The Presence (45 page)

“The archbishop opens his eyes real wide at the news. ‘A vision,' he says, and smiles that little grin one more time. ‘Well, now, isn't that nice. And just what kind of vision did you have, Mr. Jones?'

“‘Oh, just your ordinary everyday vision,' Preacher Jones replies, squirmin' around a little at the memory.

“So the little archbishop bends over his notebook once more, and speaks the words out as he writes, ‘Mister Jones had an ordinary vision.'

“Now his sayin' his vision was ordinary and havin' somebody else call it ordinary are two very different balls of wax. Especially when that somebody is a total stranger you don't care for in any particular fashion. So Preacher Jones finds himself gettin' a little hot and bothered.

“‘Just look here, now,' he says, speaking loud for the first time. ‘Who do you plan on showin' that stuff to you're writing down there?'

“‘Oh, Mr. Jones, we're going to give this the widest publicity we possibly can.' The archbishop does everything but jump up and down in his seat. ‘We'll send it to Rome, and we'll read it out in all the churches right across the nation, and we'll tell all the little children about it down in Central America. Yessir, Mr. Jones, don't you worry about this for a minute. This is wonderful news, how a Baptist minister has seen the light and decided to convert to the One True Church.' You can tell that the archbishop kinda capitalizes those last three words in his mind as he speaks.

“I'd like to tell you what Preacher Jones has to say about that, but I can't. I just can't. First of all, I'm not all that sure I can remember the exact order, on account of the preacher speakin' kinda rapid-like. And second, it'd prob'bly give you third-degree burns on your ears. Lemme just say that old Preacher Jones sits up straight as an arrow and lets the archbishop have both barrels right square in the face. That poor fellow does a flip and a roll off the back of his chair, runs across the floor, and claws at the door before he finds the handle. It takes him a while to get the door open, see, on account of him not wantin' to take his eyes off old Preacher Jones. Probably afraid if he does the man's gonna jump outta bed and eat him, bones and all.

“‘Course, now, soon as the archbishop's gone and the reverend has his heartbeat down below two hundred, he's awful sorry for what he's done. These two tears trickle down his face, and he kinda pleads with the ceiling real hard. Just one more chance, he says, gimme one more chance, Peter, I'll do better next time. Please. Only next time don't make him so fat and full of hisself, okay?

“You know, old Preacher Jones is so wore out by all that shoutin' that he just falls asleep, skips dinner, and sleeps right through the night. The next mornin' he wakes up, and dang if there's not
another
priest waitin' for him to open his eyes. This one's different, though. Real different. Preacher Jones decides this is about the biggest man he's seen in all his born days.

“Yessir, that fellow sittin' there waitin' for him to wake up is about six feet nine, and musta weighed in at close on two hundred and seventy-five pounds. All of it solid muscle, too. Not a speck of fat on him. Built like an upside-down pyramid, with this jaw on him that'd been just right for Samson to take hold of and mow down the enemy. Big fellow. Real big. And he ain't wearin' no smile, neither.

“‘Hear you gave the archbishop a right hard time yesterday,' that big fellow says, and it sounds like a bear's growlin' deep down inside some cave.

“Preacher Jones kinda scrambles upright and does that little yammer people make when they been shocked awake, you know, kinda, ‘Hamayamahamaha.'

“‘My name's Father Prentiss,' that big fellow rumbles. ‘I've come down here to take Father Coughlin's place.' Then he leans real close to the bed, gives Preacher Jones a look that freezes the man up solid, and growls, ‘You can think of me as the clean-up squad.'

“The father leans back, and you can hear that poor little hospital chair moan like its back is breakin', which it probably is. ‘I just finished seminary last month,' the man says. ‘Thought I was going down to South America to help in one of the new missions. Then I got this call to come down here. Didn't have to think much about why.'

“The father leans forward and brings his snarl another inch closer to poor Preacher Jones and says, ‘Now, why don't you tell me the real reason why you want to convert? And don't try any guff on me.'

“Well, sir, poor old Preacher Jones knows he's lookin' his last chance right square in the face. And he knows if he don't talk real quick-like this fella's probably gonna help him on his way back to where Peter's waitin' for him. So he tells him. Yep. Tells him the whole thing. All about dyin' and goin' to heaven and meetin' Peter and what Peter said and what Coughlin did and just everythin'.

“‘Bout halfway through the reverend's story, that old boy leans back in his chair and commences to chuckle. The chuckle gives way to a laugh every now and then, and ‘fore long the laugh is pretty much constant. Then a nurse comes by and tells him the hospital was in a quiet zone and a surgeon down in the basement had just asked if World War Three had started up. So Father Prentiss tones it down pretty much, but he's still chucklin' and slappin' his knee and wipin' his eyes when Preacher Jones finishes up.

“When the father finally gets a hold on hisself, he asks the reverend, ‘So what's he like, Saint Peter?'

“The preacher doesn't quite know what to make of that, seein' as how it ain't nothin' like what he thought he'd hear. So he stammers around and says, ‘Oh, ‘bout what you'd expect. Old guy, long beard, white robe, big book, that kinda thing.'

“The big fellow chuckles a little more, says, ‘You sure got yourself in a fix, haven't you?'

“Preacher Jones realizes right then and there that the father believes him. And mixed in with his shame at bein' stuck in a tight place is a whole lotta relief. ‘Yeah,' he says. ‘Guess I have.'

“‘Seems to me like old Peter mighta had
two
reasons for sendin' you back,' Father Prentiss rumbles. ‘One reason for you and a second reason for me.'

“Preacher Jones ain't real sure he understands what the father's goin' on about, but he didn't feel like he was in a position to be questionin' the man, if you see what I mean. So he just sat there, real quiet-like, and waited.

“The father thought a while, and said, ‘Tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna sit right here and I'm gonna tell you ‘bout the church. I studied the history of the church a lot, it's a hobby of mine. And I'm gonna try and show you how it got to where it is today. How does that sound?'

“Preacher Jones ain't all that sure he wants to hear all about church history, but it's kinda hard to see himself arguin' with a fellow that big, so he says, ‘Yeah, that'd be just swell.'

“So right then and there Father Prentiss commences to talk. And he talks for three solid days. I'm not jokin' nor jestin'. Three days the father sits there and talks to Preacher Jones. He's there when the reverend wakes up in the mornin' and he talks until the reverend falls asleep at night. And what's more, the preacher listens.

“On the first day Father Prentiss talks about Paul's death and the early church in Rome and the Catacombs and the lions in the arena. By suppertime he's just gotten into the conversion of Constantine, and how the church became an official body not long after.

“The next day they march through close on a thousand years, right through the Dark Ages and the Holy Roman Empire, on to the Medieval fiefdoms and past Martin Luther and the bloody Reformation Wars. And then on day three Father Prentiss finishes up with the past three hundred years before lunch, and spends the rest of the day talkin' ‘bout the church of today.

“Like I said, Preacher Jones stays with him right the way through. And despite himself, the more he hears, the more interested he gets in what the father's sayin'.

“Then Preacher Jones commences to rememberin' some of the things he's said and done before he got sick. And he wonders if maybe somewhere along the line he shoulda spent a little more time studyin' before pronouncin' judgment on the Catholics.

“Not that he feels much different, mind you. He still believes the church's wrong about a lot of things. But what amazes the reverend most is that he seems to agree with a lot of what the father says. But he's still a Catholic. And a priest. And the more he listens to the fellow talk, the more convinced Preacher Jones is becomin' that the man's a truly devout Christian as well. And this surprises the preacher somethin' powerful.

“By that third afternoon the father'd gotten' kinda hoarse, but he's still pushin' on. And toward the evening he starts talkin' ‘bout himself.

“‘I don't agree with a lot of what goes on inside the church,' the father says. ‘Some things I hope someday I'll be able to change, but most of it I know I'll just have to swallow and accept. And it don't bother me all that much, I gotta say. It really don't.

“‘See, I figure the earthly church is kinda like clothes on the body of our Lord Jesus Christ. A lot of these criticisms I hear bandied about nowadays between churches is about like condemnin' somebody on account of him gettin' the buttons done up wrong on his shirt. People aren't seein' to the heart of the matter, far as I'm concerned.

“‘The real question is, does this particular church help this particular person come closer to knowin' Jesus Christ in his mind and heart? There ain't another thing in the whole wide world that makes any difference. If this person needs a fancy church with all them pictures and candles and stuff, fine. Yeah, and maybe that church makes a lotta mistakes in the way they worship our Lord. A
lot
of them. All right, I'm not saying they don't. But do they recognize Jesus Christ as Lord? Do they understand what the Trinity is and do they teach it? And do they help each individual to grow closer to the Heavenly Father?

“‘That's what's important for me. That's why I'm a priest. Not because I like all the fancy clothes and the ritual and that stuff. I could take it or leave it. That's kinda why I figured I'd be heading for some little mission in the Amazon or someplace, ‘cause I really don't care whether all that stuff is there or not. But
some
people do. Why don't matter. Not to me, anyway. All I gotta do is to make sure those people recognize what's behind all those trappings. That they're just road signs pointing the way to our Lord.'

“When the father's finished, they sit there for a long time real quiet like. The father's quiet on account of his throat bein' pretty raw, and the preacher because he's got so much to think about.

“Finally old Preacher Jones sighs and says, real quiet and bashful, ‘Think it's about time we started talkin' about me convertin'.'

“Father Prentiss reaches over and pats the reverend's shoulder with a hand ‘bout the same size as the blade on an earthmover, and says with a real hoarse voice, ‘Ain't no need to talk. If you're converted to Christ, we're already on the same side of the fence.'

“‘Don't recall ever having heard somebody talk quite so nice for so long before,' the reverend replies. ‘Thank you for your troubles.'

“‘Think nothing of it,' the father replies. ‘I'll come by and see you again tomorrow.' Then he wishes the reverend a good night's sleep, and leaves.

“But that night the reverend has hisself another heart attack in his sleep. When he opens his eyes, he's standin' there in front of old Saint Peter again, with Father Coughlin right there beside him.

“Preacher Jones nods a hello to Peter, but doesn't pay him all that much attention. He's got something more pressin' on his mind. He says to the father, ‘I been wrong.'

“‘Brother, you ain't the only one,' Father Coughlin replies. ‘You sure had your hands full, trying to manage that bunch.'

“But Preacher Jones don't want to hear all that just then. He's got somethin' he's just achin' to get off his chest. He tells the father, ‘Your Church has got a role to play too. An important one.'

“Father Coughlin's like most preachers. Once they get started talkin'. Their mouths get in gear and don't wanna stop. He tells Preacher Jones, ‘I believe I'd rather live with a cage full of gorillas than try to shepherd that flock of yours.'

“Old Peter steps forward wearin' this big grin, says, ‘All right, all right, you fellows've got a whole eternity to work this out.' He kinda shooshes 'em through the gates, on account of neither one of them's payin' Peter much attention right then. Peter herds 'em along to where there are these big racks of halos and such. He leaves 'em to sort themselves out, ‘cause a coupla other new arrivals popped up right then.

“Father Coughlin and Preacher Jones play around for a while tryin' on halos of different sizes and makin' each other laugh. Then Preacher Jones spots this other rack off there to one side, and he grabs Father Coughlin by the elbow.

“‘Here, Father,' old Preacher Jones says. ‘Let me help you try on some wings.'”

****

“TJ! TJ! Wake up, man!”

“Honey! Can you hear me? What is it?”

Heart pounding, sweat streaming from every pore, TJ opened his eyes and focused on two very frightened faces.

Jeremy and Catherine stopped their cries, peered carefully into his face, and went limp with relief. Jeremy said hoarsely to Catherine, “Stay here. I'll call for an ambulance.”

TJ struggled, managed to croak a no.

“It's all right, honey,” Catherine said, her hand trembling as she stroked his shoulder. “Everything's all right.”

“I don't need a doctor,” TJ said, his heart beginning to slow its frantic pace.