“Well, that’s good,” Clay responded, somewhat bitterly. “We can both say an amen to that one, can’t we?”
Malachi nodded slowly. “You know she knew Maria as a teen-ager? Both lived in the Eastern Townships in Quebec and went to school together.”
Clay nodded. “She told me.” He raised his eyebrows and with a half-hearted attempt at humor did an imitation of William Shatner: “Weird or what?”
Malachi looked at him seriously. “Clay, after writing my report for the archives last year I realized a few things; things I should probably share with you.”
Clay was only mildly interested. “Such as?”
“Over the years, from 1989 onward, what seemed like random happenings weren’t random at all. As near as I could piece things together, there must have been a plan.”
“A plan? Whose plan?”
“I know you don’t feel very charitable right now towards anyone or anything...so I’ll simply say it was a Heavenly plan.”
“A plan to kill Hitch? To kill Jody? To ultimately kill...Maria.” His tone fell somewhere between bitterness and sarcasm.
Malachi felt empathy for his charge, so he gently continued: “Unfortunately they were some of the casualties of a battle that started eons ago, give or take some billions of years. The enemy makes one move and the opposing force makes a countermove just as in a physical battle here on earth. And we all played a role in it. Our brethren, like dear Father Murphy, Frederick, Benito, and the rest of our holy warriors made the ultimate sacrifice while others survived. In hindsight, your role seemed to be to get Maria to where she could fulfill her destiny, a not insignificant one, I might add. That’s why you survived repeated attempts by the demon to destroy you. And Maria bested Adramelech. She sent him back to hell. And whether you want to accept what you saw on that cliff and in the sky that night...or not...deep down you know she is not dead. She is alive in Heaven as is your friend Hitch and your wife Jody.”
“None of this makes sense,” Clay responded, quickly. “If God is all knowing and all seeing and all powerful, why didn’t he just destroy this thing...and leave the rest of us alone?”
Malachi shrugged. “Perhaps because of Original Sin. Perhaps because we initially blew it in the garden. Figuratively, of course. We can only make a guess. Perhaps He played by the rules because He created us, gave us free will and a conscience. Then He showed His faith in our goodness and fairness and our desire to do the right thing by accepting the challenge from the darker beings. And once He accepted the challenge, no turning back. But...He didn’t forsake us. First he sent His son. And when we blew that, he came up with another plan. The Plan, so to speak.”
“And we’re all cogs in the holy wheel?” Clay half-smiled, briefly.
Malachi chuckled. “Something like that, I suppose. My guess is as good as yours. Still, Adramelech got extra help. And so did we along the way.” He decided to change the subject and leaned back on the bench. “I bumped into Monsignor Rautenberg, Fathers Austin and Langevin, and Bishop Castilloux at a café the other day; they said hello and promised to drop in to visit you more often.”
Clay said nothing.
“Also Ian Cruickshank.”
“The Chief Superintendent is here? In Italy?” Clay asked, a little curious.
“It’s Brother Cruickshank now,” Malachi responded, with a smile.
“He got religion?”
“That he did.” Malachi paused and then said quietly: “You need help, Clay.”
“I know. But I keep having these dreams. Dreams where everything is all right.”
“That’s because it’s supposed to be all right.”
“But it isn’t. I lost someone that I loved dearly. We all did.”
Malachi sat down on the bench and looked earnestly at Clay. “Listen to me, my friend. Do you realize the full extent of what happened out there?”
“Vaguely, I suppose. Sometimes it all seems like a bad dream, and at other times, it’s so real I can’t keep my hands from shaking.”
“You are one of the few people on earth who has ever faced a true demon and was instrumental in its defeat. You helped send him back to hell where he belongs. I fully believe that you...all of us...had a hand in changing the course of this world. There were terrible sacrifices made by so many good people. I know Maria has received her reward and someday you will too. Not necessarily on earth.”
“Well, I don’t notice things getting any better, sans our demon.”
“But they are. In the past year I’ve seen subtle but unmistakable shifts in the way everything operates. In fact, more evidence of cooperation, charity and concern for the human condition than I’ve seen in the past quarter century. For instance, some political leaders are looking out for the welfare of their people rather than trying to serve themselves and exploit their positions. On the private front, we have pharmaceutical companies announcing new strategies to research and develop drugs to eradicate disease rather than just developing treatments that enable them to profit from human misery.”
Clay smiled in spite of himself. “Really? What about the oil companies?”
Malachi gave him a look and said: “They still don’t get it.”
“Insurance companies?”
The cardinal shrugged and sighed: “Get real. Still it’s a beginning, Clay.”
They both had a rare, quiet chuckle.
Clay seemed to be trying to make a decision about something. Finally he blurted out: “Do you believe in dreams, Cardinal? That they may be a medium for the subconscious to influence our conscious existence?”
“Of course,” Malachi responded, without hesitation. “Not to believe in dreams, is to silence prophesy. Think of the Bible. How many times were prophetic revelations made to people through dreams.”
“Well, Maria keeps coming to me in dreams.”
“You’ve mentioned this before.”
Clay knew that he hadn’t mentioned it directly to Malachi but he never expected his communications with his therapist to be kept totally private. The cardinal looked at him with sadness. “And...?” he prompted.
“They’re usually the same dream: we meet, flirt a little and then she tells me that if I love her, I will get on with my life.”
“So what’s wrong with that?”
Clay looked at him closely, trying to read his eyes. “She’s telling me this in a dream?”
“What? She should use Western Union?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Clay, from what you’ve said, I believe that she is contacting you as best she can. And, obviously, because she loves you, she has your welfare at heart. You have been given a life to live on earth and it would be wasteful and ungrateful not to live it to its fullest.”
Clay sighed and thought of his present existence. He lived in a small pensión Malachi had rented for him in the hills just outside of Rome where he had spent the last year doing little other than devouring books on science, philosophy and religion in a search for answers to what he had seen and experienced. The cardinal had explained to him again and again that he had to take time to recover from a profound physical, spiritual and mental shock. Each month they met and Malachi would try to nurture Clay’s spirit, as a Vatican consulting psychiatrist worked to treat his emotional and mental well being in weekly sessions. According to the doctor, he was a prime example of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A diagnosis telling him he was broken didn’t help much since he always had a pioneer attitude towards injuries that weren’t physically evident: pull up your socks and tough it out. So he waited to get better. And impatiently waited some more. He asked to be left alone even as he hated the loneliness. Granted, the nightmares, terrible sorrow and his depression had lessened, but of late, he had missed a number of therapy sessions and hence his summons to the garden.
“There-there’s another reason I haven’t been seeing Sandra...I mean Dr. Couture...lately.”
Malachi nodded seriously and yet knowingly, almost as though he was priv
y to Clay’s innermost thoughts. “And, why is that?”
Clay sighed and took the plunge. “Because I’m starting to like her a little. Just a little! Very unprofessional, wouldn’t you say? Not to mention, inappropriate. I never saw myself as a two-timer. And...”
“....and you feel guilty? You feel you’re betraying Maria?”
“Of course.” He breathed a sigh of relief. There it was out.
“Clay,” Malachi said, shaking his head as though trying to straighten out an errant son for the umpteenth time. “As I said, it’s more than a year since we lost our wonderful friends and colleagues. I mourn and miss them too. But Dr. Couture wants you to come back for treatment. I couldn’t break the sacrament of the confessional by telling you that she...well... regards you as a personal special project. So just go back and see her. She’ll help you work through these things.”
“But Maria?”
“Surely there is no exclusivity of love in Heaven, Clay,” Cardinal Malachi insisted, patiently. “I can guarantee you that if you find happiness, Maria will be able to rest knowing you’re well looked after.” He stood up. “Sorry but I have a meeting that I can’t miss. Another one of those budget things. Let’s meet for lunch next Wednesday – I’ve already penciled you in – and I’ll want to hear about your latest session with our esteemed doctor. Make an appointment with her. That’s an order.”
They shook hands as usual.
Malachi went to leave but then suddenly turned back, reached forward and embraced Clay, held him for a moment and said earnestly into his ear: “It’s time, Clay...time to let her go.”
Clay noticed that the man’s eyes were uncharacteristically moist.
“Damn allergies,” Malachi muttered, as he quickly strode off.
Alone again, Clay sighed and looked around at the gardens; he found himself staring at a bed of red roses in full bloom. His mother’s last words came back to him: All that matters in life is love and that never dies; it only changes.
Slowly he walked over and looked down. Surprisingly, amid the splash of scarlet, was a single, small yellow rose. Unlike the others, it was closed tight, even in the bright sunshine. He stared at it. Then, impulsively, he leaned forward and said aloud: “Maria, I’ll never forget you but if you really want me to move on with my life, I-I need...need some guidance.”
He waited for a moment, feeling slightly foolish.
Nothing happened. Indeed, he needed psychiatric help.
Chagrined, he straightened up...
...and watched as the petals slowly opened and revealed the splendid beauty of a glorious yellow rose in full bloom. He stared at it for a full minute. It remained open, drinking in the sunshine. A feeling of great calm slowly suffused his body; he could only equate it to a blanket of love and comfort being wrapped around his soul.
“I will always love you,” he said aloud, his voice breaking, his eyes welling with tears.
Petal-by-petal the rose slowly and painstakingly closed, and immediately opened again. From somewhere a latent drop of late morning dew slowly trickled from the bud and ran down the stem.
Clay Montague stood silently for a moment, a huge lump in his throat, his own tears running unheeded down his cheeks. In his heart he knew this was a final good-bye. There would be no more dreams of happiness, no more pleas from Maria to get on with life. When he finally had his voice back, he opened his cell phone before he changed his mind. He pushed a speed dial button and was rewarded by the voice of Doctor Couture.
“Doctor Couture?” he asked, hesitantly.
“Clay,” she said in surprise. “This is so amazing. I never personally answer my general office phone but something...something made me do it. And, for some reason I knew it was going to be you on the other end.”
“That’s because I have an angel in my corner,” Clay said, in all seriousness.
“Perhaps you do,” she answered, with an easy laugh. “I expect I’ll be seeing you again?”
“Count on it,” he promised, taking another deep breath. “It’s time I started rebuilding my life.”
“Good,” she replied. For a moment she hesitated and then said “You’re a good person, Clay and we aren’t going to let that go to waste.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries and hung up.
He looked back down at the yellow rose.
It was closed tight.
~ THE END ~
Dear Readers:
Thank you for reading The Plan. If you enjoyed it, please consider reading my next novel entitled Torngat. I am targeting its launch on or before October of 2013 and it will be available on Amazon.com and other popular eBook sites. Here is a brief description:
TORNGAT
By
J. Richard Wright
(Available on major eBook sites on or before October 2013)
October 1962: two CF-100 Long Range Interceptors scramble out of Goose Bay, Labrador, to intercept and identify a bogey coming into Canadian Airspace across the Labrador Sea. Tracking the target descending from Greenland, NORAD has two concerns. The first is the target’s unannounced intrusion into Canadian airspace. The second is an airspeed exceeding an impossible 1,800 knots. After the intercept, only one of two jets returns. The official Royal Canadian Air Force Air Crash Investigation Report is declared Top Secret and has never been released to this day.
While prospecting in northern Quebec, geologist Matthew Corrigan is suddenly summoned to Old World Montreal by Guy Jacquard, his firm’s CEO. Labrador & Ungava Diamonds is failing fast with a cancelled IPO and exploration capital dwindling. As legions of financial backers pull out, a chance to save the company appears in the form of Jerome St. Onge, a First Nations’ medicine man who drops a 15 carat uncut, fire-white diamond on the CEO’s desk. The old native says that if Jacquard wants to know where the diamond originated, he will send Matthew Corrigan to Labrador to meet with him. Matthew’s search takes him to Nain, Labrador, where he finds the diamond likely came from deep in the Torngat Mountains – an inhospitable and extremely dangerous wilderness also know as The Devil Mountains. Superstition and tales of vanishing trespassers keeps most natives away. His only hope of finding the diamond’s source is in the form of the beautiful and mysterious grand daughter of the medicine man. Sky St. Onge reluctantly agrees to act as his guide but only if he promises to obey her commands without question; one false move in the mountains can send them both to their deaths.
Tracked by a competing prospecting company, and complicated by arctic winter weather moving in, Matthew has just days to find the kimberlitic pipes and prove to investors that there are diamonds in Labrador. In the mountains, he and his fatalistic guide soon find that their competitors will apparently stop at nothing, including murder, to stake their own claim to the diamond field. With the Land God Gave to Cain as a hostile backdrop for intrigue, Matthew finds three things he never set out to look for: the truth about his long dead father’s disappearance; a wild and tempestuous love affair; and, an alternate reality that is completely out of this world.
* * * *
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