Read Online The Orphans of Race Point: A Novel by Patry Francis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patry Francis
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saw parked outside the A&P.
She pulled into the parking lot, leaned her own bike against the fence, and wandered past the garden dedicated to Our Lady of Fatima. In the center, a larger version of the statue displayed in so many homes in town seemed to open her arms to her just as it did to the plaster children who knelt before it. It was as welcoming as the old pastor who occupied the rectory was not.
Father D’Souza was known as a prickly old man, small as a gnome, who railed against the drama club’s choice of Othello and frequently chewed out local waitresses when they got his finicky orders wrong. What kind of consolation could Gus get from a man like that? Hallie wondered. She’d started back to her bike when she noticed that the side door to the church was slightly ajar. Curious, she walked to the main entrance and tried it; to her surprise, it gave way.
The church was hushed, dark, and cool. A lingering fragrance of incense and candle wax pulled Hallie deeper inside, where she felt overcome with an ineffable sense of pooling peace. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she’d been inside St. Peter the Apostle’s. She and Nick had attended countless weddings and funerals, even a couple of baptisms there.
She’d stood for what felt like a long time, savoring the deep quiet, when she spotted Gus sitting alone near the front of the church. He was slouched so low in the pew that if it weren’t for the glow of his cigarette, Hallie might have missed him in the dim light. He didn’t react when she walked down the center aisle. She slid into the pew beside him.
“Cigarette?” he offered, breaking the silence as he pulled a pack from his pocket.
Hallie shook her head. “Aren’t you afraid God will strike you dead if you smoke in here?”
Gus’s eyes were inscrutable. “Not the God I know,” he said, retracting his Camels.
He continued to stare straight ahead, enjoying his smoke. Hallie took in the sense of spaciousness created by the vaulted ceilings and the sculpted shafts of light that poured through the stained-glass windows. “Do you come here a lot?” she asked.
Gus didn’t exactly smile, but a trace of the flirtatious boy everyone knew crossed his face. “Either that’s a really bad pickup line, or Father D’Souza sent you to find out why I haven’t been at mass lately.”
“Or maybe I just want to know.”
Gus was quiet for so long that Hallie thought he hadn’t heard her. Then he said, “Uncle Manny and Aunt Fatima don’t go to church much anymore, but when I was little, we never missed mass. Best clothes. Ten-fifteen sharp. This pew. Tell you the truth, I kind of miss it. There’s a moment when the priest lifts the Communion host in the air and we pray: Just say the word and my soul shall be healed. Sometimes it really felt true.”
Hallie nodded, though she always felt uncomfortable when people like Aunt Del talked about their faith. “I can’t believe they leave this place open. Aren’t they afraid it’ll be robbed?”
“Has been—more than once. Don’t you read the Banner ? That’s why Father D’Souza gave me this.” Gus pulled a key from his pocket. “When I was a kid, I used to come here sometimes—usually at crazy hours. One night when I was ten, I crawled out my window in the middle of a huge storm, and rode my bike here. By the time Father D’Souza heard me knocking on the door, I was drenched.”
“Didn’t your aunt come looking for you?”
Gus stared at the altar. “Aunt Fatima checked out after she lost Junior. Woman never even knew I was gone. The next day the priest came to the house—kind of like your dad making a house call. He told me if I ever did that again, he’d give me a beating I’d never forget. When Uncle Manny asked what was going on, he just said, ‘Parish outreach.’ Gotta love that guy.”
He gave Hallie a long look. “So now that you know all my crazy secrets, what are you doing here? From what I heard, Nick’s an atheist and
She pulled into the parking lot, leaned her own bike against the fence, and wandered past the garden dedicated to Our Lady of Fatima. In the center, a larger version of the statue displayed in so many homes in town seemed to open her arms to her just as it did to the plaster children who knelt before it. It was as welcoming as the old pastor who occupied the rectory was not.
Father D’Souza was known as a prickly old man, small as a gnome, who railed against the drama club’s choice of Othello and frequently chewed out local waitresses when they got his finicky orders wrong. What kind of consolation could Gus get from a man like that? Hallie wondered. She’d started back to her bike when she noticed that the side door to the church was slightly ajar. Curious, she walked to the main entrance and tried it; to her surprise, it gave way.
The church was hushed, dark, and cool. A lingering fragrance of incense and candle wax pulled Hallie deeper inside, where she felt overcome with an ineffable sense of pooling peace. Of course, it wasn’t the first time she’d been inside St. Peter the Apostle’s. She and Nick had attended countless weddings and funerals, even a couple of baptisms there.
She’d stood for what felt like a long time, savoring the deep quiet, when she spotted Gus sitting alone near the front of the church. He was slouched so low in the pew that if it weren’t for the glow of his cigarette, Hallie might have missed him in the dim light. He didn’t react when she walked down the center aisle. She slid into the pew beside him.
“Cigarette?” he offered, breaking the silence as he pulled a pack from his pocket.
Hallie shook her head. “Aren’t you afraid God will strike you dead if you smoke in here?”
Gus’s eyes were inscrutable. “Not the God I know,” he said, retracting his Camels.
He continued to stare straight ahead, enjoying his smoke. Hallie took in the sense of spaciousness created by the vaulted ceilings and the sculpted shafts of light that poured through the stained-glass windows. “Do you come here a lot?” she asked.
Gus didn’t exactly smile, but a trace of the flirtatious boy everyone knew crossed his face. “Either that’s a really bad pickup line, or Father D’Souza sent you to find out why I haven’t been at mass lately.”
“Or maybe I just want to know.”
Gus was quiet for so long that Hallie thought he hadn’t heard her. Then he said, “Uncle Manny and Aunt Fatima don’t go to church much anymore, but when I was little, we never missed mass. Best clothes. Ten-fifteen sharp. This pew. Tell you the truth, I kind of miss it. There’s a moment when the priest lifts the Communion host in the air and we pray: Just say the word and my soul shall be healed. Sometimes it really felt true.”
Hallie nodded, though she always felt uncomfortable when people like Aunt Del talked about their faith. “I can’t believe they leave this place open. Aren’t they afraid it’ll be robbed?”
“Has been—more than once. Don’t you read the Banner ? That’s why Father D’Souza gave me this.” Gus pulled a key from his pocket. “When I was a kid, I used to come here sometimes—usually at crazy hours. One night when I was ten, I crawled out my window in the middle of a huge storm, and rode my bike here. By the time Father D’Souza heard me knocking on the door, I was drenched.”
“Didn’t your aunt come looking for you?”
Gus stared at the altar. “Aunt Fatima checked out after she lost Junior. Woman never even knew I was gone. The next day the priest came to the house—kind of like your dad making a house call. He told me if I ever did that again, he’d give me a beating I’d never forget. When Uncle Manny asked what was going on, he just said, ‘Parish outreach.’ Gotta love that guy.”
He gave Hallie a long look. “So now that you know all my crazy secrets, what are you doing here? From what I heard, Nick’s an atheist and
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