Each of them had lapsed into a state of stillness and meditation so deep that they no longer felt the wood of the pew they sat upon, or the draftiness of the large domed room; neither of them noticed the smell of candles or the pangs of hunger anymore. Oddly, they claimed they couldn't even remember if their eyes were open or closed.
But Tony remembered what broke in upon his concentration like a dazzling spotlight: a sudden warmth, and the strange urge to turn his eyes down to Eileen's hands. He had seen a dark wound at the center of each of her palms, seeping blood. He had taken in his breath and said, "Eileen-- look."
He had lifted her hands in his own, and had touched and felt the blood; he had held up his stained fingers and stared at the red smear.
Here is where it becomes confusing. Eileen claimed that she did not see any blood or feel any pain, but upon Tony's touch she felt an unusual warmth flood into her arms, and in awe she turned her face toward the altar.
"I didn't hear words, exactly," she said, "but I just knew-- as if someone had spoken-- that I was being told, 'You will never fear again. You are at peace.' And I just knew it meant that I would never see ghosts again-- I'd be just like everyone else. And you know what?" She almost giggled. "I've never been happier. I will not miss it."
"Did you see anything?" queried Laurence, like a defense lawyer.
"No, but I knew it was coming from the altar. Or rather, that looking toward the altar was the only way I would hear it-- not that I actually heard anything-"
"And I didn't hear anything at all," Tony put in. "But the stigmata, they were as real as-- as this zipper on my coat."
"And then when we came in, the blood was suddenly gone?" asked Laurence.
"It was gone a few seconds before," said Tony. "As soon as I understood, 'I'm seeing a miracle. God is showing me something. I'm being called,' then Eileen started talking-"
"I started saying, 'It's over, it's over; thank God, it's over'," Eileen said.
"And I looked at her face for just a second, and then when I looked back down at her hands, the marks, the blood, were gone," finished Tony.
"But how do you..." Laurence attempted, in half-hearted frustration, then gave up. He looked at his own hands, saw nothing unusual, and thrust them into his overcoat pockets.
"And now," I said to Tony, carefully, numbly, "you want to become a priest."
He was sitting against my right side, and looked at me with regret. For the first time since the experience in the church, he began to look human again. "I'm so sorry, Eva," he said softly. He glanced aside at Eileen and Laurence, then down at his lap. He evidently wished we could be alone to discuss this.
"Oh, well, you know," I mumbled, more hurt than I was prepared to be. "I sort of expected it eventually."
"I didn't know I'd do this," he said. "I wouldn't have done this to you."
"There really was something, Eva," Eileen appealed to me. "He's not just hallucinating. I felt it when he touched my hands."
"No, I'm glad for you; it's what you wanted," I said haltingly, in Tony's direction. "It's just not how I expected it to happen."
"Oh, you didn't think God would reach down and claim your boyfriend by means of a mystical sunbeam experience?" Laurence said, tartly.
I knew it was a stab at Tony, not at me. Even in my fog of confusion, it was sweet to hear him defend me against an insult-- even an insult that would work to his advantage, such as Tony leaving me.
"Why do you keep mentioning sunbeams?" Tony asked, innocently. Laurence had been insisting for the past hour that sun through red stained glass could have created the proper illusion.
Since he had presented this theory no less than five times now, Laurence re-crossed his ankles in restrained irritation and repeated, "There was a sun break right then. Eva and I noticed it. We were on our way back to the church."
"But I felt the blood," Tony said simply. "The texture. Slippery."
"Sweat on your hands," Laurence insisted.
"The warmth when he touched me was way more than sunlight or sweat," Eileen said. "More like-- radiation."
"Static electricity," Laurence tried, wearily.
"Say what you want," said Tony calmly. "You weren't there, and it's natural that you wouldn't understand. Honest, I don't say that to be condescending. It's just the way it is. I know what it meant to me. I know what I want to do."
"You-" Laurence growled. He cleared his throat and said in a more controlled voice, "This is what is called a self-fulfilling prophecy. You two were both tired, and fasting. It's quite common to hallucinate under those conditions. The Native Americans did it all the time; they called it a vision quest. You were expecting to experience something today, so you did experience something. Your mind tricked you into it."
"Then why does my mind feel so clear? Why am I so sure?" said Tony.
"And why am I, even after eating?" said Eileen, stuffing another gingersnap into her mouth.
"Look," Laurence sighed, "I hope you're both right. I hope you're making the right decisions. You just have to understand that, to a square scientist like me, it makes no logical sense. And if it turns out you've screwed up your lives, don't come crying to me."
Tony nodded solemnly.
"Maybe I was hallucinating," Eileen said. "But it was a shock to my system, and I bet you it was enough to make me stop seeing the ghosts-- even if it was a shock I somehow gave myself."
"Which seems the likely explanation to me," Laurence said, and they fenced about the topic for a while longer.
Then we went to lunch, and afterwards split up for afternoon naps. I insisted to Tony that we would put off the inevitable talk until after we'd both had more sleep. After Eileen had fearlessly and happily returned to New Age Nina's place for the night, I was left with Laurence and Tony at the hostel. That night Laurence retired to his room alone and knew not to expect me, because I would be sitting in the corridor until very late, talking with Tony.
We were seated at opposite ends of the top step, on the half-staircase that led up to the wall and stopped. Facing each other with our feet drawn up, we carefully agreed that our tenure as girlfriend and boyfriend should end.
"I love you, Eva," he said. "And I really was willing to marry you."
"Tony, I don't deserve you," I said miserably.
"No, you deserve better," he said. "I could never have been completely devoted to you, because I knew I wanted to belong to the church-- I think I knew it all along."
"You were very devoted to it. You still are."
"Look, I know you're hurt," he said gently. "But-- please don't take this the wrong way-- am I wrong in guessing that maybe you're also a little relieved?"
Unreasonable dread pounded in my throat. I was afraid to tell him about Laurence; afraid for Laurence, stupidly enough, though it was quite unlikely that a man of God would storm upstairs and punch a rival in the stomach. (A taller, stronger rival at that.) But it would have been tacky and insulting to reveal, on the very day of his spiritual experience, that I'd cheated on him. Oh, well, that's all right; I've been tangling tongues with Laurence for a few days now, and was doing it with a Scotsman for two months in autumn. So, no hard feelings. Have fun with the Pope, sweetie.
No. It was certainly not the time. I looked at my lap instead, and admitted, "I had begun to suspect that we had different plans for our lives, and that we might not be such a good match after all. Even though I think you're a wonderful person."
"You're so great to be with," he said. "I honestly will still be your friend if you'll let me. I'll never regret any of this."
I smiled faintly. "You might regret what we didn't do."
"Yeah. I imagine the seminarians won't believe me, that I'm actually a virgin." He chuckled, and added, "But if I was able to resist you, I'll be able to resist anyone."
I was genuinely touched. It almost seemed a waste to allow such a charmer to enter into a life of celibacy. "Great," I said with gentle sarcasm, "I'm a temptation placed here by Satan to test neophyte p
riests. I suspected my life amounted to as much."
"Hey, whatever Cathy tells you, don't believe it. There's no way Satan could get near you. You're a thoroughly good person."
"Sure." I stretched my back against the hard wall. "I'll tell you, though, I'm looking forward to shocking young women in your future congregations by telling them what a sexy kisser Father Anthony is."
Laughter bubbled up and tumbled from his lips, and he thumped his feet on the steps with delight. There was no keeping this boy in a bad mood. Satan was welcome to try, but I could have told him that it was hopeless.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Revelations
Tony only stayed for one more day. Having seen Eileen safely through to February 20th, he decided to spend his remaining three days in London. He had always wanted to see St. Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, and especially wanted to now that he had felt the flame-tongues of the Holy Spirit.
"It's not quite the Vatican, but it's a sort of pilgrimage," he said.
We had phoned Sharon and Thomas, and since they only lived about an hour from London, they were going to take the train to King's Cross Station to meet him.
When Eileen bade Tony goodbye, she hugged him for a long time, and told him, "When you're finally a priest and you're about to give your first sermon, I'll be right there in the front row."
"Making lewd gestures at him, no doubt," said Laurence.
Tony's train was to leave Waverley Station at 7:00 a.m., and both Laurence and I accompanied him there. While we stood making dazed, early-morning small talk on the platform, Cathy trudged toward us from the taxi curb, wearing a heavy coat and carrying two bulky pieces of luggage. She glowered upon seeing us, but thumped her bags down next to us and said, without smiling, "Hi."
"That's right," Laurence said to her, suddenly remembering. "You're going home today. I'd forgotten."
She nodded stiffly. "Six months is up."
"Did you find Jesus?" I asked politely. "Tony did."
She gave Tony a puzzled look, and said to me, "Yes. I think I found what I came for." Then, pointedly, "Did you?"
"I'm...not leaving yet," I faltered, wondering all of a sudden how much she knew.
"You're going to London on the seven o'clock?" Tony asked her.
She affirmed this.
"Great! So am I. You can tell me all about it."
Cathy looked as if she would rather swallow axle grease, but answered, "All right."
The train was finally ready. The doors opened, the announcement came, and people began to load luggage. Cathy picked up her bags without another word and walked to the train. With her foot on the step, however, she looked back and said to us, "Bye."
"Have a good trip," I offered.
"Tell the C.I.A. hello for us," Laurence said.
She didn't smile, but she didn't scowl either. She just boarded the train.
Tony grinned. "Well! That should make my trip interesting."
"You are an extreme optimist," said Laurence. "I think you should seek help."
Tony stepped up and hugged him. "I know you think I've lost my mind, but we'll still have good debates in the future. You'll see."
Then he dropped his duffel bag and turned to hug me. "You are the best, best, best, most understanding person ever," he said. "And I'm so glad you asserted your independence and went to Scotland, because otherwise none of this would have happened."
"I'll say," I murmured.
Just then there was another announcement for his train. He let me go and picked up his bag. "We'll talk more. I'll call you from London." He backed away a step, then reconsidered. "What the heck. I might never get to do this again," he said, and kissed me full on the mouth.
I could sense Laurence wanting to comment and bravely resisting.
"Bye, Tony," I whispered.
"Bye," he said. He gazed at me for a long moment, turned and gazed up at the castle, then dashed to the train and jumped inside.
We watched it pull out of Waverley and zoom away. Then we turned for our slow walk back to the hostel. I still had a day of work ahead of me.
Laurence seemed sulky. He had been this way since the strange experience of the 19th. "Come on," I said, nudging him. "You ought to be happy now."
"I am," he grumbled.
I smiled, and squinted against the morning light through the bare trees of Princes Street Gardens. "I think I know what it is. You wanted to test my loyalty by seeing if I'd break up with him. You're annoyed that he did it first. Now you think that I'm only with you by default, because he doesn't want me."
"They obviously need to rewrite the Psych curriculum," he said sourly. "You people are learning nothing. Fifteen complex reasons for every little thing I do, and not one of them anywhere near the mark."
"All right, then, why are you in such a bad mood?"
He had his hands in his overcoat pockets, and gestured in a sort of shrug with one of them, flaring out the hem of his coat. "The whole sunbeam-stigmata thing still annoys me. I hate it when people I credited with a margin of good sense tumble blindly into superstition."
"Then you must have been bothered by Eileen for a long time now."
"I have been. And now of course she's stopped seeing ghosts-- supposedly-- so I should be happy, but it all happened in the stupidest possible way."
"So your mood is nothing to do with me? With-- deception?" I asked.
"Oh, sort of," he conceded. "It does seem like we 'won' for the wrong reasons. And I'd still like to be doing this honestly."
"We can, now. I just didn't want to tell him so soon. Thought it might detract from the holy ecstasy."
Laurence glanced at me. "Think you'll tell him over the phone, then?"
"When he gets back to Wild Rose. A couple weeks, maybe." I kicked a squashed paper cup on the sidewalk. "It's Eileen we have to think about."
He nodded. "I guess I have to tell her."
"It wouldn't sound nice coming from me," I agreed.
"I'll handle it. Tomorrow, maybe."
He walked me to the Dalrykirk Hotel, and kissed me before we parted company. One of the other serving girls, a native Scot, came in a minute after me and said, "I saw ye kissing a lad oot there. Tasty, he was. Is that your beau?"
"No, he-" I paused, and opened a cupboard for a stack of saucers. "Yes. Yes, he is."
* * *
Back at the hostel that night, I was intercepted in the third floor corridor by an Australian who informed me that someone was on the phone for me downstairs.
Bemused, I went down. It turned out to be Tony, calling from his temporary lodgings in London.
"How was your train ride?" I asked him.
"It was fun. I talked to Cathy the entire five hours."
"And that was fun?"
"It was actually very satisfying. I considered it practice for the kind of challenges I'll be facing from people in the future."
"That's a generous way to look at it. I think you'll do very well."
"Thank you. Now..." His voice turned serious. "She did tell me some things that I wanted to speak to you about."
I was awash with dread instantly. "Yes?"
"Tell me honestly. Really, don't spare me on account of my feelings, or anything stupid like that. It won't matter anymore. Just tell me: are you in love with Laurence?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, and turned to face the wall. "Oh," I said, in a small voice. "I didn't think she knew that."
"She said-- she said you'd gone up to his room a lot. She said you even spent the night up there once in October. She suspected it was going on a long time."
"No... that wasn't-"
"And there was something about conversations she overheard between you," Tony went on, as if he couldn't stop. "You were talking about betrayal, and feeling-- well, cheap, she said; and she had seen him saying things in your ear, and looking at you a lot, and-- and a Canadian guy in your room told her that he actually saw you kissing him, on your bed-- not that I believed a third source like that,
but-"
"Tony, you have to listen to me. Half of that is totally misleading."
"I thought you just said it was true," he said helplessly.
"It is-- now. But there was nothing between us until just a week ago. Not really. Those conversations, they weren't about him and me... they were about-- well..."
Here was a conundrum I hadn't anticipated: should I also go into detail about Gil, now that I was admitting things?
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