After This (37 page)

 

The boy was arranging the pages of his music. He looked over his
shoulder at the priest. The lights from the altar cast the shadow of his
long lashes across his cheeks. A young man, beautiful in his way.
“Both,” he said, politely. “A lot of lessons, but it seems I’ve always
known how to play.”

 

Monsignor nodded. John Keane in his gray suit was coming
toward them from one of the side aisles, favoring that bad leg, his
son, his other son, just behind him, and then what had to be the
bridegroom looking like the oversize boy he was in his first suit, wellscrubbed, determined, afraid. The women in their pale wedding
clothes were gathered at the door. “It’s a gift, then,” the priest said.