the faith of her Christian upbringing kept her from total despair, she could never reconcile that loss or the hideous irony of losing her family on Mother’s Day.
“His mother dismisses that,” Elizabeth said. “The rumor is that he might have written a paper on religion and found an Aramaic recording on the Internet and committed it to memory.”
“So you’re skeptical, too.”
“Yes. A lot of people were convinced that Jesus was present and was speaking through him. Except that the faithful are always seeking miracles and find them in unlikely places. Their yearning made him a spiritual figure.”
“And maybe he is.”
“And maybe it’s wish fulfillment,” she said, thinking that she’d kill to know there was an afterlife and that her child and husband were all right.
“Did you know he had an older brother who was murdered?”
“Yes, but I was not about to mention that.”
“What would you have said if you were?”
“That we both were robbed of the happiness of watching a son grow up. That we can’t bring them back. But … you know the rest.”
“Yes.”
“I have no explanation for what I saw. He spoke in a voice that apparently wasn’t his and in words that could never have been.” She gazed out the window. Maybe twenty feet in the water sat two rock islets. When Kevin was young, those rocks were the humps of giant turtles that would sing to them while they picnicked under the magnolia as the setting sun enameled the lake in gold. They’d sit until the stars came out and tell stories until Kevin dozed off, her heart roaring with joy. Now those creatures were rocks in the water, and her heart merely pumped blood.
“But this isn’t a case of bleeding statues or visions of the Virgin Mary,” Warren said. “We have a video of him speaking the words of Jesus. And from all reports he’s a nonbeliever who never enrolled in religion courses or wrote a paper on Jesus Christ. I see no other explanation. The young man was channeling the Lord.”
“It’s pretty to think so, but remains to be seen.”
“And we should do all we can toward that end.”
“We are.”
“I appreciate that, in spite of your skepticism,” he said.
They were quiet for a moment. Then Elizabeth said, “I have some sad news. Tom Pomeroy had a heart attack the other night. You didn’t know him, but he was instrumental in our mission.” The
“I trust you’ll get on all right still.”
“Of course, and thanks to your generous support.”
“Dear Elizabeth, no one has ever accused you of being subtle.”
And he handed her an envelope containing a bank check for $1 million.
21
At nine thirty the next morning, the nurse came smiling into Zack’s room. “Some of your friends are here to visit. Think you’re up for it?”
“Absolutely.” He felt better than he had yesterday, more lucid and stronger.
A moment later, in walked Anthony, Damian, and Geoff. “If it isn’t Zack Van Winkle,” chortled Anthony Lawrence.
“Hey,” Zack said, and greeted them all with hugs.
“How’s the head?” Damian asked.
“Better than it looks.” The headaches had subsided, but his crown was still tender to the touch. His hair was growing back and covering the scabs, and the facial bruises had nearly disappeared.
“Your bike’s feeling a lot better, too. Got the front wheel and the wires replaced. Good as new.” Anthony showed him shots of the repair job on his BlackBerry.
“You guys are the best.”
They chatted some more, catching up with what they were doing. “My mom says you helped keep the rust off the joints.” And he mentioned how he was scheduled for having physical therapy.
“So, what are they saying about getting back on your feet?”
“Thanks to you guys, maybe two weeks with a cane. Back to normal in a month.”
While they talked, Anthony fidgeted with his BlackBerry, taking photos of them. “By the way,” he said, “you were talking in your sleep.”
“I was?” Zack played dumb.
“Some kind of ancient language,” Geoff said.
“What’re you talking about?”
Anthony pressed some buttons and held up the BlackBerry. The image was fuzzy and the reception weak, but Zack could hear himself muttering. “Sounds like nothing.”
“Father Damian here thinks you were channeling God.”
“Huh?”
“I said you sounded like you were speaking in tongues.”
“Tongues?”
“It only sounded like glossolalia,” Damian said.
“You mean like when people babble at religious revivals?”
“Yeah. But it turns out you weren’t babbling,” Damian said. “Believe it or not, you were reciting passages of the Sermon on the Mount in Aramaic.”
“What?”
“The truth, man,” Anthony said. “They got some ancient language scholar from Harvard to confirm it.”
“That’s bullshit.” He played the video clip again. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“Then maybe it was God,” Geoff said, giving him an electric grin.
“Give me a break.”
“Just kidding. But it is wicked weird,” Geoff said.
“You’re not gonna start preaching or anything?” Anthony said to Damian.
“No, but you might consider the possibility that the Holy Spirit was passing through you. In fact, a lot of other people did.”
Then they told him how religious zealots had flocked to his bed for miracles. They also told him that for security reasons he’d been moved to this undisclosed room.
“That’s crazy. I had no idea.”
“You were in a coma, man. But it’s pretty much blown over now.”
“But still.” How odd that his mother hadn’t mentioned all that.
“Whatever, I’ll send it to your phone so you figure it out,” Anthony said. “So, when are they letting you go home?”
“Hopefully a few days. They still want to run tests.”
“Any problems?”
“Just some minor problems with math calculations.”
“There goes your poker game.”
“The doc thinks it’s only temporary. If nothing else, my mom will be happy. She’s convinced that Texas hold ’em is hastening the decline of Western civilization.”
“Well, you don’t need math to pull down the slots,” Anthony said. “Maybe when you’re out we can whoop it up at Foxwoods.”
“From the frying pan into the fire. I’m already in debt up to my ass.”
