20

A Skeptical Blessing

Carmen called Father Wheatley first thing in the morning. She'd slept little, and although nothing more had happened for the rest of the night after the lights came back on, Carmen was just as jittery as if it had all happened just a few minutes ago. So it was difficult for her to give Father Wheatley a coherent explanation of the problem. She stuttered and stammered as she tried to make him understand that something supernatural, something evil, had invaded their house and that their son Stephen, now in a mental hospital for hearing voices and behaving so strangely, had tried to tell them that all along. But Wheatley could make little sense of it all.

It was very obvious to him, however, that something was wrong, even though he wasn't quite sure what it was yet. He promised her he'd be over the moment he could tear himself away, probably in an hour, two at the most.

Al went to work reluctantly; he didn't want to leave Carmen and Laura and Peter alone. Carmen would rather he stay, too, but they both knew he couldn't afford to miss work.

Stephanie and Michael went out to meet the bus, both quiet and tense, and, until it came to get them, they stood by the road looking back at the house again and again.

As Carmen waited for Father Wheatley to arrive, she kept Peter close to her at all times. Laura stayed close as well. She didn't want to be alone.

They were sitting on the sofa with Peter kneeling before them and playing with his Merlin game when Carmen said quietly, "You know, if you'd like, Laura, you can go over to your aunt Lacey's with Mary."

Laura frowned and shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think so. I just don't feel as comfortable with Aunt Lacey as I do with you and Uncle Al. Besides, I want to help."

Carmen was surprised. "Even with...all this?"

"Well..." Laura shrugged.

"I just want you to know that, if you decide that's what you want to do, it's fine with us. Really, we'll understand. So will you let us know?" She nodded. "Yeah. I'll let you know."

When Father Wheatley arrived, Carmen had the front door open before he'd even come up the walk. She ushered him into the living room anxiously and seated him in Al's recliner, all the while whispering to him, "Oh, I'm so glad you came, Father, you don't know how badly we need you here, I'm so glad you came."

Once they were settled, Father Wheatley asked, "So, exactly what is the problem?"

Carmen told him. She told him everything. It spilled from her in a flood because she'd been holding it back for so long. But, as she spoke, she saw the expression on his face change gradually, and she knew what that change meant: disbelief.

When she was finished, she waited, hoping for a positive response, but not really expecting one.

Father Wheatley, who had been leaning forward in the recliner as he listened to her, settled back with a sigh and his frown relaxed. Half his mouth turned up in a reluctant smile and he said softly, "Carmen, I'm going to say the first thing that comes to my mind. Your entire family has been through a great deal. Stephen's serious illness, as you yourself told me, put a great deal of strain on all of you." He added quickly, "Please don't misunderstand me, I'm not saying this is all a figment of your imagination or anything like that, I think it's perfectly understandable. Stress can do the most...well, the most incredible things to people, and I'm saying this from experience, both my own and the experience of my parishioners who have come to me as you have."

After seeing the changes in his face, in his eyes, Carmen was not surprised by his response. She was even ready for it.

"All right, Father," she said, "if this is because of the stress and strain brought on by Stephen's illness—and I'm not saying it isn't, I'm just, um...I'm just. . ." She closed her eyes and thought a moment about what she'd just said. "Yes, I am saying it isn't, because I know it isn't. What about Laura? She wasn't around when Stephen was sick. She didn't feel any of that stress, none of it. What about my neighbor, who doesn't even want to be in my house? She was the one who called and said there was a green woman glowing in the upstairs window. We didn't see it, but she did! And she didn't experience any of the stress and strain of Stephen's illness."

"But I suppose she knows about the history of the house."

"Well...yes, but she doesn't—"

"That's very important. You see, Carmen, death is something that frightens all of us. Even those of us who know that it should not. This house used to be entirely dedicated to...death," he shrugged. "It seems perfectly natural that anyone who knows of its history would be afraid of it because of what it used to stand for."

With a miserable sigh, Carmen leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. "You don't believe me," she mumbled into her palms.

After remaining silent the whole time, Laura spoke up and said, "Father, I don't mean any disrespect, but...please listen. Aunt Carmen's not crazy. There's something going on in this house that doesn't have anything to do with stress or strain or Stephen's cancer. There's something...well, I don't mean to tell you your business, or anything, and, like I said, I don't mean to be disrespectful but...there's something evil and sick in this house. Something that means to harm us. So please, please Father, don't ignore it."

Father Wheatley leaned his head way back and rubbed a finger back and forth thoughtfully just beneath his lower lip as he stared at the ceiling. Then he sat forward, folded his hands between his knees and asked, "Would you feel better if I blessed the house?"

Carmen lifted her face from her hands, trying to hold back the tears that were fighting to fall, and said, "Oh, please, Father, would you?"

"Certainly." He stood. "That would be no problem at all. I'll just go out to the car and get my bag."

While he was gone, Carmen leaned back on the sofa and said, "He doesn't believe me. He thinks I'm crazy."

"But it really doesn't matter as long as he's gonna bless the house, right?" Laura said. "I mean, that's gotta help. And maybe...well, just maybe he'll see something. Or hear something, or feel something."

Carmen just shook her head, eyes looking weary, as Father Wheatley came back inside. They remained on the sofa as he blessed the living room by sprinkling holy water from a bottle and reciting the blessing, their heads bowed reverently. They still remained there as he went through the entire house, blessing each room, one after another.

As the father's muffled voice droned on in other parts of the house, Laura put her hand on Carmen's and whispered, "Don't worry, Aunt Carm, this is probably gonna change everything. Really." Timidly, she added, "You've gotta have faith in God, that's all."

Carmen knew she was right. For her to remain doubtful and afraid was an insult to God. She had to have faith that the blessing would make a difference, that it would end the strange incidents that had plagued them.

But she could not stop thinking about Father Wheatley's obvious disbelief. If he were just going through with the blessing to patronize her, if he didn't really mean it, would that make a difference?

When Father Wheatley was finished, he returned to the living room and smiled at them. "Well, I'm finished. I hope it helps."

You hope it helps! Carmen thought. Her fear was realized: He'd done it just to appease her.

Father Wheatley held up a hand. "But if I might make a suggestion: You should consider some sort of counseling. I mean, all of you, your whole family. You've been through a great deal." He gave them a smile that was meant to appear comforting. "I think you might benefit from it."

Laura squeezed Carmen's hand and looked away from the priest; Carmen bowed her head, hoping Father Wheatley wouldn't see the doubt in her eyes.

After the priest had left, Laura said, "He didn't sound too believing, did he?"

Carmen shook her head.

"Yeah, well, he's a priest, right? So maybe it'll help anyway, y'know?"

Carmen didn't respond for a little while, then, almost imperceptibly, she shook her head very slowly. After seeing the doubt in Father Wheatley's eyes, the look of disbelief on his face, she suddenly realized how Stephen must have felt—how they must have made him feel—the whole time he was trying to tell them there was something wrong with the house.