Blood Hollow

16

The next morning, as soon as he’d seen the children off to school, Cork went to St. Agnes to talk to Mal Thorne. He tried the rectory first. When he knocked, Rose opened the door.

She’d been absent from the O’Connor house for over a month, and Cork had seen her only two or three times in that period, not very recently. The children and Jo stopped by the rectory regularly, and they saw her every Sunday morning, but a stop at St. Agnes was never on Cork’s agenda. Now he stood at the doorway to the priests’ residence and looked at Rose as if he were seeing a stranger. For a moment, he simply stared at her, speechless.

She smiled. “Hello, Cork.”

“Rose?”

She laughed, reached out, and hugged him.

“You’ve lost weight,” he said.

“A few pounds.”

“New dress?”

“Yes. My old clothes tend to hang on me these days.”

“Your hair’s different.”

“I’ve decided to let it grow a bit.”

That wasn’t all that was different. There was a light in her eyes, a rosy aura about her, even a subtle, enticing fragrance that was the faintest hint of perfume, something that, to Cork’s knowledge, Rose never wore.

“Come in, won’t you?” she said.

From inside the rectory came the blare of the television. The Price Is Right. Father Kelsey, Cork figured, because the old priest was nearly deaf and Rose never watched television during the day. Cork held back. “I’m looking for Mal. Is he in?”

“He’s working in his office in the church this morning.”

“Think he’d mind if I dropped by?”

“You? In St. Agnes? He’d welcome that like a miracle.”

“I’ll just go on over then.” Cork took one last look at his sister-in-law. “You know, you look wonderful, Rose.”

“Why, thank you, Cork.”

Walking to the church, Cork mulled over the change in Rose. He considered that maybe just getting out of the O’Connor house had made the difference, but that was unconvincing. There was something else going on.

Mal Thorne was at his desk, shoving around the mouse for his computer. Cork knocked at the door, and the priest looked up. The pleasant surprise of seeing Corcoran O’Connor at his door carved a wide smile on his face.

“Well, come on in.” He stood up and bounded toward Cork, his hand already out in greeting.

“I stopped by the rectory first. Rose said I’d find you here.”

“Just finished brewing up a pot of coffee. Join me?”

“Thanks.”

Mal went to a small table pushed against the wall where a framed charcoal drawing of St. Agnes hung.

“Nice picture,” Cork said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Randy Gooding. A Christmas present. Remarkable, isn’t it?” Mal lifted the pot from the coffeemaker and poured some into a disposable cup. “All I’ve got is this powdered creamer crap.”

“Black’ll do.” Cork took his coffee. “Rose seems to be doing fine covering for Ellie Gruber.”

“Are you kidding? Rose is a saint.” The priest tipped the jar of creamer and tapped some into his own coffee. “I’ve never seen anybody handle Father Kelsey with such a firm, loving hand. Don’t get me wrong. Mrs. Gruber is fine. It’s just that there’s something special about Rose. But I’m sure you know that.”

Cork sipped from his cup. The coffee was hot and strong, just as he liked it. “Whatever it is she does here, it agrees with her. She looks terrific.”

“She’s absolutely lovely.” He became intent on stirring his coffee with a white plastic spoon, as if he’d said too much. He indicated a chair to Cork, and he sat back down in the swivel chair he’d been using at the computer. “What’s up?”

Cork sat down. “Solemn Winter Moon turned himself in last night.”

The priest was about to take a sip, but he paused. “Does Fletcher Kane know?”

“I’m sure he does by now. Mal, there’s a strange twist to all this.”

“How so?”

“Solemn claims he’s had a vision. He claims he talked with Jesus.”

“A prayer talk?”

“No, like we’re having right now.”

“Jesus in the flesh?”

“That’s what he says.”

“When?”

“While he was out in the woods.”

Cork told him about Henry Meloux, giigwishimowin, and Solemn’s visitation in the clearing.

When Cork finished, Mal swirled his coffee for a moment, then said, “Minnetonka moccasins?”

“That’s what he claims.”

“Why did you come to me with this?”

“I was hoping you might talk to Solemn.”

“The man who urinated in the baptismal font.”

“Please. Just talk to him.”

“To what end?”

“I’d like your reaction to what he says and to the change in him.”

“Change?”

“Talk to him. You’ll see what I mean.”

“How do I get in?”

“I’ll have Jo arrange it. She’s agreed to represent him. He’s scheduled to be arraigned later this morning. Maybe this afternoon you could see him.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Thanks.” Cork gulped down the last of his coffee.

Mal Thorne stood up with him as he prepared to go. “Do you believe it’s possible he talked with Jesus?”

Cork said, “What I believe doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does,” the priest said. He placed his thick hand gently on Cork’s shoulder. “I think it does more than you realize.”