marble floors still had a polished glow, which almost gave them the translucent look of alabaster. The wood of the arches, beams, and pews had seen so much oil over the decades they almost looked to have been wrapped in leather, and she didn’t know how long it had been since they celebrated high Mass in the chapel, but she could still smell the lingering sweetness of the incense in the room.

  Even the stained-glass windows along the walls were intact, and though the sun hadn’t peeked through the clouds since she entered, the light reflecting through the glass illuminated the small chapel with an array of what seemed like never-ending colors. Though the world outside may have been bent on disintegrating into the dirt, Jane was quite sure if anything could stand forever, this church would.

  Jane ducked through the door into the chapel, finding a seat alone in a pew at the back. As she expected, Tate was celebrating Mass, and as she also expected, the chapel was nearly empty.

  Tate was standing at the lectern. He had obviously read the gospel for the day and was well into his homily. Jane had come in late, and while her entrance wasn’t a disruption for anyone else in the room, Tate had noticed her and on seeing her, gave her a smile and a wink, which the others in the room didn’t appear to notice.

  Other than herself, Jane counted eight adults scattered about the room, each alone and sitting in their own pew. All of them seemed old enough to be her grandparent. It made sense. Everyone who was younger and abler was working in the mill or was out in the fields getting ready for the harvest by this time in the morning.

  Apart from the adults in the chapel, there were a half-dozen children of various ages, from maybe three to maybe nine or ten, sitting together in the front two pews, just in front of the lectern. Jane figured they were the orphans Tate had been charged with caring for, and they looked every bit the part. Jane couldn’t see their faces, and while she suspected that Tate would have had them all wash up before Mass, she could still see the grime and stains in the ratty and threadbare clothing each one wore.

  Even though these kids looked like they could have been feral, living on the streets and scrounging like vermin, Jane couldn’t help but admire them for sitting still and listening intently to her brother’s sermon—something that even she wasn’t doing. She also couldn’t help but be a little jealous of them, as they were getting to spend a lot more time with him than she had in the past several years.

  Tate finished his homily and moved back to the altar. Jane knelt with the others in the room, and while her lips were moving and the prayers were coming out, she was spending more time praying for wisdom in knowing what to say to Tate than she was listening to what he was saying. Even the mosquito that had found its way into the chapel, and had buzzed its way past her head seconds ago, had only then registered to her as something irritating.

  Is there no place sacred to those bloodsuckers? Jane thought, wondering how a mosquito could have made it through two sets of doors to get to her.

  Jane stood with the others in the chapel and proceeded to the front for communion, which lasted barely two minutes, given the small number of people. As she approached the altar, Jane got a little uneasy, realizing her time to talk to Tate was about to come. “The body of Christ, Jane,” Tate said as he held the host before her.

  “Amen,” she said, taking it, and then walked dutifully back to her spot in the pews.

  Kneeling once again, Jane looked at her brother as he finished the Mass. She felt desperate in the way she wanted him to say yes, but felt as if she was experiencing stage fright at the same time.

  “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” Tate said as he blessed the congregation, the people crossing themselves in unison. “The Mass has ended. Go in peace, glorifying the Lord with your life.”

  “Thanks be to God,” the congregation responded.

  Tate bowed before the altar and walked down the aisle, and as he did, the children at the front, and then the elderly people behind them, followed. Jane sat for a minute before the crucifix in the quiet chapel, waiting for what she felt was long enough for everyone else to leave the building.

  Jane stood and walked through the door into the narthex. As she had hoped, the older folks had all left. She wandered toward the sacristy, expecting to find Tate alone, but as she neared the doorway, she could hear the voices of the children—though whether they were excited or bickering, she couldn’t tell.

  She rounded the corner of the doorway to see a couple of the older kids bustling around, hanging Tate’s robes and putting away the chalice from the Mass. Most of the others seemed to be distracted, talking about important things to young kids—like who could jump the highest and what game they would play outside on the playground—and a couple of the boys were taking turns punching each other in the arm.

  No one had yet noticed her standing in the doorway, including her brother, who was more focused on giving instructions and trying to maintain some semblance of order in the small room.

  In private, Jane still preferred to call her brother by his real name. It felt funny to refer to him as Father. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to that, but now, in front of all these kids, Jane thought she ought to be more formal, if for no other reason than to be careful about his identity.

  “Excuse me, Father,” Jane said after clearing her throat.

  On hearing her voice, Tate immediately looked at her and smiled, and every child in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to look at her too.

  “Do you have a minute to hear a confession?” Jane continued, thinking that would be a great cover story that would allow them time to talk in private.

  “Of course, miss,” Tate replied. “Why don’t you wait for me in the chapel—I’ll be just a minute.”

  Jane smiled and started to turn away but couldn’t take her eyes off the children. Every one of them was staring intently at her. Not even one had so much as flinched since she spoke, and she was starting to get uncomfortable at being ogled simultaneously by a half-dozen tiny pairs of eyes. It was as if they had never seen a woman before. She shifted her weight and insecurely tucked her hands in her pockets.

  Tate chuckled. “It’s okay, Jane. The children know who you are—and since you’re here anyway—”

  Tate turned to address the children, who still were standing as stiff as statues. “Children, I’d like for you to meet my sister, Jane.” Turning back to Jane, he added, “Jane, these are my children.”

  Jane was speechless. Nobody said anything. An uncomfortable moment passed.

  Chuckling again and realizing everyone in the room was suffering from some sort of group paralysis, Tate stood straight, raised his eyebrows, and lowered his tone and his gaze. “Close your mouths, boys,” he began, speaking specifically to the two arm punchers standing near the back of the room, and immediately regaining the children’s attention. “It’s impolite to stare—Joseph, please finish up in here—Mary and Sarah, please take the rest of the children to the cafeteria and get breakfast started.”

  Jane watched the children file past and noticed two of the older girls alternating stealing glances at her and at Tate as they shepherded the other children through the doorway.

  Tate was watching the procession with his hands on his hips. “Children, be sure to mind Mary and Sarah until I get there—and
don’t forget to pray before you start eating—and don’t forget to save me some breakfast,” he finished with a smile.

  “Can we have eggs today, Father?” one of the littlest boys said, having already walked through the doorway.

  “Not today, David,” Tate replied. “We’re having hot cereal.”

  “But we always have hot cereal.” The boy sighed.

  “I know,” Tate said, giving Jane a wink. “Aren’t we blessed to have a hot breakfast every morning? You know, not everyone is so lucky.”

  “I guess,” the boy sighed again.

  Jane thought of the starving girl she had seen in the woods earlier that day. How right you are, Tate, she thought, feeling grateful that at least these kids had something to fill their bellies.

  As the children walked past, Jane noticed the smaller of the two girls Tate had put in charge had stopped and was looking straight up at Tate’s face. Tate seemed to know that that was his cue.

  “What is it, Sarah?” he asked, kneeling to put his ear to her mouth.

  Whatever it was that Sarah said to Tate, she must have said in barely a whisper because Jane couldn’t hear it. It was enough to make Tate chuckle again, though.

  Pulling back from her a little so he could look her in the eyes, he agreed. “Yes, Sarah, I know. She is even prettier than in her picture.”

  Jane blushed. Sarah looked at Jane and blushed back and then scurried out of the room.

  Jane gave her brother a look of faux disapproval at being embarrassed, though she had to admit she was flattered. She composed herself and glanced over at the only other person left in the room besides her and her brother. The boy Tate had pointed out—Joseph, she remembered—had finished wiping down the paten and the chalice and had rested them on the countertop. He also had been stealing glances at Jane while the other kids left the room, but had been mindful to take care of what Tate had asked of him.

  Turning toward her, he brushed the hair from his eyes and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, miss,” he said, and without waiting for her to reply, he started toward the doorway. Jane noticed that unlike the others, Joseph struggled to walk smoothly, but nevertheless, he had a smile on his face all the way out of the room.

  Jane turned her gaze toward her brother, who had already started to walk toward her. Reaching out, he put his arm around her shoulders to escort her toward the doorway leading to the chapel.

  “Come on, sis,” Tate said. “Let’s catch up.”

  Jane grabbed her brother around the middle to give him a hug while they walked, which was easy given the six inches he had on her in height.

  “I miss you, Tate,” she said and unexpectedly found herself choking back a tear, the emotion of the moment and the stress of the past many hours continuing to wear on her.

  “I’ve missed you too, Jane,” Tate replied, opening the door to the chapel for her.

  They strolled down the aisle holding one another and found a spot in a pew near the front.

  Jane pulled away from Tate to slide into the pew and sit. Wiping a tear from her eye, she smiled at her big brother and tried to lighten her mood. “So how is it that the kids know who I am anyway?” she asked.

  “Oh, that. Well … I talk about you a lot,” Tate replied. “You’re one of my favorite people, you know.”

  Jane smiled. “Thanks,” she replied.

  “And I’m sure the children recognize you from the picture I have in my office,” Tate added. “Dad gave me a copy of the one he took of you and mom standing in front of the Colosseum in Rome. I keep it on my desk.”

  “I have the same picture. It’s one of my favorites,” Jane added, and then grew concerned. “Aren’t you a little worried about the kids finding out who you are?”

  “You mean, am I worried they’ll find out I’m the son of a billionaire?” Tate asked with a smirk.

  “Not exactly,” Jane countered, trying to be more serious than Tate was letting them be. “What I mean is dad is getting himself in trouble with a lot of powerful people, and some of them are snooping around our family’s past. You know, if anyone finds out who you are and what you have inside your head, you could be in a lot of trouble.”

  Tate nodded in agreement, making less light of the situation. “I know, and I knew what you meant. But honestly, I don’t think anyone around here would care even if they did know. Most of the people in this town are just trying to survive, and my children here in the orphanage … well, they’re more concerned with whether they have to be ‘it’ when they play tag on the playground. To them, I’m the guy who tucks them in at night, you’re my beautiful sister, and Dad—well, they wouldn’t know him if he landed a shuttle in the middle of their playground.”

  Jane laughed. “You’re really not worried?”

  “No, not even a little bit,” Tate reassured her. “I have been out of the public view for almost a decade. Very few people even know I exist, and those who do don’t know what I have inside.”

  Tate looked around mockingly, as if he were concerned someone might be listening in on their conversation. “Plus,” Tate added with a wink, “I have an escape plan if anyone comes looking for me.”

  “Huh?” Jane responded, surprised.

  Tate patted her knee. “Don’t you worry about that, sis—or me for that matter. I’m going to be fine. But this isn’t the only reason you came to see me today, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” Jane said, her heart skipping a beat, sitting up a little straighter in her seat.

  “I appreciate the invitation, Jane,” Tate started. “But I thought you and Dad understood that I can’t go.”

  “Well, wait a minute here,” Jane countered. “Aren’t you even going to hear me out before you tell me no? I came all the way out here to see you after all.”

  “You’re right, sis,” Tate answered. “Please, go ahead. Give me your best pitch.”

  Jane smiled at her brother and took a deep breath. “Well, I was thinking that since we are leaving the planet and all, it would be smart for us to bring a priest along with us. The people need a pastor, and we need someone to take care of our spiritual needs. You could be that person.”

  “That is very true,” Tate said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That is a good reason for me to go.”

  Jane’s eyes brightened. “Then you’ll come?” she asked.

  “No, Jane,” Tate replied. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  Jane started gritting her teeth in frustration. “Why not?” she replied, not so lightly thumping the base of her fist on the seat of the pew.

  “Jane,” Tate said, trying to keep her calm. “Is that the real reason you came all the way out here? You wanted to ask me to come along as a priest?”

  Jane’s eyes welled up with tears. “Of course not, you big jerk!” she said, looking down at her shoes. “I want you to come with me because I love you, and I’m going to miss you, and I worry about you, and I don’t want to never see you again.”

  Tears started streaming down Jane’s face. She couldn’t stop sobbing, and she really didn’t want to. Her stomach hurt, her head hurt, her whole body hurt from all the stress. Leaning into her brother, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and shook as she cried.

  Jane felt her brother wrap his arm around her and gently squeeze her shoulder. A moment later, Jane opened her eyes enough to see that he was holding a kerchief in front of her face.

  “What?” Jane asked, taking the kerchief to wipe the slobber from her face. “Do you guys just carry these things around with you?”

  Tate laughed a little. “Well, you learn pretty fast what the essentials are when you’re a priest.”

  Jane laughed a slobbery, gasping laugh and continued to dab the tears from her eyes.

  “You know, Jane,” Tate continued, “I know I’m kind of new to this whole priest thing, but I’m pretty sure the penance for calling your priest a jerk during confession is at least a dozen Hail Marys.”

  Jane slobber-laughed again and pulled herself up straight to
look at her big brother. “I do love you, Tate.”

  Tate looked her in the eyes. His were starting to water too. “I know you do,” he responded. “And I love you too. And I hope you know that if I could go with you, I would. But when I took my vows as a priest, I made a promise to God, forever. My life is no longer my own to live. There are so many children here, hurting … without parents … without families … I serve Our Lord, and as long as I am able to help His children, that’s what I will do.”

  “I know,” Jane agreed reluctantly.

  Jane sat back in the pew, and Tate sat back with her, putting his arm around her again. They both looked at the crucifix for a moment, and then Tate broke the silence. “You know, Jane, you may see more of me than you want anyway. Dad is planning to make trips back and forth after all.”

  She turned in surprise to face her brother. “How do you know about that?” Jane smiled, still trying to compose herself.

  “Oh, that?” Tate said with a grin. “Dad came to visit me a week ago … told me all about it.”

  “Why am I always the last to know?” Jane mumbled as she sat back in her seat again. “Was he coming to say goodbye?”

  “No,” Tate replied, giving her shoulder another squeeze. “He came to see if I had changed my mind about coming—for your sake. He must not have said anything to you because he didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “Right,” Jane replied. “I had to come all the way here to do that for myself.”

  Jane was quiet for a moment and again tried to lighten her mood. “Well, you’re right about the fact that we may get to see each other soon enough. If Dad’s plan is to travel back and forth, I have no doubt he’ll make it happen. And in the meantime, you do have all those kids to look after—you can’t just go off and leave them all behind.”

  Tate was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, about that …” He looked at Jane out of the corner of his eye with a raised eyebrow.