"They'd hustle guys in the back of the church."
August didn't smile. He said, "How can you dedicate eleven years of your life to God, then throw it all away?"
"I haven't thrown it away," Juvenal said. "I was into that, now I'm into something else."
"Taking care of drunks--It doesn't seem a waste to you?"
"What should I be doing?" Juvenal said.
And August said, "I don't have to tell you."
Very dramatic, almost grim. Lynn glanced at August. So serious he was weird. While Juvenal leaned on his arms and was patient. She should probably get up and leave them alone; but that seemed dumb after going to all the trouble to get here. Now in a front-row seat. If they wanted her to leave somebody would have to push her out.
It wouldn't be Juvenal--her new buddy, already feeling close to him and not knowing why. He said to her, "What did you want to know? Oh, you asked about the Gray Army of the Holy Ghost." And looked at August.
"The Gray Army is the task force corps of Outrage, our activist group," August said.
"They're the demonstrators," Juvenal said. "They wear armbands and pass out literature and get arrested. Isn't that right, August?"
August was giving Juvenal a silent, dramatic stare. "I think we should have a few words in private."
Lynn began to move, picking up her cigarettes; but Juvenal said, "Listen, I'm gonna have to get back to work, but why don't you two stay and talk?"
August got up, taking the newspaper, folding it as he said, "Father Nestor's waiting for me. I'll tell him you'll be there Sunday, all right? In fact I'll pick you up."
Juvenal shrugged and said fine. Maybe to get rid of the guy, Lynn wasn't sure. She watched August walking away and called after him, "It was nice meeting you!" But August didn't look back. She said to Juvenal, "You were gonna leave me with him?"
"Why? August is fun. Don't you think so?"
"He's a spook," Lynn said. "In fact the whole thing was spooky. What's going on Sunday?"
"A church dedication. I used to know the pastor and, I don't know, he'd like me to be there."
"There's more to it than that," Lynn said.
Juvenal was looking at his watch. "I've got to get going." He slid out of the booth, taking his cup.
Lynn said, "Can I talk to you later on?"
"Let's see what happens," Juvenal said, again the mystery man.
Chapter 7
IN THE CAR, August Murray's black Dodge Charger, Father Nestor said, "I should have talked to him if you're not sure."
"I didn't say I wasn't sure, I said at first he tried to get out of it. He was different," August said. "He wasn't as . . . like humble as he was the other times."
"He practiced humility. As I remember he was very humble, obedient, as we all were . . . poor, and I presume, chaste. Poverty, chastity, and obedience--now, I don't know." Father Nestor's head nodded with the motion of the car. He said then, "Oh, my, I think I have to go to the toilet."
"Why didn't you go while we were there?"
"I did. I have to go again."
August didn't say anything for a minute or so. He was thinking of a headline for a pamphlet he'd print--also use it as a news release--when he got back to the shop. The Brother Juvenal Story. No---
The Miracle-Working Missionary.
The Miracle Worker of the Amazon.
"I have to go bad," Father Nestor said.
In the Footsteps of Saint Francis. A modern-day Franciscan friar . . .
"Once the urge comes," Father Nestor said, "there isn't much I can do. The doctor says a parasite in my intestine causes the dysentery. I could have it for years."
"We'll be there in a few minutes," August said, moving the Charger north on Gratiot Avenue, shifting lanes in the homebound traffic, blowing his horn at cars poking along. "Half asleep," August said. "They stop off for a shot and a beer and can't see their way home. End up in a drunk tank. I don't know, I can't figure it out why he's working in a place like that. I said, 'Don't you think it's a waste?' "
"I hope we're almost there," Father Nestor said.
August Murray's Zippy Printing
August didn't smile. He said, "How can you dedicate eleven years of your life to God, then throw it all away?"
"I haven't thrown it away," Juvenal said. "I was into that, now I'm into something else."
"Taking care of drunks--It doesn't seem a waste to you?"
"What should I be doing?" Juvenal said.
And August said, "I don't have to tell you."
Very dramatic, almost grim. Lynn glanced at August. So serious he was weird. While Juvenal leaned on his arms and was patient. She should probably get up and leave them alone; but that seemed dumb after going to all the trouble to get here. Now in a front-row seat. If they wanted her to leave somebody would have to push her out.
It wouldn't be Juvenal--her new buddy, already feeling close to him and not knowing why. He said to her, "What did you want to know? Oh, you asked about the Gray Army of the Holy Ghost." And looked at August.
"The Gray Army is the task force corps of Outrage, our activist group," August said.
"They're the demonstrators," Juvenal said. "They wear armbands and pass out literature and get arrested. Isn't that right, August?"
August was giving Juvenal a silent, dramatic stare. "I think we should have a few words in private."
Lynn began to move, picking up her cigarettes; but Juvenal said, "Listen, I'm gonna have to get back to work, but why don't you two stay and talk?"
August got up, taking the newspaper, folding it as he said, "Father Nestor's waiting for me. I'll tell him you'll be there Sunday, all right? In fact I'll pick you up."
Juvenal shrugged and said fine. Maybe to get rid of the guy, Lynn wasn't sure. She watched August walking away and called after him, "It was nice meeting you!" But August didn't look back. She said to Juvenal, "You were gonna leave me with him?"
"Why? August is fun. Don't you think so?"
"He's a spook," Lynn said. "In fact the whole thing was spooky. What's going on Sunday?"
"A church dedication. I used to know the pastor and, I don't know, he'd like me to be there."
"There's more to it than that," Lynn said.
Juvenal was looking at his watch. "I've got to get going." He slid out of the booth, taking his cup.
Lynn said, "Can I talk to you later on?"
"Let's see what happens," Juvenal said, again the mystery man.
Chapter 7
IN THE CAR, August Murray's black Dodge Charger, Father Nestor said, "I should have talked to him if you're not sure."
"I didn't say I wasn't sure, I said at first he tried to get out of it. He was different," August said. "He wasn't as . . . like humble as he was the other times."
"He practiced humility. As I remember he was very humble, obedient, as we all were . . . poor, and I presume, chaste. Poverty, chastity, and obedience--now, I don't know." Father Nestor's head nodded with the motion of the car. He said then, "Oh, my, I think I have to go to the toilet."
"Why didn't you go while we were there?"
"I did. I have to go again."
August didn't say anything for a minute or so. He was thinking of a headline for a pamphlet he'd print--also use it as a news release--when he got back to the shop. The Brother Juvenal Story. No---
The Miracle-Working Missionary.
The Miracle Worker of the Amazon.
"I have to go bad," Father Nestor said.
In the Footsteps of Saint Francis. A modern-day Franciscan friar . . .
"Once the urge comes," Father Nestor said, "there isn't much I can do. The doctor says a parasite in my intestine causes the dysentery. I could have it for years."
"We'll be there in a few minutes," August said, moving the Charger north on Gratiot Avenue, shifting lanes in the homebound traffic, blowing his horn at cars poking along. "Half asleep," August said. "They stop off for a shot and a beer and can't see their way home. End up in a drunk tank. I don't know, I can't figure it out why he's working in a place like that. I said, 'Don't you think it's a waste?' "
"I hope we're almost there," Father Nestor said.
August Murray's Zippy Printing
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