then a moan from another, and she turned her head frantically this way and that.
Then she bolted towards me, and past me through the small office, papers flying off the desk as she brushed past it, the screen door banging behind her as she ran out into the night.
I heard her distant sobbing as, in a daze, I turned around.
I saw the rain falling in a thin soundless mist. I saw her far across the clearing .already and racing towards the chapel doors.
I told you you would hurt her. I turned back and looked down the shadowy length of the ward.
You're not there. I'm done with you! I whispered. The light of the candle showed her clearly now even though she remained at the far end of the room. She was swinging her white-stockinged leg still, heel of her black slipper striking the leg of the chair.
Go away, I said as gently as I could. It's over. The tears were running down my face, blood tears. Had Gretchen seen them
Go away, I said again. It's finished and I'm going too. It seemed she smiled, but she did not smile. Her face became the picture of all innocence, the face of the dream locket. And in the stillness, as I stood transfixed, looking at her, the entire image remained but ceased altogether to move. Then it dissolved.
I saw only an empty chair.
Slowly I turned back to the door. I wiped at my tears again, hating them, and put the handkerchief away.
Flies buzzed against the screen of the door. How clear the rain was, pelting the earth now. There came that soft swelling sound as the rain came down harder, as if the sky had slowly opened its mouth and sighed. Something forgotten. What was it The candle, ah, blow out the candle, lest a fire start and hurt these tender little ones!
And look at the far end-the little blond child in the oxygen tent, the sheet of crinkled plastic flashing as if made up of bits and pieces of light. How could you have been so foolish as to make a flame in this room
I put out the light with a pinch of my fingers. I emptied all my pockets. I laid down all the soiled and curling bills, hundreds upon hundreds of dollars, and the few coins I found as well.
And then I went out, and I walked slowly past the chapel with its open doors. Through the gentle downpour, I heard her praying, her low rapid whispers, and then through the open entrance, I saw her kneeling before the altar, the reddened fire of a candle flickering beyond her, as she held her arms outstretched in the form of a cross.
I wanted to go. It seemed in the depths of my bruised soul I wanted nothing more. But something again held me. I had smelled the sharp unmistakable scent of fresh blood.
It came from the chapel, and it was not the blood pumping within her, it was blood that was flowing free from a new wound.
I drew closer, careful not to make the slightest noise, until I stood in the chapel door. The smell grew stronger. And then I saw the blood dripping from her outstretched hands. I saw it on the floor, flowing in rivulets from her feet.
Deliver me from Evil, O Lord, take me to you, Sacred Heart of Jesus, gather me into your arms . . .
She did not see or hear me as I drew closer. A soft glow suffused her face, made of the light of the flickering candle, and of the radiance from inside her, the great consuming rapture which held her now, and removed her from all around her, including the dark figure at her side.
I looked at the altar. I saw the giant crucifix high above it, and below, the tiny gleaming tabernacle, and the burning candle deep in its red glass which meant the Blessed Sacrament was there. A gust of breeze moved through the open chapel doors. It caught the bell above and a faint tinny peal broke from it, barely audible above the sound of the breeze itself.
I looked down at her again, at her upturned face with its blind eyes at half mast, and her mouth so slack though the words still came from it.
Christ, my beloved Christ, gather me into your arms.
And through the haze of my tears, I watched the red blood welling and flowing red and thick and copious from her open palms.