Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [58]
“Malene is exhausted,” she noted.
George nodded.
“I guess she hasn’t slept all night,” she added.
“That was a nice prayer you prayed,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied.
“What did you put on his head?” she asked.
“Oil,” he answered.
“It wasn’t the Last Rites or anything like that, was it?”
Father George shook his head. “Just a prayer of anointment for the sick.” He eased out into the road.
“Good,” Trina responded. “I don’t think I could take it if Alex dies.”
George glanced over at her. “Well, maybe you need to prepare yourself for that in case it happens,” he said. “His condition appears to be very serious.”
She looked at the priest. “No,” she said. “I will do no such thing. Alex is going to be fine. You heard Malene and Roger. He’s come through pneumonia lots of times. He’s strong. This is just a minor setback.”
Father George drove carefully toward the interstate. “I just know the boy is very sick and we must be prepared for the worst.”
“What? No,” Trina said again. “That boy is not going to die, and you need to do whatever you do to make sure that doesn’t happen.” She sat up straight in her seat.
George merged into the southbound traffic. “Trina, I’m a priest, not a miracle worker. And maybe you’re right and the boy will be fine, but I just think we need to—”
“I don’t care what you think we need to do,” she interrupted. “That child cannot die. And you need to make sure he doesn’t.”
George picked up speed and shook his head. “Why do you care so much about Alex? You just met him. And what on earth do you think I can do?” He looked in his rearview mirror, making sure he was not pulling in front of anyone.
“I care about him because he was the first person in this town to actually welcome me here. I like Alex. I like the thought of getting to know him, watching him grow up, and you shouldn’t have to ask me a question like that. And as far as what you can do, why don’t you pray, sprinkle some of that holy water on yourself, use some more of that oil, say some magic words you learned in priest school? I don’t know. I just know there has to be some reason you do this kind of work. You have to have something up your sleeve that keeps an innocent boy from dying.” She slumped down in the seat and stared straight ahead.
George started to laugh.
“This is not funny,” Trina said.
“I’m not trying to be funny,” he corrected. “I’m just trying to explain that priests don’t have any magic powers to keep children from dying. If we did, don’t you think there would be a whole lot more people at Mass on Sunday mornings?”
Trina didn’t respond.
George looked over at the young woman. He could see that she was upset. He blew out a breath, trying to think of what else he could say. “I will say the rosary for Alex. I will pray all the designated prayers on his behalf.” He paused. “But, Trina, in the end it isn’t up to a priest whether a child lives or dies. Those decisions are in God’s hands.”
“Then Alex will be fine,” Trina declared.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“If God is good, like you say He is, and it’s up to God if a child lives or dies, then what is good will happen and Alex will live.”
George rubbed his eyes. He was tired from the day’s travel, the visit with the sick child, and Trina’s nonstop chatter. “That sounds logical, but it doesn’t work that way.”
“Then tell me how it works,” Trina wanted to know.
“I don’t know how it works,” he answered her.
“You don’t know how it works? Then why are you in this business?”
George shrugged. “Because it was the only business I was good at,” he replied, surprising himself with his answer. He had never said that to anybody. He didn’t even realize he had thought such a thing.
“Well, you don’t sound very good at it today,” Trina noted.
George drove without responding, and the two of them sat in silence for what seemed to be a long time.
Finally George decided to return to their conversation. He thought that maybe he should offer some counsel to his passenger, that even though he didn’t really like her, perhaps he owed her some kind of comfort.