A Canticle for Leibowitz - Walter M. Miller [135]
“Lucifer’s no sandman, that’s true.”
“What are you staring at out that window?” Zerchi demanded sharply. “That’s another thing. Everybody keeps looking at the sky, staring up and wondering. If it’s coming, you won’t have time to see it until the flash, and then you’d better not be looking. Stop it. It’s unhealthy.”
Father Lehy turned away from the window. “Yes, Reverend Father. I wasn’t watching for that though. I was watching the buzzards.”…
“Buzzards?”
“There’ve been lots of them, all day. Dozens of buzzards-just circling.”
“Where?”
“Over. the Green Star camp down the highway.”
“That’s no omen, then. That’s just healthy vulture appetite. Agh! I’m going out for some air.”
In the courtyard he met Mrs. Grales. She carried a basket of tomatoes which she lowered to the ground at his approach.
“I brought ye somewhat, Father Zerchi,” she told him.
“I saw yer sign being down, and some poor girl inside the gate, so I reckoned ye’d not mind a visit by yer old tumater woman. I brought ye some tumaters, see?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Grales. The sign’s down because of the refugees, but that’s all right. You’ll have to see Brother Elton about the tomatoes, though. He does the buying for our kitchen.”
“Oh, not for buying, Father. He-he! I brought ‘em to yer for free. Ye’ve got lots to feed, with all the poor things yer putting up. So they’re for free. Where’ll I put ‘em?”
“The emergency kitchen’s in the-but no, leave them there. I’ll get someone to carry them to the guesthouse.”
“Port ‘em myself. I ported them this far.” She hoisted the basket again.
“Thank you, Mrs. Grales.” He turned to go.
“Father, wait!” she called. A minute, yer honor, just a minute of your time-”
The abbot suppressed a groan. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Grales, but it’s as I told you-” He stopped, stared at the face of Rachel. For a moment, he had imagined-Had Brother Joshua been right about it? But surely, no. “It ‘s-it’s a matter for your parish and diocese, and there’s nothing I can-”
“No, Father, not that!” she said. “It be somewhat else I wanted to ask of ye.” (There! It had smiled! He was certain of it!) “Would ye hear my confession, Father? Beg shriv’ness for bothering ye, but I’m sad for my naughties, and I would it were you as shrives me.”
Zerchi hesitated. “Why not Father Selo?”
“I tell ye truthful, yer honor, it’s that the man is an occasion of sin for me. I go meanin’ well for the man, but I look once on his face and forget myself. God love him, but I can’t.”
“If he’s offended you, you’ll have to forgive him.”
“Forgive, that I do, that I do. But at a goodly distance. He’s an occasion of sin for me, I’ll tell, for I go losing my temper with him on sight.”
Zerchi chuckled. “All right, Mrs. Grales I’ll hear your confession, but I’ve got something I have to do first. Meet me in the Lady Chapel in about half an hour. The first booth. Will that be all right?”
“Ay, and bless ye, Father!” She nodded profusely. Abbot Zerchi could have sworn that the Rachel head mirrored the nods, ever so slightly.
He dismissed the thought and walked over to the garage. A postulant brought out the car for him. He climbed in, dialed his destination, and sank back wearily into the cushions while the automatic controls engaged the gears and nosed the car toward the gate. In passing the gate, the abbot saw the girl standing at the roadside. The child was with her. Zerchi jabbed at the CANCEL button. The car stopped. “Waiting,” said the robot controls.
The girl wore a cast that enclosed her hips from the waist to left knee. She was leaning on a pair of crutches and panting at the ground. Somehow she had got out of the guesthouse and through the gate, but she was obviously unable to go any farther. The child was holding on to one of her crutches and staring at the traffic on the highway.
Zerchi opened