Starfish_ A Novel - James Crowley [7]
Lionel heard a bell ring and no longer saw the sky. He looked toward the altar where Brother Finn stood glaring at him and Beatrice.
As their singing grew louder, Brother Finn urged them with his eyes to stop, then glanced with apprehension toward the priest, who looked around like an eagle, trying to determine where the song originated. A moment later, the priest was down from the altar and looming above Lionel.
Beatrice continued to sing. So Lionel continued to sing.
“And that will be enough of that there, Miss Beatrice, Mr. Lionel,” the priest announced. But the song continued.
Lionel looked out the window at Ulysses pacing restlessly in his corral and then stared down at the cracked, worn leather of his shoes. He continued to sing with Beatrice as Brother Finn tried to continue in Latin. The priest shot a glare at Brother Finn, who grew immediately silent.
“Miss Beatrice, Mr. Lionel, I said that is enough!”
The song stopped.
“I’m trying to pray,” Beatrice said firmly.
“Trying to pray by mumbling gibberish to the wind? I most certainly think not.” And this the priest punctuated by grabbing Beatrice and Lionel by their ears and yanking them to their feet, as if pulling a pair of jackrabbits from a hole.
And then Beatrice said it.
“What’s the difference from whatever the hell you’ve been mumblin’?”
A collective gasp came from the Brothers and children. Lionel thought that the priest’s face would explode. It turned red, then almost purple. The priest jerked them sideways toward the back of the chapel.
“I will not have you disrespecting the Lord with some half-cocked pagan philosophies in His house—or anywhere else, for that matter.”
The rest of the children were now on their feet trying to get a clear view. Another Brother, Brother Thomas, stood to make his way toward the priest, who was struggling to get Lionel and Beatrice down the aisle. Brother Thomas reached out as they passed, but missed, tripping over one of the other children and spilling into the aisle with a thud. The entire church erupted with laughter.
Brother Thomas scrambled back to his feet. “Eyes to the front!” he instructed the congregation in a tightened whisper.
“You are in the House of the Lord,” the priest continued. “You and your brother, Lionel, will act accordingly or prepare yourself to face the consequence of your actions.” The priest shoved them toward the door, but Beatrice suddenly stopped.
“You’ll leave my brother alone,” she said, as more a matter of fact than anything else.
The priest pulled Beatrice closer. “Is that right, young Beatrice? You’re quite bold today, aren’t ya? well, let me tell you something, my young friend, I will not have you disrupting these Holiest of the blessed sacraments.”
“Well, they ain’t mine,” Beatrice replied.
With this, the priest slapped Beatrice across the face. “And I will not have you comparing your heathen rituals to the direct word of our Savior.”
The priest pushed Beatrice out the double doors. Lionel tried to follow, but was grabbed by Brother Thomas. Jenkins, Lumpkin, and the other men scrambled to attention, hiding the green glass bottle in the snow.
The priest stood on the top step of the church, his heavy black robes engulfing Beatrice like the wings of a raven. “Sergeant, see to it that Miss Beatrice finds her way to the barber,” he said, releasing Beatrice’s ear and practically throwing her down the stairs, “and then to the quartermaster. I do not want to see her out of uniform again!”
The priest turned his back on Beatrice. He stepped inside the chapel, shut the doors behind him, then glared at Lionel and the other children as he stormed up the aisle to the altar.
Brother Thomas pulled Lionel down into the pew beside him.