The Past II Part 3

The Past II
Part 3

It was well after midnight when the signal came. Tessa had fallen into a half-sleep on a pew. Georgie was asleep on the pew behind her, and Derek still paced up and down the aisle. There was a scuffling noise outside the main doors, followed by a loud thud, a giggle, and a low whistle. Derek shook Georgie awake and dragged him out. Tessa sat up, alone in the dark church. She heard footsteps in the hall, and another thud against the door. Then she heard a man’s voice say, “Dear Lord, Daniel! What happened to you?” Tessa jumped to her feet and headed for the voice.

Father Paul had retreated to his office. He figured he could wait there until the apartment squatters returned. At least in the office he had a comfortable chair and coffee, and there was always work to do. He heard the noise outside the church and started for the door. Opening it, he watched four shadowy figures running down the street. A fifth figure lay face down on the top step. He was wearing a black leather jacket with the name The Cowhands freshly stenciled across the back. Instinctively, Father Paul reached to check for a pulse. The figure moaned and attempted to pull itself up. Father Paul got a look at his face and exclaimed, “Dear Lord, Daniel! What happened to you?”

Dan Mangan opened one bruised and bleary eye and stared miserably at the priest. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he moaned.

The priest grabbed the boy and hauled him to the side of the step, holding his head over the bushes as he was, indeed, very sick. He was still supporting him when a feminine voice ordered, “Let him go!” Father Paul turned his head to see a young girl wielding a brass candlestick and glaring at him. “I said let him go! I won’t let you hurt him!”

Dan chose that moment to be sick again. Father Paul maintained his grip, but turned his head toward the girl, saying in a soothing voice, “I’m not hurting Daniel. I’m trying to help him. You’re Tessa, aren’t you?” The girl nodded, but did not loosen her hold on the candlestick. “I want to help you too Tessa,” the priest continued. “But first, let’s get Daniel someplace safe and comfortable.”

Tessa glanced nervously back into the church, and Father Paul knew, without a doubt, who had been living downstairs. “Not down there,” he told her. “Let’s just go across the street to the rectory. There’s a bed for each of you there, and I promise you, you’ll be safe.”

Tessa nodded and lowered her weapon. “I need to get our bags,” she told him. “We were leaving tonight when they came for us.”

“Do that.” Father Paul shifted Dan slightly. “We’ll wait right here for you.”

Tessa disappeared into the church, and the priest looked down at the nearly unconscious boy in his arms. “What are we going to do now, Daniel? What are we going to do?”

A pounding headache awakened Dan. He tried to pull his hands up to his head, but his arms didn’t want to move. Everything hurt, and his stomach felt as though it were on a Coney Island roller coaster. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. Quickly he closed them again. The dim light sent shards of pain through his head, and the spinning of the white ceiling caused his stomach to heave. Now, even with his eyes closed, the bed seemed to spin with him trapped in it. He moaned, and a cool cloth magically appeared on his forehead. “Tess?” he croaked.

“Sorry, no.” The voice was familiar, and soothing, but Dan was in too much misery to identify it. “Tessa is having a bite of lunch right now.” Dan groaned at the idea of food. “But I’m sure she’ll check in when she’s finished.”

Dan forced his eyes open again, focusing carefully on the kindly face above him. Father Paul. He groaned again, this time from embarrassment. “I’m going to be doing penance for this until I’m fifty, aren’t I?”

“We can discuss that in the confessional.” Father Paul chuckled. “Looking at you now, I’m thinking you’re mighty sorry.”

“You have no idea.” Dan closed his eyes again. “Is Tess okay?”

“She’s fine, although she was very worried about you. It was all I could do to get her to go to her room and sleep. She didn’t want to leave you.” There was a question in his voice that Dan felt honor bound to answer.

“All we’ve done is kiss a little and hold hands. Honest. We didn’t sleep in the same room even. It’s just...we sort of promised to stick together.” Dan tried to swallow, but his desert-dry mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

“Here.” Father Paul helped Dan ease into a sitting position, and handed him a glass of water with a straw in it. “Sip slowly. The best cure for a hangover is sleep and fluids. If this stays down, I’ll get you some apple juice. Just go slow.”

“Is that what this is?” Dan asked, sipping cautiously. “A hangover? I tried not to drink too much, but it just kept coming. At first, I was afraid to say no, and after the first couple times, I didn’t want to.” He groaned again. “I didn’t know it would be so bad.”

“Well, now you do.” The priest’s voice was stern. “So, I will expect you to avoid a reoccurrence in the future.”

“Yes, sir. I don’t think that will be a problem.” Dan started to shake his head, but caught himself in the nick of time. “I never want to feel like this again.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Seeing that Dan had finished the water, the priest retrieved the glass and helped him back down into a prone position. “Why don’t you sleep for a little while and you can try some apple juice and saltines when you wake.”

Dan rolled painfully to his side and closed his eyes, willing the room to stop moving. Father Paul pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and quietly left the room.

Tessa was finishing her turkey sandwich when Father Paul entered the dining room. She looked at him with worried eyes, and he smiled reassuringly. “He was awake and had some water. I dare say he’ll make a full recovery.”

“Did he tell you what they did to him?” Tessa asked.

“Not exactly. But I gathered it involved fighting and alcohol. It was probably an initiation of sorts. He was wearing the gang name on his jacket, and the paint looked fresh.”

Tessa grimaced. “We were trying to avoid that. Dan told me the gang was bad news. That’s why we were leaving last night. To get away.” She shook her head and looked at the priest. “Luke found out we were in the church. That’s why he vandalized it. He wanted Dan to join the gang, and when Dan said ‘no’, he went after me, and then the church.”

“I figured as much.” Father Paul hesitated, and then asked, “May I ask what happened at the Kawolski’s house?” Tessa’s eyes widened, and he continued, “The police were here a few weeks ago. They were looking for Dan, and for you. They implied that Dan kidnapped you, forced you to leave the Kawolski house. Looking at the two of you, I find that hard to believe. So what really happened?”

Tessa swallowed hard, her face pale. “I...I don’t think I can tell you. It’s so ugly.” She shivered. “We just had to get out of there, before he killed us. I can’t say any more. Please. I can’t.”

Father Paul nodded sympathetically and dropped the subject. He had a feeling the confessional was going to prove very interesting, indeed.

Dan kept waiting for the ax to fall. He and Tessa had been guests of the rectory for five days. It couldn’t last, that much he knew. He also knew he couldn’t leave Father Paul without an explanation. Kneeling in the small courtyard garden, Dan pulled winter weeds from Father Paul’s vegetable beds. It made him feel a little better to help out around the rectory. He felt less like a leech that way, but there was still heaviness in his heart. His mother’s training, and Catholic guilt, both ran deep in his blood. The confessional was calling, and he was dreading the trip.

Dan waited in the choir loft until the last penitent had left. He crept down the steep steps, and steeled himself before stepping into the alcove. Opening the door, he knelt on the prie-dieu of the confessional booth. He sensed the priest’s presence behind the drape, and taking a deep breath, crossed himself and began, “Bless me Father for I have sinned. I confess to Almighty God, to Blessed Mary ever Virgin, to all the Saints, and to you, my spiritual Father, that I have sinned. It has been...um...twelve weeks since my last confession. In that time I have missed Mass every Sunday because I was hiding. I have disrespected my parents. I have cursed and fought with a...man, and taken pleasure...a lot of pleasure actually, in his misfortune. I...uh...have had impure thoughts, and caused impure thoughts in another...on purpose. I watched a...um...a sexual act...uh...I stole money and a car and I...uhm...got...uh no, became...intoxicated, and...”

Dan knelt for what seemed like hours, recounting and explaining his deeds and misdeeds over the past weeks. He heard little from the priest, save some seemingly encouraging murmurs that kept him talking. Finally, he concluded, “For all these sins and for those I do not remember, I ask pardon of God with my whole heart, and penance and absolution of you, my spiritual Father...”

There was nothing but silence from behind the drape. Dan, weary from his discourse, leaned his head against the confessional wall and waited.

Father Paul Mazzeo listened to Dan’s confession with shock and a little awe. He had known the boy since shortly after Tim Mangan’s death, when Saraid had moved them into the neighborhood. He had heard Daniel’s confessions before, and had in fact, issued severe penance on him in the past. But no amount of penitent prayers could equal what emotional and physical punishment human hands had already exacted.

He heard Dan shift position, and realized that the boy was waiting. Absolve, Instruct, Heal. The priest’s confessional creed. Absolution he could give. Instruction, definitely, but the healing part had him stumped. He heard Dan move again, and quickly began to speak the words of absolution. God would show him the way to healing. Father Paul had to trust in that.

Dan finished his last prayer and lit a candle for his mother and father. His spirit was much lighter, although his mind was somewhat confused. He had received stiffer penance for breaking curfew and back-talking his mother than he had been given for the laundry list of sins confessed today. The priest had tried to explain it in terms of temporal and spiritual punishment: Hand of God versus the hand of man, but it was still confusing. In the end, Dan said his prayers and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

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