One finger, trembling like an electricity meter, rose to knuckle level. Sebastian followed where he pointed. The closet? Could he even see well enough across the room?
Sebastian humored the old-timer and opened the one small closet each of the brothers had in his cell. He peered in. Smelled moldy, like Brother Augustine. He had a suitcase on the top shelf and only one stark white cowl hanging on the rack. Most of them had two. Sebastian figured Brother Augustine barely had need for one, since they rarely wheeled him into the chapel, save for special occasions. He shut the closet door and sniggered under his breath.
What did he expect to find? A pile of bones?
Brother Augustine continued to grunt and quiver his index finger. Sebastian studied him. He was about to turn for the door and find Brother George, when he realized the brother pointed to the wall shelf behind him.
Several trinkets rested on the shelf: books Brother George often read to him, old votive candles that had gone unlit for years, and a few other iconic figurines, including the statuette of the Virgin Mary. Sebastian turned and held up some of the knickknacks for Brother Augustine, but he continued to grunt. The instant he lifted the Virgin, the brother quieted and his finger lowered in line with the others.
Solid in his large hands, he hoisted the statuette closer. Part of the Virgin’s face was chipped, and paint had peeled off from the nick, which made it look as if her right eye were winking. He tested its heft and imagined using it as a weapon. With enough force and a wide enough swing, someone might successfully knock out a man JC’s size. He held it for a while, thinking.
“Is this what you want?” he said, stepping closer so that Brother Augustine might see the statuette clearer. “Did you wish to have this near you?” Sebastian placed the figurine on the bed table beside him. For a while he analyzed Brother Augustine’s silvery eyes. Such a tiny gesture to make him happy.
The ascending sun bathed the Virgin in a shimmering spray of white light. The brother sat stiffer, but his gaze remained fixed toward his toes. Perhaps the closeness of the statuette comforted him, despite his inability to see beyond shapes and shadows.
He was becoming difficult to care for, Sebastian realized. Brother George, who had taken on the task nearly single-handedly, seldom complained. He’d sacrificed much for a man who could not even converse. Brother Augustine probably made the perfect pal for him. Sensitive to criticism, Brother George wouldn’t have to worry over hurtful words coming from his mouth. But how much longer before they’d have to consider moving him to a hospice facility?
Again he wondered what Brother Augustine might know. He’d love to hear him speak, if only one tiny word. What might he say? Utter an “Amen”? Cry out in agony? Mumble a simple greeting?
Bother George, carrying a small wash basin, strolled into the cell with a happy-go-lucky expression on his chubby face. He must have wished to sponge bathe Brother Augustine before Sext. Brother George set aside the wash basin and noticed the statuette by his bedside. He beamed at Sebastian and tilted his head to the side. Certainly the uncomplicated Brother George was pleased to get back to business inside Mt. Ouray, where cherished icons and daily tasks filled his world.
He began to remove the old brother’s garments, and Sebastian, toolbox clenched in hand, backed out of the cell with a mutual smile and nod.
THE first of April arrived with more snowfall, but winds off the San Juan Range came mild. Streams of sunlight pierced between gaps in the nimbus clouds and sparkled against the falling snow like shards of glass. With the unusual, brilliant snow shower came a strange and shadowy presence that unsettled Sebastian. Someone had been pursuing him around the abbey. Watching him from behind corners and doors, apart from Casey’s characteristic trailing of him. The moment he’d sense eyes upon him, he’d turn and see nothing but a blur of white and black racing away.
Later, upon Retire, he heard the slightest sigh in the corridor. He flung open his cell door, but whoever it was had vanished, leaving behind a lingering whiff of stewed tomatoes. The next morning, plating breakfast, he noticed a set of eyes upon him, wide and filled with an uncanny gleam. The same shiver from the past few days traced along his spine. Sebastian had guessed it might be him. The night before in the corridor, he’d recognized his scent.
Brother Micah stared at him with more concentration than typical. A simper accompanied his beaming blue eyes. He’d even nudged Casey aside to pour Sebastian’s coffee, his smile and ogling unchanged.
During lectio divina, he spied Brother Micah nearby again, but he maintained a stealthy distance. Sebastian led him on a slow-paced pursuit, ending in his cell where he sat on his bed, the door purposefully left open.
As Sebastian had orchestrated, Brother Micah followed him in a few minutes later. He shut the door and stood quietly, without announcing himself. He had a strange leer on his face. A child seeking credit. Sebastian knew the brother had wanted to tell him something. He’d been following him for days with giddy anticipation.
Sebastian gazed toward his hands nesting in the hollow of his tunic skirt. After three or four solid breaths, he said, “What can I do for you, Brother Micah?”
“I’ve got something to share with you.”
“Does this have anything to do with your extra attention?”
Brother Micah’s sandals appeared in Sebastian’s vision. He’d taken a step closer. “It does,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if I should or not, but I think it’s a good idea now. My telling you is a kind of gift.”
Sebastian hesitated, wondering how far he should allow Brother Micah to carry out his performance. He gazed up at him, perhaps matching Brother Micah’s odd smile. “Is there something you need to tell me about?”
Snickering, Brother Micah said, “I feel safe knowing you’re here with us. But even you must realize that brave men like yourself need backup now and then.”
Sebastian allowed his ambiguous words to settle in his mind, and he found himself reaching for the bedcovers beside him and squeezing.
Brother Micah went on, his voice eager, self-assured. “Now that the JC issue is all over and the abbot has ordered us to never tell outsiders, I figure you should know. You spent so much effort searching for his killer. Well,” he said, opening his arms wide in showmanship style, “you can rest easy now. I did it.”
Sebastian jerked up the moment Brother Micah had released those last words. I did it. His mind spun. Had he understood him? “Are you making an actual confession to JC’s murder, Brother Micah?”
Brother Micah looked away, then peered back at Sebastian with a light smile. “I killed JC,” he repeated softly, yet with conviction. “I clubbed him over the head.” He gestured with his left hand how he might have struck JC, a wide, sweeping motion from left to right. “I had no choice, you see. I did it to save your life. He’d stolen my fillet knife to come after you.”
The shifting sun cut amid a band of clouds and heated Sebastian’s cheek. He turned his face to avoid the blinding light in his eyes, wanting to both shake Brother Micah until he fell flaccid by his feet and encourage him to continue. “What do you mean?”
“He wanted to kill you. That’s why he’d come to Mt. Ouray. He’d traveled from Philadelphia to find you. You were old enemies, or something like that. I followed him, close behind, to his cell and tried to stop him. He raised the knife to me, and I walloped him. I carried him to the kitchen, covered him in plastic bags, put him in the freezer so he wouldn’t rot, and returned to his cell to clean the remnants. All along I did it for you. To save your life.”
His confession sunk into Sebastian’s mind. The sensation tasted bitter on his tongue. There was no relishing the revelation. Like eating a Philly cheese steak without the cheese or onions. Something lacked oomph. “Didn’t JC suffer from amnesia?”
“No, it was all an act until he could find the right time. That night I found him in the kitchen clutching the fillet knife, he decided to waste no further time carrying out his plan to kill you.”
“Why
didn’t you mention all this weeks before, when the father asked for a confession?”
“I covered up everything for you.” He waited, as if expecting Sebastian to ask him a slew of questions. When Sebastian remained silent, staring, he said, “If the others learned JC had come because of you, they might have become hostile toward you. Father Paolo might have even confined you to your cell indefinitely, or even worse, banish you from the abbey. I had no other choice. I acted in an instant, and all for you. The only thing I cared about was saving you. He was going to kill you, Sebastian. You should’ve seen the rage in his eyes. I couldn’t have stopped him any other way.”
“If he was in so much hurry to kill me, why had he rushed to his cell rather than mine? Didn’t you say you followed him to his cell?”
Brother Micah moved closer, out of the direct rays of the flickering sun and into the shadow of Sebastian. “When I caught him in the kitchen, we began to argue. Everyone else had turned in for Retire. I had much to clean up in the kitchen. JC, as usual, was leaving a mess. That’s when I no longer could hold back. I told him I knew he was scamming us. He confessed everything, grabbed for the knife, and hurried off toward the cells. I followed after him. I suppose he wanted to get rid of me, so he ducked inside his cell first. I cornered him. Let me tell you, Sebastian, I was trembling with fear, but something provoked me. I had to save you. I couldn’t let any harm come to you.”
“Why didn’t you pull the alarm to warn us?”
He edged closer again. “He acted too quickly. All that concerned me was stopping him. I know I wasn’t thinking clearly. Nothing else mattered but to keep him from harming you.”
Sebastian looked away at the tiled floor. “And then in a heated moment, you struck him. What did you use?”
“My bare hands. I must confess, when I get angry, I can make a tight fist. I used to box in my younger days.”
Sebastian gazed at the Virgin Mary on his wall shelf and exhaled. He held his breath for what seemed many minutes. With a spasm of his shoulders, he wanted to fall back and demand that Brother Micah leave him. Composing himself, he looked directly at Brother Micah, who now stood solidly before him. “So you saved my life?”
A flush brightened Brother Micah’s blue eyes. “Aren’t you worth it, Sebastian?” He gazed at Sebastian with a smile. “I’d do it again too. I’d do anything for you. You know I would.” He dropped to his knees before Sebastian, praying to him almost, like an icon to worship.
Sebastian maintained an easy smile, wanting to provide Brother Micah the assurance he always sought from him. Clutching tighter onto the bedcovers, he said, “Thank you, Brother Micah. That was very considerate of you.”
“Then you don’t think of me as horrible? You’re happy about what I’ve done for you?”
Sebastian nodded. “You saved my life, after all.”
“You can tell the others now if you want. Since we’ve been ordered to keep our mouths shut, it won’t matter, I guess, unless you don’t want them to know about JC coming after you. I don’t mind that they know that I acted in your defense. Do you think any of them would have risked their lives to save you, Sebastian?” He gazed up at him. Deep shadows cast over his narrowing eyes. “Even Brother Casey?”
Sebastian kept his eyes on him, but he barely saw him. A mound of white and black fabric camouflaging pale flesh streaked with lines and indents and rivulets of slacking tissue. With a peculiar indifference, he noticed the brother’s receding hairline and the age spots that had appeared on his scalp. “I doubt any of them would have risked their lives for me,” he mumbled.
Reassured, Brother Micah placed both hands on Sebastian’s knees. “Do you remember that time when you first came here? About three years ago? In this very same spot? How I helped you then too?”
Images flashed in his mind. He’d been a frightened and confused postulant then. Only a few years had passed, but it might have been a lifetime. The sameness of abbey life, day in and day out, an endless routine of work and prayer, had in many ways forced time ahead.
Sebastian had run hard from his life in Philadelphia. With no place to go, he’d come to Mt. Ouray, a trembling man just turned thirty-two. Brother Micah had taken away that indecisiveness and fear, but only for a few minutes. And afterward, he’d added to his worries.
He was a different man now. Of course he wanted none other than Casey.
Sebastian brushed away Brother Micah’s hand when he reached under Sebastian’s tunic skirt. “Maybe later, if you don’t mind, Brother Micah.”
Reddening, Brother Micah stood and straightened his scapular. “If that’s what you want,” he whispered. “I’m glad I was able to put to rest the investigation. Now you no longer have to worry over it. We’ll see each other later, won’t we?”
“Yes, of course.”
With a demure nod, Brother Micah left Sebastian alone in his cell.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THAT night Sebastian bent Casey over the bed, his body molded over his. They were like two amorous falcons, fused together, soaring higher with each thrust. Casey kept steady with Sebastian’s moving back and forth over him. Slow, purposeful, enjoying each and every sensation. Their sweat adhered them to each other.
Overwhelmed with his body’s power, Sebastian stopped and breathed. Casey’s light moans forced Sebastian to continue. He slipped back inside him and allowed the electricity to shudder through his limbs. His arms stretched wide over Casey’s figure, relishing the heat and firmness of his flesh and the cadenced beating of his heart against Casey’s back. He pecked his nape, back, arms. Casey reached for Sebastian and held him firm, encouraging him to completion.
Sebastian lifted him backward to press against him while he massaged Casey’s shaft. Finally, Sebastian erupted inside him. Casey flinched, and Sebastian felt Casey’s oozing discharge heat his hands. He fell on top of him, pushing him back against the bed. Breathing heavy, neither moved for what seemed several minutes.
Sebastian, still gasping for air, eventually slid out of him and stood. They cleaned up with tissues and collapsed back into Sebastian’s bed. Casey lay in his arms, fingering the St. Michael pendant that entwined with Sebastian’s moist chest hairs.
“Is everything okay, Sebastian? You’re being rather quiet.” Casey’s voice flowed like the tunes from his flute.
“Tired, I guess,” Sebastian said, unwilling to mention Brother Micah’s confession for the moment.
“Does it have to do with us?”
“I told you, I’m happy about that.” He squeezed his shoulder to reassure him.
“Is what we’re doing wrong, you think?”
“Depends on in whose eyes.”
“It’s yours that matter to me.”
He stared at the dark ceiling, imagining Father Paolo and Brother Lucien (and perhaps one or two of the other monks, including Brother Micah), disregarding their vows. The brothers did many things wrong in the eyes of God—and the law. He knew his relationship with Casey was different. He did not abuse Casey for a sense of power, nor did he view him as a shameful temptation.
He pictured the two of them years down the road, older, wiser. Less infatuated with each other, but still emanating love and respect. Casey wouldn’t remain youthful forever. Like a rose bloom that faded with time, so would their beauty. But he’d always yearned to grow old with someone. Inside the abbey, they’d chant their prayers side by side, knowing that, no matter what, they could count on each other for solace along with the psalms. Steal tender moments together. Like now.
“I don’t think it’s wrong,” he said at last.
“Then why did you run away the first time we made love?”
“It had nothing to do with you.” He paused. “I was overwhelmed with everything. Afraid someone might catch us, I suppose. You’ve been somewhat evasive yourself the past few days.”
“I wasn’t sure how you felt about everything. I didn’t want to come across as too pushy.”
“I don’t mind pushy.”
Chuckling, Sebastian said, “I’m glad you listen to the voices inside your head.”
Casey looked up from Sebastian’s unexpected and sudden quiver. “What’s wrong?”
“Just a chill.” Sebastian laughed it off. “You know how drafty it gets at night this time of year. Brother Eusebius always turns down the heaters once April hits.”
They remained silent, Casey’s head resting again on his chest, the heat of his soft breath warm on the tight flesh across Sebastian’s ribcage. A moment later, Sebastian whispered, “Casey, I’m going to be busy the next few days. Will you allow me some time?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know I mentioned how I don’t mind pushy, but there’s a lot I need to take care of inside the abbey. Spring cleaning, you know.”
“Can I help with anything?”
Sebastian shook his head. “You’ll help me by giving me some space. Besides, you have your own responsibilities here. Will you give me a few days?”
“Whatever you need, Sebastian.”
“Good.” Sebastian moved to sit up. “You better get to your cell now, before Brother George knocks on our doors for Rise.”
Casey rose and pulled on his tunic, and stood beside the bed as if waiting for further instructions.
“Remember now,” Sebastian said, holding his hand. “I’ll be preoccupied the next few days.”
“I won’t disturb you. You can count on me.” And Casey gave him a light kiss on the forehead before tiptoeing away.
Next morning, Casey provided Sebastian the space he’d promised. He’d even refrained from taking his breakfast tray by the cloister garden where Sebastian brooded and stared at the blackness outside. Sleepiness from his long night with Casey sapped his body and scratched at his eyes, but his wide-awake mind churned with many considerations, leaving an almost burning taste in his mouth. Having Casey around would have only distracted him.
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