Embracing Darkness (36 page)

Just then a vision of the maple tree, now devoid of leaves yet still dancing in the wind, popped into Father Poole’s mind. Grabbing Jonas’s hand and hastening down the stairs, the priest led the boy out to the great tree behind the rectory. Jonas watched as Father Poole jumped up to the first branch with the help of makeshift steps, blocks of wood that Ben Benson had installed years ago to replace the rope that he and Pearcy Morgan first used to climb the tree.

“AIN’T YOU SCARED O’ FALLIN’?” Jonas shouted.

“No need to be scared, my boy! She’s a friend of mine, this tree is!”

“How you mean, sir?”

The priest descended quickly, excited that he was finally seeing a change in Jonas. The boy was starting to show a real interest in something for the first time since he’d come up the hill. Father Poole latched onto the lowest of the branches and let his legs drop. He then found the fourth step and began his descent. After hopping onto the ground as an acrobat does after performing a stunt, Father Poole asked, “Do you want to learn how to climb her?”

Jonas, still grinning, nodded. He admired Father Poole for so many reasons. This white priest was someone who had been there for Jonas when it appeared as though his father was going to kill him, when Jonas needed comforting in moments of despair, and when Jonas needed someone to defend him from a racist bully. And now, adding to Father Poole’s credit, he was a grown-up who climbed trees and enjoyed doing so.

“Wow!” exclaimed Jonas. “You sho’ strong fo’ a ol’ man!”

“How old do you think I am, Jonas?”

“Powerful ol’.”

Father Poole laughed, arching his back and tilting his head up. He then walked behind Jonas and hoisted him to the fourth rung of the Benson ladder before following him at the rear.

When they reached the lowest branch, the priest explained where they needed to step to avoid falling. “Climbing trees can be tricky,” Father Poole said. If you step on a weak branch or don’t get your footing just right, well, I don’t need to tell you what could happen.”

Right away Jonas’s body tensed. He placed an arm over a branch that was level with his shoulder and managed to turn to the priest. It was then that Jonas worried that he might fall and break his neck.

“I wanna get down,” croaked Jonas, his voice wavering.

“Nonsense!” Father Poole replied. “No need to be scared. I can tell that she likes you. She won’t let you fall. And
I’m
not going to let you fall. Just hold fast to her branches and look up.
Always
look
up
.”

Jonas did so, concentrating on the maze of branches in front of him.

“Remember,” Father Poole reminded Jonas, “it’s like walking. You don’t look backwards while you’re walking forwards. Same thing here. Keep your mind on where you’re going and where you want to get to.”

Although the mercury was down to thirty, neither the priest nor the boy minded the cold. Jonas passed a residual piece of the unoccupied nest of the hawk fledgling that Zachary had wounded with his slingshot and crushed under his foot. In it now sat a single nut, which was left over from a larger collection. Then from the corner of his eye he saw something move. Two branches above them was a squirrel, cautiously watching the climbers come toward her. Jonas wasn’t sure whether she was eying the solitary nut or merely using the remains of the nest for temporary storage while on her hunt for food.

They climbed higher still. As they continued, Father Poole pointed out all of the tricky spots, dead ends, alternate routes, shortcuts, and most scenic ways to the top, just as Ben Benson had taught him four years earlier. They had nearly reached the halfway mark of the highest point that Ben and Father Poole had ever thought it safe enough to ascend.

“We’re nearly there!” the priest shouted up to Jonas, who with every step he took and every branch he passed was feeling calmer and calmer.

“What we gonna do when we gets there?” asked Jonas in an excited voice.

Father Poole laughed and replied, “We’re going to thank this old tree for giving us the most splendid view in New Hampshire! We’re going to see what beauty God created and then give Him thanks for such natural wonders!”

They cut to the left to avoid a branch that had been badly damaged when Father Poole and Ben Benson had climbed the maple after one of their porch all-nighters. Poole had stood for one second too long on this branch that couldn’t support his weight. It snapped loudly, causing Ben to cock his head. He saw Phineas hanging by a branch just above the priest’s head. To Benson he resembled a dead rabbit hung up and ready to be skinned.

Father Poole thought of telling Jonas about that frightening episode, which was his most terrifying trip up the maple, but decided against saying anything that would alarm the boy, even if the outcome was that Father Poole had swung his legs up, locked them around a stronger limb, and descended safely from there.

The man and boy finally made it to the tree’s highest possible point. Beyond that the branches appeared too thin and weak to support the weight of anyone older than a toddler. They found a seat on Father Poole’s usual branch, which he deemed the highest of the thick limbs. At once Jonas marveled at the blue Atlantic, which now didn’t seem as far away as he’d once believed. He had glimpsed it that first morning when he had gone outside the rectory with Jessica to play, but he didn’t know then that it was the ocean.

“Sho do look big, don’ it? That’s the biggest thing I ever seen.”

The remark, strangely enough, reminded Father Poole of the biggest man he’d ever met, Ezra Hodges, a man who was an entire foot taller than Phineas and nearly twice the size of Jonas. The priest didn’t think that fifty feet up in a tree was the right place to tell Jonas that his parents were dead, but at the same time he knew that it was wrong to keep the news from the boy any longer.

“Har’ ta believe a place so nice as this got so much bad pain,” Jonas said, sounding mournful. “Pretty but lots o’ pain, don’ you think?”

Father Poole put his arm around Jonas’s shoulder and knew that it was time to tell him. He had a right to know, and Father Poole swore to himself that as long as Jonas needed him he’d be there.

The priest told Jonas that his parents were dead.

While all of this was taking place, Zachary Black was watching the two of them from the window of Jonas’s room.

“Did you hear me, son?” Father Poole asked. “Your parents are gone. They’re with God now.”

Jonas stared out toward the ocean, apparently deaf to the priest’s words. “My mamma told me dat rain done made da ocean. And dat rain is God’s tears,” Jonas said. Father Poole didn’t respond. “You believe dat, sir?”

The priest removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his tears. “Yes,” Phineas replied, “I think I do.”

Father Poole felt the boy’s arm around his neck and a pat on his back. Jonas was now comforting
him
.

“God got lots to be sad about,” said Jonas. “Das why der so much water in da world.”

They embraced for several seconds, during which interval Jonas removed his other arm that had been crooked around one of the smaller branches. Before Father Poole could catch Jonas, the boy fell backwards as his legs flipped upward. He tried to grab the lad’s ankle, but Jonas fell fast and landed on the next thick branch, which broke his fall about three feet below where they had been sitting. But that wasn’t the end of it. Jonas’s fall had caught him completely by surprise. Being inexperienced in such things, he didn’t seize the limb in time and so turned on his side drunkenly and fell again, this time another four feet.

Hastening to descend from the tree, Phineas screamed frantically, “JONAS! GRAB ONTO SOMETHING! ANYTHING! HOLD ON! I’M COMING! YOU’LL BE ALRIGHT! JUST TRY TO FIND SOMETHING TO HANG ON TO.”

Jonas’s second plummet brought him to a fatter limb surrounded by smaller branches. This cluster managed to cradle Jonas like a folded leaf. Father Poole reached him seconds later and grabbed Jonas just as he was about to fall again.

Phineas pulled the boy up to his chest and hugged him. Jonas, fortunately, was only shaken and had one or two scratches. “You’re okay” Phineas reassured him. “I’ve got you.”

Father Poole then noticed through the leafless branches a figure standing in one of the rectory’s upstairs windows. He knew it was Zachary. He quickly released Jonas and told him they needed to get down.

‘Take this,” said Father Poole, handing Jonas a handkerchief. “You’ll have a good cry soon, Jonas. Trust me, it’ll come. Just give it some time.”

After they had descended from the maple, the two walked over to the rectory’s two back doors, one that led to the kitchen and the other to a small room used by Argyle Hobbs as a tool closet. Father Poole knelt down and said, “You go inside and try to have yourself that good cry I was telling you about.”

“I don’ feels much like cryin’, sir.”

“I’m sure you’re in shock, that’s all. But it’ll come soon enough.”

“It’s jus’ dat… .” Jonas stopped and looked away into the distance, hoping to see the ocean.

“Just what?” Father Poole asked.

“I jus’ always knew my daddy would kill my mamma. An’ me too. I been expectin’ it, I s’pose.”

Now Father Poole understood why Jonas had not yet wept.

“That done make me a bad person, I guess, huh sir?” Jonas sounded ashamed.

“No, Jonas. It doesn’t make you a bad person. Not in the least. You’re simply a
realistic
person.”

Then, looking up at where he’d seen Zachary just minutes before, Phineas suggested that Jonas spend some time with Mrs. Keats, who was fond of children and always baked whatever anyone asked her to bake, provided that they shouted loud enough and could work out the charade for a favorite dessert.

“It smells like gingerbread,” said Father Poole. “Mrs. Keats makes the best gingerbread in New England. You go on, son.”

With Jonas now off to keep company with Mrs. Keats, Father Poole scanned the window where he had spotted Zachary. It was now empty.

With Sister Ignatius working at her desk outside Father Poole’s office, little Jessica with her, and both Mrs. Keats and Jonas in the kitchen, Phineas now had time to devote to Zachary, who appeared to be up to something. It bothered the priest that he couldn’t connect with Zachary. The boy seemed troubled, even dangerous, but none of that was more important to Phineas than trying to reach him emotionally.

He
hates
people
, Father Poole thought,
or
just
doesn’t
trust
anyone.
I
suppose
I
wouldn’t
either
if
I
came
from
his
background
.

Once inside the rectory Phineas began to climb the steps, hoping that Zachary wouldn’t be hiding. As he got closer to the second floor, the pleasant smell of gingerbread began to be replaced by the odor of wet paint.

Sister’s
quiet
room
, Father Poole thought, but
she
was the least of his problems right now. And as he thought about her, he knew, perhaps more so than before, that the only nun at St. Andrew’s was also the only ally he had.

He knocked on Jonas’s door and, after waiting in vain for a response, anxiously opened it but only halfway. He stuck his head through the opening. Seeing no one, he closed the door quietly, twisting the knob all the way so as to not make any noise.

Phineas then walked toward Sister Ignatius’s quiet room, which doubled as Zachary’s bedroom when she wasn’t around. This time the priest didn’t knock. There stood Zachary, staring out the window that faced the front of the rectory. In his hands was his toy horse.

“Zachary?” Father Poole began.

The boy didn’t move.

He continued, “You have something you want to say to me, don’t you? That’s why you came into the church while I was praying. I suppose you didn’t want to interrupt me and I thank you for that. I noticed you left your sack behind. It was empty. I’d like to know what it all means. Can you help me out?”

Again there was no response.

“I’m afraid you’re going to leave,” said Father Poole. “I don’t know where you’d go. You said you don’t have anyone, so I assume that means you’ll live on the streets or drift from town to town. I can’t stop you. That’s for you and you alone to decide.”

Still no response.

The priest began to leave the room. Suddenly he heard a barely audible voice.

“I heard everything.” Zachary muttered.

“Sorry?” said Father Poole.

“What you and that police fella were talking about. I heard it all.”

“You were spying on me, you mean?”

“I mean, I know what that fella’s making you do. I want you to know I don’t hold with it, Preacher. You’re here to do some good. He’s a shitty man, that copper is.”

Father Poole didn’t react to Zachary’s profanity but simply said, “Why did you give me your sack, Zachary? What did it mean?”

“To show you I ain’t gonna leave. I’ll stay, Preacher, and I’ll change. You’ll see. I’m gonna be different. If you want me, that is.”

More than anything Father Poole wanted to embrace Zachary, but given the boy’s antisocial behavior thought better of it. Instead, therefore, he simply extended his hand. Zachary accepted it and shook hands with the priest.

Over the next few weeks Zachary was true to his word. He pulled his weight, helping out around the rectory with various tasks. He assisted Sister Ignatius in her drafting of Father Poole’s correspondence with the bishop, community leaders, and parishioners by reading the scribbled notes aloud while she typed them out. He replaced the tubes of the rectory’s only radio; a task he’d learned awhile back when his own radio had malfunctioned. In the bitter mid-December cold he also helped Argyle Hobbs to set up the Nativity scene in front of the church. Zachary even appeared to be more tolerant of Jonas. Although the two still weren’t sleeping in the same room together, they both learned how to assist at Mass and became Father Poole’s altar boys, something St. Andrew’s had never before had. Within the walls of the sanctuary it seemed to Phineas, Sister Ignatius, and Mrs. Keats that the two were becoming fast friends, yet outside the church the boys never said one word to one another. They didn’t play together, and at meals they sat as far away from each other as possible.