The Undoing of Saint Silvanus

by Beth Moore

“But Stella killed him,” Jillian interjected. She didn’t want Stella absolved of a single ounce of culpability.

  “Yes, she did. One way or the other. By curse or blade. And then you came, Jillian, and look what has happened to you. I’m certain that woman was laying a trap for you from the moment you first wandered into her neighborhood. Heaven knows how she found out who you were, but I tell you I won’t have it. I want you packed up and gone the second Dr. Sutherland says it’s safe for you to travel.”

  They’d learned that Jillian didn’t have a warrant out for her arrest. O had always insisted there wouldn’t be. She said she knew from experience that it usually took a whole string of crimes to get arrested, and even then, a lot of people got away scot-free. So at least Jillian no longer had that fear hanging over her.

  But even knowing Olivia’s motive for wanting her to leave, the words cut like a knife and stung like the knife had been soaked in poison. “I’ll have to come back for trial.”

  “Yes, and we’ll deal with that then. You are not safe here.”

  “Neither are you, O. Come with me.”

  Those three words again.

  “I can’t. My place is here. Here in this old house.”

  “I love this old house,” Jillian said, tears burning in her eyes. She’d never said it before, but she realized it was true.

  Olivia took her to see Dr. Sutherland as planned on Friday, and after a thorough checkup, he removed her stitches and proudly announced that she was free to fly.

  Jillian and Olivia were both quiet in the car on the way home. Olivia shocked Jillian by taking her to a phone store, getting her a new phone, and putting her on a good plan. “I insist on paying for it,” Olivia stated flatly. “It’s the only way I can make sure you’ll feel guilty enough to keep in touch with me.”

  Jillian’s first call was to Jade, to tell her she could come home and that O was going to pay for the plane ticket. She just needed to know what day and time. Recalling how adamant Jade had been about her getting back ASAP, Jillian suggested Monday. She’d looked at flights and told her she’d picked one with an early evening arrival time so Jade wouldn’t have to leave work early.

  “Who?” Jade asked, missing the whole part about Monday evening.

  “Olivia.”

  “Oh,” Jade responded.

  “Yes, O. That’s her grandmother name.”

  That had not gone over particularly well but Jade hadn’t pressed it as much as Jillian would have expected. She soon knew why. Jade had a little tweaking she needed to do with her and Jillian’s plans.

  “I’ve got a business trip I absolutely must make. The gallery is sending me to France to be their eyes on a few pieces they might want to bring in.”

  Jillian was completely caught by surprise. “Right now at Christmastime?”

  “Oh no, no, no, silly. I’ll be back before Christmas and I want you home before I even open my suitcase!”

  “What day do you want me to schedule the flight?”

  “They are still nailing that down. Can I get back to you on that in the next forty-eight hours?”

  “Okay,” Jillian answered, trying to wrap her mind around what had just transpired between them. She knew her mother loved her. She’d just have to get used to her way again.

  More buoyance from Jade. “I can reach you at this new number, right?”

  “Right.”

  After they hung up, a familiar feeling fell on Jillian like black lead-weighted wool. It was the one she’d had more times than she could bear to count within the walls of Saint Sans and, really, well before that. That feeling that she didn’t know where to go. Like her time had run out in one place before she could line up another. It preyed on secret fears of homelessness she’d had even in adolescence when her mom reminded her what a loser her father had been. She hadn’t done it often. Just when it was convenient. Just when somebody new was moving in and Jillian asked, “Why can’t it just be you and me? Why do we have to have a man?” It was always Rafe’s fault. He was too big a bum to pay child support.

  Her stomach in tight knots, Jillian mustered up the courage to tell Olivia that she’d talked to her mom. She knew Olivia wouldn’t put her out but she also knew how anxious the woman was for her to leave.

  Olivia dropped her chin nearly to her chest and blew out a deep sigh.

  “I’m sorry, O.”

  Olivia looked at her. “I’ve never been more relieved in my life.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No. But I’d just as soon you keep that to yourself.”

  “What about the curse?” Jillian was completely confused.

  “Oh, make no mistake, young lady. I have not changed my mind.” The determination Jillian saw in Olivia’s eyes well supported her words. “I have no intention of keeping you here long-term. It’s just that it felt a little rushed.”

  “But you said yourself the moment Dr. Sutherland released me.”

  “Yes, I did, and I meant it. But I didn’t mean Monday. Well, I did mean Monday, but once it was decided, I meant it less. I thought maybe another few days and then we would undoubtedly be driving one another to distraction. And see what’s happened? By the time Jewel gets back—”

  “Jade.”

  “By the time Jade gets back, we’ll be on each other’s last nerve. Don’t you think?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “We won’t even be speaking by then. Let’s do it right then.”

  CHAPTER 54

  ADELLA WAS AS NERVOUS AS A CAT.

  “Woman, you’re going to wrench your neck with all that straining and ogling and craning.” Emmett was seated on the end of the pew with AJ several empty spaces down from him and Trevor Don several empty spaces down from him. Tonya, the new love of Trevor Don’s life, was right next to him, where she’d been most every service since they’d gotten sweet on each other.

  “Where under the heavenly hosts are they?” Adella showed Emmett the time on her phone. “I told them to be early. Wait!” she exclaimed, slapping him on the shoulder. “I see them!”

  It was all Jillian’s doing. She’d seen the flyer Adella had thumbtacked on the bulletin board in the utility room and pointed out that the date, December 15, was Rafe’s birthday. His first birthday since they’d buried him. Jillian had the idea—both brilliant and insane, in Adella’s opinon—of inviting Olivia to the Christmas program. Never mind that Adella had been posting a similar flyer every year for the past eight years and Olivia had never batted an eyelash at it. Never mind that church was the last place on earth Adella ever expected to see Olivia Fontaine.

  When she expressed her misgivings to Jillian, the girl had shrugged and said, “Stranger things have happened. Like Bully. Caryn says the doctors believe he is responding to stuff they’re saying to him.”

  “Like Bully, sure as the world.” Adella had to give the girl that. It was a wonder if she’d ever seen one.

  “Do you think that’s a miracle, Adella?”

  “I do, honey. I sure do. And you’re going to need one yourself if you’re hoping to show up at that church on December 15 with your grandmother in tow.”

  Until Adella saw Olivia Fontaine with her very own eyes in the back of that church sanctuary, she still believed they’d more likely have a pair of giraffes singing second soprano in the choir that night than Olivia planted in a pew.

  But lo and behold, Jillian’s plan had worked. She’d reported every delicious detail to Adella. She’d front-run the whole thing by going to David and Caryn. She sat them down on the edge of Caryn’s bed and delivered them a moving address on the day’s significance, getting them all lathered up with sympathy. Then when they were all soft and squishy, she dropped the catch on them: they’d have to come too. Of course, they’d balked and squawked and whined, but they couldn’t deny that the chances of getting Olivia there in a group was a far sight better than getting her there in a pair. Jillian knew Mrs. Winsee would be a piece of cake. She loved outings.

  Jillian wait
ed until all five of them were in the kitchen deliriously happy over a huge pot of Uncle Wayne’s Winter White Chili and nearly drunk over the smell of chopped fresh cilantro. She brought it up casually while grating a pound of Colby. “Since I’m leaving on the twentieth, I thought maybe you four could give me an early Christmas present.” She’d grinned and most had grinned back. According to Jillian, Olivia instantly looked suspicious, and it was little wonder to Adella, though she didn’t tell Jillian why. Olivia once told her that the girl was the hardest person to give anything to that she’d ever met.

  As planned, the inquiry was made regarding Jillian’s specific wish for her early Christmas present.

  “A night out! All five of us!” she announced with ill-fitting enthusiasm.

  Mrs. Winsee hopped to her feet to grab her purse. Caryn and David shouted out guesses with performances that could have qualified them for a game show. Jillian launched into a sentimental oratory about what all Adella had done for her and how she had no way to repay her kindness and how Adella had put that flyer up every year for eight years in a row, but understandably, none of them wanted to go. They’d all nodded at this point because they hadn’t. Well, all except Mrs. Winsee, but she couldn’t very well go by herself, the way she’d been going out the front door in her slip.

  “Why couldn’t we do it this one time for Adella?” Jillian had presented, and from what David reported to Adella, she might as well have had a cellist playing behind her. David and Caryn couldn’t act too anxious or they’d give themselves away, so they grumbled and complained until Jillian stared them down for overdoing it. They turned on a dime and announced that, for Adella’s sake, how could they possibly say no? Mrs. Winsee applauded zealously. And Olivia took a bite of Uncle Wayne’s Winter White Chili, swallowed it, and looked thoughtful for a moment before asking if anybody else at the table thought maybe Jillian had miscalculated the cumin.

  “Please say yes, O!”

  “Not going.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t want to.”

  “Do you always have to do everything just like you want to?”

  “Yes. That’s what old widows get to do if they have the cash.”

  “You’re not that old.”

  “I’m too old to go to a church Christmas program. Next you’ll ask us all to wear matching Christmas sweaters.”

  No thought on earth could have delighted Mrs. Winsee more. She was up, lickety-split, looking through her closet. The other three glared at Olivia, trying to will sufficient guilt on her.

  “Not going.” That was that.

  But here she was in Adella Atwater’s very church, looking surlier than ever. Adella waved like she was starting a car race. She leaned over to Emmett and whispered, “I can tell you right now what got her here.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Vida Winsee, that’s what.”

  “And Jesus,” Emmett added with appropriate emphasis.

  “No doubt about that, Emmett Atwater. And tonight Jesus has come to Benton Avenue Baptist Church wearing Vida Winsee’s eyebrow pencil.”

  Emmett got so tickled that he had a fit of coughing, causing Adella to dig through her purse for a cough drop, which she was unable to find before her five guests filed up to the pew with all the Christmas cheer of prisoners walking the plank. “Here!” she said, handing him the only thing she could find.

  And Emmett, being the gentleman he was, stood and stepped into the aisle to greet their guests and invite them to take their seats. Somehow, in the confusion, he handed David the plastic jar of multicolored fiber-supplement gummies instead of shaking his hand. David, being equally the gentleman, sat down on the pew, the whitest man who had ever darkened those doors, and cradled them in his arms with conscientious bewilderment.

  AJ scooted down by Trevor Don, who was more than happy to scoot closer to Tonya. Caryn sat next to AJ, then David, then Jillian, then Mrs. Winsee. Olivia snarled like a bulldog next to Mrs. Winsee and Adella perched on the verge of an anxiety attack next to Olivia. Emmett closed the row per Adella’s request. His legs were so long, an uncomfy patron of the religious arts might be less apt to attempt an escape with him guarding the exit.

  The lights went down and a single violin played the slow and haunting melody of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” A two-hundred-voice choir wove in the lyrics as the instruments responded to the violin’s irrepressible call to worship.

  The program was to be an extravaganza, just like every year. The whole choir was participating, and the worship team and the band members and the organist and the keyboard player. They even had a small orchestra, complete with a harpist. The stage—for that matter, the whole church—was all done up for Christmas. There was a black velvet backdrop with electric twinkling lights so it looked like nighttime and a stable right on the stage that looked so real Adella could swear she smelled hay. And she couldn’t wait to see Flo Deever’s grandbaby as this year’s baby Jesus. Flo’s daughter had just come back to Jesus last June and here she was, playing the Virgin Mary. That right there was just how God was.

  The spotlight shone on the stable as a young woman walked onstage with a baby cradled in her arms and Sister Liz Anne began the narration. The little one kicked his legs and fussed right on cue while the audience oohed and aahed.

  Adella bent forward, looked past both Olivia and Mrs. Winsee, and whispered, “Pssssssst! Jillian!” Everybody within eight square feet heard her except the one she was after.

  Undeterred, Adella leaned across the curmudgeon’s lap. “Mrs. Winsee, get Jillian!” That Olivia had not offered a hearty narration all her own right there in the house of the Lord was no small sparing.

  Then Emmett had to stick his nose into it. “Shhhhh, woman! You’re disturbing the peace.”

  Adella batted at Emmett with her left hand, and with her right, she motioned to Mrs. Winsee to punch Jillian. Jillian leaned forward and cocked her head at Adella, who pointed toward the stage and said, “Flo Deever’s girl! She’s the one I told you about. That’s her son, Jesus.”

  The whole row all the way down to Trevor Don and Tonya swung their heads toward Adella. “What I mean is,” she said, clearing up any blasphemy, “that’s her son playing Jesus.”

  Olivia shot her eyes toward Jillian and back toward Adella. When Adella caught a glimpse of Jillian’s alarmed expression over Olivia’s shoulder, she realized she’d let the cat right out of the bag concerning the setup.

  Adella sat back so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash, but what she got instead was a hot flash. She grabbed the prayer sheet out of her purse and fanned herself wildly, stopping just short of blowing Emmett’s necktie. Emmett turned his head down toward her and whispered in her ear, “Unless you can find your name somewhere on the program for tonight’s presentation, may I suggest you leave the narration to Brother Cecil and Sister Liz Anne?”

  Sister Liz Anne started up again like she was doing it to Adella out of pure spite. “Mary sat down and leaned against the outside of the stable, propped the baby on her lap, and taking a strip of linen and tying back her hair, she began to stare into his tiny face.”

  Flo Deever’s girl did exactly that. Emmett sat up tall and looked around the audience, obviously trying to spot somebody. He whispered to Adella, “Don’t you know Flo’s as pleased as a kitten with a ball of wool?”

  “Shhhhhh, man!” Adella responded with no small satisfaction. “You’re disturbing the peace. With you jabbering and jawing, not a soul for three rows can make out a word Sister Liz Anne is saying.” Adella knew good and well he was trying to make up with her after closing her spirit.

  “Mary had never seen the moon so bright. The night was nearly as light as the day. Only hours old, the baby’s chin quivered. His eyes were shaped like almonds and were as black as the deepest well. She held him tightly and quietly hummed a song she’d learned as a child. She had been so frightened of this moment, so sure she would not know what to do. She had never held an infant so small, and he was God,
wrapped in soft, infant flesh, with bones so fragile she felt like he could break. But every fear, every doubt, every inadequacy was momentarily caught up in the indescribable rapture of a mother’s affection.”

  Adella felt Olivia jerk like she’d had a sudden stomach cramp and then shift around uncomfortably. Adella picked her purse up off the floor and whispered, “I’ve got a roll of antacids somewhere in here. Need it?” She rummaged around in her purse.

  Olivia curled her lips in a most unflattering fashion and mouthed the word no.

  Sister Liz Anne kept on and on like no one at all had a stomach cramp. “Mary remembered asking Elizabeth things she dared not ask her dad and mother. ‘What am I to do when he comes?’ Her cousin’s reply would remain etched upon Mary’s heart long after her son had saved the world. ‘He will tell you what he needs from you. Beyond what he needs, all he wants is for you to embrace him and talk to him.’ She looked into his delicate face and watched him closely as he seemed to stare deeply into the moonlit sky. And she began to talk. ‘Sweet baby boy. Do you know who your Daddy is? Do you know your name? Do you know why you’re here?’”

  Olivia made a strange sound. Adella couldn’t quite put a name to it. It was almost akin to a grunt, only slightly more ladylike, but nothing short of a hand grenade was stopping Sister Liz Anne’s narration.

  “A tear dropped from Mary’s chin to the baby boy’s. He yawned and made such a funny expression she grinned, wiping her face on the yellowed rags she’d draped around him. The fussing calf had obviously found its mother. Not a sound was coming from inside the stable. The earth stilled. The infant slept. She held the babe next to her face, and for just a moment, all the world silenced to the breath of God.”

  The odd sound happened again but this time louder. Maybe Olivia was choking. Adella leaned over to Emmett and said, “Olivia’s having some kind of spell. Stay on your toes in case you have to do the Heineken maneuver.”

  Emmett looked past his wife to Olivia and then back at his wife and said, “Heimlich. She looks fine to me.” He pointed to Sister Liz Anne. “Pay attention.”