"I've got to go see her," she said, starting toward the closet for her coat.
Brother Robert said, "Why not simply call first and find out what the problem is?"
Grace looked at him and guessed from his expression that Brother Robert was just as eager as she to learn the details of Carol's illness.
"Maybe I should."
Grace got the number of Monroe Community Hospital from information and dialed. When she asked to be connected to Carol Stevens's room, there was a pause, and then she was told that the patient was taking no calls.
That upset her. No calls could mean that Carol had a serious problem or perhaps had been taken to surgery.
"What's her room number?"
"Two-twelve."
"And who's her attending physician? Dr. Alberts?" She knew he had always been Carol's family doctor.
"No, it's Dr. Gallen."
Suddenly numb, Grace put down the phone without saying good-bye. It took her two tries to set it properly in its cradle.
Brother Robert, Martin, and Mr. Veilleur were all staring at her.
"What's wrong?" Brother Robert said.
"I'm not sure. Maybe nothing."
"Then why do you look as if you've seen a ghost?"
"They said her attending is Dr. Gallen."
"So?"
"I've heard of him. He's an obstetrician."
Mr. Veilleur dropped the Annunciation plaque.
2
"Did I lose the baby?" Carol said, holding on to the hospital-bed side rails like an overboard sailor clinging to floating debris.
Dr. Gallen shook his head. He was on the young side— maybe thirty-five—plump and fair, looking sort of like the Pillsbury Dough Boy after a visit to Brooks Brothers. He had yet to develop the imperious air of many of his colleagues. Give him time, Carol thought. But right now she was glad he was down-to-earth and amiable.
"As far as I can tell, no. You came awfully close, but I believe the fetus is still intact."
"But my pregnancy test was negative!"
"Who ordered it?"
"Uh, I did, sort of."
"When did you run it, sort of?"
"The Sunday before last."
"Almost two weeks ago. Too early. You were pregnant, but your urinary HCG levels weren't high enough to give you a positive. You got a false negative. Happens all the time. A few days later and it probably would have come out positive." He waggled his finger at her good-naturedly. "That's what happens when nonmedical staff members try to play doctor without going to medical school. Now, if you'd come to me in the first—"
"How far along am I?"
"I figure four to six weeks. Probably closer to four, If you're still pregnant."
Carol thought her heart would stop.
"If?"
"Yes, if. Although I'm pretty sure you haven't lost it, there's still a possibility you might have. We'll keep you off your feet a couple of days and keep running pregnancy tests. If they remain positive, everything's go. If not, you'll have to try again."
Reality slammed into Carol with numbing force. She fought the tears.
Try again? How? Jim's dead.
The pain must have shown on her face.
Dr. Gallen said, "Is something wrong?"
"My husband… he was killed Sunday."
His eyes widened. "Stevens? Not that Stevens! Oh, I'm so sorry. I've been out of town. I'd heard about it but I… somehow I never made the connection. I'm really sorry."
"It's okay," she said, but it wasn't. She wondered if anything ever would be okay again.
"All right, then. I guess that means we'll just have to see to it that this baby makes it," he said with a determined look in his eyes. "Right?"
She nodded, biting her lip in fear for the child.
"I'll check in on you later," he said. "I'm staying right on top of this. All night, if necessary." He gave her a quick wave and then he was gone.
Something about him almost made her believe that they could pull it off.
3
"It's all beginning to make sense to me now," Mr. Veilleur said as Grace watched him pick up the plaque shards.
"Good for you," Martin said sourly. "It has been perfectly clear to us for many weeks now."
"Easy, Martin," Brother Robert said. "A little more tolerance. Remember, faith is a gift."
"Has it really been all that clear to you?" Mr. Veilleur said to Martin. There was no amused smile playing about his lips now. He looked positively grim.
"Of course. The Antichrist is coming and—"
"Can we dispense with the Judeo-Christian mythology for a while? It only muddies the water."
"Mythology?" Martin said, huffing and drawing himself up. "You are talking about the Word of God!"
"Let's just use a neutral term, shall we? I can't have a serious discussion if we're going to talk about 'the Antichrist. ' How does 'the Presence' sound to you?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Oh, come, Martin," Grace said. "That sounds pretty neutral to me. What can it hurt?"
Grace sensed that Martin was as interested as she was in what Mr. Veilleur had to say but that he didn't want to admit it.
Martin glanced at Brother Robert, who nodded.
"It's all right, Martin," he said slowly.
Martin turned to Mr. Veilleur. "Okay. But just remember that—"
"Fine," Mr. Veilleur said. "Now tell me, all of you: When did you get your first inkling of the Presence?"
"I'm not sure," Brother Robert said. "It was all so vague at first. Early February, I'd say."
Martin agreed, nodding vigorously. "Definitely."
"How about the speaking in tongues?"
"Oh, that's been happening since we first began meeting last year. It's common in Pentecostal groups."
"I mean the special tongue, the one Grace used when she spoke to me that night at the meeting."
Grace shivered at the memory. "The one you called the Old Tongue?"
He nodded but kept his eyes fixed on Martin. "Yes. When did you first hear that?"
"That I can tell you. It was shortly before Brother Robert arrived. I remember it because it was so remarkable. Everyone who spoke in tongues that night spoke in the same language. It was Septuagesima Sunday—February eleventh."
"Interesting," Mr. Veilleur said. "That was the night Dr. Hanley's plane crashed."
"Do you think there's a connection?" Grace asked.
"Think about it," the older man said. "That seems to be the event that set all the other events in motion. Of course, there was another event that might have preceded the crash."
"What?" Grace said simultaneously .with Brother Robert and Martin.
"The conception of the Stevens baby."
Grace felt as if all of her blood had drained out in a rush. The words seemed to crystallize an idea in her mind. It was only partially formed now, but it was growing.
"Why would that—?"
"Consider the sequence of events. Hanley's death made James Stevens a rich man. James Stevens's death makes his wife a rich woman and guarantees that their child will be raised in an atmosphere of financial power, leaving only one person between the child and control of the Hanley millions. Doesn't it all strike you as a little too convenient?"
"The child!" Brother Robert whispered. "Of course! The child is the Antichrist!" His eyes were bright with wonder. "It's so obvious now! Satan used Stevens's soulless body as a conduit through which he could invade this sphere by entering a woman and becoming human flesh! Evil incarnate!"