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Authors: William Jablonsky
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old ladies with their hair tied in pink scarves are chatting on either side of the basin, so Sam and I stand around for a minute waiting for them to finish.
After a couple minutes I start to get nervous, and Sam shoves his hands in his pockets, whistling and swaying on his heels. Neither of us want to shove past them—it would cause a scene and hold us up, and Joe can’t wait. But Sam shoots me a look that said if they don’t move in a hurry, we’ll do just that.
One of the old ladies notices Sam’s whistling. “Oh, are you boys waiting?” she said. “We’ll get out of your way.” She smiles at me, then they both dip their fingers into the basin, cross themselves, and go inside.
The basin is about half-full, with a blue sponge in the middle to soak up the water. I thank Providence for our luck, and while I keep a lookout Sam dips the jar in. I tell him not to spill; it seems wrong to let any go to waste after the priest went to the trouble of blessing it.
I’m so busy watching the front door that I don’t notice the priest come out of the chapel. “Afternoon, gentlemen,” he says. He’s tall and broad like a linebacker, and if either Sam or I think we can rush him to get out of there, we forget it pretty quick.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks us, and Sam hides the jelly jar behind his back. The priest is mean-looking, with a huge bald head and big arms, and I get the impression that we’d better answer in a hurry.
“Uh, sorry, sir,” I say. “We got thirsty.”
He looks at me like I’m from another planet, and rolls his eyes. “Drinking fountain’s by the men’s room, boys. This water’s for services.” Then he sees the jelly jar; his forehead crinkles up and he sighs. “Now what in the world are you doing with that?”
I figure he might let us go if I tell him the truth. So I tell him about Joe and Brother Stewart, and that in our way we’re doing the Lord’s work too. I just hope he doesn’t keep us by calling the police or having divine retribution fall on us.
He shakes his head. “I never heard such a story. Just put the water back and be on your way, and there’ll be no trouble.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” I say. Sam hands me the jar with the lid screwed back on and gives me a shove. “Go.”
I take off running, but the priest is right behind me and I feel his big arm swipe at me. I’m almost out the door when his hand clamps tight around my arm and stops me cold, jerking me back so hard I almost drop the jar. “Not so fast,” he says.
Before he can pull me back in Sam is on him piggyback. They spin around for a few seconds while I run for the truck, until the priest tosses Sam to the floor like a wet sandbag and sets after me. The keys are still in the ignition, so I start it up. I drive in circles around the church a couple times, kicking up dust and gravel, waiting for Sam to come out. After the second pass I see Sam running out the back. I open the passenger-side door and he jumps in, and we get out of there as fast as that old truck can go. The priest is right on our tail, and for a minute it looks like he might catch up, but as we speed up his reflection in the rear-view shrinks to a little black dot against the asphalt.
On the way home I pray for a little extra speed to get to the state line. It’s about twenty minutes back to Joe’s, and all that way I keep looking back until I’m sure no one’s followed us. I feel a little guilty about giving the priest so much trouble, but we didn’t do any harm, and if the holy water can help Joe it’ll be worth it.
We pull up to Joe’s right behind Byron and Charlie. Sam notices Joe’s old black Nova running in the yard, engine humming away, tailpipe coughing up bluish-gray smoke. We knock to let Brother Stewart know we’re back, hoping we don’t interrupt his concentration if he’s hard at work on Joe. For a second I see his
After a couple minutes I start to get nervous, and Sam shoves his hands in his pockets, whistling and swaying on his heels. Neither of us want to shove past them—it would cause a scene and hold us up, and Joe can’t wait. But Sam shoots me a look that said if they don’t move in a hurry, we’ll do just that.
One of the old ladies notices Sam’s whistling. “Oh, are you boys waiting?” she said. “We’ll get out of your way.” She smiles at me, then they both dip their fingers into the basin, cross themselves, and go inside.
The basin is about half-full, with a blue sponge in the middle to soak up the water. I thank Providence for our luck, and while I keep a lookout Sam dips the jar in. I tell him not to spill; it seems wrong to let any go to waste after the priest went to the trouble of blessing it.
I’m so busy watching the front door that I don’t notice the priest come out of the chapel. “Afternoon, gentlemen,” he says. He’s tall and broad like a linebacker, and if either Sam or I think we can rush him to get out of there, we forget it pretty quick.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks us, and Sam hides the jelly jar behind his back. The priest is mean-looking, with a huge bald head and big arms, and I get the impression that we’d better answer in a hurry.
“Uh, sorry, sir,” I say. “We got thirsty.”
He looks at me like I’m from another planet, and rolls his eyes. “Drinking fountain’s by the men’s room, boys. This water’s for services.” Then he sees the jelly jar; his forehead crinkles up and he sighs. “Now what in the world are you doing with that?”
I figure he might let us go if I tell him the truth. So I tell him about Joe and Brother Stewart, and that in our way we’re doing the Lord’s work too. I just hope he doesn’t keep us by calling the police or having divine retribution fall on us.
He shakes his head. “I never heard such a story. Just put the water back and be on your way, and there’ll be no trouble.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” I say. Sam hands me the jar with the lid screwed back on and gives me a shove. “Go.”
I take off running, but the priest is right behind me and I feel his big arm swipe at me. I’m almost out the door when his hand clamps tight around my arm and stops me cold, jerking me back so hard I almost drop the jar. “Not so fast,” he says.
Before he can pull me back in Sam is on him piggyback. They spin around for a few seconds while I run for the truck, until the priest tosses Sam to the floor like a wet sandbag and sets after me. The keys are still in the ignition, so I start it up. I drive in circles around the church a couple times, kicking up dust and gravel, waiting for Sam to come out. After the second pass I see Sam running out the back. I open the passenger-side door and he jumps in, and we get out of there as fast as that old truck can go. The priest is right on our tail, and for a minute it looks like he might catch up, but as we speed up his reflection in the rear-view shrinks to a little black dot against the asphalt.
On the way home I pray for a little extra speed to get to the state line. It’s about twenty minutes back to Joe’s, and all that way I keep looking back until I’m sure no one’s followed us. I feel a little guilty about giving the priest so much trouble, but we didn’t do any harm, and if the holy water can help Joe it’ll be worth it.
We pull up to Joe’s right behind Byron and Charlie. Sam notices Joe’s old black Nova running in the yard, engine humming away, tailpipe coughing up bluish-gray smoke. We knock to let Brother Stewart know we’re back, hoping we don’t interrupt his concentration if he’s hard at work on Joe. For a second I see his
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