Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [19]
Chapter Eight
Father George Morris was driving the car loaned to him by the Diocese of Western New Mexico. He didn’t have a vehicle of his own. This one was a clunker, an old station wagon given to the church by a woman on her deathbed. The parish priest in Gallup tried to give it back, knowing her husband or sons would need it, could sell it, or would certainly use it, but the woman insisted that the car belonged to the church.
In turn, the priest gave it to the diocese and they also tried to return it to the rightful family. But once the dead woman’s decision had been made, no one, not her spouse or children or siblings, would take the car back. They claimed that the car was cursed and that it bore the spirits of the woman’s dead parents. The family claimed that she gave the car to the church not because she was charitable or wanting to show her gratitude, but because she was trying to save the rest of her family from the fate she had suffered. Nobody wanted anything to do with that car.
Of course, no one at the diocese had given this information to young Father Morris. He thought the car was a perk, an added benefit for all new parish priests in New Mexico. He figured it was intended to be used for providing transportation to church members and for parish activities. He thought the car needed some work, a good cleaning, maybe a tune-up, but he was happy to have the vehicle and accepted it with humility and grace.
Once he got on the road, he experienced some difficulty getting the hang of managing pedals and gears—he hadn’t driven a car for more than seven years—but after an hour he finally remembered how it was done. He turned on the radio, found a Catholic station, and rolled down the windows since the air conditioning was not working.
Father George was hoping to make Mass on that Wednesday, his first day, but he had been held up at the diocese filling out some last-minute forms and had called to inform the older priest who was covering for him that he wouldn’t arrive until late that evening.
It was just about lunchtime when he opened the map that the Monsignor had given him to see how far down Highway 60 he would travel before coming to his first parish and the rectory where he would live in Pie Town. He had made better time than he expected and was hopeful he could grab a bite to eat when he got into town. He glanced down just for an instant to study the map, but it was an instant almost too long. When he looked back up, he had drifted into the other lane, almost running into a brand-new silver Buick, the driver and the passenger screaming as he veered back into his lane. He was so shaken up by the experience that he pulled to the side of the road and stopped. In the rearview mirror he could see that the Buick hit the brakes as well, but then kept going in the opposite direction.
He dropped his head on the steering wheel and prayed a short prayer of thanksgiving. When he raised his head a girl was standing right in front of his car, staring at him through the windshield. He watched as she walked around to the driver’s side.
“Hey,” she said. “You okay?” She leaned down to see into the car.
He nodded quickly, his white-knuckled fingers still clutching the steering wheel. “I looked away and almost hit that car,” he confessed. He glanced up at the young woman who was peering at him through the opened window and then quickly faced ahead. She appeared to be not much older than a teenager. She was wearing shorts and a tight T-shirt, strange-looking moccasin shoes, and carrying a small but bulging backpack.
“I know,” she responded. “I watched you.”
Father Morris looked around. He didn’t know where this girl had come from.
As if she understood his confusion, she explained. “I was walking. I was just behind over there.” She turned, casting her glance behind the car.
Father George peered into the rearview mirror, as if he would find something marking where she meant. “I was trying to read the map,” he explained without making eye contact.
She stood up. She dropped her backpack and stretched her arms above her