Home Again

And they’d never spoken of it again.

There were so many things they’d never spoken of….

He closed his eyes and prayed aloud, as much for himself as for Ilya. “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth; I believe in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord.” The words spilled through his mind like water from a bucket, one after another, soothing, cleansing, and he lost himself in them.

Ilya’s voice joined his. “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body and life everlasting. Amen.”

The forgiveness of sins.

The shame came back, left Francis no place to hide. He should have encouraged Madelaine to tell Lina the truth about her father, or he should have told Lina the truth.

He knew there could be no true forgiveness until he made things right.

“Father?” Mrs. Fiorelli’s voice jerked him back to the present.

He shook the thoughts away and smiled down at the old woman. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fiorelli.”

“You looked sad for a second, Father,” Ilya said. “What could a handsome young priest like yourself have to be sad about?”

He should lie to her, should don the mantle of distant perfection that was required of him, but he had no stomach for it. “Regrets, maybe,” he answered quietly.

She reached out a withered, shaking hand and touched his chin in a flitting gesture of affection. “Take it from me, Father. Life is over quickly, and you only regret what you didn’t do.”

“Sometimes it’s too late.”

“Never,” she breathed. “It’s never too late.”

Angel lay in his uncomfortable hospital bed, staring up at the acoustical tile ceiling.

God, he felt bad. Worse than bad. He hurt almost everywhere, and in the few places he didn’t hurt, he was weak. Breathing had become a painful, unsatisfying chore. His fingers had started to turn cold. At first he’d thought it was nothing, then his toes had become blue.

Diminishing blood circulation.

Those were the words the nurses used, but Angel could hear past the words to the meaning. It was ending. His life was leaking away. Even yesterday he’d been ready to fight for it, but today he was too tired.

He wondered what he had to live for, and even as he had the thought it pissed him off. He’d lived a life that left no real mark, had no real meaning. He saw that now, saw it with a clarity he should have possessed all along.

Yesterday he’d been visited by the man in the room next door. Tom Grant.

“It’s damned terrifying,” Tom had said. Just like that, he’d thrown the, fear and uncertainty on the bed between them, as if it were nothing to be ashamed of, as if a man didn’t have to be strong.

Angel had been his asshole self at first. He hadn’t wanted to see himself reflected in Tom Grant’s eyes, hadn’t wanted to admit he was as sick as Tom. “Ah,” he’d said meanly, “so you’re the heart transplant patient twice removed.”

Tom had laughed, weakly.

It was the laughter that defused Angel’s anger, and the honesty that pierced his armor.

“The worst part,” Tom said, “is waiting for a donor. It makes you feel ghoulish and sick and perverted. And damned.”

Angel had finally looked at the man, his puffy, medicated face, his flimsy hospital gown that covered a multitude of bloody, oozing, intubated atrocities, his tired, tired eyes, and felt as if he were looking into the future.

To his horror, Angel found himself starting to cry. He couldn’t remember when he’d been so humiliated. “Christ,” he muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“I’ve cried more tears than a baby. Don’t worry about it.” Tom leaned close. “You gotta focus on how much better you’re going to feel when it’s over. I know it’s scary to think about, but once it’s over, it’s like … a gift.”

Angel sighed, wishing he could have such simple faith. “It isn’t going to happen for me, man. God isn’t going to give me another chance.” He forced a cocky smile. “I can’t even blame the Old Man. I’ve been pretty much of an asshole.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Tom said. “Don’t make this about morality or goodness or redemption. It’s about medicine. Pure and simple. Good people are murdered as often as bad people. And everyone deserves a second chance.”