“I know honey,” Linda answered.
“I’m lost Linda. I can’t go back to what I was, and I’m afraid I don’t have the strength to resist what I’ve become. Maybe there are no answers aside from cold biologic facts. Maybe the simple truth is that there is no place for me.”
“You’re deceiving yourself. You want to blame six years of inactivity on the possibility that you have been changed into something so unique that you don’t fit in anywhere. You might sell that to some people, but don’t try peddling that crap to me. I knew you before this happened, and I know you now, and the differences are only superficial.”
“Linda it’s far deeper than superficial. You know what I’m capable of, you know what I’ve done.”
“I’ve been the wife of a cop for nearly four decades, and between you and me all you did was dispense some justice.”
“I didn’t do it for the sake of justice,” Amanda reminded her mother-in-law.
“I know why you did it, and that’s why we made you promise to stop. The very fact that you have kept that promise shows that at a fundamental level you are still who you were.”
“It’s not that simple; there are realities that can’t be ignored. Even Aunt Em could see that society can‘t tolerate my existence. It’s not like I can go out and get a job and a husband, buy a house, fill it with children, and live happily ever after.”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean you turn into this Reisch fellow.”
“I don’t see a middle ground.” Amanda said, and for an instant, she was distracted by Oliver’s mind brushing against hers. His efforts were feeble and clumsy. Quietly, she followed the connection back to the priest and was flooded with his anxiety and excitement. He was new to this and not the equal of Reisch or herself. This new virus was going to create a whole new population of people who had no place in society.
“Amanda, are you still there?” Lisa asked.
“Sorry, I got distracted by something,” she said coming back to the conversation.
“I was worried that I’d gone too far,” Lisa said.
“You didn’t, you said what needed to be said. I’m not sure I agree with everything, but you’ve given me something to think about.” Between her aunt and Lisa, Amanda had had enough introspection for a while. “What do you know about Father Oliver?”
“So Greg told you about what happened this morning. I think he is exactly as he seems, open and honest. I know that after this morning Greg has his doubts, but I don’t think he’s quite thought this through. I think we all know that Reisch infected him and he’s changed just as you have. I think the only reason he got so angry was because Father Oliver mentioned your name.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“You should go see Oliver. I think maybe you could help each other.”
“I think I will,” Amanda answered. She had no real hope that he could help her, but she might stop him from getting himself killed. Reisch was not gone and she could ill afford another enemy. “You should go, Lisa; they’re watching you, and are probably getting suspicious that you’re trying to reach me.”
* * *
Oliver stared at the door for a long time, listening to the muted exchanges of his office staff. They spoke softly, sharing their observations and theories, all of them hoping and praying that the old Father Oliver would return soon. Slowly, their activity and voices returned to their normal levels, and life became routine again. At least for them, he thought.
Oliver’s head was hurting again. It was strange that everything about him seemed to be undergoing a sort of rejuvenation, except his head. He had never been one to get headaches, but they were now an everyday event; and today’s was shaping up to be a real dozy. He reached for his aspirin bottle, which had become his constant companion this past month, and washed down three tablets with a gulp of coffee. That was one consolation. For the last ten years, his doctors had told him to avoid caffeine in any form, including coffee. The problem was that he was a coffee addict. It had taken two more episodes of cardiac irregularities to convince him that the doctors were right. “Thank you, Mr. Reisch,” he said before finishing the cup.
He cleared his mind and focused on the throbbing in his head. It was a technique that worked well for his arthritic joints and back, but it wasn’t very effective on these new headaches. What he really needed was a good night’s sleep, but there was no way he was going to risk that again. He closed his eyes and visualized a knot untying, but the ache continued. Finally, he gave up and found his headphones. He had a large collection of African tribal music, almost all of which he had recorded himself. Long ago, he’d had the idea to record the vibrant and pulsing rhythms of the local tribes and bring the recording home to America. He sent tape after tape to large and eventually even small studios, but no one seemed to be interested. This music wasn’t commercially viable. He turned the volume up as high as his head would allow, and he drifted back to pitch-black nights in front of a large fire watching those incredible people celebrate life. He had almost finished the first tape when a hand shook his arm. He jumped and let out a small yell, which startled his secretary in return.
“I’m sorry, Father, but we have been ringing your phone for ten minutes. We thought there was something wrong with you.” Lucy Cummings said with worry lines creasing her face.
“No, I haven’t completely lost it, Lucy. Just trying to hide from a headache.” He was pleased to find that the headache had receded into the background. “What’s up?” he asked in good humor.
“There’s someone here to see you. She says it’s urgent and can’t wait. It’s Greg Flynn’s daughter-in-law.”
Lucy had taken two steps away from the desk, but she may as well have been two miles away, because Oliver had stopped listening.
She was here. He could feel her presence through the door. It was as if a very strong heat lamp had suddenly been turned on, inches from his face. He looked up and was surprised to see his secretary standing in front of him, waiting for a reply. “Would you mind asking her to come in, Lucy?” His voice became tentative, and Lucy hesitated for just a moment, thinking he might change his mind. “It’s okay. Show her in,” he said with a little more confidence.
Lucy turned and left the office, leaving his door ajar. Through the crack, Oliver saw Amanda Flynn for the first time, at least in the flesh. She was a beautiful young woman: short blond hair, light blue eyes, and a magnetic smile, which she had turned on for the ladies in the office. She wore a simple gray wool coat that broke just below her knees.
Lucy led her back to Oliver’s office, chatting briefly about Amanda’s father-in-law. As she entered the office, Amanda looked up at Oliver.
“I’ll hold your calls if that’s all right with you, Father,” Lucy said while closing the door. Oliver and Amanda thanked her simultaneously.
Oliver found himself standing, not remembering when he had gotten up. His headphones dangled around his neck. Amanda stared in return, and neither of them knew what to say.
“Well, this is a little awkward,” Amanda finally said.
“Yes, it is. Should we pretend that we don’t know each other and start with introductions? I’m John Oliver, or Father Oliver, or just plain John — take your pick. Oh, I’m sorry; please, can I take your coat?” He quickly took off the headphones, walked around the desk, and reached for her coat. She handed it to him, and he hung it on a hook behind the door. They stood facing each other in the middle of the room.