April 3, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico

Myriam once again sat on her favorite bench that allowed visitors to gaze upon the shrine’s venerable cottonwood tree. The catkins had dried up and the majestic old tree’s spray of new green leaves glistened in the sun. She took a deep breath and let it out, but it did not release the anxiety that held her body tense against the chill spring wind. As she began to shiver, Myriam thought to herself, Shivering but not trembling. What a relief.

Then she saw him. He thrust his hand in the air signaling he saw her. He stopped, waiting. The anxiety disappeared and Myriam vigorously waved back. With that Beecher strode quickly up the rest of the slight rise toward her.

As he got closer, Myriam could see the openhearted smile of her lover. It was all she needed. She raced to the man she held so dear for so long and fell gently into his embracing arms.

At first nothing was said, each content to savor the touch of the other as they walked towards the small Christ Chapel. The breeze died and the morning sun felt like a blanket engulfing them in radiant, loving warmth.

Finally Beecher spoke. “Your Parkinson’s, it’s gone?”

Myriam was surprised. “I didn’t think you knew.”

“I could see what was happening and I researched the symptoms.”

“I didn’t want to tell you. I thought you would turn away.”

Beecher looked her in the eyes. “I wouldn’t have. And I won’t now if you’ll let me stay.”

“Hiram,” she said as tears filled her eyes. They walked on.

Finally Myriam said, “It went away! The only way I can explain it is that I was healed by the shrine two days ago. I’m fine. Miraculously, everything is normal now.”

When they reached the Christ Chapel, Myriam told Hiram the whole story of Ramsey’s abduction by Haas, Father Michael’s complicity, and Ramsey’s safe return to Grinnell. She ended the story by saying, “Jonathan’s done with the whole matter. He’s really pissed that everybody played him. He had no idea why Haas was so convinced he could find Adam. But none of that matters.” She twined her fingers in Beecher’s. “Are we together?”

“We are,” Beecher replied lovingly.

Myriam’s mood changed and she asked anxiously, “Are you worried about Haas and Brother Paul?”

Beecher shook his head and took her in his strong arms. “I was a pawn too. They don’t need me anymore, so they’ll leave us alone.”

Myriam hugged him fiercely, glad they were safe. “So what should we do?”

Beecher looked down at his feet. Shame threatened to overwhelm him. But he knew he had to tell Myriam everything. He took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. It may change how you feel about me.”

Myriam hid her anxiety and desperately hoped what he was about to confess wouldn’t change their lives or her commitment to the man she loved. It was strange feeling this way when only two days earlier, she had been so angry she contemplated leaving him.

“I had a strange experience when I met Conklin in Austin in December last year,” Beecher began. For the next ten minutes he laid out his encounter at Oilcan Harry’s with the transvestite. He finished and waited for Myriam to say something.

Myriam rocked back on her heels. The story was hard to believe yet there was something in his contrite expression that indicated he was telling the truth. It was as though he had been transformed or some heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Hiram, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she said softly.

“He shook his head. “Fear, maybe. . . . No, it wasn’t only that. I was also ashamed of my life in the Brothers of the Lord. I saw that I had acted in a non-Christian manner, I suppose, but more so, I had acted without love for a fellow human being.”

He looked at her with tears in his eyes. “I guess I’m asking for forgiveness for many sins.”

Myriam felt the knot in her stomach slowly release. She saw in front of her a changed man but a man who could still be her friend and lover. “Truly you can only forgive yourself, love,” she heard herself say, but she also knew she had to forgive him herself or their relationship might not survive his confession. “I understand,” she said with compassion.

He closed his eyes and she saw the worry drain out of him. “Thank you,” he answered. But there was one more thing Beecher knew he had to tell Myriam. “There’s something else, but it’s more of a question than divulging a sin. When I confronted Conklin yesterday, asking him one more time which side he was on . . . why he was doing what he did, he told me he was in love with me. Said he had felt it since the first day he set eyes on me.”

All the while Beecher had been telling his story about Oilcan Harry’s, Myriam had listened intently holding back any judgment. She took a deep breath and said as matter-of-factly as she could, “Hiram, what did you say to him?”

“I told him that nothing like he wanted was possible between us.”

“And how did Conklin take it?”

Beecher shrugged. “Said he understood.”

She saw he was still holding something back and gently prodded him to tell her everything. “And?”

“I wanted to say we could still be friends, but the words never came out of my mouth. I’m wondering if I did the right thing?”

Myriam stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “There’s plenty of time to answer that question, love.”

“How did I get to deserve such a beautiful wonderful woman as you?” Beecher asked cradling her lovingly in his arms. “Let’s go home.”

Myriam smiled. “Let’s go home.”