Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold (16 page)

She looked up. “All my life, I’ve had these strange feelings about things, about things in the future. My dad, who’s dead, used to say it was a gift. But lately, my intuition has been that I’m in danger. Of dying. And I don’t know why.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?”

“That’s part of it,” she said in a low voice. “I keep thinking that someone’s following me.”

“Following you?”

She put her hands on her knee. “For a while, it seemed like every time I left my house, every time I went to work, every time I did an errand, I would see this man behind me in my peripheral vision. This big, tall man with a big head and broad shoulders, following me.”

“This isn’t the man who mugged you?”

She shook her head. “No. The guys who mugged me were young. This man has got to be about forty. And despite the fact that no one else has seen him, I’m sure I’m not imagining
him
. Although—I could be imagining that he’s after me.”

Leon scratched his chin. “Well, that does sound like something to be concerned about. Did you call the police?”

“I thought of that, but what could I tell them except that he was always in my vicinity? It’s not as though he’s ever tried to come up and talk to me. He’s barely even looked at me.”

“And you don’t know who he is?”

“I have no idea.”

“Just so I’m clear here—you’re not telling me that you think this man is a spiritual manifestation of Death?”

She shook her head. “No. That’s something separate. It’s like this: all summer, I’ve been having this sense of being vulnerable. And then, a few weeks ago, I start noticing this man. Of course, this only makes me feel more and more paranoid. After a while, I had the sense that any random destructive force in my area was going to careen in my direction. Not that anything actually happened—well, not until the night I came here—but I’ve been feeling all along that something was
about
to happen. And frankly, it hasn’t been—good for my sanity.” She smiled wryly.

“You said you talked to your mom and sister about this?”

She hesitated. “Yes. Maybe it was just how I put it to them, but they didn’t react at all well. I think my mom is starting to wonder if I’ve got some kind of emotional problem—just before she left on vacation, I overheard her asking a nurse friend of hers for the name of a reliable psychiatrist.”

“Do they know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “No. They’re on a camping trip in California. I won’t be able to reach them until next week. But at least they won’t be worried about me.”

Brother Leon thought. “Have you seen this man hanging around the friary?”

“No. It’s kind of funny, but I’m relieved. Since the night of the mugging, it almost seems like I’ve escaped him by coming here. If he was really ever following me in the first place. Do I sound paranoid?”

“No, not at all,” Leon said. “In fact, keep on looking over your shoulder for this guy. If you see him, tell us. Maybe we can find out what he’s up to. Does that help?”

“Somewhat,” she managed a smile. “I just wish I could understand what this means. It’s as though my life has turned into a chess game, and I’m a pawn who has no idea what’s going on. I just keep trying to go straight ahead and mind my own business.”

“Well, you realize that if you’re a pawn in a chess game and you keep walking the straight and narrow, you’re going to invade enemy territory the further you go on,” Brother Leon pointed out.

“That’s what I feel like. Like I’ve crossed some sort of line, and now every piece I see is after me suddenly. But I don’t know where the line was or when I crossed it.”

“Nora, you crossed it by growing up,” Leon said. “You know we’re in a battle here, right?”

“You mean, a spiritual war between good and evil.”

“Yeah. And you’re on the good side, right?”

“Well, I hope so.”

“When you grow up trying to do good, you tend to get better at it. And pretty soon, you might start being a threat. To the devil. See, God has a plan for you, and the devil knows it. Don’t underestimate what God wants from you either. You might think you’re just a pawn, but a pawn who reaches the other side of the board becomes a queen.”

“I don’t want to be a queen,” Nora murmured, running her hands through her hair. “I just want to be left alone.”

Leon chuckled. “Your only chance for peace is to put yourself in God’s hands and trust Him.”

She smiled ironically. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be sure ‘the suffering had a loving side,’ like Emily Dickinson said. Sometimes it’s hard for me to think God finds me very lovable.”

“Don’t think that!” Leon said with vehemence, and she looked at him, startled. “I’m serious, Nora. You’re not allowed to doubt God loves you. You can doubt everything else. Doubt the sacraments, doubt your sanity, doubt the existence of Saskatchewan or Siamese cats. But there’s one thing you can’t doubt, and that is God’s love for you. No matter what happens to you, never doubt that He loves you. That has to be your foundation: He loves you. The universe might disintegrate around you, but that won’t change.”

She looked at him as though she had begun to understand something.

“‘For the plans I have for you are good and not evil, life, and not death, to give you a future, and a hope.’ Nora, c’mon, trust Him a little.”

“Okay. I guess that’s what Catholics are supposed to do.” She sighed.

He rubbed his beard stubble again. “Look, you need to take your mind off some of this stuff. How about you give the vestibule a rest for now, and get out, for a change? Matt and I have got to drive someone to the airport today. Why don’t you come along? Sound good?”

“Yes,” she said, with a faint smile.

“Then do me a favor and go back to your room and try to get some sleep.” He touched her shoulder lightly. “All right?”

“All right.”

With a quiet smile she rose, left the pew and walked back out of the church as the rain hammered down on the roof. He closed his eyes and knelt.

Okay, Lord, so that’s what you were up to. Now let me let her go, beautiful as she is, and give her to you. You take care of her. You’ll do it better than I would, anyhow.

III

Wednesday. Still trapped in prison. At least it was raining. Bear rolled over in his jail bunk and blinked in the early morning light diffused through his plastic-screened window. He hadn’t changed clothes since he had left Rome, and he was feeling increasingly grungy. Realizing he was awake, he buried his head in his hands and prayed.
God, please let me get out today. Or at least let me get some news about Blanche. Just to know that she’s okay…

There was a clang as the prison guards started to open the cell doors for the morning. Bear scrambled to his feet and ran his hands through his hair. He wanted to get to the phones and find out if there was any news. Fish sat up, yawning.

“Good Lord,” he said. “Still here, are we? I keep hoping this is some sort of bad dream, and I’ll wake up to find myself back in Italy.”

Bear, his hands on the bars of their cell, cracked a smile. “I’d find that frustrating myself. At this point, I’m sorry that I ever went. If I hadn’t gone, maybe none of this would have happened.” He watched the guard anxiously as the man slowly came down the corridor towards them, opening doors as he went, taking his time.

“Then why did you go?” Fish asked wearily, as he lay back down. “It’s obvious that you’re in love with Blanche. I’ve always wondered why you didn’t—propose marriage or something.”

His brother’s pointed question hurt. Bear swallowed, and said, “Because of how Dad treated Mom.”

Fish rubbed his eyes. “Well, I know that they weren’t happy together, but—what does that have to do with anything?”

“With them as my role models, how can I expect to have a good marriage myself?” Bear asked bluntly. “How can I be sure that Blanche and I won’t end up just like Mom and Dad—cold and distant and talking around each other instead of to each other? It scares the heck out of me.”

Fish stared at the ceiling. “You’re not like Dad, Bear. You’ve got a lot more strength than he does. Definitely more than I do.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the one who’s got it all together.”

Fish threw him a warning glance. “Only on the outside. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bear rubbed his head. “But Dad still influenced me.  A lot.”

“Dad’s problem was that he never understood what marriage was all about in the first place. Mom said even she didn’t know too much about marriage, until she started studying Catholicism. She said Dad just couldn’t get it.”

“It was more than just ignorance, though,” Bear said, despite himself. “He—” He restrained himself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t go into that.”

Fish glanced at him. “I think I know what you’re referring to,” he said quietly. “You mean how Dad wasn’t faithful to Mom.”

“So you know about that?”

“By the time Mom died I had figured things out. When did you know?”

“By high school. Father Raymond knew too. Longer than I knew.”

“Well, he was Mom’s confessor as well as her friend. I suppose he must have known.”

“I’ve always suspected that’s why Dad wouldn’t believe we were framed,” Bear said, and rubbed his face with his shoulder. “Because—” he hesitated, remembering the scene too well. “Because of what happened when I found out.”

“What, did you walk in on him kissing some woman or something?”

Bear nodded. “More than kissing. When I was fourteen.”

“Yikes. What did you do?”

“Well, I was furious. I tried to leave without saying anything, but Dad wanted to act as though it wasn’t a big deal, and called me back. I don’t think he realized how mad I was. He told me I was old enough to know and said it was totally normal for men, then asked me what I thought. So, uh, I told him.”

Fish was half-amused. “Seriously? What did you say?”

Bear blew out his breath. “I tried to give him the Father Raymond treatment. You know, I just told him the stuff Father Raymond used to tell us: about faithfulness, and manhood, and honoring vows. But I don’t think I was particularly persuasive. I think I was mostly loud.” He rubbed his face again. “I must have sounded like—He didn’t take it well. Neither did she. It was embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing all around, I’m sure,” Fish said mildly.

There was silence between them, and the noise of the jail filled in the space for them. Bear felt the dull, aching sense of sickness in his mouth. He wiped his lips. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Well, I didn’t realize how long it had been going on, but I’ve known for a while that our family life was no bed of roses,” Fish said humorously. He paused. “So Dad was mad at you because you made him feel guilty. So when we were framed, he pounced on the chance to believe that his Catholic sons were actually drug dealers, to justify his own behavior.”

“Yeah, it seems that way to me,” Bear said. “Father Raymond used to say the worst part of being bad is that you stop believing in being good. You think everyone else is just as bad as you are. And you look for ways to prove it to yourself, over and over.”

“And Father Raymond was probably right, as he usually was,” Fish ruminated. “At least you've had
him
as an example, Bear. Father Raymond was a faithful priest: he was married to the Church, and he kept his vows. Doesn’t that help?”

“Yeah,” Bear admitted. “It does.”

At last the guard had reached their cell, and started to open it. Another guard came down the corridor. “Denniston and Denniston?” he said, “The magistrate’s determining your bail this morning. Walk in front of me.”

Thanking God, Bear waited as the first guard fiddled with the lock and at last opened the cell. Fish got off his bunk, and followed him out.

They were led to a blank gray room that resembled a miniature courtroom. Charles Russell was there on one side, and a lawyer from the DEA on the other side. Bear and Fish took their stand in the middle before the judge, who was only a few feet away from them behind a large bench, and the clerk of court opened their hearing.

For all of his previous annoyance with the man, Bear had to admit that Charles Russell was a good lawyer. He argued passionately against the DEA that, on the contrary, the plaintiffs Arthur and Benedict Denniston were not at risk for flight and had the legal right to be set free on personal recognizance.

It was difficult at times not to feel that he was at a tennis match as the DEA lawyer and Mr. Russell set their arguments and objections flying back and forth, being overruled or sustained by the judge. Fish looked back and forth from one to the other with interest, but Bear just stared at the floor and prayed. It was clear that the DEA considered him more of a risk than Fish, as Mr. Russell had warned that they would.

Bear was wondering if guards would be escorting him back to his cell when all of a sudden it was over. The judge set bail for five thousand dollars apiece, and Bear and Fish were turned over to the clerk to make their payments, which the lawyer had set up for them. After making their payments and recovering their personal belongings from the police, they were free to go.