The Dead And The Gone (33 page)

“Alex?”

Alex turned around and saw Sister Rita standing in the doorway.

“Alex, is that really you? I thought you and your sisters had gone.”

For a moment Alex was confused. Then he remembered the note he’d left Father Mulrooney to let him know they were leaving.

“No,” he said. “We never got to go.”

“Are you all right?” Sister Rita asked. “How are Briana and Julie?”

“Bri died,” Alex said. “St. Margaret’s is closed. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Bri?” Sister Rita said. “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry. I had her in eighth-grade English. She was a lovely girl.”

Alex thought of Bri in eighth grade, but couldn’t make himself speak.

“Is Julie all right?” Sister Rita asked.

Alex nodded.

“Thank Christ,” Sister Rita said. “Come with me, Alex. We’ll talk to Father Mulrooney.”

Alex followed her out of the chapel to the father’s office. Father Mulrooney was sitting at his desk, silently praying. They waited until he was finished and then Sister Rita knocked on the door to get his attention.

“Mr. Morales?” Father Mulrooney said. “We thought you were gone.”

“I know,” Alex said. “We tried to go, but the convoy didn’t leave because of the quarantine.”

“How are your sisters?” Father Mulrooney asked.

“Julie’s all right,” Alex said. “Bri died because of me.”

“Sit down,” Father Mulrooney said. “How are you responsible for your sister’s death, Alex?”

Alex told them the whole story. He remembered when he’d asked Father Mulrooney to hear his confession because he’d felt Father Franco would be too soft on him. He knew there was no penance Father Mulrooney could demand that would ease the guilt he felt, but he didn’t care. It was better that Father Mulrooney and Sister Rita see how inadequate he was. They’d be more likely to be merciful to Julie that way.

When he finished, Father Mulrooney cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say,” he began.

“May I say something?” Sister Rita asked. “If you don’t mind, father.”

“Please,” Father Mulrooney replied.

Sister Rita turned to Alex. He’d forgotten how kind her eyes were. “I know you feel responsible for Briana’s death,” she said. “You feel you should have acknowledged your parents’ deaths, and forced Bri to do so. If you had, she wouldn’t have been so foolhardy and she’d still be alive. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Alex choked back a sob and nodded.

“I think it was that very faith that kept Bri alive for so long,” Sister Rita said. “If she hadn’t had that, then all the sacrifices you made for her, all the care and protection you gave her, wouldn’t have been enough. Bri needed to believe her parents would come back. And you loved her enough and respected her enough not to kill her hope, or your own. If she’d known you’d given up, she might have also, and that would have destroyed her.”

“Would it really have mattered:” Alex asked. “She suffered so much the past few months.”

“She kept you alive,” Sister Rita replied. “Julie couldn’t have done that alone. Your life is Bri’s gift to you.” She took Alex’s hand and held it between her own. “She was lucky to have you for a brother,” she said. “She knew it and you should, too.”

He couldn’t stop crying. He felt like a fool, a baby, but the tears knew no end.

“Enough,” Father Mulrooney finally said. “I suppose you don’t have a clean handkerchief on you, Mr. Morales.”

In spite of himself, Alex laughed.

“Neither do I, as it happens,” Father Mulrooney said. “Very well, use your sleeve, but wipe your nose dry. We have decisions to make.”

Alex did as he was told. “I need to find a safe place for Julie,” he said.

“Not just for Julie,” Father Mulrooney said. “For yourself also Mr. Morales.”

“I don’t matter,” Alex replied. “Just Julie.”

Father Mulrooney shook his head with fierce disapproval. “How old are you, Mr. Morales?” he asked.

“Eighteen,” Alex said.

“In the forty years I taught at St. Vincent de Paul Academy, I never once encountered an eighteen-year-old saint,” Father Mulrooney declared. “And I sincerely doubt that I have now. Sister Rita, when is the bus coming to get you? Tomorrow afternoon?”

“At one,” Sister Rita replied. “Although we shouldn’t count on it being on time.”

“What bus?” Alex asked.

“I believe it’s the last one, too,” Father Mulrooney said. “Your timing, Mr. Morales, is impeccable. I cannot say the same about your appearance.”

“Father Mulrooney,” Sister Rita said.

“You’re right,” Father Mulrooney said. “The question is under what guise should the young Moraleses take the bus.”

Alex took a deep breath. “What bus?” he said. “Isn’t there a quarantine?”

“The flu is everywhere,” Father Mulrooney replied. “There’s no point in a quarantine if the entire world is ill.”

“I’m sure you’ll be all right,” Sister Rita said. “And Julie must have a strong immunity
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if she was with you all that time and never got sick. How can we do this, Father?”

“Do what?” Alex demanded. “I won’t let Julie go to an evacuation center. Can’t you just take her in here?”

“Who said anything about an evacuation center?” Father Mulrooney asked. “Do you think a bus is stopping here tomorrow at one to take Sister Rita to an evacuation center?”

“Father Mulrooney, please,” Sister Rita said. “Alex, the church has evacuated almost all of the religious. A handful, including Father Mulrooney, are choosing to stay on, to minister to the needs of those who can’t leave. But at his insistence, I’ll be going tomorrow on a bus to the campus of Saint Ursula College, in Georgia. The church is using it as a kind of holding station for its religious, until it knows where to send us to do its work.”

“But Julie and I haven’t taken any vows,” Alex said. “How can we go there?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Sister Rita said.

Father Mulrooney looked thoughtful. “Christ is merci-!ul,” he said. “I’m sure He won’t mind if we simply claim Mr. Morales is a seminarian. Who knows, one day he might be. We’ll give him Mr. Kim’s identification papers. That should suffice to get him to St. Ursula’s, and once there, I’m sure he’ll be allowed to stay until he can find a more suitable location.”

“My aunt and uncle moved to Tulsa,” Alex said.

“Excellent,” Father Mulrooney said. “Surely, Sister Rita, your order could stand a young postulant?”

“A very young postulant,” Sister Rita said with a laugh. “And I doubt Julie will ever take holy vows. But I do still have Sister Joanne’s papers and clothing. As long as I’m with her to vouch for her, I don’t think anyone will question Julie too carefully.”

“You would do this?” Alex asked. “You’ll be breaking the rules.”

“Sometimes the rules don’t work,” Father Mulrooney replied. “Now you and your sister must return tomorrow morning, first thing. Do you still have food in your home?”

“A little,” Alex said.

“Excellent,” Father Mulrooney said. “If need be, we can bribe the driver with a can or two. Save some for yourselves, though, since the drive will be long and no food will be supplied. Take only the most essential items. Everyone is allowed one bag, and we’ll give you each one, so you’ll look less like students.”

“Julie can sit next to me for the whole ride,” Sister Rita said. “We’ll be on the same bus together, but it will cause less suspicion if you don’t sit together.”

Alex nodded. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said.

“Your future is our thanks,” Father Mulrooney replied. “Now go home and tell your sister what needs to be done. Be here first thing in the morning. Chapel is, of course, mandatory.”

Thursday, December 29

“Hurry up,” Alex said to Julie. “We don’t have all day.”

“I’m hurrying,” Julie grumbled. “You sure you have everything?”

Alex went through the plastic bag one more time. Two changes of underwear, rigorously scrubbed the day before and still a little damp. All remaining cans of food and a can opener, two forks. Whatever information he could find about Carlos’s regiment. The photograph Uncle Jimmy had taken of all of them, the papers from Mr. Flynn, and all their birth and baptismal certificates, which he planned on putting in a pocket once he changed at Vincent de Paul. Bri’s note he carried in his shirt pocket.

“Oh,” he said. “My St. Christopher medal.” Mami had given it to him before his first summer with the fresh Air Fund family. He raced around the living room trying to find it.

“I have it,” Julie said, coming out of her bedroom. “Bri put it on you when you were sick, but it kept falling off, so I took it and put it away. Here.”

“Thanks,” he said. “You have everything?”

Julie nodded. “I’m taking the lipstick Kevin gave me,” she said. “I don’t care if postulants don’t wear lipstick. I want it.”

Kevin would like that, Alex thought. “Do you have something of Bri’s?” he asked. “Something to remember her by?”

“I have Bri,” Julie said. “In my heart. I don’t need anything else.” She paused. “Except you,” she said. “I need you.”

Alex nodded. “I need you, too,” he said. “Come on. It’s time for us to go.”