The Dark End of the Street: New Stories of Sex and Crime by Today's Top Authors by Jonathan Santlofer, S.J. Rozan Read Free Book Online Page B

venture “Reverend Seaver,” in Episcopal terms a vulgar neologism. Nobody would attempt “Mother Mandy,” the affectionate name by which she had been known in Massachusetts.
    â€œRemember what I told you about the incense,” the thurifer continued. “Everything is methodical. First the coals, then the incense, then the blessing, then you cense the altar. You return the thurible to the thurifer. He censes the servers and the congregation. You must get the order right, or the entire effect is ruined.”
    She apologized, but softly, so as not to break the flow.
    â€œThe passion that stirred between Wally and Terry was the coal,” he said. “The hot coals are always the symbol of sin, you see. Sin, then the layering balm of repentance, then prayers. The addition of incense and blessing would mean solemnizing their union in Christian marriage.”
    â€œWhich never happened.”
    â€œCorrect, Miss Seaver. It never happened. They ran away together, Wally and Terry. Not for marriage. Simply for—oh, in those days we simply called it intimate relations. They ran away, and that was the coals being lighted, but without the blessing. Her parents of course were furious, and Wally’s family was not much happier. The Bauers had money. They hired detectives. Finding the kids wasn’t that hard. They were just out of high school. They had no skills. The detectives tracked them to Pittsburgh, beat Wally quite badly, and dragged Terry back. When she turned out to be pregnant, her family packed her off to relatives in Atlanta, who arranged a hasty marriage to an unsuitable young man.”
    Christopher Taite was off the bench now, crouching near the pond. He had gathered small stones from the path and was plinking them into the water, smoothly, the way a younger man might have.
    â€œWally must have been angry,” she said gently.
    â€œHe was. He came back to town. He tried to see her, and was refused. He tried again and again, and was refused.” Another stone. Plink. Another. “When they sent her South, I suppose the young man snapped. He confronted Mr. Bauer in the church.”
    â€œOutside the rector’s office.”
    Plink, plink, plink. “I’m afraid their argument grew violent. There was a bit of shoving back and forth—” He glanced up at the clouds. “More rain,” he announced.
    She was beside him. “Wally hit him with the thurible. That’s why it has that terrible dent.”
    â€œOne would think it would have been repaired by now. Or, as I said, desacralized and melted down. Alas.” Plink.
    â€œHe was carrying the thurible because he was the thurifer, wasn’t he? Or maybe the boat bearer, learning from his father, say, what being the thurifer entailed.” Christopher Taite said nothing. Standing so close, Amanda saw the faint crinkling around his eyes. She supposed she could have been wrong about his age. Maybe late forties. “With all those Christophers in the family, you would all need nicknames—”
    The thurifer turned toward her, his face as blank as before, the youthful excitement gone. “I can see why you would think what you’re thinking,” he said. “But Wally, I fear, took his own life a couple of days later.”
    â€œNo.” The pain almost bent her over. She was unaware until now of how the story had affected her.
    He nodded. “A grievous sin. Perhaps they still teach the fundaments in divinity school? You’ll have read Augustine on suicide?”
    â€œI might have missed that day,” Amanda began, struggling to lighten the mood, but his frown reminded her once more that levity was unwelcome. “Yes,” she murmured meekly. “I know that suicide is a sin.”
    His gray eyes held hers for a long moment. Then he turned away. “The peculiar part is that Wally denied that they ever in fact were intimate. He told anyone who would listen. He had