news. Was he deadened by decades in the remoteness of the Vatican? Did the coming change diminish his importance? Would religious faith be obsolete?
His frail hand reached inside the cassock to the small Rosary he now carried in a pocket, the decorative one he had worn for years now stored in a desk drawer. The movement of the beads, the repetition of the prayers, finally filled his emptiness in the waning hours of afternoon. Despite all the years of theology, it all returned to this for him, the simple peasant’s prayers. He rose and headed toward the Papal apartments. He had news to deliver.
Chapter 13
Eileen had missed most of the night’s show. She heard the clicks of the security gate opening as the driver brought Luke home to her. “Did you hear? Were you listening?”
“Not for most of it. I put the baby in to sleep and dozed off myself in the rocker.” She saw it then. He was barely containing his emotions, struggling to hold back something far deeper than he had ever revealed to her. He wrung his hands together to keep them from shaking. He turned away from her and then back, avoiding her eyes. For the first time, she was deeply afraid for him. She led him to the sofa and sat beside him, saying nothing, just holding the material of his shirtsleeve to maintain a light link of contact. She didn’t turn toward him, knowing that if their eyes met now, he would lose the last sinew of control.
Time passed before she felt it, before actually hearing. Tremors heaved his body silently, then she sensed rather than saw the tears running now from his tightly clenched eyes. In seconds he couldn’t hold it in any longer and stopped trying. He cried and she let him, still fingering his shirtsleeve so he wouldn’t slip away from her, into himself.
She knew it had passed when he stood and went to the bathroom, returning with the tissue box, grinning his embarrassment and showing that he was all right. He sat next to her again. “I guess all the pressure just got to me there. I’ve been holding it in, and the dam just burst.
“He says that heaven and Earth will become one thing. That each of us will have our own choice of a perfect existence and that it’s going to happen soon and that he’s coming back.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, like I said, just the tension, I guess. I kinda froze on the air at the time. Jake saved my ass. Kept me going. Told me what to say.”
“So, I doubt there’ll be radio shows in this new world. That means you’re out of a job?”
“Fuck – I hope so.” She slipped into his arms and they roared with laughter and relief until Jeremy awoke from the noise.
Jake was at the typewriter, and Sandy slipped in through the front door. He lightly waved her off, typing furiously. He wasn’t writing as before. The story was writing itself. He was just steering the words onto paper, not thinking, only telling. Style gave way to the simple truth. He had never been happier. She brought more paper, made coffee, slipping about like a spirit in the dim, reflected light of the single gooseneck lamp shining over the typewriter keys. In time he stopped, letting his head fall back against the top of the chair, signaling to her that he was done. She eased behind him and began kneading his shoulders.
“Jake, I heard everything. Every minute.” He turned to her and just nodded, his way of telling her that he had no doubts.
“Pretty major shit, huh?”
“Well I hope you didn’t write it that way. Not exactly the right tone.”
“Naah. I got it right. But who’s gonna need a book now? We’re all gonna know everything. Who needs to read?”
She put her face close to his. “The question is, who needs to write? You, I think. Looks to me like your perfect world, huh?”
“Point taken. That raises a lot of questions when ya think about it. My perfect world may be to do just what I’ve done all along. Maybe a lot of people would make that choice, to stay with the familiar. What about
His frail hand reached inside the cassock to the small Rosary he now carried in a pocket, the decorative one he had worn for years now stored in a desk drawer. The movement of the beads, the repetition of the prayers, finally filled his emptiness in the waning hours of afternoon. Despite all the years of theology, it all returned to this for him, the simple peasant’s prayers. He rose and headed toward the Papal apartments. He had news to deliver.
Chapter 13
Eileen had missed most of the night’s show. She heard the clicks of the security gate opening as the driver brought Luke home to her. “Did you hear? Were you listening?”
“Not for most of it. I put the baby in to sleep and dozed off myself in the rocker.” She saw it then. He was barely containing his emotions, struggling to hold back something far deeper than he had ever revealed to her. He wrung his hands together to keep them from shaking. He turned away from her and then back, avoiding her eyes. For the first time, she was deeply afraid for him. She led him to the sofa and sat beside him, saying nothing, just holding the material of his shirtsleeve to maintain a light link of contact. She didn’t turn toward him, knowing that if their eyes met now, he would lose the last sinew of control.
Time passed before she felt it, before actually hearing. Tremors heaved his body silently, then she sensed rather than saw the tears running now from his tightly clenched eyes. In seconds he couldn’t hold it in any longer and stopped trying. He cried and she let him, still fingering his shirtsleeve so he wouldn’t slip away from her, into himself.
She knew it had passed when he stood and went to the bathroom, returning with the tissue box, grinning his embarrassment and showing that he was all right. He sat next to her again. “I guess all the pressure just got to me there. I’ve been holding it in, and the dam just burst.
“He says that heaven and Earth will become one thing. That each of us will have our own choice of a perfect existence and that it’s going to happen soon and that he’s coming back.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, like I said, just the tension, I guess. I kinda froze on the air at the time. Jake saved my ass. Kept me going. Told me what to say.”
“So, I doubt there’ll be radio shows in this new world. That means you’re out of a job?”
“Fuck – I hope so.” She slipped into his arms and they roared with laughter and relief until Jeremy awoke from the noise.
Jake was at the typewriter, and Sandy slipped in through the front door. He lightly waved her off, typing furiously. He wasn’t writing as before. The story was writing itself. He was just steering the words onto paper, not thinking, only telling. Style gave way to the simple truth. He had never been happier. She brought more paper, made coffee, slipping about like a spirit in the dim, reflected light of the single gooseneck lamp shining over the typewriter keys. In time he stopped, letting his head fall back against the top of the chair, signaling to her that he was done. She eased behind him and began kneading his shoulders.
“Jake, I heard everything. Every minute.” He turned to her and just nodded, his way of telling her that he had no doubts.
“Pretty major shit, huh?”
“Well I hope you didn’t write it that way. Not exactly the right tone.”
“Naah. I got it right. But who’s gonna need a book now? We’re all gonna know everything. Who needs to read?”
She put her face close to his. “The question is, who needs to write? You, I think. Looks to me like your perfect world, huh?”
“Point taken. That raises a lot of questions when ya think about it. My perfect world may be to do just what I’ve done all along. Maybe a lot of people would make that choice, to stay with the familiar. What about
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