Holding the camera, Brother Mark found this observation peculiar. "Of course we aren't descended from the apes. Man is created in God's image."
Nordy laughed. "We aren't descended from apes because we'd climb trees better."
"You know, Nerdy really is the right nickname for you." Brother Mark handed the camera back to Nordy. "You have no feeling for beauty, no faith."
"I do, just not in the same things that you do," the reporter honestly replied with humor in his voice. "If you kneel like when I first walked up here, it would make a great shot."
"No."
"Why not? No one will know it's you; pull the hood over your head."
"No."
"What if I shoot you from the back?"
"In the back is more like it, Nordy. You'll walk over anyone to get ahead. The answer is no. Besides if Brother Handle found out, he'd—" Brother Mark stopped, listened carefully. "You'd better get out of here. Someone's coming."
"Maybe I can get them to let me shoot them praying before Our Lady."
With urgency, Brother Mark said, "And have your camera smashed? Then you've got nothing. You've got your footage of her tears of blood. People will see the miracle. Now get out."
Nordy now heard the footsteps coming closer. He ducked down the back side of the statue, slipping down the slope into the woods, where the sliver of moonlight wouldn't reveal him. He'd worked too hard for this footage to have it destroyed.
Brother Andrew's voice called out, "Who's there?"
"Me. Brother Mark."
As Brother Andrew came into view, he walked faster. "Who were you talking to?"
"No one."
The lanky monk looked down at the footprints, slick in the packed-down snow. There were so many footprints. "Who would be up here at this hour?"
"No one."
"Why are you here?"
"To pray. Why are you here?"
"I don't know." Brother Andrew shivered as a fresh wind rustled the dry oak leaves and pine needles, which wouldn't drop until spring growth. "I needed to think."
"This is the best place to do that. I come here as much as I can."
"Are you sure you were alone? I would've sworn I heard voices. Sound carries on a clear, cold night like tonight."
"Yes," Brother Mark lied.
Brother Andrew stared at him, then quietly said, "I don't believe you. If you know what's good for you, you'll go back to your cell."
19
Makes me sick." Harry turned up her nose.
"It's supposed to be progress." Susan slowed her station wagon as they passed the brand-new post office, under construction on the southwestern side of the railroad overpass.
"There wasn't one thing wrong with the old building. It's small, but Miranda and I made out okay."
"Miss it?"
"I do and I don't." Harry stared out the window as they drove north toward White Hall. "I miss seeing Miranda every day, and I really miss her orange-glazed cinnamon buns." Harry laughed. "I still see her, but it's not the same as working together. She spends more time with Tracy now." She paused a moment, turned toward Susan. "I expect she'll marry Tracy, don't you?"
"I expect." Susan laughed.
"Know what I miss about the post office?" Harry returned to Susan's original query. "Reading other people's postcards."
Susan smiled. "You were right to leave. It was time. You can do more and you will."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence." Harry meant it. "I alternate between not having a care in the world and dire panic."
"If you would remarry Fair, honey, much of your financial stress would lift."
"Is that why you married Ned?" Harry bit her lip.
"I married Ned because I was nineteen and pregnant with Danny, which you well know."
"Would you have married him anyway—later?"
"Yes." Susan nodded.
"This love stuff is too complicated." Harry sighed.
Susan braked as a squirrel foolishly dashed in front of the station wagon. "It can be."
"Do you love Ned?"
"Where did that come from? Oh, never mind." Susan took her right hand off the steering wheel and waved it dismissively for a second. "I do love him—more than I knew I did. I'm scared to death I'm going to lose him."
"Could you cheat?"
"Anyone could, given the right or wrong circumstances."
The temperature had soared to fifty-four degrees, and the melting snow and ice created flooded ditches, jammed culverts. In some places, creeks had jumped their beds. All one could hear was melting water, running water, water sloshing underfoot or over-foot. Susan slowed on some curves as water flowed over the black asphalt. The road to White Hall was twisty.
"A secret love?" Harry prodded. "Ever have a secret love? One you never told anyone—even me—about?"
"When I look back at how I felt when I was Brooks's age, you know, I can remember the events better than the emotions. When you're feeling powerful emotions for the first time, it's confusing and overpowering. My mind said one thing, my body another. That's not a secret love, but I suffered secret crushes.
"Let's get something to drink. I'm thirsty I put too much salt on my eggs this morning. I'm on a sea-salt kick, but salt is salt and I've got to cut it from my diet." Susan wearied of reflecting on her past.
They crossed the road. There wasn't much traffic out in White Hall. One other car, a BMW X5, was parked at the white clapboard convenience store.
"Nordy Elliott's car cost a pretty penny. He must be making good money." Harry had a memory for horses and cars. "What's he doing in White Hall?"
The answer was quickly forthcoming when she slid out of the station wagon and glanced across the street. On the southwestern corner of this small crossroads reposed a large, pretty creche. Nordy was there, microphone in hand, as Priscilla Friedberg held the camera on her shoulder.
"What would you like?" Susan knew Harry would have to go over and find out what he was doing.
"Uh, Co-Cola."
"Food?"
"Mmm, I'll wait until we get to town."
As Susan pushed open the door to the store, Harry walked across the paved two-lane road. She waited behind Priscilla until Nordy finished.
"—the joys of the season. Nordy Elliott. Channel Twenty-nine News." He waited a moment as Priscilla cut off the camera. "Harry, how are you?"
"What are you doing out here?"
"Every day until Christmas I shoot a creche or Christmas decorations."
"We cover a lot of territory." Priscilla patted the compact professional Panasonic, the latest in equipment. The flat image of video didn't bother her, because she was shooting reportage. Had she been shooting a television film it would have driven her crazy.
"Bet you do. The Virgin Mary story is good for you, Nordy. Everyone's talking about it."
He smiled broadly as he walked with Priscilla back to his car. "National feeds. It's a hell of a good story. Guess I shouldn't say hell."
"The Blessed Virgin Mother isn't revengeful," Harry replied. "However, Brother Handle might be."
"He's not too happy with me," Nordy acknowledged.
Susan emerged from the store with her hands full. Harry started up the wet steps to help Susan before she came down.
"Hi, Nordy. Hi, Priscilla," Susan called as they said their hellos.
Nordy bounded up the steps, passing Harry, stopping before the top one. He held out his hand for Susan to take it.
"It's nice to see you," he said.
"You're doing a great job with the Virgin Mary story." Susan appreciated his chivalry.
Harry, meanwhile, enjoyed her Coke. In her left hand she held the bag containing Susan's sandwich. Nordy carried the cup of coffee Susan had bought.
As they leaned against the car, Nordy asked the two friends, "Is BoomBoom dating anyone?"
Priscilla laughed. "Come on, Nordy. She'll never look at you in a million years."
He ignored his sidekick. "I asked her out and she said she's 'keeping clear of entanglements for a year,' but that doesn't mean she isn't dating."
"She's not." Susan thought the coffee tasted pretty good.
"What's her favorite flower?" he asked.