Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [78]
Joseph glanced at Lizzie. She was looking at him, understanding the sudden leap of anxiety in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said with more sincerity than his haste suggested. He did not even know what he was afraid of, but Kerr would not be here, or Hannah still up, unless there was something deeply wrong. He leaned over and opened the door with his good hand.
“Good night,” she answered as his feet crunched on the gravel.
Hannah and Kerr were in the sitting room and both whirled around where they stood, their faces white, eyes hollow and wide, as if they did not know how to blink.
“What is it?” Joseph demanded, his heart pounding, breath choking him. “What’s happened?” He was terrified it was Archie.
Hannah came to him quickly, and something in the very fact that she moved dispelled a little of his fear. “What’s happened?” he demanded again, his voice rising.
“Joseph, a ship went down today. Gwen Neave’s sons were on it—both of them. She’s lost everyone she has!”
Joseph touched Hannah’s arm with his good hand, and looked beyond her to Kerr. “Have you been to see her?” he asked with compassion.
“I can’t! For God’s sake, what can I say to her?” Kerr’s voice strangled in his throat. “Tell her there’s a God who’s in charge of this . . . this”—he swung his arm around in a gesture of despair—“parody of life?” He was out of control, teetering on the edge of hysteria. There was a desperation in his eyes as if he were seeking an escape he could not find.
Joseph turned to Hannah. “I know it’s late, but would you get a cup of tea, please.” He did not want the tea so much as an excuse for asking her to leave. He closed the door behind her when she did, then turned to Kerr.
“I can’t!” Kerr said again, his voice rising thin and sharp. “What use am I to her? Do you want me to go into her home, in her time of terrible grief, and offer her hollow platitudes?” Now he was angry, lashing out at Joseph. “What do you suggest I say, Captain? That they’ll all meet up again in the Resurrection? Have faith, God loves you, perhaps? Does he?” he accused. “Look me in the face, Captain Reavley, and tell me you believe in God!”
He waved his hands again. “If you can do that, then tell me what He’s like, where He is, and why the hell He allows this to happen. We’re all facing inconceivable loss, and the world’s gone mad! It’s the destruction of everything. It’s an insult to the reality of other people’s pain to mouth meaningless words at them. They need hope, and I haven’t any to give them.”
Joseph thought of the warmth and vitality of Shanley Corcoran, of his will to pick up the pieces of Theo Blaine’s job and work day and night to try to put it together, and complete it as he would have if he had lived. He would keep on through exhaustion, defeat, grief, even fear of failure, and perhaps uglier than that, fear of the same man who had killed Blaine coming after him, too. He never considered the possibility of stopping or giving up.
By contrast, here was sniveling Hallam Kerr.
“Then stop thinking about what you know or believe,” Joseph replied tersely, hearing the anger in his voice like a slap to the face. “Think about what you can say to help Gwen Neave. She’s a widow who has just learned that she’s also lost both her sons. She’s your job, not your fear or doubts. And she needs you now, tonight, not when you think you’re ready to go.”
Kerr’s face was gray, his eyes lifeless. “I can’t go,” he said flatly. “If I try telling her to have faith, lean on God, she’ll know I’m lying.” There was open rage in him now. “I don’t think there is a God, not one I can worship. He may have created the universe—I have no idea and I really don’t care. If He exists, He has no love for us, or else it’s all spun out of control, and He is as incapable of doing anything about it as we are. Perhaps he’s just as lost and frightened as the rest of us, don’t you think, Captain?”
He stared at Joseph as if seeing him clearly for the first time, his eyes wide and hectic. “You told me vividly what it’s like in the