Jamie
The seminary had been my home during those years leading up to ordination. I would spend hours in the beautiful church, sometimes praying, others just kneeling in silence, waiting, hoping that I would be ready if God spoke to me. It was during those moments, those hours, that I had felt somewhat at peace. Any other time of the day or night I would think about Nate and how I had failed him and had broken my promise to my mother, the one I had made while she was dying. But while I was in this church, I had been able to bury those horrific memories and focus on God.
Like I had been for the past five hours.
My knees ached for kneeling in front of the crucifix for so long, but I didn’t care. Jesus had suffered so much more, had bled for me, for us all. I could endure this. I needed this pain. The pain was what kept me focused and allowed me to speak honestly, to expose the raw emotions that needed to be unleashed. I asked for forgiveness for not seeing clearly eight years ago, for using the church to expunge the guilt I felt over my brother’s assault. But the one thing I couldn’t apologize for was that I had fallen in love with Eva, for breaking my vow while God looked on. I could never do that. I could never deny her or what I knew had been real.
Because my love for her was real. It was true and beautiful. It was what my mom and dad had shared. It was what I witnessed whenever Nate looked at Liz. It was what I had experienced when I saw my dad adjust Marcia’s scarf just as they were about to leave church after Christmas Eve Mass.
It was what I wanted.
But I was still a priest, and I wasn’t free. I gripped the rosary that was strung through my fingers and squeezed my eyes shut. “Please, God. Show me my path. Open my eyes. Let me see the truth.” I had asked for guidance more times than I could count over the last several hours only to be answered with silence. I brought the rosary to my lips and kissed the beads. “Please help me.” I heard my voice break, and I was just about to clear my throat when I saw him. In my mind a small boy, no older than five or six, was running along the beach. His face was blurry, but I knew the child was happy. I could feel his joy as he ran, dodging the surf and then stopping to allow the waves to wash over his bare feet. A giggle escaped his lips, and I watched him squat and inspect a seashell sticking out of the sand.
“Daddy! Look at this giant shell! It’s enormous!” His voice sounded so familiar, and I ached for the child’s face to come into focus, but it didn’t.
I looked around in search of the boy’s father, but the only other figure I could make out was that of a woman. Her back was to me, and she was standing at least twenty yards away. Even in my vision, I tried to squint my eyes to bring them both into focus and then I heard His voice. “See.”
With that one word the shroud lifted. I could see everything, every curve of that precious boy’s face, those familiar green eyes, his thick unruly chocolate brown hair. I was captivated by him and I tried to will the vision forward just to be near this perfect little being, but I couldn’t get any closer. Then I saw that woman turn and, like the boy, her face was crystal clear. Tears flooded my eyes as I watched her lips curl to form a knowing smile. Those green eyes of hers sparkled, and I knew I could have gotten lost in them. But then I saw her hand raise and then rest on her beautiful swollen belly. She cradled the child within and said, “See us, Jamie.”
Eva’s voice somehow unlocked my feet from the vise it had been in, and I felt one leg move and then the other until I was standing before the boy. He looked up at me. The innocence in his eyes made me drop to my knees, allowing us to be eye level with each other. “Can you see me, Daddy?” the boy asked.
I reached out and touched his cheek with two fingers. His skin was soft to the touch, so very . . . real. “Yes . . . I can see you,” I choked out. I didn’t bother to hide my tears. I looked back at Eva and said, “Finally.”
And then the vision was gone. The beach, my child, Eva and the miracle that was growing inside of her vanished and I was back in the church, still kneeling, still clutching the rosary beads in my hands. Tears saturated my face and blurred my vision, but everything was clear. God had let me see the truth. He had shown me my path, one that included Eva and our children. “Thank you,” I whispered.
I rose to my feet, and though the movement should have caused me to stumble considering I had been in that position for hours, I felt incredibly agile. I chalked it up to God’s grace and fled the church. I knew where I was headed, but I didn’t know if Edward was home. I slowed my pace a little, peeked at my phone and saw that it was almost eight o’clock. I doubted that the bishop was in bed at this early hour, but I was sure he wasn’t expecting to entertain visitors. I had to see him. This had to happen tonight. Edward would understand the reason for my impromptu visit. Luckily, Edward lived on the grounds of the seminary, opting for a modest apartment rather than residing in the mansion his predecessors had used. His choice to not live in such luxury was a testament to the kind of man he was.
I was out of breath from running by the time I reached his apartment. Bent over with my hands on my knees, I took a few deep breaths and then knocked on his door. Edward answered the door seconds later and stared at me. A smile grew on his face, one that appeared sad at first and then I saw what looked like relief in his eyes. “I knew you would come,” he said.