Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [67]
George had tried to explain that Catholics and all Christians believe that it is only through God’s son that one can find salvation and have eternal life. Frank just shook his head, leaning back under the hood to work on the engine of the car in the garage bay. “And your God only had one son, not many children? Why would the Creator of all worlds and all heavens create only one son?” George didn’t answer. “And this need for salvation?” Frank asked. “Are we being saved from ourselves or from this God who is described as not just a God of love but also vengeance?”
The questions had rattled George. In the end, he had not given answers, only stood looking embarrassed while the man opened valves and flushed a radiator. Frank stood up and wiped his hands on the rag hanging from his back pocket. He reached out to receive the Bible and beads. “I’ll give them to Raymond,” he said to the priest, and George handed them over. “But your Church and your God have brought only sorrow to my people. Our only need for salvation is to be delivered from the likes of you and your predecessors.”
Father George had left that encounter to go over to Malene’s to see Alex. And that visit had been just as unsettling. The boy was weak and had lost quite a lot of weight while being hospitalized, but he was alert and engaging, and when he realized that Father George was standing at the door with his grandmother, he made it clear that he wanted to talk to the priest alone. Malene had raised her eyebrows in suspicion at the request but granted Alex his wish. She backed out and shut the door as George stood just inside the room.
George now sat at his desk, recalling his last conversation of the afternoon, the one with Alex.
“How are you, Father?” the boy had asked, motioning the priest to come closer, to sit in the chair by the bed.
“I’m great,” George replied, trying not to show signs of his fatigue. “But the question is, how are you?”
Alex smiled. “I’m home,” he answered. “And that’s all that matters.”
Father George had felt uncomfortable in the boy’s room, sitting by his bed. His early visits at Carebridge and then his talks with Fedora and Frank had made him realize that personal conversations with parishioners and visits to the sick, whether in hospitals or homes or nursing centers, exhausted him. It had become the least favorite part of his job. The preaching and consecrating of the elements, the study and personal time of prayer and reflection, those ministerial tasks were his forte. He realized he should have received more training, more experience, in the pastoral care aspect of his ministry.
“Thank you for visiting me at the hospital that day after I first got there,” Alex had said. “And for bringing Trina.”
Father George nodded. He had not wanted to think about that day. He had not spoken to the young woman since she got out of his car on Highway 60 and he drove away. He had seen her through the diner windows on occasion, passed her once on Main Street, but they had not talked since the argument.
“I was glad to see you both,” Alex commented.
Father George nodded. He had no reply.
“She’s not what you think,” Alex said, his voice small and weak.
“What do you mean?” George asked, not understanding what the boy was saying.
“She’s not bad or anything,” Alex replied.
Father George didn’t know how to respond. He dropped his face. He wondered why Alex would say such a thing to him, and he worried that his discontented feelings about the other new resident of Pie Town had become too transparent. He was going to explain, but then, perhaps because of his fatigue and the day’s other conversations, he thought better of it.
“She’s lost is all,” Alex added. “But things will be right