Pierced by a Sword (43 page)

Even her mother's surprise attendance at the wedding had failed to disturb her equilibrium. Her mother had actually been quite dignified at the reception,
if not a bit aloof, and had cried during the vows. Becky noticed that Father Chet corralled Mrs. Jane Standish at the reception, making a point to introduce her to everyone. Chet had been able to make Becky's mom laugh.
Probably going to get her to confession before she flies back to Seattle,
Becky thought briefly, before consciously pushing all thoughts and sentiments out of her mind–except for
those which directly concerned Joe.

Another noble sentiment arose in her, pushing aside for the moment her elation and joy: gratitude. Gratitude to God for Joe.

+  +  +

In the back seat Nathan cried openly–but silently–for the first time since he was a small child, as he slowly and gently kissed Joanie on the forehead. Then he kissed her on the eyelids. And then he kissed her flushed cheeks. Joanie
held his face in her hands with tenderness, feeling his tears on her fingertips. Although he had thrown away his physical virginity, in his heart Nathan was as much a virgin as Joe was. His former life seemed as if it had been lived by a different Nathan Payne.

Nathan looked at Joanie as he kissed her, then pulled away. Then he moved close to kiss her again. He did this over and over, mile after
mile. He tried not to think; he tried to not let words cloud the purity of the love he felt for her. He was not fool enough to believe that the emotion of the moment would last forever. He received these emotions as a gift from God. He lived in them as they came forth from his heart. Somehow, unexpressed in his mind, he was aware that he was in a state of grace, and that he had made his peace with
God, and that the world was all right. He was convinced that his wife was the finest woman in the whole world. Like Becky, he felt a sublime gratitude to God–not only for Joanie, who was the crown jewel of God's gifts, but for
everything.
All these things flowed out of Nathan in his tears, as he said
I love you
and
Thank you
to God and to Joanie with his gentle, lingering kisses.

Body and soul,
he loved her. Body and soul, she loved him. The two were forevermore one flesh, one body. Just as Jesus was the perfect union of God and man, so in a real way Nathan and Joanie were a living symbol of the Incarnation.

After a lifetime of suffering, there was redemption for this man of sorrows in the grace of the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony. Nathan was finally abiding completely in the Moral Universe.

In the Beatific Vision, a man named Blaise Pascal rejoiced.

+  +  +

Becky Jackson had never stayed at the Palmer House. Considering that she lived in Chicago her entire life, this was not a surprise. But her father had taken her to see the lobby when she was a little girl. She had forgotten how beautiful the hotel in the Loop truly was. The Palmer House had one of the most spectacular lobbies in
the world, featuring a Romanesque ceiling.

Nathan liberally tipped the concierge, who seemed to recognize the two couples as they walked in the door.
I bet Nathan's greased the skids all the way up to the honeymoon suites,
Becky thought with a certain admiration.

Becky's grip on Joe's hand tightened as she looked around the lobby. She let go and took his muscular arm. All eyes were on the couples
as they made their grand entrance. She and Joanie both knew at that moment that Nathan was right to insist on going to the Palmer House in full regalia. The moment would stay with each woman forever.

Becky thought of Father Chet's discourses on Beauty as she walked across the room on the arm of her handsome groom.
I feel like a princess. This is Good. This is Beautiful.
She looked up at Joe. He
was holding his head still and his chin high as he walked. His dignified bearing reminded Becky of an enigmatic knight from some age long past, as if Joe had crossed time itself to find her.

Joe, did your incredible chastity preserve your uniqueness as a person?
she asked, surprised at the sophistication of her theological insight.

Who are you, Joe Jackson?
She felt a wave of love and a tinge
of fear.
It all happened so fast. I guess I'm going to find out who you are. I can live with that. And with you.

+  +  +

The two couples stood in the hallway at the door of the Jackson's suite after the bellhops deposited their luggage in their rooms. For a moment they just looked at each other, soundlessly, with a nervous kind of seriousness.

"Well," Joanie said, stepping to Becky and giving
her best friend a hug. They embraced with eyes closed for a long time. Joe looked at Nathan sheepishly. Nathan held his gaze, nodding slowly. Then Joe looked down at the red and blue patterns on the plush carpeting.

Nathan cleared his throat and pulled his plastic electronic key out of his pocket. "Let's go, Mrs. Payne," he said kindly.
Time to finish what we started. No more numbers. You are
my number one from now on.

Joe considered making a joke to break the ice, about meeting for breakfast tomorrow at three in the afternoon, but thought better of it. He looked at his bride's cream-colored shoulders, set off by her white dress, and suddenly remembered what came next. He took a deep breath, then opened the door. Becky wiped a tear of joy from her eye as she left Joanie and entered
the suite, already locking her gaze on her husband.
This is the room,
she thought, excited and afraid and happy and ready.

+  +  +

"I guess Joe forgot something," Nathan said mischievously, facing Joanie in front of the open door of their suite.

"Like what, Mister?" Joanie asked, having a pretty good notion of what Nathan meant.

He answered by deftly lifting his bride into his arms and carrying
her across the threshold to another universe.

+  +  +

Sacraments were consummated.

+  +  +

Afterwards, the husband asked a question, "Do you think, you know, that we could have made a baby tonight?"

"I don't know, lover," the wife replied honestly. "I guess so."

He looked away, the inscrutability back in his eyes.

She looked at the scar on his cheek.
So much pain,
she thought sadly.

"What is it,
Mister?" she asked kindly.

He hesitated. He looked back, directly into her deep blue eyes. He stroked her cheek slowly.

"I want you to know everything. Now that we're one," he replied, a note of resolve in his voice. He felt quick, biting sorrow as he saw a storm of hurt pass over her eyes.
She's hurt because I kept something from her.
The storm passed quickly and he saw a more familiar expression:
understanding, forgiveness.
So quickly you fight and win your battles,
he thought.

"Only if you want to, lover. Is it about your Warning?" she guessed correctly.

"Yes," he replied in a raspy voice, emotion stirring like the tides, having no desire to hold back the waves.

She waited, patiently.

Nathan Payne told his wife about the children he saw standing on fields of gold. His children.

+  +  +

Later, in another room, the bride had fallen asleep. The groom gracefully pulled himself up on one elbow, gently resting his other hand on her stomach, so as not to disturb her sleep. Her face was peaceful, almost childlike.

The thoughtful man, the Knight of Immaculata, reclined motionlessly for an unmeasured time and admired his wife, the most beautiful woman in Chicago. As was his habit, he burned
the image into his memory for present and future meditation.

He thought. For this man there was often no discernible line between thought and prayer. His thoughts ran like gazelles through fields. He thanked God. He looked at her and thought of their mother, Mary. He felt a deep gratitude to his adoptive parents for teaching him about chastity and the Bible.

Joe had given much thought to why he
had decided to love Becky. He cherished his thoughts and kept them to himself like a boy collecting favorite baseball cards. Despite his melancholic nature, he was not a romantic. He appreciated her singular beauty. He loved to look at her and anticipated a lifetime of enjoying her physical loveliness. But he did not ignore her faults–her hard-edged personality, her smoking, her quick temper. The
same biting humor that could make him laugh could also cut him and others. She was stubborn. She was always willing to argue for days or weeks for something she really wanted.

Joe reflected that these same traits attracted him to her. Her humor had an intellectual quality that made him think–and how Joe loved to laugh and think! The fact that she smoked wasn't attractive, of course, but he also
realized that one cigarette could calm her in the middle of a heated discussion, thereby smoothing her hard edge. She was trying to cut down for the sake of the baby, too–which was a more difficult sacrifice for her than for others. As for the hard edge itself? Joe had spent the greater portion of his life battling and overcoming men who were society's toughest warriors on the football field. Joe
Jackson had never,
ever
been attracted to women who were pushovers–this he had known about himself since high school. He
liked
to battle and enjoyed verbally sparring with Becky.
She might look like Grace Kelly, but she argues like Maureen O'Hara.

Joe was almost preternaturally self-possessed. Becky's temper didn't bother him the way it might have bothered other men. Her angry outbursts hardly
registered. She was a lion and he was a bear. It was a standoff. And he thanked God for the psychological fit between them. The way Joe saw it, he had to love all of Becky or none of her. He could not remain true to himself and take just part of her. Isn't that what the vows he took this morning meant? For better
and
for worse.

He thought about the better. When they were alone and Becky let down
her guard, she had a childlike innocence that was as unique as her beauty. Perhaps only one other had seen this part of her–Father Chet. Joe saw it in her eyes during wordless private moments. Like her anger, Becky's joy had a way of overtaking her entire self. Her unbridled joy energized him.

Becky had never told him explicitly, but he knew that she trusted him without reservation. She was incapable
of anything other than total commitment. He had found his way into the secret garden of her heart, and he cherished the importance she placed on having only Joe in that exclusive place. He knew that losing her father had hardened her, so he loved her all the more for preserving her childlike trust behind the walls of her heart.

A scripture that he had memorized for the occasion came to him, from
the Song of Songs:

You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride;
You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes,
with one jewel of your necklace.
How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!
How much more pleasing is your love than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice!
Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;
milk and honey are under your tongue.
The
fragrance of your garments is like that of Lebanon.
You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride.
I am my lover's and my lover is mine.

4

Saturday Morning
9 December
The Loop, Chicago, Illinois

The phone rang. Becky leaned across the bed to pick it up. It was Nathan.

"You guys busy or hungry?" Nathan asked cheerfully.

"Famished! Hold on," Becky replied. Then she held her hand over the mouthpiece,
calling to her husband, "Jo Yo Ma! Wanna grab a bite with Nathan and Joanie?"

Joe, just finishing tying his shoes, nodded. He mouthed the word "Mass."

"Joe's game, Nathan. We're starving. But Joe wants to go to Mass first. Okay by you? Meet you in the lobby in, say, twenty minutes?"

"Sure. Mass sounds great. Twenty minutes. We can catch Mass at Saint Peter's. Later, Beck." Nathan hung up.

Twenty
minutes later the newlywed couples met and walked to Saint Peter's Church. Afterwards, they walked to the lakefront and prayed a Rosary together, bracing themselves against the chill wind coming off Lake Michigan.

They had lunch at Trader Vic's. Joe ordered two steaks for himself. They had gone to Mass, prayed Rosaries, and eaten meals together many times in the past three months. Now, however,
there was something different, something extra that went beyond their shared nuptial joy.

It's the layers of love,
Becky thought, listening to Joe and Nathan talk about car repairs, of all things.
There's more. Marriage, Eucharist, Mary, the Kolbe Foundation, friendship–man to man, woman to woman, and man to woman. Meals and walks, and later, loving. I hope it never ends.

Becky looked at Joanie,
who read her thoughts and said, "It's hard to believe, isn't it, Beck?"

"I know," Becky replied. "Don't wake me up if I'm dreaming."

PART THREE

The Tribulations

See my marvels everywhere in the world! My beloved children are responding with ever increasing generosity and I am bringing them together in my cohort, which is now drawn up for battle.
Our Lady to Father Gobbi, 13 May 1978

The king is gone but he's not forgotten.
Neil Young

Toward the end of the world, tyrants and hostile mobs will rob the Church and the clergy of
all their possessions and will afflict and martyr them. Those who heap the most abuse upon them will be held in high esteem. The clergy cannot escape these persecutions, but, because of them, all servants of the Church will be forced to lead an apostolic life.
John of the Cleft Rock, Fourteenth Century Prophecy

Polytheism was never to the pagan what Catholicism is to the Catholic. [To pagans]
all the world was a tissue of interwoven tales and cults, and there ran in and out of it...that black thread among its more blameless colours; the darker paganism that was really diabolism.
G. K. Chesterton