For a few moments no one spoke. Each was lost in his own thoughts until Jack broke the silence: “If what you say is the case, you two have inadvertently yet scientifically corroborated the existence of the divine.”
Both Sana and Shawn laughed gleefully and then hugged despite Sana’s barrier gown, hat, gloves, and booties. “Our journal articles are going to be classics even before their publications,” Shawn blurted. He then broke away from Sana. “I have to get to work! I’m not sure if I’ll be able to wait to finish all three scrolls. I’ve never been more excited in my life about a couple of papers.”
“I’m going to run several more samples, just to be totally sure of the results,” Sana announced.
“And while you guys do that,” Jack said, getting to his feet, “I’m going to head home somewhat early to insist my wife take a break.” Actually, Jack had something more specific in mind. He’d called the pediatric oncologist that morning who was in charge of the neuroblastoma protocol at Memorial to ask, in light of JJ’s several good days, if Jack should bring the boy in for blood work to check his level of mouse antibody.
“Congratulations,” Jack called out as he opened the door to the hall. Both Shawn and Sana waved in response. Sana was at that moment heading back into the gowning room to regown. Shawn was back at the painstaking unrolling work. “What time in the morning?” Jack yelled out.
“Let’s say ten,” Shawn yelled back. “There may be some celebrating tonight.”
“By the way,” Jack yelled, “I’d hold off telling James about the mito DNA until it’s confirmed.”
“That’s probably the merciful thing to do,” Shawn agreed.
Jack was about to leave when he thought of something else. Since yelling from the doorway was potentially disturbing to others in the lab, he returned to the office and approached Shawn. Jack could see Sana in the gowning room in the middle of changing.
“I forgot about the Palestinian woman that also matched,” Jack said. “What on earth does that say?”
“Good question,” Shawn said, rolling back his chair. He quickly stuck his head into the gowning room and asked Sana her opinion.
“She has to be a direct matrilineal relative of the woman in the ossuary,” Sana said. “It’s possible, because the half-life for a single nucleotide mutation or SNP for mitochondrial DNA is two thousand years. That would be my guess,” Sana said, completing her dressing.
“Did you hear that?” Shawn asked Jack, letting the gowning-room door close.
“I did,” Jack said. “It’s curious to think about. I wonder if she has any idea, or if anyone had an idea. It even makes me wonder if she’s a Christian or a Muslim.”
“Maybe one of us should look her up sometime,” Shawn said, “although I can’t help but have the feeling the less she was told, the better.”
“It’s a curious idea,” Jack said. He then took his leave for the second time. As he rode down in the elevator, another associated thought passed through his mind. One aspect of alternative medicine he had not even touched on was faith healing, and the reason was that he gave it even less chance of being efficacious than some of the other methods. A few times, while idly channel surfing on the television in his old life, he’d briefly watched as TV evangelists put their hands on supposed patients’ foreheads, which would cause the people to fall back, limp yet cured. Yet if someone had the same DNA as the Mother of Jesus of Nazareth, Jack couldn’t help but wonder if she could heal others.
The elevator reached the first floor, and Jack got off. Almost immediately, thoughts about faith healing evaporated from his mind, replaced by thoughts concerning the antibody levels in JJ’s body.
29
4:44 P.M., WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2008
NEW YORK CITY
Although the last thing Shawn wanted to do was stop at the grocery story to get food for dinner, especially since it meant paying for food for Luke, he did it anyway. He was in that good a mood. Not only had he made a single day’s largest progress in his document unraveling, but Sana had already run a second sequencing of the tooth-pulp mitochondrial DNA, and the sequence was exactly the same as the first. Thus, all around it was by far their most successful day in relation to the ossuary, and such progress bode well for papers in the not-too-distant future.
“I had an idea,” Sana said, as she and Shawn loaded the groceries into the trunk of a yellow cab.
“Really?” Shawn questioned jokingly. “Such a novel occurrence.”
Sana hauled off and smacked Shawn playfully with a package of paper towels.
In such a playful attitude, they arrived home. While Shawn paid the fare, Sana walked to the rear of the taxi to get the groceries. As she lifted them to the curb, she thought about Luke and wondered how he was going to act. She truly had no idea, and her thoughts ranged between anger on one extreme to humor on the other. As for how he had acted in the immediacy of the episode, she felt certain he’d be embarrassed, and she hoped he planned to apologize, as she had strongly suggested, so that the incident could be put behind them. After having thought about his response on and off most of the day, Sana still considered it as over-the-top inappropriate. “Satan’s whore,” she murmured inaudibly. Such language coming from such an angelic-appearing person seemed shocking to her.
“Do you have the groceries?” Shawn’s voice rang out. He’d finished paying the driver.
“I could use a hand,” Sana yelled back.
Shawn appeared around the side of the taxi and took the two bags that Sana had already lifted from the trunk. She fished out the third and last and slammed the trunk’s lid with her elbow.
As they walked up to the front door, Sana got her circle of keys from her purse. “Fine time for one to be thinking of this now,” Shawn commented. “I think we finished the final bottle of wine last night.”
“If you want, you can walk over to Sixth Avenue later and get some for tonight,” Sana suggested. “Our celebrating that you mentioned to Jack is going to be rather lame unless we get some wine.”
“Maybe I’ll invite Luke,” Shawn said. “It would be good for him to get out of the house.”
“That’s nice of you,” Sana said, and meant it. At the same time she wondered what Shawn would say if she told him that Luke had called her “Satan’s whore” the night before. When Shawn was angry, he had a sailor’s vocabulary.
Sana got the usual three locks open with their respective keys but then noticed there was another one, which she was certain was new. She was about to ask Shawn about it when she tried the door. It opened without a problem, and that was the last she thought of it. Instead, she stepped aside to allow Shawn to enter first, as he was carrying the bulk of the groceries.
“Hello, Luke,” Sana heard Shawn say as she kicked the door closed behind her. She then reached around and threw the three dead bolts. When she turned again, Shawn was talking with Luke, but it was not sociable talking. Shawn was telling Luke that he was not allowed to smoke in the house under no uncertain terms.
“It’s just a cigarette,” Luke responded. His tone was not defensive or even apologetic. It was more challenging, as if the house rules were his to determine.
“I’m telling you, there is no smoking in this house,” Shawn repeated slowly but definitively.