Chapters (77)
Asher is trying to get back to the cottage but the rain is falling too thin and hard, like needles into his eyeballs. Lightning crashes silver all around them. All he can see is the big old church up ahead of them on Duval, so he pulls in there and makes a run for the door, pulling Justin alongside him.
24
24
As soon as the doors close behind them the world quiets. Several people have taken refuge in the church, but they are all sitting still and silent in the pews, some of them with their heads bowed. Yellow lights dot the sanctuary in the dim gray of the afternoon but occasionally the big stained-glass windows are lit by lightning, showing off their bright colors: reds and blues and greens as rich as pieces of hard Christmas candy.
In one window Asher sees the Sermon on the Mount. Christ stands tall and straighter and brighter than anyone else, dressed in red while the others in the scene keep their eyes on Him. His favorite passage in the Bible, the passage that stayed true to him no matter how he believed.
There is a huge white shell offering holy water at the door. Since he has never been taught to use holy water or cross himself it is best to not do either. Bell once told him that what she loved most about the Episcopal Church in Key West was that everyone was welcome and that nobody had to do anything.
But they are soaked to the bone and Asher hates to get the wooden pews wet, so he and Justin stand in the foyer. Besides, Asher is embarrassed to be in a church wearing swimming trunks, a drenched tee shirt, and flip-flops. He has never felt so ridiculous or out of place. Asher riffles his hand through Justin’s hair and uses the end of his drenched shirt to wipe at his son’s face and get some of the water out of his eyes. Already a little puddle has formed on the tiled floor around Justin’s feet and he is shivering.
A priest appears with a couple of towels. At least Asher figures he is a priest because of his white robe and the green sash draped around his neck. He offers the towels up on his palms like a little treasure.
“Thanks so much,” Asher whispers, seeing how long the priest’s eyes linger on his face. The man recognizes Asher; he is sure of it.
He nods, smiles down at Justin, then looks Asher in the eye again.
“The Holy Eucharist will be given at five-thirty,” he says. He is probably in his early seventies but there is something youthful about him. No lines on his face at all, and a kind of boyishness in his eyes. “You’re very welcome to stay with us.”