“ Dios mio, ” he whispered.
(7)
The bishop and the gathered priests stood in the multicolored rays of light which slanted down through the tall stained glass windows. The bishop stood in the Great Entrance of the Liturgy, flanked by assisting priests, watching as the young candidate for ordination came forward, carrying the Aer-chalice veil-over his head, following the procession of other members of this holy event.
The bishop took the Aer from the candidate and covered the chalice and diskos with it. A priest brought a chair for the bishop to sit in, setting it in front and to the left of the Holy Table.
Two priests flanked the candidate and brought him through the Holy Doors, escorting him three times around the altar, allowing the young man to pause and kiss each corner of the Holy Table. At the end of each circuit the candidate bent to kiss the bishop’s palitza and right hand. The priests guided him then to the southwest corner of the Holy Table. The young man knelt and rested his forehead on the table’s edge. The bishop then placed his omophor and right hand over the ordinand’s head and read the prayer of ordination.
The other clergy quietly recited a litany amongst themselves and the faithful in the pews chanted “Kyrie eleison.”
When the prayers were completed the bishop clothed the new priest in the sacerdotal vestments. As each garment was placed, the people in the pews cried out, “ Axios.”
He is worthy.
Throughout the ceremony the man looked slightly dazed, as if this was all such a mystery and a wonder to him. In the pews, his parents beamed at him. They had never figured this lad for the priesthood, not when he was a boy. But God has His own needs and His own ways. If the call comes, then what man of true faith can turn away?
“By what name will you be known as you serve God?” asked the bishop. It was a formality, rooted in old traditions, echoed down through time since popes had chosen not to take the name of Peter out of respect for the first of their line. These days, priests usually kept their own name. But the young man surprised the bishop.
“I will be Nicodemus,” he said.
The bishop nodded, his approval outweighing his surprise. Nicodemus was a righteous name, and there had been many priests from right here in Verona who had chosen to serve God with it.
“Receive thou this pledge, and preserve it whole and unharmed until thy last breath, because thou shalt be held to an accounting therefore in the second and terrible Coming of our great Lord, God, and Savior, Jesus Christ.”
The new priest turned toward the gathered people as the colored light from the stained glass windows patterned his face. His eyes no longer looked confused or doubtful. Instead, the mingled lights seemed to paint them in shades of green and brown.
He smiled and smiled and smiled.
(8)
My plane touched down at Dulles on a blistering hot afternoon in August. When I walked out of the terminal the sun felt like it was a foot above my head. Hellish hot.
Ghost walked beside me. Silent, loyal, alert. When he smiled at the tourists, sunlight glinted off of his four new titanium teeth. I think he liked showing them off.
I saw my Explorer sitting in a no-parking zone. The big Echo Team tactical vehicle, Black Betty, was parked behind it. Bunny leaned against my fender. Top sat in the passenger seat, the door open. Lydia stood near Bunny. Just the three of them. Ghost wagged his tail when he saw them.
No one said anything. I shook hands with Bunny and Lydia, nodded to Top, who nodded back.
A cop stood a dozen yards away, trying to give us the look for blocking a loading zone. We ignored him.
I put my bags in the back and climbed behind the wheel. Top patted me on the shoulder and got out to join the others in the TacV. In silent convoy we headed out of the airport for the ride to Baltimore. We could have gotten a DMS helo, but this was fine.
As we cleared the airport traffic I took a deep breath and let it out. There was half a hitch to it, almost a sob.
Ghost laid his head on my thigh and whined softly. I stroked his fur.
When we were on the highway my phone rang. I didn’t want to answer it. I didn’t want to hear from Church or Rudy or any-damn-one else. I wanted to be alone. I wanted to get drunk.
But the DMS owns my ass, so I snatched up the phone without looking to see who I was going to growl at. “What?”
“So,” she said, “how many brownie points do I have now?”
Ghost raised his head and whuffed.
I smiled.
“Hello, Violin,” I said.