experienced. But he couldn't remember ever looking at a woman and being so captivated by her loveliness, her gentleness, her compassion.
Jeannie had secured her long brown hair in a soft bun at the nape of her neck. Loose tendrils of silky beige curled about her ears and forehead. The outfit she wore, a cream shirtwaist dress with a pastel flowered scarf tied around her neck, was as understated as her beauty, and suited her fragile facade.
Every time Sam glanced her way, she was tempted to look at him, to confront him, but she didn't. Instead, she gazed at the Gulf, at the murky water and the barrier islands she could barely see in the distance. One huge gambling casino after another—a reproduction of a pirate ship, an old riverboat—lined the coast, and rows of motels flanked Beach Boulevard. The beach was empty, except for the gulls. Jeannie knew that if she rolled down her window she would be able to smell the fishy scent so prevalent along the Gulf shore.
Within a few minutes, Sam caught a glimpse of the small Congregational church in the distance, a white cross positioned prominently above the arched upstairs windows. He turned the Lexus onto the narrow street beside the wooden church, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw only four cars in the parking area and only a woman and a child outside the building.
Not one relevant detail of Jeannie Alverson's life had escaped being printed in the newspapers or broadcast on the television and radio. Everyone in Biloxi, Gulfport, Pass Christian and Ocean Springs knew where Jeannie went to church. Hell, the whole state of Mississippi probably knew. Luckily, no one would be expecting her to arrive at church for early-morning prayers, since this was not her normal routine.
Sam parked the Lexus, rounded the car and helped Jeannie to her feet. With his arm securely planted around Jeannie's waist, he led her up the sidewalk.
Suddenly, the little boy who had been standing beside his mother at the front of the church fell to his knees at Jeannie's feet. She stopped dead still and stared down at the dark-haired child. A thin woman with huge brown eyes stepped forward and lifted the child to his feet.
'Please, Jeannie, help my little boy. I came early, wanting to be first in line to see you. Matthew is only six years old, and he lives with unbearable pain. Touch him and take away his pain.' Tears streamed down the woman's pale face and dripped off her nose and chin. 'He's such a little thing. It isn't right that he suffers so much.'
Sam nudged Jeannie, urging her to move on, not to stop, but she leaned against him and whispered. 'She didn't ask me to heal him. All she asked was that I take away his pain. I can do that much for the child.'
'No, Jeannie, don't.' The bitter, metallic taste of fear coated Sam's tongue. If she took away the child's pain, didn't that mean she would have to endure it?
'What's wrong with Matthew?' Jeannie asked.
'He has a severe form of arthritis that causes him great pain. He's been suffering all night. When I heard on TV that you always attend Sunday services here, I knew what I had to do. I've been here over an hour, waiting, knowing in my heart you'd come today and that you'd help my child.'
Jeannie looked at Matthew. Such a pretty little boy, but his eyes told the story of his suffering. 'Bring Matthew inside the church with me.'
The woman grabbed Jeannie's hand and kissed it. 'Thank you.' New tears filled her eyes. 'God bless you.' She lifted her child into her arms.
'Jeannie?' Sam questioned her, yet he knew he couldn't stop her doing what her heart dictated.
'The minister's study is down the hall to the left. When we're inside the vestibule, it'll be the first door,' she told him.
Jeannie made certain the woman and her son entered the building first, and then she followed, Sam helping her maneuver the short row of steps. Once inside, Jeannie went directly to the minister, who stood at the doorway to the sanctuary. When she whispered her request, he simply nodded his agreement and glanced forlornly at Jeannie, then smiled at the tormented woman and her sick child.
Once inside the study, Jeannie sat in a sturdy wooden chair directly in front of a bookshelf-lined wall.
'Please, close the door, Sam.'
He didn't want anything to do with this. If he couldn't prevent what was going to happen—and he knew couldn't—he'd prefer to step outside and wait.
'You don't have to stay, if you'd rather not,' Jeannie said. Oh, he'd rather not, all right, but he would. Hell would freeze over before he'd leave her alone at a time like this. He closed the door, then blocked the entrance with his massive body. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stood there, a silent sentinel, feeling powerless against Jeannie's determination.
'Bring Matthew to me.' Jeannie held open her arms.
The mother placed her child in Jeannie's lap and knelt at her feet. Jeannie encompassed Matthew's skinny little body with her arms. She closed her eyes. Matthew squirmed.
'Don't be afraid, sweetheart. All I'm going to do is hold you, and very soon the pain will go away and you won't hurt for a while.'
The wide-eyed mother wiped the tears from her eyes. Jeannie sighed. A soft brightness surrounded her; a sweet, flowing current rippled through her body. The first minute twinges of discomfort ebbed and flowed, coming and going, then returning to stay. Jeannie gasped. Sam flinched. Matthew sobbed.
The minister's opening prayer floated down the hallway from the sanctuary, the words muted by the closed door of the study. Acting as a receptacle, Jeannie allowed Matthew's pain to slowly drain from his body. She was still aware of her surroundings, of the child's mother trembling at her feet, of Sam staring at a spot somewhere over her head, refusing to watch the performance of her task.
Sam gritted his teeth. He focused his vision on the certificates on the wall behind the minister's desk. Matthew breathed so deeply that the sound drew Sam's attention. The boy appeared relaxed, almost asleep, as he lay in Jeannie's arms. All the color had drained from Jeannie's face, leaving her normally rosy cheeks pale. Sam looked away, taking note of every picture on the walls, scanning the bookshelves, tracing the stripes in the wallpaper, searching for stains on the carpet.
Jeannie groaned, low and soft in her throat, the sound gaining Sam's instant attention. She had released her hold on Matthew. Her arms lay at her sides, her hands gripping the edge of the chair. Her body shivered, once, twice, and then she opened her mouth, leaned her head back and sucked in gulps of air. As she continued drawing in deep breaths, she began to moan quietly.
She was experiencing physical pain. Matthew's pain. And there was absolutely nothing Sam could do to help her. Sweat broke out on Sam's forehead. Moisture coated the palms of his big hands.
Time ceased, standing still for the four people in the minister's study. When Matthew slipped out of Jeannie's lap and into his mother's open arms, Sam didn't know for sure whether minutes or hours had passed. The torment he'd felt at watching Jeannie suffer seemed to have lasted for hours, but when he looked at his Rolex, he realized that less than fifteen minutes had gone by.
When Matthew's mother tried to thank Jeannie, she did not receive a response. Jeannie appeared to be unconscious.
'It doesn't hurt, Mommy,' Matthew said, smiling broadly. 'I don't hurt at all.' The boy pulled free of his mother and walked around the room. 'And I can walk, and it still doesn't hurt.' Matthew raced around the room in a circle. Grabbing the child by the shoulder, Sam halted his jubilant running.
'Please, take Matthew and go,' Sam said. 'Jeannie's done all she can for him. She needs her rest now.'
'Thank her again for me,' the woman said. 'Even if the relief lasts only a few hours. Tell her for me.'
'I'll tell her.'
Sam held open the door for Matthew and his mother. Once out in the hallway, Matthew stopped, turned around and waved at Sam. Sam waved back at the child.
'Mommy said the angel at this church would take away my pain, and she did.'
Closing the door, shutting out the world and all its problems, Sam leaned his shoulders and head back against the stained wood surface and closed his eyes for one brief moment. Then he looked at Jeannie, who was lying slumped in the chair, tears sparkling in her dark eyelashes like diamonds on sable. He walked over, bent down on one knee and pried her clenched fists away from the chair's edge.
'Jeannie?'
She moaned. Her eyelids flickered. Sam brought her hands to his lips, opened her palms and anointed them with kisses. Jeannie moaned again.
