Pierced by a Sword (42 page)

"What I'm trying to say is, I think..." he paused, "...I think the whole point is to recruit an army for Mary that's willing to do what Jesus did. An army so unselfish that it's willing to shed its innocent blood for the sake of others. Lee is right–all this evangelization is all well and good and has to be done, but no human effort is going to stamp out the evil I saw
when I went to hell. There's no arguing with that kind of evil. It made up its mind a long time ago and isn't going to change. Chet calls it 'lacking all good.' It's worse than the vilest, most evil man–because a man, no matter how evil, can still change.

"That's why people won't listen to your dad, which is the same as saying they won't listen to Mary or Jesus, because he's just repeating their
words. They're afraid. Afraid to even
listen.
To listen means to start on the road to belief. To believe means to be ready to take up the cross for real. It's much easier to hide your head in the sand," he finished his sentence, almost breathless. "Before it's all over, there will be a lot of martyrs. A lot of sacrifices.

"The paradox is, I guess, that the resurrection will come. The Son will
rise, pun intended. At the end of my suffering was light, and love, and you. You were worth all the suffering. I would have the accident and the Warning again tomorrow if I knew you would be waiting for me on the other side. The war that's coming is the same way. Whatever suffering is required is worth it."

"I know, sweetheart," she reiterated, taking his hand. "I've known it for years–about the
suffering, I mean, in an intellectual sense, because I always believed my dad. It wasn't until I suffered along with you that I experienced it in my heart. Suffering is worth it. I'm just glad that no matter how bad it is, I don't have to live through it alone. I'm going to be one body with you. We can share the joy and suffering together. I'd rather think about the Resurrection. You talked about
Mary holding Jesus in her arms at Calvary and her intense sadness. Sometimes I think of her joy when she first embraced Jesus after the Resurrection. That's something that's not described in the Gospels. Maybe it's too private. At least we'll have each other, Nathan," she turned her delicate eyelids up and looked into his eyes. They were no longer as inscrutable as they once had been. They shared
a slow, light, tender kiss.

A log burned out and dropped from the stack, breaking the moment.

"Hey, hey. I've got a big day tomorrow," Nathan said.

"Yeah, Mister? What's up?"

"Gettin' married," he said playfully.

"Me too!" she replied.

"Then you need your sleep. Who's the lucky guy?"

"You, silly," she smiled. A moment passed.

"Joanie?"

"Yeah?"

"How can we talk about a supernatural worldwide battle
one minute and have the stupidest conversations the next?"

"Don't know," she replied, standing up and stretching her thin frame.

"Me neither," he stood up and hugged her tightly.

"Take it easy, Arnold Schwartzenegger; save some for tomorrow."

"That's right, got a big day tomorrow," he said again.

"Gettin' married, silly?" she led amiably.

"Let's not start, Joanie!" he said, laughing. They held
hands as they walked out into the kitchen.

3

Friday Evening
8 December
Indiana Tollway, Indiana

The wedding was over and the newlyweds were driving to Chicago's finest hotel, the Palmer House, for a four-day honeymoon. The Kolbe Foundation was too busy to have three of its top workers gone for much longer.

The big Buick LeSabre rolled down the highway at ten miles per hour over the speed limit.
As he drove Joe's car, Nathan replayed the events of the day quickly in his mind like fast-forwarding through a video tape in a conscious effort to seal the day permanently in his prolific memory.

The night before the wedding Nathan had trouble falling asleep at Joe's house because of his excitement. He overslept the alarm. He rushed to get dressed. Chet came over for breakfast and they all prayed
a Rosary together in Immaculate Conception Church before people started to arrive.

Joanie, Becky, and Joe had many friends and relatives in attendance, Joanie especially.
Even Becky's mother came. What a surprise!
Nathan thought. Nathan had only the Wojtals, Father Chet, and Chet's family. Joe looked unbelievably out of place next to his diminutive parents and his two blond sisters, but there
was obviously a genuine affection among them all.

The nuptial Mass was kind of a blur. Only the vows slowed down in Nathan's memory. Nathan remembered thinking as he spoke his vows that he was starting his own family, a new family. Then a pleasant image from his Warning came into his mind's eye; Nathan saw King Sobieski III, his royal forefather.

"You are my queen," he whispered to Joanie Payne
before he kissed her at the end of Mass.

"I know," she replied calmly as she looked out over the packed church, "I know." Joanie had been calm and confident during the entire day.
She was, what? Regal. Yeah, that's the word. Regal in the best sense of the word. She seemed to be in her element. Like a real queen.

Joe and Becky were a study in opposites to the relatively sedate Paynes. Joe seemed
especially out of character. He talked loudly, laughed easily, and throughout the Mass and sacramental vows, he smiled brightly. It was like he was on a football field. Becky could not stop smiling. Nathan spied her winking at Father Chet twice.

Becky was absolutely radiant. There was a singular innocence about her beauty that made it difficult for any man in the church to keep his eyes off her.
She did not look skinny and sultry like the pouty models who adorn the magazines on grocery store racks. Her beauty was pure and full–a perfect bride.

The reception was quite a mix of styles. It took place in the local VFW hall. Nothing fancy. Live band. Lots of free liquor and huge plates of roast beef served family-style on each table. Father Chet's mom made the cake at the Wheat's house the
day before the wedding. Chet and Nathan did much of the planning, promising a "New Jersey Blowout Style Reception." There hadn't been much time to plan. Nathan generously insisted on paying for the entire reception. Six disposable cameras were placed at each table–the guests were encouraged to take as many candid photographs as they possibly could. At the end of the reception the cameras were collected
in a box for later developing by the newlyweds.

The Sullivans and Wheats got along as if they were long-lost relatives. The brothers seemed to take a special pleasure in testing the morally acceptable limits of alcohol consumption and raucous dancing. Even Nathan thought it got out of hand when the Sullivan and Wheat brothers grabbed their wives–the ones who weren't pregnant–and started tossing
them in the air along a dance line during a rousing rendition of "What I Like About You." Joe's relatives, teetotalers all, stood watching with their jaws open. Joe put one hand over his eyes and couldn't bring himself to join the line despite Becky's tugging. Lee, normally calm and invisible, danced with verve. But he seemed to hold back a little, and spent a lot of time talking with Joe's relatives
about the Bible.

Karl Slinger, Lenny Gold, James Sullivan, and Tom Wheat smoked cigars over Maker's Mark and talked shop at the parents' table. In general their wives rolled their eyes at their juvenile husbands while exchanging friendly stories about children, grandchildren, and the two newlywed couples. Dottie, Anne, and Mary Sullivan got along well. Father Chet had taken Becky's mom around
the room for introductions and spent much time talking and laughing with her. Husband Number Three had stayed behind in Seattle.

Slinger's booming laugh was heard often as it echoed off the worn wooden floors and cinder block walls of the VFW hall. Later on, when the Sullivan and Wheat boys were worn out, he surprised everyone by putting on a polka showcase with Dottie. They also performed a wonderful
two-step to the straining rock band's version of a western tune.

The band took a break and put on a tape. A waltz came on the speakers. Joe and Becky amazed everyone except Chet by performing a wonderful, inspirational waltz. They had practiced. Chet had suggested they take lessons, figuring it would be great marriage preparation for the two strong-willed individuals. There was a grace, unity,
and strength to the couple that seemed to be most perfectly expressed in the classical dance. After a minute or two, everyone else stopped dancing to watch them in a kind of awe. They were given a standing ovation when the song ended. Becky blushed and looked up at Joe. He surprised her with a wink.

Nathan spent most of his time talking to Joanie's college friends and to her relatives. She was
so proud to introduce her new husband to them all! He tried to be as perfect a gentleman as he could be. He kept his arm comfortably attached to her thin waist in a conscious effort to build common memories of the day's events. As he now drove toward Chicago, he remembered the unique feel of her perfectly-fitted satin dress on his fingertips as he escorted her around the room.

Toward the end,
Chet, Nathan, Lee, and Joe locked arms with giant cigars in their mouths. Someone took a Polaroid which Nathan slipped into his jacket pocket.

As happens at all weddings, the time slipped away. Tieless, sweaty men left with their exasperated wives after congratulating the two couples. Many were headed to the Wheat's farmhouse for that other great Irish tradition–the All-Night Post-Reception Party.
Somebody came up to Joe and stuck a video camera in his face, asking Joe for any final thoughts or advice. Joe took two full minutes to think before speaking into the camera in his calm, soft voice, "I've been waiting a long time for this day. My advice to anyone watching this is simple. Hold out for beauty." Joe turned and smiled at the beaming Becky.

Before getting into the car, each newlywed
gave Father Chet a hug. The priest smelled of cigars, yet was the most sober of all male Sullivans within several square miles. Becky was last and gave him the longest, most affectionate hug by far.

"Thanks, Father," she whispered. "I wouldn't be here and so happy if you hadn't called me that morning. I'll love you forever for that. You saved me."

Becky left Father Chet speechless as usual. She
never looked more lovely or more content. Chet looked over her shoulder to Joe and winked.
I'm jealous, you big lug,
the priest thought, although he was not really jealous.
You take care of her. Your souls are in each other's hands.
Joe read Chet's thoughts and nodded gravely before allowing a smile to come to his deep brown eyes. The Jacksons got into the back seat.

Nathan powered down the window.
"Thanks, Fadda Chetmeister. Don't let the place burn down while we're gone."

"Don't worry, Nathan, I will." Chet replied.

Nathan pulled out, kicking dirt and stones with the Buick's tires.

+  +  +

Nathan held the steering wheel of Joe's car with one hand and Joanie's hand with his other. Joe and Becky were giggling and kissing in the back seat, not quite making out. The radio was off. The only
other sound was the low hum of the Buick's big engine.

Nathan looked in the mirror. "You guys are like two high school kids," he commented in a friendly way. "Check that. You look like one normal high school girl and one incredibly oversized high school guy."

Joanie noticed how Nathan said "you guys" with a slight New Jersey accent. Unlike Father Chet, Nathan rarely revealed his childhood accent–until
he had a few beers in him. Nathan was mildly buzzed after the wedding reception.

"Oh Nathan, leave them be!" Joanie chided him amiably. She was much too happy to care, really. Both women had decided not to change out of their wedding dresses for the ride. Before the wedding, Nathan had convinced them this was the way to make a proper entrance into the Palmer House. The two men were in identical
tuxedos. Joanie and Becky wore similar but slightly different dresses. Joanie's was simpler than Becky's. Becky's was more elegant, shoulderless, and had more lace. Both had taken off their white elbow-length gloves for the car ride.

Joe stopped kissing Becky long enough to say, "You want to switch seats and let me drive, buddy? Beck and I have the rest of our lives for this kind of stuff. That
is, if you don't rack us up like you did in your Mustang."

"Joseph, that's terrible!" Becky scolded. Nathan laughed.

"Okay," Nathan said simply. He slowed the Buick rather quickly–just short of dangerously–and pulled it over to the shoulder. The wives laughed as they switched seats, front to back. A passing trucker blew his horns when he saw their wedding dresses billowing in the wind.

As soon
as they were settled in, Nathan and Joanie commenced with kissing. But there was no giggling. Joe and Becky heard no sound from them.

"I love you, Nathan, but you always drive like you're leaving a bank robbery," Joe teased as he pulled out into the cruising lane, keeping below the speed limit.

"Love you too, Joe. Now shut up, I'm busy," Nathan replied with feigned antagonism.

"Yeah, shut up,"
Becky said, mocking Nathan, "they're busy, darling." Becky felt for her husband's free hand and held it tightly on her stomach, clasped between both her hands. Her thumbs gently stroked his fingers. She looked at him, just loving him as he concentrated on the road. He gave driving his full attention.

Becky thought about something Joe had proudly confessed to her early on, something most people
in the world would find extremely difficult to believe. During their entire courtship Joe had not kissed Becky on the lips–until Father Chet pronounced them man and wife. Rebecca Macadam was also the first woman Joe had
ever
kissed on the lips! Joe had chivalrously reserved his entire body and soul for her. It was the ultimate proof of his love. Rebecca Macadam was truly the first person to enter
the garden of his heart. She was convinced that her husband was the finest man on the earth. Her emotions welled up like waves in her breast whenever she looked at him on this night.
He's not real,
she thought.
But he is real,
she answered herself.