Pierced by a Sword (36 page)

Joanie was the only person to whom Nathan confided any details of his Warning (except for Chaplain Davis, who heard his confession the day after the accident). Nathan could not bring
himself to tell her everything he remembered–most notably the fact that Nathan had fathered five children during his lifetime. Their haunting images were burned into his memory.

Joanie had borrowed her father's minivan for the occasion of leaving the hospital. Nathan surprised everyone by asking to see the little church that the Kolbe Foundation had just purchased from the Diocese of Fort Wayne.

Before Slinger's generous financial support, Joe had run the Kolbe Foundation out of a small warehouse near his apartment on Eddy Road. Up to twenty-eight workers and volunteers came daily to work on computers, package materials, and ship them all over the country. The Kolbe Foundation was unusual in that it conducted no fund raising campaigns and didn't require donations for its materials. Joe
had insisted on this policy from the beginning, after having studied the lives of Saint Maximilian Kolbe and Mother Teresa of Calcutta. People seemed willing to send in enough to cover costs. Joe believed this contrarian policy forced him and the workers to be especially efficient.

The "new" church Nathan wanted to see was actually quite old. It had served local Catholic farmers in the Mishawaka
area for over one hundred years. It was aptly named Immaculate Conception Church. Immaculate Conception had suffered from dwindling attendance for decades because of the gradual takeover of much of Mishawaka's farmland by housing developments. A large and relatively new parish in Mishawaka put the final nails in the little church's coffin. The bishop reluctantly closed down the church when the
one priest assigned to Immaculate Conception died a year earlier. The priest had been over eighty years old. Only four families (including the Huey Browns) remained on the rolls at the time it was closed. The lack of vocations in the Fort Wayne diocese, combined with the growth of the two nearby parishes, had forced the bishop's hand. The little wooden church could barely accommodate one hundred people
and came with ten acres of land, including a small country cemetery. There was a tiny, two-bedroom rectory for Father Chet, and a small groundskeeper's farmhouse which Joe and Becky planned to move into after their wedding. There was also a dilapidated barn. There was no central heating–the church and the rectory were heated by woodstoves.

Immaculate Conception was less than two miles from the
Wheat's home and was surrounded by farmland. It was set on a dirt road a quarter mile from the nearest paved road. The bishop of Fort Wayne was happy to "unload" the property to the Kolbe Foundation. The bishop had mild reservations about the activities of the unconventional apostolate, but cash was cash, and Jackson had cash on the barrelhead for Bishop DiPetro. It also didn't hurt that Joe and
the bishop were both Notre Dame alumni. The church and land cost $101,000–furniture and an ancient tractor included.

Joe had dreamed of buying Immaculate Conception since the time it had been abandoned. As they drove up the dirt road in the minivan, Nathan and Joanie were only mildly surprised to see construction equipment on the land. The basement for a huge warehouse and shipping facility was
already dug. The workers had gone home for the day.

"Wow!" Joanie exclaimed excitedly, "What have you been up to, Joe?"

"It's late in the season to be digging, but we don't have time to wait through the winter," Joe explained. "The bishop gave me permission to dig before the land was deeded over to the Kolbe Foundation, which technically occurred two days ago. The construction firm is owned by
the husband of one of my workers–I gave him the basement dimensions before the building plans were even printed up, and he got started over a week ago. I even worked out a perfunctory fine with the town because we started construction before receiving a permit. Your dad helped pull a few strings with the zoning board. Fortunately, this land has few zoning restrictions. I doubt we could have pulled
it off if we had started six months from now. It seems the whole town is being rezoned for residential developments."

Joe had obviously been busy working out the details. He had been on the phone several times a day with Karl Slinger. Both men thrived on two-minute conversations.

"Nathan, I want you to go over the numbers with me as soon as you're able to work," said Joe. "I want to build three
more shipping facilities like this one in the next six months. This first one is the prototype. Each one will have state of the art computers, shipping lines, printing presses–the whole ball of wax. This one is going to have a small radio and television studio with uplinks to an SLG satellite. We're going to have similar facilities in Utah, another in North Carolina, and one in New Hampshire. Lee
is closing a deal on a warehouse outside of Salt Lake City today. We'll be able to ship millions of books, videos, and CDs by next summer!"

"Joe," Becky pointed out, "aren't you asking Nathan to do a little too much, considering his condition?"

Nathan replied for Joe, "That's okay, Beck, I'm feeling fine. Nothing's more boring than sitting around in a hospital. I can't wait to get to work. Why
don't we all get out and take a look around."

They all followed Joe into the church. The setting autumn sun cast rainbow shadows through the stained glass windows. The tabernacle was empty and there seemed to be a lot of dark dust on the walls. Joe told them that it was soot, leaked for decades from the huge old stove set in the middle of the church. He planned to install a modern heating and
cooling system and to repaint and clean the building thoroughly. The ancient stove was actually a valuable antique that could be sold at auction to pay for most of the repairs.

It was cold inside. Joanie looked around the abandoned house of worship and wondered why she had never visited Immaculate Conception, despite growing up so close to it. She had scarcely known it existed. She had a wistful
feeling of being transported back in time, imagining herself among the hard-laboring farm families who had come here by horse and buggy. She looked at Nathan, who was standing next to the altar. His eyes were transfixed on the most elegant piece of art in the building: a wooden crucifix. A single tear streamed down one of Nathan's cheeks. He wiped it away casually, trying to hide his contrition
from the others. Only Joanie saw. Nathan turned and limped back to her side.

Joe noticed how gracefully Nathan maneuvered around in his cast and remembered their football game with Becky and Joanie on the South Quad.
So many things have changed since then,
Joe thought.

To each one of them it almost seemed blasphemous to pray in the church without the missing person: Jesus in the tabernacle.

After
an awkward silence, Becky cleared her throat and spoke up, putting words to all their thoughts, "I can't wait until Father Chet gets here. This place needs a priest's touch."

Nathan turned and slowly left the old wooden House of God. The others followed.

+  +  +

They stood at the cornfield behind the church. It was late in the season, and the corn they saw should have been harvested a few weeks
earlier. Joe explained that a neighboring farmer was sharecropping the church's land and had been having trouble getting to it. Becky held Joe's hand while Joanie held Nathan's hand as they watched the sun set in the west. A cold but slight wind chanted through the fields. The sound of combines could be heard low and steady in the distance.

"I grew up in farm country, although the farms in Louisiana
are different than up here–smaller, different crops," Joe said to no one in particular. "But one thing is the same; when harvest time comes, there's no tomorrow. There's only
now.
That's why they have lights on combines. Night harvesting. It doesn't matter if you're sick, or tired, or if it's too hot or too cold. When harvest time comes, you got to get after it.

"That's what it's like for Catholics
who understand the signs of the times. We have to be like farmers before the harvest. There's not a minute to waste. Jesus once said, 'No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.'"

Joe looked out at the cornfield as if he could see more than just corn there. Dark clouds were quickly forming in the bleak Indiana sky. One more cold rainstorm and
maybe this corn would be useless.

"The harvest is great, but the laborers are few," Nathan added, surprising everyone except Joanie with a scripture quote. Nathan had been reading and memorizing the Gospels during his hospital stay. His demeanor was calm, his words reassuring as he continued, "I think we should make a commitment to keep our eyes on the harvest plow, all of us, together. Here,
do this..."

Weather in Indiana is known to turn on a dime. As if on cue with Nathan's command, the wind started to kick up. The whispering in the cornfield turned to whistling. Nathan gestured for the foursome to face each other in a circle. Nathan then reached forward and grabbed Joanie's right wrist with his right hand. He then guided Becky's right hand to his own right wrist. Likewise, Joe
clasped Becky's right wrist and Nathan closed the square formed by the two couples' hands and wrists. Their grips instinctively tightened as the first large droplets of rain began to fall from the suddenly dark sky.

Nathan closed his eyes and began to pray with a deep, surprisingly loud voice, "Dear Mary, we consecrate our hearts, minds, and lives to the harvest. Your Son said that those who sow
the wind shall reap the whirlwind. Let us sow souls. Let us reap a whirlwind of souls."

All four opened their eyes as they sensed Nathan was finished with his short prayer. A tremendous gust of wind whipped up and almost knocked them over. Only Joe Jackson's physical strength and balance kept them all on their feet.

The wind was so loud that Joe had to shout to be heard, "It's going to be a nasty
one! Let's get Becky out of the cold! Bruno's Pizza next?" Joe engulfed Becky with one large arm around her shoulders.

Nathan and Joanie nodded; Joanie helped support Nathan in the wind as they all found their way back to the minivan.

3

Friday Evening
27 October
South Bend, Indiana

They ate in the front room of Bruno's. The bad weather had kept the usually packed restaurant empty. Joanie was dressed
up–for Joanie. She wore a solid green sweater, a black wrap skirt, and black loafers. Nathan was wearing his casual, usual uniform of forest green Polo cords, a Brooks Brothers button-down without a tie, and a blue blazer. The left leg of his cords had the stitches let out to accommodate his cast.

The rain had stopped. After the main course was finished, Joe gave Nathan a look and abruptly excused
himself for a fresh-air walk with Becky. Nathan was completely silent as he moved a piece of crust around his plate.

Joanie eyed Nathan suspiciously. The Warning had profoundly changed him; she believed that Nathan was much more unpredictable. She could not read his calm expression. He was a different man in a way that went beyond his newfound and deeply held faith in Catholicism.

Nathan is mature,
she thought.
The Warning transformed him into a man. The brooding, dark side of his personality is gone. He's calmer, and more taciturn than ever. Does he still love you? Did he win Pascal's Wager and lose me?

Joanie's thoughts made her heartsick. It was the most acute anguish she had ever experienced–even worse than the insanely charged night of his accident. Her immense relief over his physical
survival, and her jubilation that he had "returned" with an abiding faith in God, had been severely tempered by his coolness towards her. He was not cold–in fact, he treated her as a best friend. But only as a friend.

Joanie took another large sip of wine and averted her eyes from Nathan. She filled her glass again.

He had not uttered a single romantic word to her since their first conversation
after the accident. In the hospital they had discussed the Church, his incredible mystical Warning, and made small talk. Her intuition told her to give him time, to let him think through whatever it was that was keeping him from her. Even the way he held her hand was somehow not the way a
lover
–in the chaste sense of the word–would hold hands.

He's been treating me like I'm his sister,
she thought.
I don't want to be his
sister.
I want to be his wife.

Gloom settled, a cape over her heart. She forced herself to accept the conclusion she had been avoiding for more than two weeks:
I'm going to lose him. Once he's made up his mind, he'll never change, and he's decided to forget about me as a potential spouse. And to think that I was setting conditions for marriage with him just three weeks ago.
She felt too bitter for tears.

She made herself look up at him. Nathan was appraising her with ever so slightly squinting eyes.
Here it comes,
she thought,
he's going to let me down easy.
Syrupy Italian music was being piped into the room, distant, mocking her emotions.

"I'm sorry, Joanie," Nathan whispered. "I know you've been suffering. I asked Joe to give us some time alone so I could talk
to you."

He's going to tell me that it's over,
she thought darkly. She felt her back stiffen; instinct was preparing her for the blow which she was so certain would come next.

"This isn't the right place, but you see, Joanie, we don't have much time, and I wanted to be certain before asking you to marry me that–"

"What did you say?" she cut him off, practically shouting the words.

"I said, before
asking you to marry me, I wanted to–"

"That's what I thought you said!" She quickly and deftly reached for her wine, downed the entire glass, rose from her chair, threw her hand linen on the table, and went to him on the other side of the table.

"I do!" she flashed. A joyful smile brightened her entire face. "I do! I do! I do!" Oblivious to his ribs, she climbed onto his lap and slipped her arms
around his neck, kissing him all over his face and neck. "Don't you dare take it back, Mister, do you hear me?"