In a daze, he descended the stairs. Liam and David were standing in the hall. They stared up at him, begging for a word of hope. Joseph opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
David frowned, then narrowed his eyes at Joseph as if it were his fault that Tessa was worse—as if being a Priest meant Joseph could call down miracles whenever he wished. The boy paced to the front door and yanked it open. Cold hit them like a tidal wave, but David plunged into it and disappeared outside.
“At least the storm is over,” Liam told Joseph as he grabbed his overcoat and David’s from the rack. “I’ll go after him. He’s my nephew too.”
With shaking hands, Joseph restored the pyx to its pouch and hung it back around his neck. He took off his violet stole—the color of repentance. For an eternity, he knelt before his portmanteau, staring down at his white stole—the color of purity and resurrection.The color of those who died blameless. But if Tessa died now…
Joseph shut the portmanteau. When he peered into the parlor, he saw Edward slumped over the chess table, queens and pawns scattered everywhere. His face was hidden in his crooked arm, his other hand still clutching an empty glass.
So a few minutes later, when Joseph’s father descended the stairs again, only Joseph was present to hear the news. “She’s delivered the placenta—all of it. Her uterus has finally contracted. Ibelievethe danger has passed.”
Joseph exhaled with relief. But he knew this only postponed the reckoning. The truth remained: he, who was supposed to lead Tessa to Heaven, was dragging her to Hell. Joseph strode to his overcoat and shoved his arms inside.
“You’re not leaving?” his father demanded like an accusation.
“I can do no more good here.” Joseph ignored his father’s protests and fled—into the merciless embrace of the icy, dimly lit streets. If he’d broken his neck, it would have been divine justice. He slipped several times but fell only once.
In the end, he made it relatively intact to his little room in the Bishop’s residence where there was no longer a Bishop—where there was no longer even a Priest worthy of the name. Shivering with cold and foreboding, Joseph sank to his knees on the floor.
Tessa was going to live. And she loved him.
CHAPTER 40
“It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh,” said the Scarecrow, thoughtfully…
— L. Frank Baum,The Wonderful Wizard of Oz(1900)
Joseph peeled off his overcoat, surplice, soutane, and clothes. He lit a fire in the hearth and crawled into his cold bed. He knew he would have to celebrate Mass in six hours, but he could only lie there, staring at the enormous crack in the ceiling. So he banked the fire, donned fresh clothes and his overcoat, and crossed the frozen Biblical garden. Ice glazed the branches of each bush and tree, white gilding a dark core.
The holy water had frozen in the font, but the altar lamp greeted him: God was here. When Joseph genuflected, the pang in his knees reminded him of his fall on Church Street. His breath created a cloud in the sanctuary like an odorless incense. He returned the pyx to the Tabernacle and kissed the cold altar.
Finally, he lowered himself onto the floor until he was prostrate before God and above Bishop England’s tomb.Help me to feel for Tessa only what you felt for your sister,he begged the holiest man he’d ever known. Surely Bishop England was already a saint in Heaven,where he could easily catch the ear of their Lord. Joseph wanted only to be a good Priest. How could God refuse such a prayer?
Seven years ago, on this very spot, Joseph had accepted the burden of the Priesthood. His vow of celibacy was implicit and not explicit, but he’d understood the price of Ordination. At least, he’d thought he understood. “Be careful to mortify your members concerning all vices and lusts,” Bishop England had commanded, and Joseph had promised to obey.
Flattened against this frigid floor, his members felt sufficiently mortified. They might even freeze and fall off, if he remained here long enough. He might contract pneumonia, and all his problems would be solved. His lungs convulsed in a bitter laugh before he returned to his prayers:Help Tessa to feel nothing more for me than she feels for Liam. Help her to desire her husband instead.
Less than six years ago, on this same spot, Joseph had blessed Tessa’s marriage to Edward. “Plighted to one husband, may she fly from forbidden intimacies,” Joseph had intoned. “May Holy Matrimony become for her a yoke of peace and love…”
God had not been listening.
Of course He had been listening. God had never promised them happiness in this life—He had promised the opposite. They must discover His will and fulfill it. Only then would they find true peace, true love.
God’s will was that Joseph and Tessa part. They were each other’s proximate occasion of sin. Nearness endangered both their souls. If Tessa had died tonight, she would have been damned, because of Joseph. But with distance between them, she would forget about him. Eventually, she would repent of her sin.
Joseph must leave Charleston. He had been able to minister in his family’s own parish for seven years—not one Priest in a thousand was so fortunate. He would ask Father Baker to station him in North Carolina.
But the thought of exiling himself to that wilderness, with no company but his horse… Never again to sit at his parents’ table, hear Hélène’s laughter, watch his mother smile, or inhale Tessa’s perfume…
You are an alter Christus—another Christ,Joseph reminded himself.Did Christ yearn for His mother’s smile or the scent of a lover? He knew His purpose and did not depart from it. Remember what Christ suffered for the sins you are committing right now.
Joseph slid his folded arms from beneath his forehead till his nose flattened against the cold floor. He welcomed the discomfort. He stretched his arms to either side of him and imagined the Roman lash biting into his own back.
Remember Saint Paul’s words to the Galatians: “with Christ I am nailed to the cross… Not I, but Christ liveth in me…” Joseph Lazare ceased to exist seven years ago. You are only Father Lazare now. Only God’s instrument, a vessel for the Holy Spirit. Your body is nothing more than a despicable prison.
Joseph fisted his hands so tightly that his blunt fingernails dug into his palms. He imagined iron spikes being driven through his hands and his feet. He shuddered.
It is an honor and a privilege to suffer, to become more like Christ. If you are cold, if you are lonely, offer it up as a Penance.
