“It could be anywhere… Detroit, Michigan, in 1954. Casablanca, Morocco, in 1870. Paris, France, in 1899. Or, Sparkledove, Colorado in 1942.”
They started walking again and were silent for several moments while Goldie thought about what she’d heard.
“So, purgatory is different places on Earth at different times?”
“I didn’t say that. I said purgatory could be anywhere. But it just so happens yours is in Sparkledove. And it also just so happens that this is my territory.”
“You mean, like, you’re a guardian angel?”
“I mean, like, this happens to be my territory.”
She sighed a little, feeling overwhelmed. “I need a drink.”
“I wouldn’t mind one, myself,” he agreed. “But it’s cold, and that place is closer.” He pointed down a cross street to St. Mark’s.
“Uh, it’s pretty late,” she said. “I don’t think the church will be open.”
“Oh, it will be for me,” he assured.
He started walking down the side street toward the church with Goldie a few steps behind.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “For you,sure.I mean, since you’re… unbelievable!” she muttered.
Stu came to the front doors of the church, tried them, and they were unlocked. He went inside with Goldie following. The place was moody and filled with flickering shadows from a half dozen lit votive candles as well as the red sanctuary candle. They walked about halfway down to the altar, then Stu genuflected and entered a pew. He pulled down the kneeler, got on his knees, made the sign of the cross, and said a prayer in silence. Taking his lead, Goldie did the same thing and silently said an “Our Father,” one of the few prayers she remembered from her Catholic upbringing.
“Purgatory can be for the living or the dead,” Stu finally said quietly, still on his knees. “Where or when depends upon the soul involved. You were dropped into a place and a set of circumstances that you either had to accept or not. You were given clues to problems that you could choose to see or not. Then, once you saw those problems, you could either try to solve them or not.”
“Choices,” she realized.
“Choices,” Stu confirmed. “They define you. You made contradictory choices in your life in New York. You’ve made consistently good ones here, and they weren’t easy ones to make.”
“Spendin’ the night with Peter Banyan wasnota good choice,” she admitted.
“But that’s how you found out he was working with his father,” Stu reminded.
She thought for a long moment, and the angel let her take all the time she needed.
“So, if I did good. Made smart choices. What happens now?”
“I’ve already clued you in on that. You can stay in 1942 and make a life for yourself, or you can wake up in a New York City hospital bed and go back to your life there.”
“I’m not gonna die?”
“Sure you are. Just not today. But either way, Goldie, there are challenges. Back in New York, Markie still intends to marry Kristen DiVarno, you will still be estranged from your sister, and you will struggle to build a new life. Here, you’ve got no family, there will be hundreds of things you’ll have to learn, and hundreds of modern conveniences you’ll lose.”
“I’ve got no family here?” she asked.
Stu shook his head. “The Goldie Maraschino of 1942 is, like you, from New York City, but she has no family. She was raised in an orphanage in the Bronx until she was fourteen and then adopted by a couple who happened to be college professors. They wanted to adopt because they, themselves, were orphans. They wanted an older child because they were middle-aged and didn’t have the temperaments for an infant. They also understood that, at fourteen, Goldie’s chances of finding a forever home were very slim. A year later, her parents took new teaching jobs at Marietta College in Ohio. That’s how they wound up in the Buckeye state. The father died of a heart attack when Goldie was nineteen, and the mother died a year later from pneumonia. But by that time, her education was nearly complete and her penchant for writing well established. She worked for a newspaper for a couple of years, then moved to Columbus, where Owen Mitchell hired her. If you stay, that’s who you are, and I’ll tell you more.
“If I stay, what happens to this other version of Goldie? Her being? Her soul?”
“A soul has incalculable value,” Stu smiled. “The bible says so many times, and God loves his creations. But souls don’t always remain in a body for a full, long life. If you stay, the Goldie of 1942 will be well taken care of, and you’ll take her place. That’s all you need to know. If you go back to New York, then your accomplishments here become her accomplishments. But if you go back, the good you’ve done here doesn’t mean an automatic free pass to paradise. You’ve still got to make smart choices.”
She got off her knees and sank back into the pew, thinking, then shook her head. “This soul swappin’ stuff is a total mind fuuu—twist,she corrected, considering they were in church.
“‘Soul swapping’” isn’t exactly the right term,” Stu noted, getting off his knees and likewise sitting. “But I understand why you’d assume that. Just remember what Father Fitz said to you in Clara’s about God’s wisdom being different than man’s.”
“First Corinthians,” she recalled.
