red carpet out to meet it in preparation for Father Jerome’s descent.
Without inviting any of his guests to join him, Reverend Darby strode up to the plane, turning briefly to acknowledge the crowd with a regal wave and his signature megawatt smile. The hordes, pressed against the fences that the police had barely managed to put up, roared back their appreciation as the preacher positioned himself at the base of the steps. The governor followed, mimicking Darby’s nod to the crowd, but he’d missed the moment and failed to generate the same response.
INSIDE THE PLANE, Father Jerome straightened his cassock and padded to the front of the cabin. He seemed lost and confused, a stranger in a strange land. He turned to Gracie, the same anxious look darkening his face. Brother Ameen stepped closer to him and took his hand, cupping it with both of his.
“It’s going to be fine,” he told the older priest.
Gracie watched, anxious, waiting for him to settle down. Father Jerome sucked in a deep breath, then straightened up, nodding with renewed resolve.
“Is it okay if we start rolling?” she asked, pointing at Dalton and his camera. Brother Ameen studied Father Jerome, then turned to Gracie and gave her a nod. Gracie pressed the earpiece into place, lifted her BlackBerry up to her mouth, and gave Roxberry a low-voiced go signal. They were going out live, as planned—an exclusive for the network.
Father Jerome stooped slightly to pass through the cabin door’s low opening and stepped onto the landing at the top of the retractable stairs. Gracie and Dalton were inside the cabin, filming him from behind. The crowd’s reaction was thunderous. A tsunami of adulation came barreling over them from all sides. Father Jerome froze and stood there and let it roll over him, his eyes swimming across the sea of faces spread out before him. Gracie craned her neck to get a better look. There were people stretching back as far as she could see. Some carried banners, others had their arms raised. There were cries and wails and tears of joy, a torrent of religious fervor barely held back by the barricades. Television cameras and mobile broadcasting vans were everywhere, their oversized satellite dishes dotted around and giving the airfield the look of a SETI installation. A couple of news choppers circled overhead, their cameras rolling.
Father Jerome raised one hand, then another, an open embrace that spoke of humility, not of showmanship. The crowd went ballistic, clapping and screaming expectantly, their eyes scanning the sky anxiously, wondering if they’d be seeing the miracle for themselves. Father Jerome himself tilted his head up slightly, sliding a glance upward, also wondering if anything was going to appear, but he didn’t wait for it. He glanced back at Brother Ameen and at Gracie and climbed down the stairs, straight into Reverend Darby’s welcoming embrace.
Gracie and Dalton followed him down and hovered discreetly to one side.
“Are you getting this?” she asked Roxberry. He was back at the studio, anchoring the coverage.
“You bet.” His voice crackled in her earpiece. “Keep it coming.”
She watched as the reverend kept the priest’s hand firmly cocooned inside his own cupped hands and whispered some words into his ear. The priest seemed surprised by what he was saying, then he nodded hesitantly, as if out of courtesy.
Darby turned to the audience, raised his arms, and flapped them down gently in a quieting gesture. The crowd took a moment to settle down, and when they finally quieted, the stillness was eerie. A combination of anticipation and foreboding was palpable. Then one of Darby’s assistants handed him a microphone and he raised a hand to the crowd.
“Brothers and sisters in Christ,” he announced in his barrel-organ voice, “greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, to you all, and thanks for coming out here with me to greet our very special visitor, Father Jerome.” He stretched the o in Jerome, like a game announcer, and got a wildly raucous reply from the crowd.
“Now as you know, tomorrow is a very special day. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, a special time of celebration for us all, and yet . . . and yet, this year, a time of pause, a time when we must bow our heads humbly and think about these troubled, testing times we’re in, think about what we could have done to make things better and what the future holds for us. And up until a few days ago, I was troubled. I was