Blackwood Farm - Anne Rice [268]
I was very proud of him and he took my mind off my own sins completely, and, as I sat down right beside Lestat I held Tommy’s hand with my left hand and Lestat took my right.
When it came time to receive Communion, a great many people were moving out of the pews to get in line, and of course Tommy and Jasmine were going to do it. And on impulse I rose and went before them to get in line.
And to my utter shock, so did Merrick, and so did Lestat, following my example perhaps, or doing what they would have done in any case.
The three of us received the sacrament.
I took it in my hand as was my custom, then put it in my mouth. I don’t know how they took it—whether in their hands or directly into their mouths. But they took it. I felt it dissolve on my tongue as always—such a tiny morsel of food not being repulsed by my body—and I prayed to the God who had come into me to forgive me everything I was. I prayed to Christ to redeem me from what I was. I prayed to know what I must do—if there was any way, honorable or decent or moral—for me to live.
Was Christ inside me? Of course. Why should one miracle cease just because another one had taken hold of me? Was I guilty of sacrilege? Yes. But what is a murderer to do? I wanted God to be inside me. And my Act of Contrition, my renunciation of all sin, was for the moment pure. I knelt with my eyes closed and I thought the strangest thoughts.
I thought of the omniscient God becoming Man and it seemed such a remarkable gesture! It was as if I’d never heard the story before! And it seemed that the omniscient God had to do it to fully understand His Creation because He had created something that could offend Him so deeply as humankind had done. How tangled it was. How bizarre. Angels hadn’t offended Him so deeply. No. But human beings had. My head was so full of ideas, and my heart for the moment was full of Christ, and my soul wept its own bloodless tears, and I felt innocent just for this little while.
Fast-forward: the cemetery:
Lonigan and Sons had provided us all with small candles, each with its round paper shield so the wax wouldn’t burn our hands. Fr. Kevin Mayfair finished the graveside ceremony with dash and charm. He wept for Aunt Queen. Many people were crying. Terry Sue was still crying. Flowers were heaped all around the coffin on its bier. We were invited to file past and touch the wood for the last time. The gates to the tall granite tomb stood open. The coffin would be interred on one of the shelves after we left.
Patsy broke into hysterical sobbing.
“How could you bring us out here at night!” she shouted at me, her eyes wet and streaming. “You, always you, Tarquin. I hate this place, and you have to bring us at night. You, always you, Tarquin.”
I felt sorry for her that she was so unhappy and that everyone was staring at her, and not knowing how sick she was, and how insane she was in general.
Big Ramona tried to quiet her. Merrick Mayfair stood at my elbow watching her intently. I could feel Lestat watching her as well. I felt humiliated for her, but what did it matter to them, her strange theatrics? And why had she come?
She had not come to the gravesides of her own parents. But she had loved Aunt Queen. Everybody had.
And then Big Ramona guided her towards the car. Our lawyer, Grady Breen, tried to pet her and quiet her.
“Damn you, Quinn!” she shouted as they forced her into the limousine. “Damn you to Hell!” I wondered if she had some divining power to call out such perfect curses.
“We should meet tonight,” said Merrick in a low voice. “Your spirit friend is dangerous. I can sense his presence. He isn’t eager to be seen by me or by Lestat. But he’s here. There’s no time to lose.”
“We’ll meet at the house?” I asked.
“Yes, you go with your family,” said Lestat. “We’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”
“Your mother, she’s headed there also,” said Merrick. “She wants to leave, however. Try to keep her. We have to talk to her. Tell her that we have to talk to her. Use any means you can to keep