Until I Find You

With the devil on your back.

They buried my body

And they thought I'd gone,

But I am the Dance,

And I still go on.

When it was time for the chaplain to read the Twenty-third Psalm, it was warm in the chapel and some of the heavily tattooed types had taken off their shirts. They weren't all tattoo artists--there were many of Alice's clients present. Her signature work was everywhere; Jack recognized more than a few Daughter Alices.

He also noticed that Mrs. Oastler was crying. She slumped against him in the pew, her small body shaking. That was how Alice's colleagues knew who she was. "I've got a sweetie in Toronto," Alice had told more than one of them. (As in: "No, thanks--not tonight. I've got a sweetie in Toronto.")

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want," the Reverend Parker began anxiously. He was thoroughly rattled by the time he got to "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will feel no evil--"

" '. . . fear,' not feel, 'no evil--' " Miss Wurtz corrected him.

". . . fear no evil," the chaplain stumbled ahead. "For Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me."

"Your what?" someone in the congregation said--a woman's voice. (Jack didn't see who said it, but he would bet it was one of the Skretkowicz sisters.) This was followed by general laughter; one of the Old Girls among Mrs. Oastler's former classmates was in hysterics.

That was when Leslie lost it. "No praying, no saying anything!" Mrs. Oastler shouted to the chaplain. "Alice wanted just singing!"

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies--" the Reverend Parker mumbled; then he stopped. He saw the presence of his enemies, all around him.

"Just singing, pal," Bad Bill Letters said.

"Yeah--sing or shut up," one of the Fronhofer brothers said.

"Sing or shut up!" Flattop Tom repeated.

"Sing or shut up!" the congregation shouted.

Eleanor, the organist, was frozen. Caroline sat down on the organ bench beside her. "If you've forgotten how to play 'Jerusalem,' Eleanor," Miss Wurtz said, "the good Lord may forgive you, but I won't." Eleanor, bless her timid heart, lurched forward; she attacked the keyboard. The organ was a little louder than expected, but the boarders' and the bikers' choir gave it their best.

And did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England's mountains green?

And was the holy Lamb of God on England's pleasant pastures seen?

As they went up the aisle, Mrs. Oastler was swept into the arms of Crazy Philadelphia Eddie; she was overcome with emotion and didn't, or couldn't, resist him. All of Alice's friends had heard of Leslie and wanted to hug her. "It's Alice's sweetie," people were whispering.

"Why do they know me?" Leslie asked Jack.

"Mom must have told them about you," Jack said.

"She did?" asked Mrs. Oastler, who was in tears. They were all in tears--all the tattoo artists, all of Daughter Alice's clients, and her friends. (It was a sentimental business, tattooing--as Leslie was only now discovering.)

They were marching up the hall to the gym by the time the boarders and the bikers hit their full stride in the fourth verse; even Eleanor, with Miss Wurtz's encouragement, had kept up.

I will not cease from mental fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,

Till we have built Jerusalem

In England's green and pleasant land.