by TJ Vargo
The light turned green. Curtis tooled by the high school. Same rusted metal basketball hoops. Same ten-foot-high chain link fence. Only thing different was the huge white banner strung across the fence with the words, “Celebrating 100 Years – Sacred Heart Parish,” printed in bright blue. He drove by the fence and scanned the parking lot, catching sight of Julia’s late model, black Ford Escort parked by the back doors of the church.
Curtis focused on the back doors. They’d be the best way in tomorrow night. After he checked on Julia, he’d go over to The Red Fox and run the idea by Sonny.
He pulled in next to the rectory. Heat blanketed him as he climbed the front steps of the church and opened the front door of the church. Cool air whooshed out as he stepped inside.
The church was empty. He dipped his fingers in holy water and crossed himself. His steps echoed as he walked toward the altar.
Halfway down the aisle he stopped to look at the stained glass and statues. You probably couldn’t even find laborers with the talent to shape glass, marble, stone and wood with such artistry today. Curtis craned his neck back, looking at the paintings that covered the ceiling. Jesus walking on water. Saint Peter martyred. And on and on. No one he knew did anything artistic. He focused on the waves beneath Jesus’s feet on the painting overhead and smiled.
Except for Julia.
A door slammed near the altar.
He watched Julia carry a bucket of cleaning supplies by rows of potted purple and white lilies on the altar.
Curtis started toward her. “Hey, Julia,” he said, waving.
She startled and dropped the bucket. He walked over, ready to tease her about being clumsy, then decided against it. The dark circles under her eyes didn’t look good.
“Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing,” said Curtis, grabbing rags off the floor and tossing them in the bucket. “You okay?”
She stood, holding the bucket against her chest. “I got a lot of work to do, Curtis.”
He straightened. “I stopped by your place last night. Maybe you didn’t hear me.”
“I heard you,” she said. “Can we talk later? The Bishop’s coming and I got stuff to do.”
As she turned away, he touched her hand and pointed toward the paintings on the ceiling. “Could you do that?” he asked.
“Really, I don’t have time. I can’t—”
“Must be hard to paint something that big,” he said.
She tilted her head back, clutching the bucket against her chest. “I don’t know. I never tried something that big,” she said.
“My dad told me the artist that did these paintings used parishioners as models,” said Curtis. “So it’s not Saint Peter, Mary and Jesus up there. More like a Mr. Peterson, Mrs. Brown and Mr. Jones. Didn’t do too bad a job, but if you ask me, you’re better.”
“Me?” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Your painting made me wish I was there, on the beach with that girl. These don’t do nothing for me.”
Her face flushed. She looked down. He touched her chin and lifted her face.
“You sure you’re okay?” he said.
“Yeah. Just tired,” she said.
“Well, I know you’re busy. Can I stop by your place later?”
She bit her lip, trying to hold down a smile.
“That would be nice,” she said. “I’m leaving soon. Father Salvatore already sent everyone home. Only reason I’m here is cause he needs to talk with me.”
“Maybe you’re getting a promotion,” said Curtis.
“Don’t think so. I’ve only been working about a month.”
“Keep talking like that and you’ll jinx it.”
She pushed him. “Shut up.”
Curtis pushed her back. “You shut up. I used to be an altar boy here. Maybe I can put in a good word for you.”
“You were not.”
He shot her a look. “Was too. Served early morning Mass for four years.”
He put a hand on her shoulder and pointed at colored shafts of sunlight filtering through a stained glass window of the Virgin Mary. A section of pews were bathed in the kaleidoscope of color.
“Check that out,” he said.
“It’s pretty,” said Julia.
Curtis smiled. “I remember watching that stained glass window in the morning when I came to serve morning mass. It would start to glow with the sunrise, you know? Brighter and brighter. And then, once the sun got high enough, the whole inside of the church filled with color, like a rainbow was being poured in here.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Made me feel like the whole world was good.”
He turned toward Julia. She stared at him. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “But it’s all bullshit,” he said.
“Why?” she said.
“Step outta line once and you’ll find out.”
Julia tipped her head. “I don’t understand. What did they do to you?”
“Not me, my dad,” he said, feeling the pain in his sinus build. “After he burned up his partner they were good at whispering behind his back and making sure he couldn’t get work, but helping? They didn’t lift a finger. Screw it. It’s all in the past.”
He pointed toward a painting of the Apostles and Jesus on a boat, pulling in nets filled with fish.
“See that?” he said. “That’s my future. I’m leaving to start a charter fishing business. I’m gonna be long gone in a couple days.”
Julia grabbed his arm. He could feel his pain drain away.
“You’re leaving?” she said.
“Yeah. Been saving for years to get a boat,” he said. “I got it all worked out, but keep it to yourself, okay? I haven’t told anyone.”
She smiled so big her scar disappeared.
“Oh my God, Curtis, that’s great. Where are you going?” she said.
“I’ll tell you about it when I come over later,” he said.
“No, I want to know now. Tell me. C’mon. That’s so cool. Are you going to live on a beach or do you even know yet? Or are you going to live on your boat? Please tell me. I don’t know anyone that’s done anything like this before.”
Julia gripped his arm as she talked. The sight of her, smiling big, eyes wide, gripping his arm—it sent a rush of excitement through him. Sonny saw leaving Tombs as part of the gold heist. Julia was different. She saw it as a new beginning.
He grabbed her hand. “You can’t tell anyone, Julia. You gotta keep it to yourself.”
She squeezed his hand and pulled him close, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m so excited for you,” she said. “I won’t say anything, but you have to promise you’ll tell me all about it.”
“I will,” he said. “I’ll stop by your place later and tell you everything. Okay?”
She smiled. “Promise?”
“I promise,” he said, letting go of her hand.
He walked toward the side hall that led to the parking lot. When he was out of Julia’s view he checked the lock on the back door. It wasn’t gonna be hard to jimmy. There was no deadbolt, so all he had to worry about was forcing the latch. A crowbar would pop the trim and he’d be inside in less than a minute.
He dipped his fingers in a holy water font and crossed himself on his way out. The sun blasted him as he opened the door. Heat rose in waves as he walked through the parking lot. He touched his cheek where Julia kissed him.
She understood.
The black leather seat of his motorcycle was hot as a grease fire, burning through his jeans as he sat. He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He gunned his bike and rode out of the parking lot. It was time to see Sonny and find out what Duck and Artie had to say about the church’s security system.
He dripped sweat all the way to The Red Fox. He couldn’t tell what was worse, the sun or the humidity. Stopping at a red light, he lifted his tee shirt to wipe his face. A faint, plum-colored smudge came off with his sweat. It was Julia’s lipstick. The light turned green and he pulled into the intersection.
It wasn’t smart talking to her about leaving town, but screw it—he liked her.
He turned into the Red Fox parking lot and searched for a place to park.
Talking to her about moving to Lewiston and buying a boat felt right. When he saw her later, he’d talk the whole thing through with her. She’d be excited. She might even ask if she could come.
He wiped sweat from his face.
Would that be a bad thing?
Maybe not, but now wasn’t the time to think about it. He had to get inside and talk to Sonny. There wasn’t gonna be a boat or anything else to talk about unless he and Sonny got that gold.
Shade and parking were both in short supply around The Red Fox. As hot as it was, Curtis figured he’d burst into flame at any moment. He circled around the back of The Fox and parked in a tree-shaded corner of the bank parking lot next door. It had to be fifteen degrees cooler in the shade.
Pain sparked behind his eye, growing to a hot ember as he walked toward The Red Fox. He took a perc to tamp it down, noticing he had four pills left. Unless his pain miraculously disappeared, he was going to have to get more very soon.
He scraped tar off his shoe on the steps leading to the back door and went in.
The Fox was dim, cool and dry. Sonny sat at a table to the right, tucked in a dark corner with a bottle of beer.
Curtis smiled as Sonny saw him, lifted his bottle and took a swig. A tap on the shoulder stopped Curtis before he could join him. He turned, recognizing the pretty blonde barmaid.
Couldn’t remember her name, but he’d never forget the angel tattoo that covered her entire back. She was drunk when she pulled him into the ladies room and showed it to him before making out with him. A warrior angel, wings unfurled across her shoulder blades, with its sword pointed straight out. He’d never seen anything like it—and the canvas wasn’t bad either. Soft, smooth and curvy from what he remembered. She smiled at him.
“Curtis, can you put a new keg under the taps? They’re too heavy for me. Please?”
He looked at Sonny and held up a finger. “Gimme a minute,” he said, pointing at the barmaid. “Gotta get a keg for her.”
Moving the keg was no fun, but he wrestled it behind the bar, only cracking his shin once before pushing it under the taps. The barmaid stood at the cash register next to the taps. She stopped counting bills and laid a hand on Curtis’s forearm.
“Can you hook it up while I count the drawer?”
Curtis looked across the empty bar at Sonny. He pointed at the taps. “One more minute—hooking it up.”
He was under the bar connecting the keg to the tap when he heard the front door open. A pair of footsteps shuffled in. Curtis looked up as the barmaid closed the register. She put on a big smile.
“I was wondering where you two were. Rum and cokes, right?”
Curtis watched her walk to the sink and grab a couple glasses. A barstool knocked against the front of the bar, just above Curtis’s head. He concentrated on hooking the keg to the tap, checking to make sure the seal was tight. Everything looked good. He edged out from under the bar.
Two men’s voices filtered down to him. They talked quiet, whispering and laughing under their breath, saying something about Sonny.
Curtis settled back on his heels and listened.
Chapter Sixteen
Julia looked over her work. Everything gleamed. The marble altar. The brass candle holders. The wooden pews. The stained glass windows. Every surface that could be wiped down, dusted, waxed or polished had been hit. Sacred Heart looked clean, smelled clean and was clean. If she had to eat off this floor, it wouldn’t be the worst thing she’d ever done. She heard a door open and the scent of the purple and white lilies on the altar wafted over her. Father Sal’s face lit up as he walked in, his head on a swivel as he moved past the votive candles flickering in front of Saint Joseph’s statue. He made his way along the communion rail toward the altar.
“Wow. Somebody’s been working hard,” he said, lifting his arms as he neared Julia. “This looks wonderful.”
Julia blew a lock of hair off her face. “Thanks, Father. It was a lot of work.”
“I’ll bet,” he said. He stopped at the front of the main aisle and put his hands on his hips, nodding as he scanned the altar. His gaze stopped on Julia. “Fantastic job. Just great. So, did I catch you at a good time? I don’t want to interrupt if you’re in the middle of something.”
“No, I’m done,” she said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
Father Sal sat on the communion rail. “Take a seat,” he said.
The marble rail was cool, even on a day as hot as today. She glanced at Father Sal. Same outfit every day. Silver-framed glasses. Black pants. Black shoes. Black shirt. And, of course, his priest collar showing a square of white at the base of his neck. Black looked good on him, bringing out the pepper in his salt and pepper hair and beard. He usually looked amused, with a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. But there was a little slope in his shoulders today, as if he was carrying a weight.
“So, how long have you worked here?” he said. “Almost a month, right?”
“Yeah. It’ll be a month tomorrow.”
“You like it?”
“Sure. It pays the bills. And I like eating.”
He laughed and readjusted himself on the rail. “Everyone likes to eat, but it’s not a very good job. There’s no health insurance. No pension. Not much of a future for a young person. You ever think of doing something else?”
Julia crossed her arms over her chest. “Did I do something wrong?” she said.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “No. You’ve been great. What I’m trying to—”
“Am I getting fired?” she said, facing him.
He took his hand off her shoulder. “Julia, what happened to your face?”
She touched her bruised cheek. “It’s nothing,” she said. “So when’s my last day?”
Father Sal was quiet for a long moment.
“If I’m being fired, you can at least tell me why,” she said.
“You’re not being fired, Julia,” he said. “You do a great job. Never cause trouble. Just do your work and smile.” He sighed. “But Sacred Heart is going through some changes. I just want to make sure you’re not put into a bad situation.”
She watched Father Sal shift in his seat.
“So how many people are you letting go?” she asked.
Father Sal raised a hand. “Stop right there. All I’m saying is it would be in your best interests to look for something. I didn’t say anything about letting anyone go.”
“So why are you telling me to look for another job? You didn’t tell anybody else.”
Father Sal turned to face her. He took her hand. “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” He patted her hand.
She pulled her hand away. “Can you just tell me what’s going on?”
“You’re right,” he said, taking his glasses off to clean them. “You deserve to know.” He put his glasses on and turned to Julia. “I trust you’ll keep this confidential.”
Julia nodded.
“Sacred Heart is being merged with two other parishes,” he said. “The diocese is closing us down.”
Julia looked away, focusing on the afternoon sun coming through the stained glass window of the Virgin Mary. “Oh,” she whispered.
“Yes. Oh,” he said.
“But what about the Bishop?” said Julia, turning toward Father Sal. “Why would he come if they’re gonna close the church?”
“This is a recent development,” said Father Sal. “He’s coming to inform me of the merger, that’s all. He won’t be participating in the one-hundred year Mass or the picnic.”
Julia sighed. “I’m sorry, Father,” she said, rubbing her eyes and catching the faint smell of ammonia on her hands. Maybe this was good. Maybe she wouldn’t smell like chemicals at her next job. She looked at her hands. The middle knuckle on her right hand was cracked and crusted with blood.
It would be nice to have hands that weren’t dry and bleeding.
Father Salvatore stood and gripped her shoulder.
“No, I’m sorry, Julia. We’ll be making the announcement in two weeks. If I were you, I’d find something before everyone else starts looking for a job.” He patted her shoulder before stepping away.
“Father?” said Julia, standing as Father Salvatore turned. “Why did you tell me? If we’re closing, a lot more people than me are losing their jobs.”
“That’s true,” he said. “But they have family. They’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are alone. You could use the help.” He smiled.
Julia nodded and watched him walk away, his voice trailing through the church.
“If you can’t find work, let me know,” he said. “I know some organizations that help single women. And please take care of whatever caused that bruise. I’m guessing whatever or whoever caused it isn’t good for you.”
Then he was gone.
Julia stood, pulled out her ponytail and shook her head, running her fingers through her hair. The memory of Curtis saying, “Maybe you’ll get a promotion,” came to her. She walked toward the side door that opened to the parking lot.
“Guess you were wrong, Curtis,” she murmured.
She walked outside. Her black Ford Escort was so hot the door handle burned her fingers. She got in and pulled her shirt sleeve over her hand to roll the window down. Long pants didn’t seem smart in this kind of heat until you had to sit on a black vinyl seat sizzling in the sun for the past five hours. She started the car and cranked the air conditioning.
She had a couple weeks to find a job. It was nice of Father Sal to give her a head start on the rest of the employees being let go.
With cold air finally blowing out of the vents, she closed her window and backed out of her parking space, drumming her fingers on the blistering hot steering wheel.
But why did everything have to happen at the same time? In two weeks she’d be out of work and Curtis would be gone.
She pulled out of the parking lot. The two bell towers of Sacred Heart grew smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror.
