Dragon Slayer
by
Rosemary Sutcliff

Chapter 1

Sometime during the night, gang graffiti bled through the three coats
of white paint the Reverend "Thomas Stonehill and his ragtag
congregation had slathered over the sanctuary walls.  Sometime during
the night, a homeless man picked the lock and made himself a bed under
the unorthodox picture of Jesus that graced the front of the church.
Sometime during the night, urban phantoms dumped trash on the steps,
dug up the last chrysanthemum plant in the narrow flower bed and left a
note in the mail slot complaining about the dessert at the Wednesday
night sharing supper

"More ice cream.  Less talk: Thomas crumpled the two sentences in his
hand and stared somberly at the old man who was gathering his
belongings into a utilitarian stack honed by years of living on the
street.  " Did you write this?  " Thomas asked.

The old man shook his head.

"Do you know about our Wednesday night sharing suppers ?  "

The old man just stared at him.

g Dragonslayer

"Every Wednesday night at six we serve a meal here for anybody who's
hungry.  You're always welcome.  And next time you need a place to
stay, ring the bell.  I'll open the door for you.  No need to break in:
'

"Churches ain't supposed to be locked," the old man mumbled.  " " And
kids aren't supposed to get their kicks out of spray painting walls and
smashing furniture, but sometimes they do "

The old man inclined his head toward the picture that had watched over
him as he slept.  " " Person who painted that must have taken a kick to
the head.  "

Thomas's grim line of a mouth relaxed a little.  "Think so?"

"Jesus with four different faces."  The old man shrugged.  "Who'd think
like that?"

"How do you know it's Jesus?"

"That face looks like him."  The old man pointed to one of the four
images superimposed over the edges of the others

"The white one, you mean?  Maybe if you were black, the one beside it
would look like Jesus."

" " What kind of church is this?  What call you got to come down here
to the Corners and mess with people's religion ?  "

"What call you got to drink yourself blind every night and wake up in a
strange place every morning?"  Thomas asked the question without a
trace of condescension in his voice.  He knew he had no right to judge.
He was no better than the man in the cast-off clothing, no better than
anyone

"Ain't got much pity in your soul for a sick old man, do you?  What
kind of preacher are you, anyway?"

"The kind who thinks pity's a waste of time."

Thomas looked at his watch.  It was gold, twenty-four carats, with a
new imitation leather band that was already cracking.  "We'll be having
church here in less than an hour.

You're welcome to stay.  "

Dragonslayer g

"Nah " The old man scratched himself, starting at his sparsely forested
head and progressing steadily downward to places that most men didn't
scratch in public.  "I'll be moving on ."

Thomas reached for his wallet.  He pulled out three dollar bills and
handed them over.  "Will we see you on Wednesday?  "

The man stuffed the bills in his pocket.  "Don't take charity."

"Think of it as supper with friends."

"Don't want no friends."  The man strapped his belongings together with
a belt and lifted the bundle to his shoulder Without another word, he
limped across the room and disappeared out the door.

The door slammed again a few seconds later behind a young woman herding
two sleepy-eyed children in front of her.  Her eyes were red, and her
dark hair was uncombed.  Her thin body seemed to fold in on itself, as
if to protect the children with her shadow.  Thomas didn't smile.
"You're early, Ema.  I haven't even set up the chairs yet."

"I'll help."  She attempted a smile.  It was hard, since one side of
her mouth was swollen.  "I don't mind."

"Have you had breakfast?"  "

" Sure.  "

"The kids, too?"

"They don't eat this early."

"There's cereal out on the kitchen table upstairs.  Milk and juice in
the refrigerator."

"

" I couldn' t- "

"You will."  Thomas hiked his thumb toward the hall and the stairs
leading to his apartment.  "And there's ice for your lip."

"Oh, my lip's fine.  I just bumped into-"

"Wrap the ice in a dish towel.  Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off,
until church starts."

She nodded.  In moments she and the children had closed his apartment
door behind them.

And Thomas Stonehill was alone with a painting of Jesus and his own
thoughts.

He was comfortable with neither.  The picture was new and disturbing in
its intensity.  His thoughts were old and tormented him constantly.

He stared at the picture and filled the silence with the voice that had
once held a congregation of thousands of souls enthralled.

"So, J.C."  there go some of your little lambs, starting Sunday morning
with the wolf right behind them.  "

He didn't expect an answer.  He had given up believing in answers the
same day he resigned from one of the most prestigious Protestant
churches in the Midwest.

He moved closer.  The four images seemed to merge, but he hardly saw
them anyway.  His vision was turned inward.  "One homeless lamb, one
battered, and two little ones so hungry and scared, they don't know how
to laugh.  Imagine that, J.C."  kids who've forgotten how to laugh-if
they ever learned how in the first place.  "

He stared at the picture, but in his mind he saw the front of another
church.  He saw an altar spread with snow-white linen, a starkly simple
golden cross and polished silver cornucopias overflowing with
chrysanthemums, dahlias and the fruits of the autumn harvest.  All the
blessings of God's good earth on God's good table.  For God's good
people.

"One homeless, one battered, two hungry and scared " , he said softly.
"And one who talks to a God he doesn't even believe in anymore.  That's
what passes for God's kingdom around here, J.C. Welcome to the Corners.
Welcome to the Church of the Samaritan."

The silence stretched into an eternity Thomas didn't believe in,
either.  Then, from St.  Michael s Catholic church, three blocks away,
bells chimed a Sunday morning welcome

"Sorry, J.C."  but nothing doing," Thomas said, turning away.  " You
can't fool me.  I know you too well by now.  If you had a voice, it
would sound like tears.  "

Dragonslayer ll

* * *

Garnet Anthony was awakened by church bells in the distance.  The bells
blended into the symphony of car engines , rap from a teenager's boom
box and the screams of a neighbor's child.

She opened one eye and saw that it was later than it should have been.
She opened the other and saw that in stumbling to bed in the dark last
night she had paired a magenta satin sleep shirt with chartreuse boxer
shorts.

It was the best rationale for sleeping nude that she could think of.
She was just glad she didn't have company in her bed this morning to
witness the mismatch.

Not that she'd had company there for a long, long time.

Garnet slowly sat up and shook the scramble of dark hair that was
constant visual proof that the stereotypes people held about nurses
were simply that.  Her hair was long, thick and insolent-and she liked
it that way.  Even when it was tied back from her face, tendrils found
their way into her eyes and ears, and curls bounced against her neck.

As she scrubbed sleep from her eyes, the mirror beside her bed reminded
her that nothing about her called forth images of soothing voices or
healing hands.  She owed her outrageous face to generations of
immigrant ancestors who had made the Corners their first stop in the U.
S. of A. Some-the luckiest-had moved on to other, healthier places, but
not before they had flooded the Corners' gene pool with a splash of
this and a shower of that.

She had wide Slavic cheekbones and tilted almond eyes that she owed to
a mystery country in the east-of a color green that brought to mind the
hills of Ireland.  Her tawny skin had been a gift from her father, who
was half Egyptian , and her mother, who claimed Comanche blood.  An
infusion of Puerto Rican sunshine and Nordic frost had given her both a
generous smile and enough caution not to use it very often.  On the
rare occasions when teachers had praised her during her school years,
they had told her she was "striking" or "interesting."

"Pretty" had been reserved for girls from more conventional
backgrounds.

Garnet fought her way out of bed and crossed to the refrigerator for a
long drink of milk straight out of the carton She drank milk on waking
and coffee at bedtime.  She ate pasta for breakfast and pancakes at
supper, and indulged in desserts any time the law allowed.  She had
never lived her life the way the world expected, and most of the time
she didn't give the world's opinion more than a passing thought.

Except that today, considering what she had ahead of her, the world was
probably right, and she was probably loco.

A quick shower later, and nearly dressed, Garnet noted that the child
in the tiny apartment next door was still screaming.

Thirteen-month-old Chantelle probably wanted her breakfast.  Her
mother, Serena, no different from most sixteen -year-old girls, liked
to sleep late.  Of all the young mothers Garnet knew, Serena was the
finest.  But that didn't mean she had magically matured during
childbirth into a woman who could willingly sacrifice all her own
pleasures and desires for the sake of the bawling six-pound bundle of
trouble that, in one supremely painful moment, had become her lifetime
commitment.

In the hallway, Garnet buttoned the sleeve of her white blouse with one
hand and knocked on Serena's door with the other.

"Hey, Serena, your kid's hungry.  Either get up and open the door so I
can take her home and feed her, or get up and feed her yourself."

"

" Go 'way.  "

Garnet switched hands to button her other sleeve and continued to
pound.  "I'm not going anywhere," she said.  " " Open up.  "

The door gave way under her fist.  On the other side of the doorway
Serena pulled her T shirt down so that it almost covered her panties.
"You know, you oughta be somebody 's mother."

"What?  And be so busy with my own kids I'd miss chances to order you
around?"  Garnet squatted and held out her arms.  Chantelle, tears
dripping down her chin, came into them and wiped her face on Garnet's
blouse.

Garnet rose, clutching Chantelle against her.  "Thanks, runny nose,"
Garnet said wryly.  "I probably have another clean blouse."

Serena yawned.  "See, if you'd left us alone..."

"This was the best of two alternatives.  If she'd kept on crying, I
would have come over here and murdered you in your bed ."

"At least I wouldn't have had to get up."

"You are one lazy woman."  Garnet reached out to rumple

Serena's curls to take any sting out of her words.  " " Want me to feed
her while you take a shower?  "

"Nah.  You feed her junk: '

"Peanut butter and pancake sandwiches is not junk."

"I bought her favorite cereal yesterday."  Serena held up her hands to
stave off Garnet's next words.  "And juice.  I bought juice too."

"You've been listening to my lectures."

"Nah.  I just got a talent for self-preservation."  Serena dragged
Chantelle from Garnet's arms.  "It's Sunday.  Why are you dressed like
a nurse?  Don't you get a day off?"

Garnet was the administrator of Mother and Child, a unique maternal
health project that struggled to provide both health care and social
services to the women and children of the Corners.  Garnet had carved
the program and the job out of nothing, bantering and begging and
threatening her way to obtaining grants from private charities and
public programs so that no one in the community would have to suffer
the way she once had.

She was administrator and nurse practitioner, secretary and janitor.
She loved the variety, the constant challenge, the smiles on the faces
of children who might not be alive if Mother and Child didn't exist.

And she despised everything and everybody who interfered with helping
those children.

"I've got to go see somebody," she said.

Serena bounced her daughter on her hip, and Chantelle quieted.  "

" Where?  "

Garnet looked past Serena to the one-room apartment that was probably
the nicest home the young woman had ever known.  It was almost
painfully clean, but Chantelle's toys cluttered the floor in colorful
disarray.  Garnet approved of the combination.  "Over at Wilford
Heights."

"Uh-uh.  That's Boyz territory."  "

" People territory.  "

"You're crazy, girl."

"I'm doing my job."  Garnet crossed her arms and prepared for battle.
It would be good practice for the day to come.  " " And I'm not going
to let a bunch of punks keep me from doing my job just because they
think the dirt outside some housing project is worth dying for!  "

"You'd be the one dying "

"Better not be.  These kids know me.  I've delivered their girlfriends'
babies, held their mamas' hands while they tried to come down off
drugs.  They aren't going to shoot me."

"It's Candy you're going to go see, isn't it?"

Garnet turned her gaze to Serena.  "She's been having cramps and she's
afraid to come to the clinic tomorrow."

"It's not the Boyz you'll have to worry about, then.  It's the Jokers
who'll shoot you.  They see you going over there, they'll guess who
you're going to visit."

"

" Let them.  "

"

"You re crazy."

"No.  Sane.  Somebody's got to be sane in this place.  Otherwise those
kids aren't going to know there's a better way to live than shooting
each other over street signs and hand signs and colors."

" " Candy knew what she was doing when she started kicking with Francis
and his friends.  She knew Demon wouldn't let her get away with it.  "
Serena poked Garnet's chest with an index finger to make her point.

"Francis is a good man."

"That's got nothing to do with it."

Dragonslayer IS

Garnet was glad to see Serena was worried about her.  It was always a
good sign when a kid like Serena, who already had the world on her
shoulders, could still worry about somebody else.  "I'll be careful,"
she promised.

"You can't change the hood, Garnet.  It's been here for a hundred
years, it'll be here another hundred.  And it'll be the same Corners
when Chantelle's grandkids are out playing on the sidewalk ."

"If Chantelle's grandkids are able to play on the sidewalks , then it
won't be the same Corners.  It'll be a better place."

"I still don't think you should go."

"It could be you over there, needing me."

Serena's response wasn't fit for the baby's ears.

"You'd better hope that's not Chantelle's first word " Garnet said. ,

"I.et me know when you get back."

"Just don't go back to bed.  I don't want to have to wake you up
again."  Garnet leaned over and kissed Chantelle's cheek.

Serena's door was cracked when Garnet strode down the hall-in a fresh
white blouse-half an hour later.  Garnet heard the sounds of Sunday
morning cartoons from the apartment.  She wondered if Chantelle was
watching them, too.

Thomas had chairs to set up and the pulpit to install under the
picture.  With three chairs under each arm, he made his way to the
front of the church.  The graffiti gleamed at him as he unfolded the
chairs.

There was nothing to be done about the graffiti this morning.  Another
coat of paint might subdue it.  Then again, it might not.  The Twelfth
Street Jokers had wanted their message to last through eternity.  It
had been painted in fire-engine red and outlined in black enamel.  The
artist had talent.  The Jokers' symbol, a joker playing card, had been
rendered in loving detail.  The profane, mysterious message
accompanying it had been carefully stroked, layer upon layer, until it
seemed to leap off the wall-right through three coats of white paint.

The victorious graffiti seemed to point out the futility of everything
Thomas was trying to do.  But over the past year he had grown to accept
the feeling that little he was doing would make a difference, anyway.
He had spent two years doing nothing at all before he moved to the
Comers to start the Church of the Samaritan.  That had been far worse.
Here, at least, he was struggling, not drifting.  If he and the people
of the Comers were going to drown, they were going to go down fighting.
Together.

A woman's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You could get the boy who did that, you know, get him and his friends
and tell them to paint you a mural over that mess.  Jesus at Gethsemane
or the Last Supper.  Only way it's ever gonna get covered up."

Thomas turned.  For the first time that morning he smiled.  "You're
early, Dorothy.  Did you come to give me advice or help set up the
chairs?"

"I'm on my way to Mass at St.  Michael's."  Dorothy Brown joined him in
front of the graffiti.  She was a tiny woman of indeterminate age,
dark-skinned and silver haired This morning she was dressed in a
perfectly preserved green rayon suit from the forties and a pillbox hat
with a short green veil.  Dorothy had lived in the Comers as long as
anyone could remember.  She had taught in the Corners schools, served
in local government and chaired any board worth chairing.  Her ruling
passion was to create a community in this place that others called a
ghetto.

"Can't say those boys of ours got no talent."  She cocked her head.
"I'm betting Ferdinand Sanchez did that one.  His mother taught him to
draw like that.  She was a pretty little thing.  Used to spend hours
with him teaching him to do stuff.  Then one morning she just up and
left.  His father's no good."

"I've crossed Mr.  Sanchez's path a time or two."

"Old Testament on this side-" Dorothy pointed to the opposite wall
"-New Testament on that.  Ferdinand could do it "

"Last time I saw Ferdinand, he was urinating on the front steps."

"

" Trying to get your attention .  "

"He succeeded."  Thomas folded his arms.  "So it's Mass this morning?
"

"Your turn next week."  Dorothy hiked her purse to her shoulder.  "I
spread myself around."

"Like icing on a cake."

"What am I missing here this morning?  You gonna preach on something
interesting for a change?"

"The miracle of the loaves and fishes."

"Just don't go getting down on folks like you usually do.  They need
some God on Sunday momings.  Get tired of hearing about how they're
supposed to change the world.  Most of them just sitting here wishing
they'd got a little sleep last night or had something to eat for
breakfast: '

"And God's supposed to fill their stomachs?"

"He got a better chance at doing it than you got."

"I'll give them some God."

"Give yourself a little, too, while you're at it."  She patted his arm.
Before he could think of an adequate response she was gone.

Thomas stared out the window watching Dorothy's small figure disappear
into the fog of a Corners' autumn morning

Three young men materialized out of the same fog.  All three were
dressed in dark trench coats, left open to the elements They wore
muddy-hued plaid shirts buttoned just at the collar over green
army-issue T shirts.  There were differences , too.  One wore neatly
pressed khakis, the other jeans.  One wore a black watch cap pulled low
over his ears, one a baseball cap with the bill turned up.  One wore
nothing on his head except cornrows divided and braided with military
precision.

Thomas knew them well enough to realize that the one with the watch cap
was the one to worry about.

They weren't walking fast, and they weren't walking slow.  They
strutted as if they owned the sidewalk, the street and the
neighborhood.  If they had been on the other side of the street, their
stride would have been jumpy and defiant.  They were members of the
Twelfth Street Jokers, and the other side of the street, where the
Wilford Heights housing project began, belonged to the Corner Boyz.

And this place, where Thomas stood, where his small congregation would
soon gather to try to find meaning in their existence, belonged to a
God that Thomas wasn't even sure he believed in anymore.

As the young men approached the sidewalk in front of the church, Thomas
watched them closely.  The church was nothing more than a converted
storefront, the congregation nothing more than a few souls who, in
giving voice to the despair that plagued their lives, spoke for a whole
community But the church and this congregation were Thomas 's life.

He would be no less ruthless than the Twelfth Street Jokers in
protecting what was his.

Despite her reassuring words to Serena, Garnet had expected trouble
from the moment she promised Candy Tremira that she would go to Wilford
Heights to examine her.

Garnet always expected trouble, and she was rarely disappointed
Optimism was a waste of time and pessimism a waste of energy.  She was
a realist, and by expecting the worst, she could always be pleasantly
surprised if it didn't occur.

Today there were going to be no surprises.

"Where're you going, babe?"  Andre Rolins asked as she waited for the
walk sign at the corner of Twelfth and Wilford

She turned slowly and raked him with her gaze.  "" Nho's the babe here,
Andre?  I was changing your diapers when I was eight.  "

"I asked you where you was going."

"I'm going across the street."

Andre moved in front of her, and two other young men flanked her.  She
sighed.  "Come on.  You boys got nothing better to do than hassle me
this morning?"

"Don't go dissing us, babe," Andre said.  "You show respect , or we'll
teach you how."

"I respect you," Garnet said.  "Only not as much as I used to."  She
felt a hand on her arm and fingers making bruises.  She forced herself
not to turn her head or wince.  "See, I used to think you were
somebody," she went on.  "Back when you didn't need your enforcers to
make you feel like a big man."

Andre barely inclined his head, and the fingers no longer squeezed her
arm.  "What call you got crossing that street?"

"My job, Andre."  She moved a little closer to him.

"There's no clinic 'cross the street."

" " There's a woman across that street who's afraid to come to the
clinic because she knows you boys are waiting for her to show her face
over here.  " " "Candy?  "

She turned to the young man who had spoken, the same young man who had
probably left his fingerprints on her arm.  He wore a dark watch cap
pulled over his ears and rolled just to his eyebrows.  The pale face
that leered at her was one she never wanted to glimpse on a night when
she was out on the streets alone.

"Demon, let it go," she said.  "So maybe Candy took off with another
guy.  You think you're the first man that's happened to?  It doesn't
matter.  You've got another woman now "

Sadly, that was true.  Another young woman had replaced

Candy Tremira in Demon's life.  Another young woman who would learn
that macho posturing and beachboy looks meant nothing next to the
reality of living with his erratic temper.

He smiled, and she was chilled by it.  "Candy and I are going to have a
conversation," he said.

20 Dragonslayer q Dragonslayer 21

"Andre."  She turned to appeal to him.  "I've got a job to i " Anything
that happens in this neighborhood's got do.  You show me where it says
a nurse or doctor can only f something to do with me.  You're standing
in front of my help patients who wear the right colors.  Show me where
it church.  I live here.  " says this stupid war between you and the
Boyz is going to do " That what you call it?  " Andre reached into his
T-shirt anything for the Corners besides make life harder here." pocket
for a cigarette.  His gaze didn't waver.  He snapped his

Andre put his fist under her chin.  She didn't flinch.  She fingers,
and Ferdinand moved around Thomas to light it for felt Demon and
Ferdinand, the third Joker, close ranks him.  around her.  "Who are
you?"  Garnet demanded.  She tried to move,

"You go on over to Wilford Place," Andre said, "and but the man
continued to shield her.  you walking into trouble."

"Thomas Stonehill," he said shortly.

She looked straight into his eyes.  They were the color of "Padre,"
Andre said.  He blew a puff of smoke in his skin, a deep, rich brown.
"Look, I've watched you grow Thomas's face.  " Got himself a real
important church right up.  I know what you can do and who you can be.
I know over there, with at least two, three people coming of a Sunwho
you are.  Don't do this, Andre.  " day.  Got himself an idea he's gonna
save the world.  Start There was always something flickering, simmering
in ing right here on this spot."  Andre's eyes.  Some of the kids who
patrolled these blocks Shock began to recede, and anger seeped into its
place.  had eyes that were as empty as the futures they had been Garnet
couldn't fault the man, this Thomas Stonehill, for bequeathed.  Andre's
weren't.  She stared into them, willing trying to protect her.  Every
time she had an audience she him to face the struggle going on inside
himself, willing him preached the gospel of people in the neighborhood
watch to make the right decision.  ing out for each other.

"Get your hands off the lady."  But she could fault him for thrusting
her aside when she

A man's voice cut through the tension and splintered it had been in the
midst of working out her problem with into a thousand evil pieces.
Garnet felt a hand on her Andre.  The good reverend had committed two
unpardonshoulder , and before she could do anything, she had been able
sins, and she was probably going to pay for them.  flung to one side.
In an instant a man's large body was "This is between me and Andre,"
she said, trying to step wedged protectively between her and the
Jokers.  in front of Thomas.  "Thank you, but we can finish this

"What do you think you're doing?"  the man asked.  ourselves.  "

For one confusing moment Garnet didn't know to whom Thomas hardly
seemed to do more than shift his weight, the question had been
addressed.  Then she saw the sneer on but he cut off her path to Andre
anyway.  " " I don't think the Andre's face and knew it hadn't been
addressed to her.  She young man's intentions are the best.  " had been
cast aside as if she no longer had a part in the " That's for me to
decide.  " confrontation.  A man in a plain gray suit was facing the
Thomas acted as if he hadn't heard her.  " The lady has a Jokers for
her.  right to walk these sidewalks without you kids bothering her.

"Nobody's talking to you, Padre."  Andre stood taller Everybody has
that right: than he had with Garnet.  He and the man, who easily "Think
so?"  Andre tossed his cigarette at Thomas's feet.  topped six feet,
were staring eye to eye.  "Don't get yourself It bounced off his shoe.
" Well, I think she don't.  I think she involved in things got nothing
to do with you " '."  crosses that street today, she gonna wish she
never did walk these sidewalks, 'cause we be walking them right behind
her.  "

Garnet's heart sank.  Andre had committed himself now.  If she ignored
his warning, she would pay.  She wasn't afraid; she was only sorry the
chance to change things had been taken out of her hands.

Futilely, from Thomas's side, she made one last attempt to bring Andre
to his senses.  "Andre, taking care of Candy 's my job.  Even warring
nations let the Red Cross come on to their battlefields to care for the
wounded."

"Candy flipped sides.  She hang with the Jokers, now she be hanging
with the Boyz.  She not wounded," Andre said.  "yet."

"She's dead," Demon said, with a smirk.  "You're dead if you help
her."

"Don't make threats, son," Thomas said.  The words were mild; the tone
was steel.

"You gonna stop me, Padre?"  Demon stepped right up to him.  He wasn't
as tall as Thomas, but his adolescent body had been fired in the
furnace of hot city streets.  His chest was broad, and under the trench
coat, Garnet knew that his shirt bulged with muscle.

"If I have to."

Demon took a step backward and looked away, as if his bluff had been
called.  Then he sprang.

Garnet leaped back in horror as Thomas Stonehill came crashing toward
her.  It took her a second to realize that he had not been taken
unaware.  As she watched he twisted, using his weight to take Demon
down with him.  In moments

Demon was pinned underneath him.  Thomas had the side of one hand
against Demon's Adam's apple and a knee in Demon's groin.

Demon seemed to be in shock; then he raised a fist.

Thomas slammed Demon's arm to the ground with his free hand.  "Hit me,
son, and I'll have to choose between cutting off your air or your
chance to make babies."

Andre and Ferdinand had just looked on, used-Garnet guessed-to Demon
fighting and winning his own battles.  Now they started toward Thomas.
"" Leave him alone!  " Garnet kicked off her shoe, a pump with a
sizable heel.  She grabbed it to use as a weapon.

Andre glanced at her, but he kept coming.  Ferdinand backed off, not
from fear, she guessed, but from a deep seated belief that fighting
with women was not masculine.

Garnet moved forward as Andre closed in, but before she could attempt
to strike, Thomas's foot shot out and connected with Andre's ankle. The
kick had just enough force to make him stumble backward.

A siren sounded.  For a moment Garnet couldn't believe it.  The Comers
had inadequate polire protection as well as every other type of public
service.  Response time on direct calls was often longer than it took
to dismantle a building brick by brick, and police patrols were few and
far between Now, for the first time in her memory, a police car was
where it was supposed to be, when it was supposed to be.

She wondered if the Reverend Thomas Stonehill had somehow found time to
pray for intercession.

Before her eyes, Ferdinand melted into the fog and disappeared down an
alleyway.  Andre started toward Thomas and Demon again, but Thomas had
already rolled to the side.  Demon was suddenly free.  He sat up and
looked around wildly, as if considering whether to go for Thomas or
escape before the police got out of their car.  Andre jerked him
upright and made his decision by grasping his arm and pulling him
toward the alley where Ferdinand had vanished

The police car door opened, but for a moment Garnet and Thomas were the
only ones on the sidewalk.

Thomas got easily to his feet.  "Are you all right?"

Garnet stared at him.  She was filled with confusing emotions His black
hair was rufiled, and his suit was dusty, but otherwise he looked as if
his fight with the Jokers had been no more taxing than a Sunday school
class.

"Who in the hell do you think you are?"  she exploded.

He stared at her as if she were crazy.  " " You come here and think you
can change this place, but you don't know a thing about it!  " she
said.  " You've just made sure that the Jokers will stay on my case!
Well, Reverend

Stonehill, you'd better say your prayers loud and clear tonight.
Because the next time those boys come looking for me, they might very
well be carrying guns !  "

Chapter 2

Thomas Stonehill had committed two unpardonable sins.

First, he had caused Garnet to lose face with the Jokers.  She had few
pluses on her side when she negotiated with either the Jokers or the
Boyz, but she had always commanded their grudging respect.  She had
never showed them she was afraid; she had never avoided them.  Now, by
coming to her rescue, Thomas Stonehill had given Andre and his friends
the idea that she couldn't take care of herself.  And since they preyed
on weakness, that was a dangerous idea for them to have.

The second sin was even more serious.  By confronting Andre head-on,
adult to child, Thomas Stonehill had made it impossible for Andre to
compromise.  There was no way that Andre could back down without
appearing weak.  And weakness was worse than death for kids like Andre.
They had nothing except their pride.  They would die for it.

They would kill for it.

On Monday afternoon Garnet sat alone in her office, shooting rubber
bands into a wastepaper basket.  The score was seven to three.  Not
bad, considering that her mind was at home on a Roman soldier.  There
were no smile lines at the somewhere else.  f, corners of his narrow
lips, no crinkles around his eyes to The morning had been busy.  On
Monday and Thursday soften his face.  The frown lines in his tanned
skin had been mornings Mother and Child held prenatal health clinics.
put there by dogged concentration, by brows drawn to Garnet and Tex,
her assistant, weighed and took blood get her as he stared at a world
that was less than he wanted pressures and did nutritional counseling
and urine checks in it to be.  preparation for Wednesday and Friday
afternoons, when a Until that moment she had never met Thomas
Stonehill, rotating staff of volunteer physicians saw patients.  but
she guessed that he was a man who not only never The system worked most
of the time.  The nurse pr acti- stopped to smell the roses, he
probably trampled them untioners handled routine care, and the
physicians handled derfoot on his way to his next mission.  problem
pregnancies or patients close to their due dates.  It Unfortunately,
this time his mission had been one Gardidn 't work when a doctor's
Wednesday afternoon golf q net Anthony.  game took precedence over his
commitment to the clinic, or Between one rubber band and the next she
was trans when a patient's fears or disinterest kept her from keeping
ported back to the corner of Wilford and Twelfth.  an appointment.  "Do
you want me to walk you somewhere?"  he had asked The same was true of
the pediatric clinic on Tuesdays.  after the police left.  Most of the
time the residents from a local hospital, who She shook her head.  "You
don't get it, do you?  The only served a portion of their pediatric
rotation at Mother and reason I've been allowed to walk these streets
at all is be Child , were excellent, reliable physicians.  But
sometimes cause these kids think I'm not afraid of them.  I listen when
their middle-class disdain for what they saw in the Corners they talk,
and as often as possible, I do what I can for them.  was so obvious
that embarrassed or angry parents never reBut when it comes right down
to the nitty-gritty, I've just turned with their children.  gone on and
done what I had to, no matter what they think.  Garnet's job was to see
that everything ran smoothly.  She And until today, they've let me.  I
can't show them I'm trained residents to work effectively with the poor
and afraid now, or I'll never walk these streets again."  pleaded with
practicing physicians to do their part.  She "That kid had his hand at
your throat."  knocked on doors and persuaded mothers-to-be and moth"
Andre  She realized how angry she sounded, and sheers-who-were to use
the clinic's resources.  She spoke at lowered her voice.  " " The kid'
has a name.  And he's bright suburban club meetings, wrote grant
proposals, organized and perceptive, a natural-born leader.  He's also
not above fund-raisers and started new programs the moment more
throwing his weight around if he gets pushed into a cormoney arrived.
ner " And sometimes, like now, she shot rubber bands into " That's what
you think I did?  " wastebaskets simply because she had to stop and
think.  She told herself to try for patience.  She couldn't really
Yesterday Thomas Stonehill had been silent and cold afb lame Thomas
Stonehill.  In his world men rushed to the ter her accusations.  The
police had come and gone quickly, rescue of women.  He just didn't
realize yet that the Corand she had been left alone with Thomas.  ners
wasn't his world.  He was a man anyone would take note of.  His hair
was " He wouldn't have hurt me," she explained, lowering her coal black
and his deep-set eyes a soul-piercing blue.  His voice.  " We have a
relationship.  I've known him since he was brow was wide; his nose and
square jaw would have looked a baby.  He had to threaten me like that,
to save face with his friends.  And then, since I was asking him nice,
he would have let me go on to do what I had to.  "

"You're sure?"  His voice indicated that he thought she was wrong.

"I'm never sure about people.  Good-looking, clean-cut kids in their
daddy's BMWs and Porsches show up on this corner on Friday nights
looking for cheap dope and fifty dollar women.  Kids like Ferdinand,
with his tattoos and his scars, rescue kittens from trees and organize
parties to clean up vacant lots so little kids will have a place to
play baseball in the summers."

"What are you going to do now?"

" " I'm going to do what I started out to do.  I'm going over to
Wilford Heights, and I'm going to see a patient.  "

"A patient?"  He frowned.  " " That's what this was all about.  I'm a
nurse.  I'm on my way to see a patient.  "

She could tell by his expression that he was adjusting his evaluation
of her.  "What did you think?"  she asked.  "That I was one of those
fifty-dollar soul-sellers doing an early morning shift?"

"I didn't have a lot of time to think anything."

"But I don't fit your impression of a nurse, do I?"  She glanced down
at her clothes.  Conservative to her meant a skirt that covered the
essentials and a blouse that didn't call more than modest attention to
her breasts.  In her opinion, her clothes met those standards.  "You'll
find that we're a lot less worried about impressions around here than
we are about survival."

She narrowed her eyes.  He was assessing her legs, as if he wondered
how Florence Nightingale had sunk to this.  "Hey, Reverend Stonehill.
Are you ogling, condemning or repenting ?"

She didn't wait for an answer.  An aeon had passed since she had first
waited for the walk light, but now it was green and no Jokers were in
sight.  She turned away from Thomas Stonehill and crossed the street.
And when she stood at the entrance to Wilford Heights, she looked
across Wilford

Avenue and saw that he was gone.

And because of him, now she was going to have to find a way to protect
herself from the Jokers.  If she didn't, her effectiveness at Mother
and Child was finished.

The office door opened, and Tex came in without knocking She stood in
the doorway and counted rubber band wins and losses, whistling at three
misses in a row.  "Bad day, huh?  " i Tex had never been to Texas.  Her
father and mother were c Polish immigrants, and Tex had been born just
two weeks after their arrival in America.  The doctor who had delivf ,
ered her had tugged and tugged as inch after inch of slippery baby girl
emerged, and when all of her had finally been delivered his first words
had been, "Lord, this one's as big as Texas and just as sure of
herself: Her mother, whose grasp of the English language had been
minimal, named her daughter after this Texas that the baby so
apparently resembled

Tex always said she was grateful that the doctor's delivery -room
chatter hadn't run to four-letter words.

Garnet swept the remainder of her rubber band supply into her desk
drawer.  " " I guess things went okay.  "

"I guess you almost threw Mary Ann out the clinic door."

"I guess sweet little old Mary Ann is using as well as clocking."

"And if she doesn't come back here, then we don't have a chance with
her at all, do we?"

Garnet didn't have the delivery room doctor's selfcontrol She rattled
off a list of expletives.

"Now put them in alphabetical order," Tex said, unruffled

Tex was never ruffled, and that was why Garnet had hired her.  She was
six feet of blond composure.  She didn't judge and she didn't lecture.
When she had a mother-to-be like

Mary Ann, who was selling drugs to support herself and probably using
them, as well, she calmly outlined the realities of living with a child
who had been prenatally dam aged.  She showed photos, explained what it
was like to have a child who cried constantly and couldn't be
comforted, to have a child who might never be capable of showing
affqtion or whose problems in school might mean that he would always be
dependent on his mother to meet his basic needs.

And occasionally, when a mother wasn't too far gone, she listened to
Tex.  Sometimes she even changed her life-style.  But no mother ever
changed because someone had gotten angry at her, the way Garnet had
gotten angry at Mary Ann today.

"So whaYs really bothering you?"  Tex asked.

Garnet looked up and saw the real source of her tension walking forward
to stand behind Tex in the doorway.  She tapped her fingers on her desk
and stared at Thomas Stonehill Then she stood.

"I'll tell you later," she said.

Tex turned as Garnet's gaze flicked past her.  She examined the
newcomer almost as thoroughly as she examined her pregnant patients.
Then she turned to Garget.  "I can see why you want to wait," she said.
She flashed a big, toothy smile before she edged out of Thomas's way
and did a sassy stroll down the hallway.

Thomas stayed in the doorway.  He took in the room in one glance.  This
was a medical clinic, and he had expected institutional green walls and
cheap, soothing prints.  Instead he had been blasted with color from
the moment he entered the door.  Two of the walls in the reception area
had health and safety messages heralded in gaudy gang-style graffiti.
The other two had a mural of children of different races playing on
emerald green grass against a royal blue sky.  The chairs were shiny
plastic in primary colors.  Even the flyers and brochures littering
every available surface had been designed to scream for attention.

The director's office, decorated in splashes of yellow and red, had
obviously been designed with the same goal in mind.  And the woman
standing at the director's desk was no different.

Garnet Anthony was not a fan of subtlety.  He had never known a woman
who could make such a blatant, sensual statement wearing white.  Her
scoop-necked T-shirt was a soft knit that hugged generous breasts; her
skirt and wide white belt called attention to a small waist and sleek,
womanly hips.  She was standing behind her desk, but if the skirt was
similar to the one she had worn yesterday, he supposed it stopped above
her knees.  It wasn't only her lush shape or her provocative display of
assets that proclaimed her sensual nature.  She wore costume jewelry
that would have suited a cocktail dress and cosmetics designed to
emphasize every aspect of her unusual features.  Her dark hair writhed
with life.  Medusa's snakes came to mind when he looked at it.
Individual locks twisted and curved over her shoulders, despite being
tied back from her face.  And the face itself was exotic enough to draw
notice anywhere in the world.  It was an earthy, recalcitrant face.
Eve's face.  The face of Mary Magdalene.

"Come in," Garnet said.  "I won't tell you to make yourself at home,
since I doubt you'd ever be at home here.  But have a seat."

She sat down and turned her desk chair toward a sofa and two
comfortable armchairs that she was storing for one of her patients, who
had been evicted from her apartment.  Garnet never talked to anyone
from behind a desk.  It went against her basic nature to pretend that
she was better than someone else.

"Coffee?"  she asked, waving her hand toward the pot on a table by the
window.

"No, thanks: Thomas sat in one of the chairs.

Garnet had expected him to sit carefully.  He wasn't a prissy man.  No
one could look at a man of his size and say such a thing with a
straight face, despite his profession.  But he was a serious man, as
serious as they came.  She had expected him to sit tall, feet flat on
the floor, perhaps to lean forward when he spoke, as if the world's
fate hinged on the words they exchanged.

Instead, he sprawled, as if his family had owned that chair for
centuries, as if he had lounged there since the clinic's opening, and
stared his electric blue stare as she worked at her desk.

And Thomas Stonehill lounging was an impressive sight.

"If you've come about yesterday, let's just forget it " Garnet folded
her arms.

He watched the movement pull the fabric of her shirt tighter against
her breasts.  He watched a necklace of red and purple beads dip under
the neckline of her shirt, but he didn't say anything.

"You were trying to help," Garnet conceded.  " " I've come about your
sister.  "

She was caught off guard.  She had expected an apology, or at least an
argument.  She took a second to silently laugh at herself for thinking
her opinion was important enough that he-or anyone-would have come for
either.  " " Which one?  " she asked at last.

"Ema."

"How did you know she was my sister?"

"She's mentioned you several times before, but it only clicked this
morning, when she was talking about your job: '

"I thought maybe you'd been overwhelmed by the family resemblance.  "

He thought of Ema, whose short, poorly cut dark hair was the same
mahogany as Garnet's.  Hair color was the only similarity he could
detect.  Ema never looked anyone in the eye, but whatever color her
eyes were, he knew they were not the steamy rain-forest green of
Garnet's.  And although Ema might be pretty if she was well-nourished
and confident , she was now, at the very best, pleasant to look at.  No
one would ever call Garnet's appearance pleasant.

Never pleasant.

"Do you know her husband beats her?"  he asked.

"Do you know I have two eyes in my head and a brain residing behind
them?"

He studied her.  She didn't look angry.  In fact, she showed no
emotion.  Her face had lacked expression yesterday, when she was
dealing with the Jokers, too.

"Then, if you know, do you have any idea what can be done about it?" he
asked.

"She can leave Ron.  She chooses not to.  Most of the time she even
refuses to admit he beats her.  But I suspect you already know that
much, Reverend."  " " Thomas.  "

She tilted her head.  "Really?  Won't you feel naked without a
title?"

"" No.  "

She shrugged.

"She needs encouragement," he said.

"She needs a signed affidavit from God assuring her that if she leaves
Ron Celabraze, he won't come after her with a gun and kill her in front
of the kids.  Can you offer her that?"

He heard emotion.  For a moment he wondered if he had imagined it, her
words were so flip.  "You're frustrated because you don't see any way
out for her, either."

"You're pretty good at this.  Most preachers wouldn't be listening so
hard."  " " Am I right?  "

"Close enough."  Garnet wished she could open her drawer and pull out
her rubber bands.  Instead she began a necklace of giant paper clips.
"Ema's married to a maniac.  Ron's close to tolerable when he isn't
drinking.  But that's about one waking hour out of every day."

"Ema says he hasn't always been that way."

"Ema thinks Lucifer fries people in hell because he was the product of
a broken heavenly home."

"And she stays with her husband out of pity?  Out of fear?"

"Yeah.  And out of some perverted moral teaching forced down her throat
by every church she's tried to be part of.  The last preacher she
talked to told her it was God's wish she stay with Ron.  St.  Paul and
death do us part and all that.  But I'm sure you know the Bible better
than I do."

"I don't know that part of the Bible at all."

"Well, you folks have always been good at using what you like and
tossing out what you don't."

He ignored the jab.  "If she had a place to go, would she leave?  " " "
She can come to my place and live with me any time she wants.  "

"She wouldn't put you in danger."

Garnet looked up from a paper clip chain that was growing long enough
to stretch across the space between them.  " " Did she tell you that? "
" " You did."

"Not exactly."  She added three more clips.  "But you're right.  She'd
die willingly before she endangered anyone she loved.  In fact, if I
could convince her that Ron might harm the kids, she'd leave him.  But
he's never lifted a finger to either of the girls.  Ema never gives him
a chance, of course.  She drains off his anger singlehandedly.  He can
beat her anytime he wants, so he doesn't have to take out his temper on
his babies."

"But you think he might."

"It's just a matter of time.  If Lisa cries too loudly or Jody asks for
milk instead of water one day when Ema isn't right there to deflect his
anger, Ron will beat them."

He made a tent of his fingers.  It was something he used to do in the
pulpit, a calculated, thoughful gesture.

Here 's the chccrch, and here 's the steeple.  Open the doors and see
all the people

Except that the people weren't there anymore.  Not to hear him,
anyway.

"What can I do?"  he asked.

There really was no purpose Garnet could think of for a two-foot paper
clip chain.  Reluctantly she tossed it to her desk.  "One preacher
prayed with her, another one prayed for her.  One went looking for Ron
and asked him if Ema was telling the truth.  That one probably didn't
have any doubts the next day when she came to church black-and blue

"What can I do?"

Reluctantly she gave him a bonus point for asking.  "She's had all the
courage beaten out of her.  She was a spunky kid, and she's plenty
bright.  She can make it on her own if she just starts to believe in
herself again.  If you can help her do that, then maybe she'll still
have a chance to get away from Ron and make a life for herself and the
kids."

"

" Will he come after her?  "

"Not if she's two thousand miles away, or even a thousand I don't think
he's capable of drying out long enough to mount an intelligent search.
And he doesn't have any resources Our family's not exactly the Brady
Bunch, but we could help her escape and start over."  She stared at
him.  "Would you help, Reverend?  Or would your religion stand in the
way?"

"Thomas: '

"No one ever called you Tommy, did they?"

He didn't smile, but he was surprisingly tempted.  "No one did."

"They should have.  But it's much too late now."  She stood.

He didn't.  "Do you have time to show me around?"  he asked.  "

"Because I'm a good source for referrals: '

She considered that-and the fact that he was watching her from his
chair like a zoologist collecting data on an unknown species.  "I'm
about to eat lunch," she said.  "Join me?  "

"Here?"

"I've got enough in the refrigerator for two."

"Then you'll show me around?"

"I'll show you around before we eat, or while we eat, if it makes you
feel better about not wasting time."

He rose.  "What can I do to help?"

"You can make your own sandwich."

The tour went swiftly because there wasn't much to see.  Mother and
Child was definitely a shoestring operation.  "Clinic" was almost a
misnomer.  The space had once belonged to a men's clothing store, but
when it had become clear that men's suits weren't in big demand in the
Corners, it had become one of a string of vacant buildings.

When Garnet and a committee of community leaders approached the
landlord about renovating and leasing the space to them, he had been
enthusiastic.  Since he owned several other properties on the block, he
gambled that Mother and Child would bring business back into the area.
The gamble had paid off.  Now the mothers who visited the clinic
shopped for groceries at a corner store and bought clothes and
household goods at a discount center two doon away.  There were still
vacancies, but as foot traffic increased , interest in the remaining
property increased, too.

Garget showed Thomas the tiny examining rooms, the clinic office, the
workroom.  She explained about the parenting groups who met in a cozy
meeting room that doubled as a drop-in day-care center two afternoons a
week.

After ten minutes they made their way to the kitchen.  There was enough
food in the refrigerator for a dozen sandwiches.  Mother and Child
didn't have the resources to offer regular meals; they couldn't do
everything-not yet, anyway.  But Garnet always made sure there was
plenty of extra sandwich meat and cheese in the refrigerator.  She
bought bakery outlet whole wheat bread and food service containers of
peanut butter and honey.  Any patient who was hungry on arrival was not
hungry when she left.

Now, in the small kitchen off her office, Garnet set cold cuts on a
tiny metal table for Thomas to choose from.  While he made his
sandwich, she washed a tomato and lettuce to go with it.

He wasn't a man who needed talk for talk's sake.  She had to give him
that.  He was neither a glad-handing preacher nor the pious priestly
type.  At least, she didn't think so.  He had come to her rescue in a
potentially dangerous situaDragonslayertion.  And even if his
intervention had made things worse, at least he had tried to intervene.
Why?

It wasn't a question she could ask him out loud.  She would get an
answer, but not the real one.  His motivation for being in the Corners
at all made for interesting speculation His motivation for putting his
body on the line yesterday was even more interesting.  But not
interesting enough to pursue.  She imagined that getting the real story
about Thomas Stonehill from Thomas Stonehill would take time, patience
and a certain amount of absorption in the subject.  She had none of the
above.

"Would you like me to make you one, too?"  he asked.

She paused in the middle of slicing the tomato.  "Sure.  Just mix
everything up.  I like surprises."  She turned and saw the excuse that
passed for his own sandwich.  One slice of ham and a layer of
mayonnaise so thin not a pore in the bread was clogged.

"Is that all you're going to put on it?"  She grimaced.  "I'll bet you
don't eat gravy on your meat, and vegetables never touch each other on
your plate."

His smile was rusty with disuse.  "

She blinked in surprise, then turned to her tomato.  Well, don't short
me the same way.  "

Two sandwiches were nearly finished when she brought the tomato and
lettuce to the table.  He had added a slice of cheese to his, but hers
was a masterpiece.  " " One of everything?  Not much imagination, but
it looks delicious.  " She sat, waving in the direction of the
refrigerator' Get yourself a drink.  There's a little of everything in
there.  "

He came back with a cola and two glasses.  She nodded when he lifted
the can in question and accepted one of the glasses after he had poured
her share.

Thomas observed Garnet as he ate.  She ate as if food were her whole
world, as if the sensations against her tongue and throat were the
reasons for existence.  Halfway through his own sandwich Thomas watched
her press the crumbs on her plate against her index finger and lick
them off with a flourish.

"You didn't have breakfast," he said.

"Sure I did.  Last night's fried chicken and biscuits with cream
gravy."  She thought a moment.  "And pineapple upside -down cake."

He wondered where she put all the food.  Her figure was lush, but by no
one's standards was she overweight.

"I burn it off," she said, as if in answer.  "The best thing about
working here."

"What's the worst?"

He was approaching her psyche through a back door.  She had to admire
his ability to ask leading questions.

She wondered what else he was that good at.  She watched him take a
bite of his sandwich as he waited for her answer.  He ate as if the
food wasn't even there.  A means to an end.  Someone had told him he
was supposed to eat three times a day, and he didn't question
authority.

Did that attitude pervade his life?  Did he meet his other needs with
the same disregard for his own pleasure?  For a moment she imagined
Thomas Stonehill in bed.  It wasn't a large leap into fantasy.  She
told herself he was just the type of man who provoked those thoughts in
women.  There was something about his brooding eyes and a body that,
unclothed , probably qualified as a miracle.

He must have a wife.  All preachers had to have wives, didn't they? Who
played the organ or taught Sunday school if the preacher wasn't
married?  Did Thomas and his wife make love on Wednesdays and Saturdays
because someone had told him that was the expected thing?  Did he
partake of the pleasures of love without tasting those, too?

"There is no worst?"  he asked, when she still hadn't answered

She pulled her attention to where it should be.  " " The worst is that
time, by definition, is limited.  I work too hard.  There's only so
much I can do, and everywhere I look there's more that needs doing. "

"I know that feeling."

"Do you?"  She sat back and sipped her cola.

"That surprises you?"

"I thought the passing of time thrilled you minister types.  Doesn't it
take you closer to your heavenly home or something ?  "

Emotion flickered behind his steady gaze.  She saw it as surely as she
didn't understand it.

"No," he said.  "It doesn't thrill this minister.  All you have to do
is look around to see how much needs to be done on earth."

"Well, you can't do it all.  I can't do it all."  She reached for an
apple in a fruit bowl on the table.  Mr.  Loo, who ran the vegetable
market two streets over, saved damaged and ovenipe fruit for her.  She
had hauled in two bushel baskets of spotted apples and given them away
this morning.  One of her young mothers was going to make apple pies
with her share.

"Are you really that blase about what you can't do?"  he asked.

"Really?"  She crunched a large bite.  Juice spurted across her tongue,
and she savored it before speaking again.  "Yeah."

"Then you can turo off what you see here every day?"

"If I believed that worrying all the time was going to help somebody, I
could work myself up.  But it won't help: She nearly echoed Serena's
words of yesterday.  " The Corners will be the Corners when I'm gone. I
was born here, and I'll probably die here.  Maybe even sooner than
later.  In between , I'll do what I can: '

Thomas had checked up on Garnet before seeking her out.  He had
discovered that Mother and Child was her own creation, that it was the
only social service project in the community that had been started
right here and not by an outside charitable organization.  He knew,
from a conversation with Dorothy Brown, that even though she was only
somewhere in her mid-twenties, Garnet had single-handedly whipped up
interest, grubbed for funding and orchestrated every aspect of the
fledgling clinic.

Dorothy had nothing but respect for Garnet, but Thomas himself wasn't
so sure.  Her attitude irritated and simultaneously intrigued him.  Now
only the irritation showed.  The intrigued portion was more dangerous.
"Why do you work so hard if you don't care whether things change?"

With practiced expertise she tossed her apple core in the garbage pail
across the room.  She sat for a moment, studying the wall behind it.
When she turned to him, her eyes were a smoldering fire.  "At any point
along the way did I say I didn't care?"

"

" Close.  "

"I said I know I can't change the world.  I'm from here.  Maybe that
gives me perspective.  Your perspective comes from somewhere else. From
the accent and the manners, I'd say Eastern seaboard.  Private schools,
upper middle-class family?"  She watched his face.  He was very good. 
His expression hardly changed.  But she saw-because she had trained
herself to be perceptive in order to survive-that she was right.

She went on before he could respond.  "You're here because for some
reason your social conscience is as big as the potholes in Wilford
Avenue.  Maybe you grew up with everything and one day it hit you that
some of us grew up with nothing.  So you're here, in the Corners,
serving out your own personal version of the Peace Corps.  And you're
so damned sure you're doing what's right that you don't think anybody
else could be doing anything right, too."

"From what I've seen of this place, it looks like you're doing some
things right."

"

But not for the right reasons, huh, Padre Not because God came down and
told me to.  Not because I think I'm so important I can change hell
into heaven.  I'm doing it because it needs to be done.  And I'm doing
everything I can to make it fun along the way.  That's what bothers
you.  Joy bothers you and your kind.  I'm not serious enough for you.
And I'm not pompous enough.  " " "Not pompous enough?"

She stood.  " " Get off your high horse, Padre.  The world's going to
keep right on spinning when you're wearing angel wings.  Whatever we
can do here isn't even a drop in the bucket.  It's less than vapor. IYs
nothing.  Nada.  So lighten up.  If you're going to subject yourself to
living here, at least be realistic about it.  Don't kill yourself
trying to make a difference.  Soon enough this place will kill you
anyway.  " " "You were angry that I tried to protect you yesterday. You
were angry today because I want to help your sister.  Now you're angry
just because I'm here?"

"Angry?"  She shrugged.  "Nothing so important.  I've just seen your
kind come and go until I'm tired of turning my head.  You want to
change things.  One day you wake up and find out how little you can do.
So you leave.  And all the people who were starting to count on you
feel a little worse than they did before you came.  When you've served
your time, you'll go back to some pretty little rose-covered church
with a steeple pointing the way to heaven, and we'll still be right
here.  Just trying to make it one day at a time and finding what joy we
can in little things."

"There's no little rose-covered church in my future."

"No?  The evangelism circuit, then?  A worldwide television ministry?
Politics?  What?  Don't tell me we're not just a stopping place on your
way to somewhere."

He stood, too.  Face-to-face, she was all too aware how ; much taller
and altogether larger he was.  His shoulders were broad enough to take
on the Corners' problems-if he stayed long enough to try.

"This is the first time I've been anywhere in a long, long time," he
said.  "I intend to stay.  But not to prove anything to you or even to
myself.  I'm going to stay because there's no place else to go."

Before she could answer him, he gave a curt nod.

"Thanks for lunch.  I think."  Then he was gone, and she was left to
wonder why every time she was in the presence of Thomas Stonehill she
sounded as if she cared far more than she did.  About everything

Chapter3

Thomas stood outside the entrance of the Church of the Samaritan and
looked at the bleak stretch of land directly across from the church on
Twelfth Street.  Once Kensington Park had been a green jewel, but once
the Corners had been a community to be proud of, too.  Now the park was
a squalid wasteland of litter.  The worn, damaged benches had been
removed by the city and never replaced.  The water fountains hadn't
been turned on for the summer because of a leak underground; no flowers
had been planted in the expansive beds surrounding the graffiti-adorned
statue of Carroll Kensington, one of the Corners' founding fathers.

Once the park had been a playground for laughing children Now it was a
business center for drug dealers and hookers.

Thomas hadn't lived here long enough to know exactly when the changes
had begun.  The Corners was just a small section of a Great Lakes
industrial city.  The city itself was irrelevant, since it had washed
its hands of the Corners long ago.  The Corners could have been lifted
intact and deposited in Detroit or Chicago, and no one would have been
surDragonslayerprised to find it there.  Its history was one of
immigrant groups who, one after the other, replaced the original
settlers who had built solid stone and brick buildings and wide,
tree-lined streets.

The new residents had made what improvements they could; then, one by
one, whenever possible, they had moved on to wealthier, more congenial
neighborhoods with better schools and more political clout.  Those who
had been left behind were those who for one reason or another had never
realized the American dream.  Tenaciously they had hung on to what they
had.  The Corners was better, oh, so much better , than inner-city this
or inner-city that.  There had always been hope here.

Until recently.

Thomas watched a man and a woman with two children skirt the edges of
Kensington Park, protective hands on the children's shoulders.  It was
Sunday morning, but there was business as usual at the park and in
front of the Kensington Hotel, a temporary stop for the homeless across
from the park's eastern corner.

Others passed by as Thomas waited outside the church, and he found the
array of skin colors beautiful.  The Corners might be like a hundred
other communities throughout the Northeast and Great Lakes region, but
it was fairly unique in its mixture of races.  People had moved out and
people had moved in.  But those who had stayed had made room for
everyone.

As a student of human nature, he doubted that this unusual kind of
coexistence was due to a deep-seated commitment to equality.  People
who couldn't move to the suburbs had simply dug in rather than leave
for something potentially worse.  And because people had stayed right
where they were, there were no divided streets in the Corners.  Blacks
lived next door to whites, who lived next door to Asians or Hispanics.
The Vietnamese and the Middle Easterners, the newest immigrant groups
to come to the Corners, had moved into a house here, an apartment
there.  Wilford

Heights, the only housing project in the community, was a model of
integration, if not of anything else.

The divisions in the Corners were rarely along racial lines.  The
congregation of the Church of the Samaritan was mixed.  The youth gangs
that had formed weren't even divided They were devoted to turf, and
since the turf was integrated , so were the gangs.

From a sociologist's standpoint all that might be worth studying, but
from Thomas's standpoint it didn't mean a whole lot.  The Jokers and
the Boyz might be rainbow colored , but they were still gangs,
increasingly devoting their energies to violence and crime.  The
community had to try to do something about them.

"Morning, Reverend Stonehill."

Thomas held out his hand to the couple with the two children.  They had
braved the park and crossed the street to come to church.  It was the
equivalent of running the gauntlet

"How are you, Sarah?  Jack?"  he asked.

He listened to their polite replies before he squatted to say hello to
the children.  "Kimmy?  Who's your friend?"

The little girl smiled shyly and held out her teddy bear for him to
see.

"Does he keep you company at night?"  Thomas asked.

She nodded.

"Frankie."  Thomas held out his lialid to the little boy.  Frankie
rested his hand in Thomas's and Thomas shook solemnly.  "I've been told
there's a special treat after Sunday school," Thomas said.  " "
Doughnuts?  "

"I promised I wouldn't tell."

Frankie's eyes sparkled.  "I bet it's doughnuts!"

Thomas stood, and the family went inside to settle the children
upstairs in Thomas's apartment, which served as the Sunday school wing.
For the next ten minutes he was busy greeting his parishioners.  Then,
when the small stream trickled away, he went inside, too.  At his
appearance the pianist struck up q bluesy medley of hymns as Thomas
walked up to the front of the church.

The pianist, Greg, a young man with shoulder-length blond hair and
inch-thick glasses, made his living performing in a jazz club uptown.
Thomas knew they were blessed to have him.  Greg had wandered in one
day, seemingly out of nowhere, and volunteered.  He could play anything
in his own style, and although there had been raised eyebrows when he
played his first service, now there were only tapping feet.

For a moment, listening to Greg's splashy finale, Thomas thought of
Garnet.  She had spoken of the need for-grabbing a little joy.  There
was joy in Greg's music.  Thomas suspected that some of the people
sitting in the fold-up chairs were there just to listen to Greg.

He didn't care why there were here.  He was just glad they were.

The first part of the service went off without a hitch.  There were
announcements, prayers, hymns and readings.  He used eclectic sources
for his readings.  Truth and meaning were found everywhere.  It was his
job to share what he found with his congregation.  Sometimes he saw
understanding and even enlightenment in their eyes when he hit upon
something that had special meaning to their lives.  Sometimes he saw
irritation.  But he never saw boredom.  There were many things that
could be said about Thomas's ministry, but never that it was boring.

The choir of eight came up to stand in front of the picture of Jesus.
They wore the cast-off green robes of another church, but as few as
they were, they sang like angels.  That was Greg's doing, too.  He
worked with them on Wednesday and Sunday nights, his two nights off.
Today their anthem was a gospel standard.  They swayed in rhythm and
featured Cretia Barnes, a large woman with more than her share of soul.
When they sat down, the church was appropriately silent and awed.

Thomas stood and walked to the pulpit.

"The text this morning comes from Isaiah 35, verse 7. " And the parched
ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty land springs of water: in
the habitation of dragons, where each lay, shall be grass with reeds
and rushes.  " "

Thomas set aside his Bible.  He looked over the small group gathered to
hear his words of wisdom.  For a moment something very much like fear
clutched at him.  What right did he have to be standing here?  How
could he possibly think that anything he had to say was worth these
good people's time?

He couldn't talk to them with God's voice.  He and God weren't on
speaking terms anymore.  He couldn't tell them about his life.  What
part of it could he hold up as a model?  And what sins had he committed
that he would willingly share?

He looked at faces and saw Ema, not visibly bruised today , but bruised
and aching inside.  He saw Cretia, who despite her rich, booming voice
was fighting an illness that threatened to take her life.  He saw Sarah
and Jack, Kimmy and Frankie's parents, trying against terrible odds to
raise their children to be good citizens despite Jack's recent
unemployment

They were all looking to him for comfort, for sustenance , for
something they could take away that day to nurture them in the coming
week.

And what could he give them?

The door creaked, and a woman slid through the narrow opening, spilling
sunlight across the floor before the door shut once more.  Dressed in
white as always, Garnet met his eyes.  Then, as he waited to begin, she
moved across the room to take the nearest empty seat.

His greatest critic had arrived.  When she spoke to him of his
fallibility, she spoke with his own voice.  He was nothing , and he had
no right to be here.  She had seen through him from the start.

He looked away and saw the other faces again.  Pleading, yearning
faces.  He was nothing.  He had nothing to say.  And still he had no
choice but to offer them what he could.

" " The habitation of dragons," " he said.  "We live in the habitation
of dragons, don't we?  All we have to do is open that door and look
outside.  Look at the streets.  I,ook at Kensington Park.  Stare at the
sidewalks in front of Wilford Heights long enough and you'll watch a
crime being committed

"This is the Corners.  Dragons abide here.  And the ground is parched
and aching with thirst."

He moved away from the pulpit.  Most of the time he just used it as a
place to leave his Bible.  He had never liked to have anything
separating him from the people to whom he spoke.  The pulpit in his
former church had been raised ten steps off the floor, like the ornate
prow of a ship.  He had climbed those steps because it had been
expected of him.  He had stood halfway to heaven and looked down at the
congregation to see rapt, worshipful faces.

And he had spoken with the voice of God.

Now he spoke with his own voice.  He walked to the front row.  No one
had to look up to see him now.

"Dragons breathe fire.  They devour cities and families and landscapes.
What they don't destroy, they taint with their smoke and their smell.
Nothing in their vicinity is left untouched.  You can't live where a
dragon has been.  Oh, you might be able to survive.  You might be able
to skulk around and scratch out a living when the dragon's head is
turned.  But thaYs different from living, isn't it?"

He saw heads nod.  Sometimes in his former church his sermons had
hovered on such a lofty plane that even he lost the point somewhere
close to the middle.  But not this sermon This was something everyone
understood.

Theyunderstood because they lived intimately with the dragon.

"The dragon has touched us, all of us, hasn't it?"  More heads nodded.
"His fire smolders on our streets and alleys, in the hallways of our
apartments, in our schoolyards and classrooms.  Every time one of your
children is offered drugs, every time someone is robbed or beaten, the
dragon 's fires burn a little brighter."

Someone said amen.  In his former church no one would ever have dared
interrupt Thomas's sermons.  Now he found the man who had spoken and
nodded to him.  "Amen?  Then you've seen the dragon, Seth?"

There were more amens.  Thomas moved down the aisle restlessly.  "There
are dragons within us, too, aren't there?"  His gaze settled on Garnet.
Her face showed no emotion, but something about the way she sat, arms
folded, fingers tapping against her own skin, told him she was
listening carefully.

"I have my own dragons.  Some people call those dragons sins.  Some
people call them neuroses or problems or even just feelings.  But if
they scare us, if they make us feel violated, frightened, alone, then
dragon is just as good a word as any other."

He turned away from Garnet.  "Isaiah says that in the habitation of
dragons, where each lay, shall be grass with reeds and rushes."

He walked to the front so that he could see everyone.  "So how do we
get from parched ground, ground that dragons have destroyed, ground
where dragons have eaten and slept and roared their fiery roars, to a
place green with grass, fertile with reeds and rushes?  Grass only
grows where it can't be trampled, doesn't it?  Reeds and rushes grow
where calm water laps at their roots.  How do we get to that place?"

The answer was harder than the question.  He looked at the faces that
were becoming so familiar to him.  He wanted to tell them about
redemption, about God's forgiveness and strength.  But he could not say
those things, because he could no longer feel their truth.

"I want to tell you that it's easy," he said.  "Believe the right
things, say the right things, do the right things, and one day we'll
all wake up and Kensington Park will be green again.  Schools and
streets will be safe again.  We'll wake up and find that we have only
joy inside us, love inside us, hope inside us."

He put his fist against his chest.  "Would you believe me?"

He saw heads shaking.  He sighed.  The sigh was real.  Once it might
have been for show, but now it came from deep inside him.

"Would you believe me if I told you it's not going to be easy?"  Heads
nodded.  "It's not.  I can tell you that much for certain.  Legend
tells us that St.  George slew his dragon.  But I'm not St.  George.  I
can't rise up with a mighty sword and make this a place of grass, a
place of reeds and rushes.  Neither can you.  The dragon is too large,
his fire too blistering for any one of us."

He walked away, as if to return to the pulpit.  But at the pulpit's
corner he stopped.  "Could we do it together?"  He let the question
linger a moment.  " " If we band together, what can we become?  If we
band together..  with God's help..  what can we do?  "

And will you help us, Lord?  Or are yocc even there to hear this plea
?

He moved to the pulpit and picked up his Bible.  He didn't open it.  He
recited the quote from memory.  " " The parched ground shall become a
pool, and the thirsty land springs of water: in the habitation of
dragons, where each lay, shall be grass with reeds and rushes.  " "

He spoke for another ten minutes.  He hammered at the idea that,
together, they could slay dragons.  He spoke of strength in numbers and
the way it was multiplied by good intent.  He spoke specifically of
projects they could accomplish Together.  With the help of the God he
had to force himself to speak of.  He ended with Isaiah's quote
again.

Then he looked out over the tiny congregation.  "It will take us all,"
he said.  "All of us, and everyone else in this community who believes
what we do.  Do we want to slay the dragon?  Do we long for a place
free from fear?  A green, fertile place?  Or have we been so singed by
the dragon's fire that we're afraid to live with only the sunshine of
God's love to warm us?"

He set down his Bible and nodded to Greg.  Then, as Greg played the
opening bars of the final hymn, Thomas motioned for the congregation to
rise.

Garnet waited in the background as Thomas shook hands with each exiting
parishioner.  She chatted about nothing to Ema-because that was the
only way Ema would have it and hugged her two nieces, promising that
they could come over to her apartment to play after school tomorrow.
When Ema had protectively shepherded them out the door, she was alone
with Thomas.

He didn't speak.  She had already learned that he was a man who wasted
little time on pleasantries.  If she hadn't heard him preaching today,
she would almost have said he was a man who believed that the fewer
words, the better.

But she had heard him speak.  He had opened his mouth, and words had
poured forth, golden words, emotional words, words that had bored
straight to the heart of the problems in this community.  The community
she had believed he didn't care an honest fig about.  The community she
had accused him of exploiting for his own selfish purposes The
community she had expected him to leave as soon as he tired of trying
to help.

"Save any souls?"  she asked.

"You tell me."

"Well, you made them believe change was possible.  I saw it in their
eyes."

"And you think I lied to them."

"I don't know."  She honestly didn't.  For moments during his sermon,
despite every screaming voice to the contrary inside her, she had
believed he was right.  Change.  Real change.  I,asting change.

"You know, I think you and I are on the same side," he said.

She still wasn't sure; she still didn't trust him.  She had seen too
many do-gooders come and go.  And now that she'd heard him speak, now
that she'd heard the power of which he was capable and the way he could
mesmerize even the harshest critic, she was that much more certain
Thomas Stonehill would be gone from the Corners before another year had
passed.  Gone to bigger and better things and places.

She pushed her hair away from her face.  She hadn't restrained it
today.  She liked it best when it was down, liked the feel of it moving
over her shoulders and back.  She saw Thomas's gaze flick to her hair,
and she guessed that the preacher man disapproved of anything so free,
so overtly rebellious.  " " I need you to be on my side today, " she
said.

He waited.

"I have a patient.  Her name is Candy Tremira.  She's about to give
birth, and she isn't married.  I saw her a little while ago, and she's
nearly hysterical.  Her boyfriend is willing, but neither of them knows
anyone who could perform a ceremony.  They have a license, and they had
planned to go down to City hall this week.  But it'll be too late if
they wait that long."

"What does " about to give birth' mean?  "

She shrugged.  "I saw her just before coming here.  She's- "

"Is this the girl in Wilford Heights?  The one the Jokers warned you
against visiting?  "

"Your memory can't be faulted."  "

" Is she in labor?  "

"She's about three centimeters dilated, and her contractions seem real
enough."

"Where is she?"

"She's still at home.  She's refusing to go to the hospital without
getting married first.  She says the nurses will look down on her.  She
says that God will curse her baby."

"No God I'm familiar with: '

"Women in labor don't necessarily make sense, Padre.,

"I am no one's father."

She heard the irritation in his voice and she was momentarily ashamed.
"Will you help, Thomas?"

He realized she had made a concession.  "Would she like to come here?
Is she able?  Or do you want me to o there?"

"Here is the border of Joker territory.  She won't set foot here or in
the clinic."

"Then she takes this gang talk seriously."

"It's not talk.  Demon is perfectly capable of killing her.  I think
he's probably killed before."

Thomas listened to the matter-of-fact way Garnet made the announrement.
It was almost as if she had said that the local library was closing for
repairs, or the Wilford Heights residents had organized a block
party.

"Will she go to the hospital?"  he asked.

"There's one across town that's agreed to accept her.  It's far enough
from here that I don't think she'll have anything to worry about.  I'm
going to drive up to the back entrance of the Heights after the wedding
and take her there myself."

"We'd better get going, then."

"You'll do it?"

"What did you expect?"  He let his gaze travel over her.  The outfit
was familiar, but today she wore it with gold and crystal beads and
earrings that dangled so low they almost touched her shoulders.

She tossed her head, and the earrings danced.  "They worked up their
nerve last week to ask another of our local clergy to help them.  He
refused, because their religious backgrounds are different.  Francis is
Catholic, and Candy doesn't know what she is.  That pastor said that in
good conscience, he couldn't bless their marriage."

"I'll get what I need.  I'll be back in a minute."

As she waited for him, she stared at the strange picture of Jesus in
the front of the church.  Her mother had never been much of one for
religion; Garnet's acquaintance with Jesus was minimal.  But as she
stared, the four images seemed to blend into one integrated whole.  She
wondered what the picture said about Thomas's ministry.  Or about the
man himself.

No stranger would have been able to tell the difference between the
Boyz and the Jokers.  There were only subtle variations in clothing.
The Boyz always wore blue somewhere on their bodies, and bandannas were
a staple in their clothing diet.  The Jokers eschewed bandannas and
blue, and wore somber grays, greens and blacks.  Unlike their better
known and organized brothers in Los Angeles and other big cities, the
Boyz and the Jokers were fledglings in the gang world.

Thomas had learned enough about gangs to realize what a dangerous time
could lie ahead for the Corners.  It was not unheard of for better
organized gangs who specialized in drug rings to move into an area,
round up the available gang talent, solidify the local gang's yearnings
for prestige and cash and use them for their own purposes.

The Boyz and the Jokers were largely unorganized now.  They existed to
protect their chosen turf.  But each day saw them closing ranks,
assuming more and more of the traditional gang postures and traditions.
Their graffiti showed less imagination and detailed more threats.
Police officers he had talked to claimed that they were seeing more
devotion to "lit," the gang members' bible of rules and regulations
More members were "strapped" -carrying weapons.  And more and more
often, they were suspected of committing serious crimes.

There had been drive-by shootings, too.  As Garnet led Thomas through
the graffiti-tainted walls of the Wilford Heights housing project, she
told him about one involving Candy and Francis.

"You know Candy used to be Demon Harris's girlfriend"

"Demon was the kid with the cap pulled over his forehead ?  "

"Remember that face.  He didn't come by his name without cause." Garnet
stepped around a pile of old rags and newspapers that had been
abandoned on the stairwell.  "Candy's a good kid.  She's never had much
of a home life , and she developed early.  The guys were all over her.
She was flattered by Demon's attention.  Without the hat he's a
good-looking man, and he spends money lavishly on his women.  Candy
fell into his trap.  Then she began to find out what he was really
like."

"He abused her?"  Thomas tried not to breathe more deeply than he had
to.  The stairwell was filthy, and the smell made him glad he hadn't
just eaten.  Something small and brown moved at the edge of his vision.
It wasn't a cat.

"He beat her up whenever possible.  She knew Francis from her classes
at school, and one day she ran into him again at a mall.  They started
seeing each other secretly.  She knew if she left Demon and moved in
with Francis, Demon would declare war on Francis and the Boyz."

"I gather that's what happened."

Garnet stopped climbing at the fourth floor and turned down a hallway.
"Candy finally realized she had to make a choice.  Francis was good to
her and Demon wasn't.  I think she really believes she loves Francis.
So she left Demon and came here to live."

They passed a group of three young men, each wearing a blue bandanna.
Garnet spoke; only one mumbled in response

Farther down the hallway she continued her story.  "It might not have
been so bad, but about the same time there was a drive-by shooting on
Fourteenth Street.  One of the Jokers, a kid named Wolfman, was killed.
Supposedly the gunman's car was blue.  It was late at night, and no one
is sure who did it, of course, but a Joker who saw the whole thing
swore Francis and his brothers were in the car."

"What do you think?"

"Francis says he wasn't anywhere near Fourteenth at the time.  He has
friends who say he was with them, so the cops had to let him go.  But
the word of these gangsters isn't worth an inch of this stinking
hallway."

"You don't like Francis?"

"Actually, I do.  He's a quiet kid, a little too macho and swaggering,
like all the others.  But he's smart, and he has good instincts.  He
reads.  He finished school against impossible odds, and he wants to get
a real job.  When he found out Candy was pregnant, he wanted to marry
her right away."

"Then why did they wait?"

"For one thing, she's been terrified that if she married Francis, Demon
would be even angrier and he'd work harder to find a way to hurt them.
But there's more.  The Jokers are after her, and because she used to
hang with them, the Boyz don't trust her, either.  So she hasn't had
anybody she could really talk to.  She's been alone through this whole
thing, except for Francis."

"

" And you : '

Garnet was silent.

"Can they get out of here?  Start a new life somewhere together?"

"They're going to have to.  Or you're about to sanction the marriage of
two dead people."  Garnet stopped in front of a door and banged twice,
paused and banged twice again.

The door opened.  The face of the young man on the other side was
drained of all color.  He looked pathetically grateful to see Garnet.
"She's crying," he said.  "My mother tried to get her to stop, but she
can't " " " You go into labor sometime, Francis, and see if you get
through it without a tear or two.  " Garnet stepped inside and motioned
Thomas to follow.  " This is Thomas Stonehill minister of the Church of
the Samaritan.  He'll do the ceremony"

"I don't think Candy's going to wait long enough for any ceremony."

"Why not?  She planning to go somewhere without the rest of us?"

Francis swallowed.  Thomas realized he was seeing the young man without
any of his macho posturing.  He was just a good-looking, brown-eyed,
brown-haired kid like a million other kids around the world.  A scared
kid-a scared kid who was about to become a father.

A scream split the fetid air of the small apartment.

Well; that s more than a few tears," Garnet said.  " I'd better check
this out: '

Thomas watched her disappear through the doorway.  "Is your mother with
Candy now?"  he asked.

"She left.  She and Candy don't get along.

"She knew you were going to get married this afternoon ?"

"She don't care."  "

" Anyone else here?  "

"My brothers are around the Heights somewhere."

Another scream made Francis turn even whiter.  "I think she's dying."

"You should have called an ambulance."

"Candy wouldn't let me.  Besides, they don't want to come into the
Heights.  The baby'd be a year old before they showed up."

Thomas heard the young man's bitterness.  He couldn't blame him.  City
services were notoriously unavailable to anyone in the Corners, and
especially to anyone unlucky enough to live in Wilford Heights.

Garnet came into the room.  "Francis," she said calmly, "remember all
those movies you've seen where somebody has to boil water because a
baby's on the way?"

Instinctively Thomas reached for Francis's arm.  The young man sagged
appreciably.

"Well, kid, get some boiling," Garnet said.  "And tell me you've got
clean sheets and towels somewhere."

"You're going to deliver a baby here?"  Thomas asked.

"Either that or it's going to deliver itself without me."  "

" But you said "

"She was only three centimeters.  I know.  She was.  And now she's a
full ten and the head is crowning.  In less than an hour.  And she's
only seventeen.  Lucky thing I brought supplies with me this morning,
just in case."

She paused a moment to judge the expression on Thomas 's face.  She
expected to see disapproval.  She hadn't anticipated this scenario. She
was angry at herself for casually ruling it out.  Candy was young and
small-boned, and this was her first baby.  She had claimed that she had
been in labor all night, but when Garnet had examined her, Candy had
only been slightly dilated.  It would have been unlikely, nearly
unheard of, for her labor to suddenly take off in the short time Garnet
had been away.

But Garget was a good enough nurse to know that the unheard of usually
occurred when no one was looking.  And she hadn't looked hard enough.

"What can I do?"  Thomas asked.

There was no disapproval on his face.  No blame.  Just an obvious
willingness to do whatever needed to be done to salvage the
situation.

Garnet felt a peculiar relief.  Almost as if someone, somewhere, had
forgiven her for this mistake.  " " She wants that wedding.  Do you
think you're up to doing it between contractions while I deliver the
baby?  It might not be pretty.  " " "Are you up to being the groom?  "
Thomas asked Francis

"Yeah, sure.  I-"

"Go find two witnesses.  They can stand outside the door.  That will be
legal enough.  I'll boil the water."  Thomas still had his hand on
Francis's arm.  He squeezed it.  "And don't forget to come back,
son."

Francis definitely looked as if that thought had entered his mind. Then
he nodded.  "I don't have to watch, do I?"

"You can stand up at her head," Garnet said.  I'll cover her with a
sheet.  " "

"I'll get my brother and his girlfriend."

"You do that."  Thomas released his grip on Francis's arm.  The front
door slammed behind him.  "Is she going to be all right?"  Thomas
asked.

"I think so.  The baby's in a good position, and Candy's been taking
care of herself.  But she's young and scared, so be prepared for
anything.  I've already called the ambulance , but you can be sure the
baby will get here before they do."

"

" What about a doctor?  "

"Do you know one who'd be willing to come to Wilford Heights?"  When he
didn't answer, she smiled a little.  "Thank you, Thomas."

"For what?"

She didn't know how else to say it.  "For being here," she said.  "Now
find me some clean towels and sheets and forget the water."  Then she
disappeared through the doorway again.

; Chapter 4

The baby was a boy, seven pounds six ounces and perfect in every way.
The delivery had taken twenty minutes.

Twenty-four hours later, the mother and father were probably still
dazed.  ; Thomas hung up the phone in his study on Monday morning and
stared at the blotter on his desk as he thought about Francis and
Candy.

"Study" was an exaggeration, almost as much a one as referring to the
room just beyond as a church.  Like Mother ', and Child, the Church of
the Samaritan had once been a i store, in this case a hardware store.
It had been vacated two years before Thomas saw the space, saw the
for-rent sign tacked to a piece of the plywood covering the shattered
front window and saw the potential.

The landlord had been willing to donate the use of the building.  A tax
deduction was better than no compensation at all, and Thomas had agreed
to do the renovations necessary to open the doors.  The landlord had
even thrown in the small apartment on the second floor.  He was tired
of low class tenants who forgot to pay their bills, he had told

Thomas.  It cost more to evict them than he realized in rent.  This
way, he could deduct the cost of the apartment, too.

Thomas had carted trash to the curb by himself for a week.  The
building had been a flophouse for derelicts, a place to score drugs, a
home away from home for gang members.  Refuse was hip-deep in places.
Vermin of all sorts infested what was left of the walls.  The storeroom
in the back-now Thomas's study-had been gutted by a fire.

At the start of Thomas's second week of hauling trash, a man offered to
help.  The word was out, he said, that Thomas was a preacher.  He
didn't look like no preacher.  Thomas agreed.  He got cleaned up when
he preached, he explained.  But who wanted to haul garbage in a suit
and tie?  The next day there were two men, the next four.

It took three months to open the doors of the church for the first
service.  The handful of people who showed up were mostly just curious.
A few of them had helped Thomas tear down walls and nail up new ones in
their place.  A few had shaken their heads along with Thomas when those
new walls had been covered with gang graffiti.  A few more had been
with him when he slathered the graffiti with three coats of paint.

But a lot of his helpers had never yet set foot in the church for a
service.  Some claimed they had churches of their own; some wanted
nothing to do with formal worship; some had simply disappeared into the
stream of Corners life and Thomas had never seen them again.

Now, six months after the doors had been flung wide, Thomas's
congregation had tripled.  That was the positive way to view the
changes.  The negative was that there were still fewer than thirty
committed members of the Church of the Samaritan.  And very little
could be accomplished by thirty people.

But yesterday the Church of the Samaritan had added one more.  Thomas
relaxed in his chair and smiled as he thought of the baby Garnet had
delivered into the world.  The child's beauty had been a surprise.
Thomas had never presided at a birth.  The youngest babies he'd seen
were the ones he'd baptized in his former church, pink and white
perfection in white lace christening gowns.  This baby had been as red
as an apple, and his face had been screwed up in dismay at the world
he'd been brought into.  Still, his tiny features had been perfect, and
after he'd been bathed and calmed and put to his mother's breast, he
had seemed as much a miracle as the wealthiest, most pampered and
protected child in the city.

Matthew Francis, to be called Matt.

At a knock on the study door, Thomas looked up.  The door opened before
he could respond, and Garnet poked her head inside.

He hadn't expected to sea her.  She had been outwardly grateful to him
for support yesterday, but he wondered if cynicism still simmered just
beneath her gratitude.  He stood and made his way around the desk.

"Recovered yet?"  he asked as she entered.

"Everyday stuff for me."  She smiled a little.  She'd never seen Thomas
in casual clothes.  Somehow, in jeans and a slightly tattered sports
shirt, he was even more formidable.  "But not for you," she added.
"Ready to do it again?"

"You can't have another patient who needs a wedding."  "

" You're right: '

She wasn't dressed in white today.  She was wearing black stretch pants
and a soft, brick red shirt tied at one side of her waist with a
multicolored scarf.  Her hair was wild; today the inevitable necklace
was made of ropes and ropes of brightly painted wooden beads and carved
animal heads.

"I'm glad you came by," he said.  He realized he meant it.  And the
moment he realized that, he wasn't glad to see her anymore.

"I thought you'd want to hear about Matty," she said.  "

" Of course.  "

She watched him fold his arms, as if to ward her away.  She had thought
for a moment that he was genuinely pleased she had come by.  Now she
tested the theory that for some reason he had changed his mind.
"Shouldn't I be here?"  she asked.  "Is it improper for me to be alone
with you in here?"

"The door's open."

"Do you have a jealous wife?"

"I don't have a wife at all."

"Hot damn.  I'll bet the deacon's daughters had designs on you : '

He didn't know why he responded.  "I had a wife.  She died."

"I'm sorry."  And she was sorry, though Thomas didn't look sad.  His
expression hadn't even changed, but she knew how easy it was to cover
emotion.  It was one of the first things anyone who wanted to survive
the Corners had to learn.

She wondered if his wife's death had had anything to do with his
decision to come here.  Or had he been sent by a church hierarchy
hoping to establish a religious presence, a mission in the ghetto?  His
arrival in the Corners was almost as mysterious as the man himself.

"What about the baby?"  he asked.  " " Candy and Matty were dismissed
from the hospital this morning "

"That seems awfully soon: '

"She was lucky they took her at all, since the baby was an hour old by
the time the ambulance got there.  Candy's got no insurance, and she's
not on welfare.  Francis has been supporting her with whatever he could
make doing odd jobs: " " Is he a good worker?  "

"Yes."

"Would he be willing to work construction?"

"What are they constructing around here, Thomas?  Haven't you noticed?
This is a destruction kind of place."

"

" Not here.  In Deering Hills: '

She frowned and wondered how Thomas could be so out of touch with
reality.  Deering Hills was one of the most expensive suburbs of the
city.  It was green-landscaped hillsides , homes that started at half a
million dollars, and high schools with television studios and high-tech
computer laboratories

"How could a kid like Francis get a job in Deering Hills?"  she asked.
"Don't you have to have a college education just to clean up litter on
the streets?  Hey, forget that, there is no litter in Deering Hills, is
there?"

"I've called someone I know, a man named Stu Wilson.  He's willing to
give Francis a job."

"But Francis doesn't even have a car.  Could he take the bus that far?
Isn't Deering Hills the kind of place that only schedules public
transportation when housemaids from the city are coming and going?"

"You said yesterday that Candy and Francis can't stay here."

"Sure, I said that."

"Did you mean it?"

"Yeah, I meant it."  Garnet fingered a cheap glass paperweight on his
desk.  It was the only decoration in the room.  The study was as
Spartan as the man.  She looked at him.  "There are a lot of people who
stay here who shouldn't."

He supposed she thought he was one of them.  "I've found Candy and
Francis a place to live in Deering, if they're willing to move."

"Willing?"  Garnet considered.  "Candy's miserable qwhere she is, and
now she's terrified for Matty.  Francis wants to do the right thing by
her, though God knows where he picked up his morals.  His father left
his mother before Francis was born.  His mother gave up on everything a
couple of years ago and drinks herself numb every chance she gets."

"Deering Hills is a long way from home."

"In their case, that's for the best.  Where would they be living?  "

"A woman I know has a garage apartment in back of her house.  She says
it's small, but I'll bet it's five times larger than Francis's bedroom
at the Heights.  Marcia's nearly seventy, but she refuses to have
household help.  If Candy was willing to do the daily cleaning and
Francis was willing to do the yard work, it would help Marcia."

A smile crossed his face so quickly that Garnet wasn't sure she had
seen it.  "They'll have to pretend they're not helping , though," he
added.  "Candy can bring Matty to visit in the mornings, then just
naturally offer to help with the dishes.  She can dust when Marcia's
not looking."

Garnet understood.  "And Francis can mow the lawn in front of the
garage, only he'll just forget and mow the whole yard."

"

" Exactly.  "

"Do you really think it will work?"

"Stu Wilson needs a new carpenter's assistant.  Marcia Branthoover
needs help.  The kids need to get out of here."

"I've already given them some baby clothes and equipment

Mother and Child had on hand, but they'll have to have money to help
them get started.  " Garnet pulled her checkbook out of a bulky
patchwork leather purse.  She flipped to her check register.  " I can
spare some.  "

"I've already written them a check."  He reached around the top of his
desk and pulled the check out of his drawer.

She looked up.  "Lord, does everything always come this easily to
you?"

He handed it to her.  "What makes you think any of this was easy ?  "

"You make it seem effortless, like you've got hundreds of people just
waiting in the wings to help anybody you give a nod to."

He decided her face was as insolent as her hair.  No eyes should see
straight through everything and everyone.  No nose should be lifted in
such disdain.  And her mouth..  It was harder to think about her mouth,
the mouth that spoke without thinking and regretted nothing.  The mouth
that curved in unrepentant smiles and world-weary frowns.  The mouth
with the smooth red lips that had been created for passion.

"Does it please you to think I might not have worked hard to make this
happen?"  he asked.

"It would please me more to think you had to slave.  I don't know,
Thomas.  You just look like a man everything comes easily to.  Though
God knows why you'd have ended up here if that was true."

"I'm just slumming for a year or two.  Remember?"

"Did I say that?"  She smiled and thought she saw it register somewhere
just behind his eyes.  "Since you're keeping track, did I say thank you
just now?"  " " IYs not necessary.  "

"Should I go down on my knees and thank anyone else?"

"Something tells me there aren't any calluses there."

"And yours are probably as tough as an armadillo shell."  She turned to
leave, then turned back.  "Look, I almost forgot.  Watch your back for
a while.  The Jokers know about yesterday."

He took her arm before she could turn away again.  Her flesh gave under
the pressure of his fingers.  "What have you heard?"

Pointedly, she looked down at his hand.  He released her immediately. "
" Very forceful, Thomas.  Andre would be imp

"What have you heard?"

She considered several versions of the truth, but finally settled on
the one that didn't leave out strategic information' It went something
like this.  "Yo, girl.  You done what we told you not to.  Now you and
the padre gonna be sorry.  " "Andre?  "

"ThaYs Andre in front of his buddies.  Andre by himself would have been
more articulate and less threatening.

You should get out of here.  "

She stared at him for a moment before she spoke.  " " No, I shouldn't.
" " y

"Then you don't think he means what he says

He means it.

"Then he could hurt you?"

"Or worse.  Yeah, I know.  But I also know how to take care of myself.
I'm not a fool.  I grew up here.  I'll be careful But nobody's going to
chase me out of the Corners.  I'm staying here till the day I die."

His fingers itched to take her arm again, but he knew how little good
that would do.  There was something in her voice, something that went
far beyond stubbornness.  "I'll talk to him."

She shook her head, and her hair flew around her shoulders' That not a
good idea.  He'll have to be even more macho with you.  "

"I'll talk to him."

She grimaced.  "Good luck, then.  Just catch him when Demon's not
around.  Demon will be ready for you next time."  In the doorway, she
turned once more.  "When should Candy and Francis be ready to leave?"

He didn't want to abandon the subject of Garnet's safety, but the
choice wasn't his.  He had nothing to say about her life or her
decisions.  "They can move in today, if Candy's feeling up to it."

"She'll feel better the sooner she gets out of Wilford Heights.  I'll
drive them myself this evening."

"I'll go over and tell them about Marcia's place now.  I'll leave
directions with them.  The apartment is furnished.  All they'll need to
get started is their clothes and whatever things they have for
Matthew."

"And a thousand prayers.  Maybe they've hooked up with the right guy
after all, huh?"

Thomas could hardly tell her no.  He didn't advertise his belief that
if he prayed a thousand prayers.  ten hundred of them would be
wasted.

Andre lived in a small frame house in a row of similar houses half a
mile from the church.  Once the neighborhood had existed solely to
supply a local factory with workers The houses had been as alike as the
proverbial peas in the pod.  Now, time and spotty maintenance had given
them the individuality they had lacked.  Some had been recently painted
or covered with siding; some had been stripped by sun and rain down to
bare wood.  Some had porches, alive and green with hanging plants in
the summer.  Some porches had fallen away.

Andre's house was one of the nicer ones.  The sidewalk was still lined
with golden chrysanthemums and silver dusty miller, despite a frost or
two.  Some imaginative soul who favored yellow and pale blue had
painted house and trim until it was storybook picturesque.  Hardly a
house for the self-proclaimed leader of the Jokers.

Thomas had trailed Andre from a distance for most of the last hour
until he could catch him alone.  It was late now, but the porch light
was on.  Thomas waited until Andre was on the porch before he got out
of his car.  " " Andre?  " 1'he young man turned.  His hand slid inside
the everpresent dark trench coat.

"I just want to talk to you," Thomas said.  "If you have to hold a gun
in your hand just to have a conversation, then we're in trouble
already."

"

" Who's there?  "

"Thomas Stonehill.  Padre, to you "

"Yeah."  Andre seemed to think about his decision.  Then his hands fell
to his sides.  "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk."

"Yeah.  Sure you do."

"Can we sit on your porch?  Do you want to go somewhere for coffee?"

"Don't drink coffee."  Andre looked around.  "You can come on up.  Just
keep it down.  My mama's sleeping."

Thomas walked up the sidewalk.  There was a zigzagging ramp up to the
porch instead of steps.  He held his hands carefully away from his
sides, in case Andre had some idea about being double-crossed.  He saw
Andre near the door, and the porch light went off.  It took a moment
for his eyes to adjust.

"What do you want?"

Thomas turned toward the sound of Andre's voire.  Now he saw the young
man's silhouette in the far corner.  Thomas leaned against the railing
beside the ramp.  " " I want to ask you to leave Garnet alone, Andre.
She's just doing her job.  For that matter, I'm just doing mine.  We're
trying to make this a better place.  For us, for you, for your friends.
And for that little kid who was born yesterday.  A little kid who's
never going to hurt you or the Jokers.  "

"You don't know nothing about it "

"

" Then tell me about it.  "

There was silence from the corner.  Finally Andre spoke.  "What you
come here for, Padre?  You think we need you?  You don't know nothing
about nothing: '

"I know killing people is wrong.  Sometimes I'm not sure what I
believe, but I know I believe that.  And threatening to kill them's
wrong, too.  Threatening to hurt them, hurting them.  All wrong.
There's no good that can come from any of those things "

"Is that all you come to say?  I gotta go in."

"This is a nice house."  Thomas gazed above him.  There were hooks
lining the porch for plants.  Someone here spent time growing things.
He gambled that the person was Andre's mother.  "Your mother keeps it
painted nicely.  Is she the gardener?  " " " No.  "

"Someone here is."

"You done talking?"

Thomas realized Andre was standing in front of him.  "If you want me to
be, I guess I am.  But please, think about what I said.  Garnet says
you're a smart kid.  She believes in you.  Don't give her reason to
question her own judgment."

"I'm nothing to her.  Just because she grew up on this street..."

Thomas was interested.  "Did she?"

The front door banged in answer.  Thomas sighed and moved away from the
railing, starting toward the ramp.  He stopped when he heard a whirring
noise, then the murmur of voices inside.  " " You're late, Andre.  I
been waiting up for you: '

"You shouldn't, Ma.  I told you I'd be late."

"Who were you talking to?  " That Demon Harris again?  "

"No, Ma.  Nobody you know.  Now you got to get to bed.  I'll push you
in "

A wheelchair.  The sound connected with an image in Thomas's mind.  A
motorized wheelchair.  Which explained the ramp.  He wondered what kind
of disability Andre's mother had.  He wondered how it had affected
Andre.  One thing was clear, even from the snippet of conversation he
had just heard.  There was love here.

And wherever love existed, there was hope.

Candy and Francis's apartment was luxury itself.  There was a spacious,
carpeted living room with tastefully upholstered furniture.  There was
a bedroom with a large double bed, and a small nook off it that was
perfect for a nursery.  The kitchen had all new appliances and a
priceless view of Deering Hills out of the window over the sink.

Marcia Branthoover had explained to Garnet that her late husband had
built the apartment just for something to do after his retirement.
They'd planned to rent it so that someone would be on the premises when
they traveled, but he had died soon after, and Marcia had never been
that interested in traveling without him.  Except for visits from her
children and grandchildren, no one had ever stayed there.

Garnet had watched Francis and Candy wander through the three rooms,
eyes like children's at Christmas time.  Garnet had seen the softening
of Marcia's prim expression, her evident interest in Matty-she'd raised
four of her own , yes, she had, scattered all over the country now-her
careful , tactful advice when Matty wouldn't stop crying.  Garnet knew
a miracle had truly been wrought here.  Four human beings who needed
each other had somehow been brought together in this unlikely place.

By the ministry of one man who was completely out of place in the
Corners.

Garnet had left Candy and Francis with a hundred dollars in cash from
her own bank account and with Thomas's check.  She was sure they could
manage until Francis got paid.  Marcia had two cars-she had somehow
never gotten around to selling her husband's-and she was happy to let
Francis drive one of them to work.

There were few days in Garnet's memory that had turned out so well. The
apartment in Deering Hills was only a partial solution to Candy and
Francis's problems, but it was a step in the right direction.  One
small family had beaten the odds, at least temporarily.

Now there were only thousands of others left for Garnet to work with.

She parked her car in the tiny lot behind the clinic.  She was tired,
and the muscles in her neck ached.  She shut her eyes, tucked her chin
and slowly turned her head from side to side.  She could feel the
tension easing.  She envisioned the claw-footed tub in her apartment
filled to the top with hot water.  She had just enough bath oil left
for one last soak.  Tonight would be the night.

The splintering of glass thrust her into the present.  Reflexively her
arm rose to protect her face, and she tucked her head lower.  Shards of
glass rained in on her.  As she tried to make sense of it, her door was
jerked open and she was hauled out of the car.

"We told you, Garnet babe, you were supposed to stay away from Candy!
"

Fear told her to keep her eyes closed.  The sound of shattering glass
still filled her ears.  She was terrified that her eyes had been
damaged.  She fought off the hands hauling her across the lot, kicking
ferociously but ineffectively at her tormentor.

Something crashed into her midriff, and her eyelids flew open.  She saw
a fist coming toward her, and she doubled over in pain.  Another fist
to her head slammed her eyes shut again.  She flailed her arms to stop
her attackers until someone grabbed them and forced them behind her.
The blows were coming from different directions.  Somewhere it
registered that more than one person was responsible.  " " Stop !  "
she screamed.  She ducked to keep her face from being hit again and
rammed her head into someone's stomach She felt a sharp blow against
the back of her skull.

Then she felt nothing at all.

She awoke to the sound of sirens.  She was immobilized.  She couldn't
move; she couldn't speak.  There was something cool across her face.
For a moment she panicked, afraid she couldn't breathe.  She found that
she couldn't open her eyes, either.  Something seemed to be covering
them.  Then she felt the hand encasing hers.  " " Easy.  " The voice
was familiar, although at first, in her panic, she couldn't place it. "
Easy, Garnet.  You're all right.  You're on your way to the hospital.
Just take a deep breath.  Good.  Now take another.  They're giving you
oxygen, just to make breathing a little easier.  They put in an IV and
strapped you down bqause they were afraid you'd pull it out.  "

"I ... I..."

"Don't try to talk."

"My..  eyes."

"There's nothing to worry about.  The paramedics think your eyes are
fine.  But there was some bleeding above them, and they found glass in
one of the cuts.  They just wanted to be sure your eyes are okay.  And
they're waiting until they get to the hospital for that: '

She placed the voice.  Some of the panic eased.  "Thomas?"  "

"The... dragon got me."  " y ,

I told you not to talk.  For once do what you're told, okay?  His voice
sounded thick, as if he was speaking with difficulty.  His hand
tightened around hers.  "I'll tell you everything I know."

She heard him speaking to someone else, although the words seemed far
away.  Then he was speaking to her again.  " " The paramedic says
you're bruised, and they'll want to watch for internal damage.  But
your vital signs are all stable , which is good news.  You probably
have a concussion and they' Il have to X-ray one arm and your ribs. 
Probably the arm you fell on after-" " " I..  was beaten up."

"Yes."

The thickness was gone now.  She heard steel in his voice.  He was
coldly furious.  She knew him well enough already to detect that much.
She could almost envision his face.  No feelings would show.  But they
would be there, behind the remote expression that was such a part of
him.  She knew that about him.  He cared too much.  She hadn't thought
about it before, but now she understood.  He cared too much.

The thought comforted her.

"How... long?"

"I found you right afterward.  I drove by the clinic and I..."  The
pause went on so long, she knew he was hiding something.  " " What?  "
she demanded.

"I heard someone shouting.  I stopped.  The girl who lives upstairs was
shouting for help.  Apparently she heard you scream when... you were
attacked.  She had already called for help."

She could hear his voice near her ear.  Everything was growing fuzzy.
She concentrated on his words and the warmth of his hand.  She didn't
want to lose consciousness again.

"The ambulance got there before the police.  Whoever did this was gone
by the time I arrived."

"

" Your timing..  stinks.  "

He squeezed harder.  "Was it the Jokers?"

"I... I don't know."

"You can't stay in the Corners, Garnet.  We both know who it was and
why.  You're going to be all right this time, but what about next
time?"

Intense.  That was the word for Thomas.  She had never met anyone so
intense, so focused on what he believed in.  She became aware of pain.
It began to throb along her back, her abdomen, her arm.  He had said
she was going to be all right, and from what the paramedic had told
Thomas, it seemed so.  But what had Thomas said?  What about next
time?

"We won't talk about it now."

She heard his voice as if from far away.  "I'm... not leaving home."

" " We'll talk later.  " , " "No."  "Save your strength."  "I'm
staying.  I know ... I'll die there.  I've always known: " ThaYs
ridiculous.  You're young.  You don't have to die for a long, long
time! " " "It's... inevitable."  "Nothing's inevitable.  You can use
your talents somewhere safer.  But you've got to get out.  These kids
mean business!  Who knows what they would have done tonight if someone
hadn't heard you scream?"  "I'll... never leave.  I couldn't desert.."
"Garnet."  She felt his breath against her cheek.  She knew his face
was very near.  "It wouldn't be desertion.  It would just be good
sense.  There are people everywhere who need help."  "My people.  I'm
going home."  She felt him sigh, heard it, saw it inside her mind.
q'Garnet," he said at last.  " There is no home anymore.  Whoever went
after you lobbed a fire bomb inside your apartment.  Her hand clenched
spasmodically in his.  He continued.  "Your neighbor smelled the smoke.
She and a friend broke down your door and managed to get it under
control with the hallway fire extinguisher until the firemen arrived.
She was in your apartment when she heard you yell."  " " Was anyone
else.  ?  " " No one else was hurt.  I don't know the extent of the
damage, but the girl.  Serena?  Serena said there wasn't much left.  "
" "The clinic?"  "I don't know.  Damage, I'm sure, but hopefully
nothing that can't be repaired."  "We'll be back in business by next
week.  I'll make sure of it."

"What can I say to you?"  he asked.  "

" Nothing.  "

"It's my fault."  "

" No, of course"

"I put Andre on the defensive.  I ruined your negotiations with him."

"Not your fault."  "

" You have to leave.  "

"I will never leave."

"Then you're going to need protection.  You can't live alone anymore.
You won't be any good to anybody if you're attacked again ."

"I wouldn't put friends in danger."

There was silence.  She drifted on the waves of pain that seemed to
toss higher and higher.  What if she had broken an arm?  What if her
eyesight was damaged?  How much help would she be to anyone?  Long ago
she had made a commitment to herself and to her community.  She would
stay in the Corners, although there were better, safer places to go.
She would stay, and she would do what she could.  She would never,
never run.  And in the end, if the Corners took her life, that was the
way she would die.  But she would not live or die on the run.

There were some things worse than dying.

"Carnet."

She felt Thomas's hand tighten around hers.  Somehow it eased her pain.
Tears formed under her eyelids.

"Isn't there a man in your life?"  he asked.

"A man?  I haven't met a man in years."

"Then you'll have to live with me," he said.

The words were so gentle, so compassionate, that for a moment she
thought it wasn't Thomas voice.  "Thomas?"

"You can live with me," he said.

This time she was certain who it was.  "Live..  with a preacher?"  She
wanted to force a laugh, but she knew what a bad idea that would be.
Every inch of her diaphragm throbbed unceasingly.  " " What..  would
your congregation think?  "

"We'll have to get married."

She was drifting again.  She had to concentrate harder.

Surely she hadn't heard him right.

"We want the same things," he said.  "And I'm willing to go to hell and
back to make sure we both get them.  I made things worse for you, but
I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again.  You don't have to be a
martyr.  Live with me.  We'll watch out for each other.  It would be
better if you just got out of here, but since you won't..."

"Marry you?  qlre you crazy?"

" " Come live with me.  The marriage part will be for show.  IYIl make
it clear to everyone that you're not vulnerable anymore.  "

"Marriage... for show."

"It will buy you time.  And you don't have to pay me back.  Not in any
way."

She was still drifting.  There were colors swirling in her head. Colors
and shapes.  And words.  Marriage.  Buy you time.  Pay me back. No. 
Don't have to pay me back.

If she stayed in the Corners, the Jokers could very well come back to
finish what they'd started.  This beating had been a warning.  If it
hadn't been, they would have shot her and been done with it.

The dragon had breathed his fiery breath in warning.

But warnings came with consequences if they weren't qobeyed.  She
wasn't going to obey.  Thomas was willing to help her buy time.

Time.  She had so little.  She'd always known that.  She had seen too
many tragedies, too much sadness.  The rest of her life wouldn't be any
different.

Thomas wouldn't be in danger if he helped her-at least, no more danger
than he was in already.  The Jokers had threatened him, too.  Thomas
had said that he and she could watch out for each other.

"Marriage," she said.  " Don't worry about it now," he said.  Hiis
breath caressed her cheek.  Just think about getting well.  "

I never..  wanted to get married.  "

"

" Hush now.  "

She felt the ambulance slowing down.  She drifted, then was jerked back
to consciousness when she felt Thomas's hand slipping from hers.
"Thomas?"

"IYs all right.  I'm still here."

"Not a real marriage?"

"Don't worry about it now, Garnet."

"I'll do it.  I want... time."

She felt his hand tighten around hers.  "That's all I can give you :
'

"It will be enough."

Chapter5

When was a marriage not a marriage?

Garnet gazed around the bedroom that Thomas had given her to use.  His
apartment had only one.  This room had been his until today.  Now he
had evenly divided the closet and dresser drawers and turned his bed
over to her.  There was a sofa bed in the living room that he would
sleep on.

She sat on the bed and gingerly leaned back on her elbows Pain still
came and went, striking at odd times and in a variety of places.  The
Jokers had worked her over good, but pain was the most lasting effect.
A cracked rib, a concussion and a multitude of cuts and bruises weren't
much , considering the kind of ruthless beating she had undergone

She stretched a little to relieve the pressure on her ribs.  Sitting
was still uncomfortable, but she tired easily if she stood too long.
Serena and Thomas had helped her pack what remained of her belongings,
but even that effort had been too much.

She could see Thomas moving back and forth in the living room.  Pacing.
Like a lion in a cage.

She was sure he regretted his hasty offer of marriage.  She regretted
accepting it.  At her most vulnerable moment, marrying Thomas had
seemed like the answer to a prayer she hadn't had time to pray for.  It
would give her time to continue her work here.

Strangely, Thomas seemed to have an impenetrable shield that surrounded
him.  His accomplishments in the Corners were small, but they were
accomplishments.  No one had interfered with his plans.  No one had
interfered with him, not even after he had openly defied the Jokers. If
the shield extended to her, so much the better.  If it didn't, then
they were two poor souls fighting the dragon together.  Surely that
improved their odds to almost one in a million.

But that had been at her most vulnerable.  By the time she had started
to heal and Thomas had appeared at her hospital bedside with a minister
colleague, her regrets had been legion.  What was she doing marrying a
stranger?  What did she know about Thomas Stonehill?  Certainly she
could step out of the marriage at any time, and would when it was
convenient for both of them, but what problems was she creating in the
meantime?  Thomas had assured her that this would be a marriage.  in
name only.  But what did that mean other than the fact that they
obviously weren't going to share a bed?  What damage could they inflict
on each other before the "I dos" changed to "I don'ts?"

And not that it mattered, but why didn't he want to share a bed?

Garnet lay back and stared at the ceiling.  The plaster was cracked,
and the paint was a hundred years old.  Apparently the church
downstairs had received all of Thomas's attention.  The whole apartment
reeked of neglect.  The living room had fresh white paint because the
children used it on Sunday morning for their classes.  But she guessed
that nothing else had been done here.  The furniture was worn, but
salvageable if someone cared enough.  The apartment had interesting
nooks and crannies, if someone just noticed them and spotlighted their
charms.  But there was nothing here that indicated anyone had noticed
anything.  There were

Dmgonslayer 79 no pictures on the walls, no vases, no curtains, no
pillows .  The list went on and on.

There was only one adornment, if it could be called that.  Across the
room, on an old side table, there was a framed photograph of a woman.
Thomas's wife.

Garnet reminded herself that she was Thomas's wife now.  Somehow she
hadn't been able to form her objections in time.  Thomas had appeared
with the minister, and half the hospital staff, some sentimentally
teary-eyed, had come to witness the grand event.  Garnet's room had
looked like a train station at rush hour.  And suddenly she was on
board, speeding to a foreign destination as the stranger to whom she
was being married slipped a ring on her finger.

Now Thomas's footsteps grew louder, and she knew that this time he had
paced his way to the doorway.

"Go ahead and say it," she said.  "

" What am I supposed to say?  "

"We made a mistake.  This was a terrible idea.  Maybe being married is
just for show, but I'm going to make you so miserable you'll end up
begging the Jokers to come in and finish what they started."

A deep, rich chuckle came from the doorway.

Slowly, with grave reservations, she sat up again.  "Tell me you
weren't thinking exactly that."

"I was thinking that your stuff will never fit in here.  "

"You'd be surprised.  Besides, half of what I owned is in the garbage
now."

His smile disappeared.  "I'm sorry about that.  I wish I could have
spared you the sight of your apartment."

"I'm just glad the clinic didn't burn, too."

"There is still a fair amount of water damage.  "

"Nothing we can't fix: '

"You aren't going to fix anything for a while.  You heard the
doctor."

"I'm a nurse.  I say I'm cured."

"You don't look cured.  You look pale.  Your eyes look tired ."

She had seen herself in the mirror over his dresser.  She looked worse
than pale and tired.  The bruise on one side of her face had turned a
sickly gold.  The other side of her face was still a little swollen. 
No telling what color it would turn before it healed.  There was a
bandage on her forehead.  The cut it covered had taken three stitches
to close. Luckily for her vanity, the scar would blend into her
hairline.  " " Well, at least I can see why you don't want to sleep
with me," she said.  She watched his face.  Nothing changed.  He was
really very good at this.

"Did I ever say I didn't want to sleep with you?"  he asked.

"You've made it clear."

"I said I wasn't going to sleep with you.  Can you hear the difference?
"

"Well, it seems like you should get some compensation for being my
bodyguard."

"Your wit will be compensation enough."

She smiled enticingly but not so enticingly that he might take her
seriously.  "You don't know what you're missing "

"I have a pretty good idea."

She heard something behind his words.  Nostalgia for the delights of
sharing a marriage bed?  No, she didn't think that was it.  Nostalgia
was much too tame a word.  What she had heard was raw and unrefined.
Her smile died.  She had the sudden realization that she was playing
with fire here, If she really offered herself to this man and he
accepted, she didn't know what would be left of either of them.

She changed the subject.  "Is that your wife's picture in the living
room?"

He stared his ice-blue stare for a moment; then he shook his head.  "I
can't believe I didn't put it away."

"Don't worry.  I'm not offended.  Just curious."

"Her name was Patricia."

"She was lovely."  Garnet had only sneaked one glance at the
photograph, but she had seen the kind of pleasant, blond good looks
that had enraptured the teachers in the private academy where she had
spent her adolescence.  The

woman in the photograph wore an expensive white wedding gown with all
the requisite pounds of seed pearls and acres of lace. Her expression
indicated that her thoughts were on the man she loved.

Man she had loved.

"When did she die?"  Garnet asked.  " " Almost three years ago.  " " "
Illness?  Accident?  "

"She died in a struggle for her purse."

Garnet's gaze didn't falter.  Thomas had barely managed to choke out
the words.  She knew so little about him, but now she knew that he
hadn't yet accepted Patricia's death.

And she knew a little more.  "A very senseless way to die," she said
softly.  "Almost as senseless as gang violence , right, Thomas?"

"What?"

"Did you marry me because of what happened to your wife?  "

"You know why I married you "

"And I understand it a little better, I think."

He left the room.  She watched him go and knew that she had scored a
hit.  But she didn't know how deep.  Had he married her because he knew
how easily she could end up like Patricia, and he wanted to help?  Or
had he married her because he felt an overwhelming responsibility for
his wife's death, a responsibility that would not go away unless he
saved someone else?

The two motives might look similar on the outside, but in her mind they
were a million miles apart.  One suggested a desire to stand beside her
because his goals and hers were the same.  The other suggested a desire
to somehow atone for his sins.

What were his sins, and what was behind his offer to help her?  She lay
back and stared at the ceiling again.  Patricia's image danced in her
mind.  She wished she could question the pleasant-looking young woman
about Thomas's motives But the only way to do that was a quick trip to
heaven.

And Thomas himself was standing in the way of that.

* * *

Garnet's fragrance, a provocative, mysterious scent, clung to
everything she owned.  And her possessions were so obviously hers that
they might as well have been emblazoned with her name.

Thomas stood in the living room and surveyed the wreckage of what had
once been a neutral, tranquil space.  Now it was covered with Garnet's
things, and Garget was asleep in his..  her bed.

So much of what she owned had been destroyed, but she had shrugged off
most of the loss.  As he had before, he sensed that she did not let
herself become attached easily.  She behaved as if she expected to have
things taken from her.  She had said as much the evening of her
attack.

I'm staying in the Corners, she'd said.  I know I'll die there.  I've
always known.

And she meant it.  He supposed that her belief that she would die
violently, and that her death would come sooner than later, affected
her attitudes about everything.

Yet she wrung life from every second with a zest he couldn't deny.  Her
possessions testified to that.  There were no neutral colors here.
Primary colors leaped at him from every surface.  Colors and textures
and scents so exotic he was transported to another continent where
marketplaces filled the streets and the simplest food tasted of a
thousand spices.

Out of nowhere anger filled him that someone who lived life so fully,
who dared the devil and spent her time performing small miracles, had
been threatened by death.  Garnet Anthony..  no, Garnet Stonehill was a
woman of great audacity and cynicism.  She was often sure she was right
about things of which she knew nothing at all.  She challenged
everything, accepted almost nothing and had no regard for traditions or
piety.

But she caught each second and drained it dry.  She sucked up whatever
beauty came her way and flaunted it for everyone else to enjoy.

And she cared.  About everyone.  About everything.  More than she would
ever admit.  More than she would probably ever understand.  She cared
enough that she had entered into this sham of a marriage just so she
could continue to stretch out her graceful, seductive arms to embrace a
world that often didn't seem to notice.

Thomas walked to the window and peered into the bedroom Evening had
come, and still Garnet slept exactly where she had first stretched out.
He knew she must be exhausted She had insisted on being released from
the hospital a day before the doctor had wanted to let her go.  Then
she had insisted that Thomas take her straight to her old apartment to
see the damage and collect what she could.

She had walked the rooms with the baby from the apartment next door on
her hip.  Her eyes had been dry.  But he knew what a toll the
experience had taken on her.

She slept on.  Her hair fanned out over the bedspread as if it had
sought its own soft comfort.  His heart clenched at the sight of the
bruises, but bruises would heal.  Her face was interesting in repose.
There was a sharpness missing from it as she slept; she looked more
vulnerable, more childlike.  The unusual combination of features that
was so striking when she was awake seemed merely beautiful now.  He
supposed it was the mobility of her expression, the smoking green of
her eyes, that set her apart from other beautiful women he had known.

He wanted to touch her hair.

He didn't know where the thought had come from, or what had propelled
him across the room to stand by her bedside.  He watched his own hand
reach out and stop just short of the tangled strands.  She was too far
away.  He was too far away.  A million desolate miles.

As he watched, the small room was lit with the warm glow of green fire.
She stared at him.

"Come to claim your conjugal rights?"

He wanted to throttle her.  He wanted to embrace her.  He slipped his
hands in his pockets.  "I've come to wake you up for dinner.  You're
probably starved."

She sat up warily.  He didn't know what she was afraid of, but he
stepped back a little to give her all the room she needed.  "Darn. Just
food.  No sex."

"I haven't made anything yet.  I don't even know what you like to
eat."

"" I like to eat everything.  You said dinner?  "

"It's seven o'clock.  At night."

"What have you got?"

"Frozen dinners.  You can have your pick: '

"Over my dead body.  What else do you have?"  She worked on a smile as
he frowned at her.  It came surprisingly easily.  "Thomas, don't you
cook?"

He didn't.  Cooking took time from more important things.  He shook his
head.

Her smile widened.  "Well, I do.  You're a lucky guy.  I'll run down to
the store."

"No, you won't."

Her eyes narrowed.  "Am I in prison?"

"

" Only if you think of it that way.  "

"I can't go to the store by myself?"

"

" You can do anything you want.  You know that.  But so can I. "

"In other words, I've got a constant companion?"

"Either that or we can tie a target around your neck."

She pouted.  "I don't like being caged."

"I'm sure you don't."

"You must have something we can eat."

"Let's go see."  He watched her stand.  She stretched like a cat, as
naturally, as sinuously before she dropped her arms and winced.  Her
kelly green sweater tightened across her breasts.  His mouth went
dry.

He followed her to the tiny kitchen, around boxes spilling over with
clothing and toiletries, books and cassette tapes.  Her stereo had been
ruined, but the tapes that had been inside the cabinet looked as if
they had escaped harm.  They had salvaged some furniture, too, a carved
bedside table from India, a cupboard painted with designs-now
blistered-that reminded him of Australian aboriginal art.

"Tomorrow I'll find places for everything," she said.  "Unless you want
me to find somewhere to store it."

"You live here now.  The place is yours, too."

"Do you care what I do with it?"

He shrugged.  "Just be sure there's room for the kids to gather here on
Sunday morning."

Her response was barely audible.  "When I'm done with the place,
they'll be happier to gather here."

In the kitchen she took stock of what she had to work with.  Thomas
stood to one side and watched her.  He wondered if he should leave her
alone or offer to help.  He compromised and just stood silently, taking
up more than his share of the space.

"You've got hardly anything in here to cook with Thomas.  Didn't your
wife cook, either ?q.

Patricia had cooked faithfully.  Good, solid American cuisine with an
emphasis on the four food groups and parsley He remembered that parsley
had decorated every dinner she had served.  Her father, the bishop, had
teased her once by bringing her half a dozen pots of parsley to set on
her windowsill.  She had taken the joke in quiet good stride, and the
pots had flourished.  " " I gave most of our things away after she
died, "he said.

Garnet looked up.  1'here was a lock of black hair falling across his
forehead.  He was the picture of a strong man who refused to admit his
vulnerabilities.  "That bad, huh?"

"I didn't need them."

"Well, at least you kept a bowl.  And a spoon.  And one pot.  One pot,
Thomas?  Do you mix everything together?  Never mind, I know you said
you don't cook.  I'm just having trouble understanding how that's
possible."

" She bent and continued her inventory.  Finally she stood.  Well, at
least we won t have a problem finding room for my kitchen things."

"We could go out for dinner."

"Know a place that doesn't have a plate glass window?  My ducking
reflexes are a little slow."

"

" Carryout?  "

"I'll manage."  She opened the refrigerator.  "Let's see.  Eggs, milk,
cheese, bread.  Mustard..  : She poked her head in deeper.  " "A can of
tuna?  Didn't your mother tell you that tuna goes in the cupboard?" 
She peeked around the door.  " " Did you have a mother?  " " " I still
do."

"Me, too.  Two sisters, too, but Ema probably told you that."

"The other one's..."  He tried to remember.

"Smart.  Jade hitchhiked to California when she was sixteen and never
found her way back."

"You should have done the same thing."

"What?  And miss the chance to be married to the mysterious

Thomas Stonehill?  " She took everything out of the refrigerator and
set the pathetically small array on the counter.

Thomas was right beside her.  She was suddenly aware of his presence in
more than a cursory way.  He hovered over her, sharing her oxygen,
sending the warmth of his body to heat the air around her.

She looked up at him.  He was watching her intently.  Plankton under
the microscope.  "Does this seem as strange to you as it does to me?"
she asked.

"Everything about it's strange."

"Was this a terrible mistake?"

"Not if I get a good meal out of it."

She smiled.  A smile seemed surprisingly intimate in the small space.
"I can surely give you that."

He knew he should move away.  The air seemed heavy with something he
didn't want to identify.  The fragrance he had noted earlier seemed to
hang between them.  Her hair crackled around her shoulders, and he
could almost feel the electricity sting his skin.

He wondered what else she could give him.  He had married her expecting
nothing.  And now, in this instant, he knew he had underestimated
her.

Some long-denied part of him responded.  She was woman.  Every bit a
woman.  And he was nothing more than

Dragonslayer 8q a man.  Sensation crept along his nerve endings.
Hormones charged through his system.  Life stirred inside..  and out.
q'Do you want to help?  " she asked.  " If not, don't stand there
taking up all the space.  "

"I'll set the table."  He turned to leave, and the spell, the
bewitching, pagan spell, of Garnet Anthony Stonehill was broken.

He made up the sofa bed at about ten o'clock.  Garnet had been in the
bedroom with the door shut for twenty minutes He assumed she had
already gone to sleep.

The bed looked less than inviting when he had finished.

By rights he should have been tired after lifting and hauling boxes all
day.  And Garnet's tuna and cheese strata was still melting deliciously
into every internal crevice of his body.

Well fed and exercised, he should fall asleep with no difficulty

He wouldn't sleep until the early hours, if he slept at all.

He was a married man.  Automatically his eyes sought

Patricia's wedding photograph, but he had shoved it in a drawer the
first time Garnet's back was turned.  His relationship with Garnet
might be nothing more than that of church-sanctioned roommate, but it
had still been inconsiderate to expose her to Patricia's photo.  Her
wedding _ photo.

His first wedding night had been nothing like this one.  , Patricia had
been shy and virginal.  It had taken him most of the evening to
convince her to undress, most of the night to convince her that no
matter what the women's magazines said, wedding nights could be fun.

But theirs hadn't been.  She had relaxed later on their honeymoon,
relaxed into acceptance, possibly even into a certain degree of
enjoyment.  As the years had gone by she had relaxed still more, until
by the last year of their marriage , she had come to him to initiate
lovemaking.

Except that by then, he had been too tired or too busy much of the time
to accommodate her.

Thomas slipped into bed.  He was wearing new pajamas.  He had never
slept in pajamas, not even on his first wedding night, despite
Patricia's distress.  But he wasn't going to parade naked around this
apartment with Garnet in the next room.  That was an invitation he
couldn't afford to issue.

He read the same four paragraphs of an article in Christian

Century three times before he realized that reading was hopeless.  His
mind was on the woman in the next room.  He told himself that having
Garnet so close was a unique experience and one he would quickly grow
accustomed to, but he wondered who he was trying to kid.  She would not
fade into the background of his life as Patricia quickly had.  Garnet
was not going to be his wife in any meaningful way, but before she left
she would leave her mark on him and on everything she touched.

"Good.  You're still up.  I found something for us in one of my
boxes."

He looked up to see the woman in question standing in the bedroom with
a bottle in her hand.  "It's not alcoholic, I don't drink.  But iYs my
favorite fizzy stuff."

She was wearing a satin nightshirt that skimmed her legs at midthigh.
It was royal purple, loose and comfortable and surely no shorter than
the skirts she wore.  But judging by the reaction deep in his gut, it
might as well have been a see through negligee.

"I don't usually drink," he said.  "But not because it's against my
religion."

"Jesus drank wine, didn't he?  I guess you're no better than he was."
She padded barefoot into the kitchen aqd came back with two juice
glasses.  "I'm glad you're not too stuffy, Thomas.  Or living with me
would give you palpitations"

His heart rate bordered on palpitations already.  He was seeing nothing
more of her body than he had seen already -except, possibly, for the
swaying of her unrestrained breasts-but his body was reacting as if
everything was new.  He moved over as she approached the sofa bed so
that she could sit on the end.  She did, campfire style.

Dmgonslayer gg

"Couldn't you sleep?"  he asked.

"Sleep?  Now?  I'm a night creature.  I prowl until the wee hours. I'll
annoy the hell out of you before this is over-if I haven't already: '

"What do you do this late at night?"

"Listen to music.  Take long baths.  Polish my nails.  Dance."

"Dance?"

She smiled.  "

" By myself.  "

He had a vision of her swaying provocatively to music, stretching and
swaying and pirouetting.

"You weren't sleeping, either," she observed.  " " No.  " He watched as
she filled the two glasses nearly to the top.

"It's raspberry and lime.  Is the bed uncomfortable?"

"It's fine.  I was reading."  He reached for his glass.  "I wasn't
succeeding."

"No?  What were you trying to read?"  She grimaced when he held up the
journal.  "Well, there's nothing like taking your work to bed with you.
No wonder you couldn't concentrate" She slid off the bed and
disappeared into the bedroom.  She returned with a paperback.  "Here's
something you won't have any trouble with: '

He took the book.  The company was already relaxing him.  " " The Day
the Rabbi Resigned ?  "

"Think of it as a transition book.  Something between Christian
Centccry and Travis McGee.  A mystery about a man of the cloth.
Different cloth, maybe, but similar.  Then, when you're done, we'll
move you to lighter stuff.  Hardboiled detectives, men's adventures,
lurid potboilers."  She smiled.  "I'm going to be good for you,
Thomas."

He watched her as he sipped.  She was lounging comfortably now. Despite
the bruises and bandage, her face looked contented.

"You don't ask for much from life," he said.  "Your world has spun like
a top in the last few days.  You've got a gang of kids with guns after
you, and you're married to a stranger.  But instead of banging your
head against the wall,

you're lounging on my bed planning my midnight reading"

"What should I ask for?"

"What do you want?"  "

" Not the same issue at all.  "

"No?  Why not?"

"Because people don't get what they want, do they?"  It wasn't a real
question.  More of a challenge.  She set her empty glass on the floor.
"" Tell me this is what you want, Thomas.  Tell me that when you were a
little kid you prayed or asked Santa Claus-or your wealthy parents or
whoever -if, when you grew up, you could come and live in a ghetto
where you would minister to a congregation that can't pay you ten
cents.  Tell me you hoped and prayed that the wife you obviously loved
would die young and you would get stuck with a melting-pot hellion who
has bruises all over her body and more bruises in store.  "

"I never would have put it to God or Santa Claus quite that way."

She saw the quick flash of humor in his eyes.  She couldn't do anything
but smile at him.  "See?  People rarely get what they want.  So what
good does it do to want anything?"

"A bishop friend of mine always said that God knows best what we
need."

"Your bishop hasn't spend much time in the Corners."

He wasn't going to admit how true that was.  "You haven't always been
this jaded.  What did you want when you weren't afraid to ask for
it?"

"Does my memory go back that far?"  She tapped her cheek with her index
finger until she realized the cheek still hurt.  "The things other
people take for granted, I guess.  A safe place to live, someone in my
life to count on, children I could give everything that I never had
myself.  Very basic, unadulterated dreams."

"Not impossible.  Not if you get out of here."

Something, the late hour, the warmth in his voice, was having an
unusual effect on her.  Out of nowhere her throat seemed strangely
thick.  She couldn't smile, and she couldn't shrug.  "I forgot to
mention that part, didn't I?  See, all those dreams were supposed to
happen here.  This is where I live and who I am."

"So you've said."  Thomas set his glass down, too.  She was only a foot
away, but two very different lives separated them.  He didn't want to
be separated.  In that moment, he knew that he didn't want to be apart
from this woman.

He leaned over and surprised them both.  He touched her hair.  His hand
slid to her shoulder, then to her arm.  He saw her pupils widen,
startled, then mystified.  He urged her forward.  In a moment she was
in his arms, sprawling against his chest.  He tightened his hold when
she squirmed in protest' Garnet he said softly, "just stay here a
moment."

"I don't need this."

"You do.  We both do."  He rubbed her back; his cheek rested on her
hair.  She fit in his arms and against his body as if she had been
intended by some master planner for him.  He was caught somewhere on
the continuum between desire and compassion.

"I wanted so little, didn't I?"  she asked.  "There are so many people
who want so little."

And so many who were afraid to reach for anything.  His arms tightened
around her.  Her scent enveloped him; her warmth seeped into his
soul-or what was left of it.

She lifted her face, and blue eyes stared into translucent green.  He
read centuries of sadness, of repression, of yearning.  He saw the
Corners in her eyes, and he saw more, so much more.  He saw a
magnificent, proud and brazen woman who would not be defeated, who
would not be transformed, who would not let anything more be taken from
her without a fight to the death.

He lowered his head to hers.  He took, and she gave freely.  His lips
touched hers, searching for whatever she was willing to give.  There
was none of the minister, the shepherd, in his kiss.  He forgot about
leading, about gently bestowing gifts.  He lost himself in her scent,
her touch, the silken caress of her lips against his.

She pulled away at last, until they were no longer touching Her eyes
were dry, but her poor bruised face looked sadly vulnerable.  "We'd
better not plan to do this very often ," she said.  "You're a man, and
I'm a woman, and neither of us is a virgin.  If you want a wife,
Thomas, say so and I'll give it some thought."

"Has comfort been such a rare experience in your life that you can't
recognize it?"

"Was it just comfort?  So be it, then.  I recognize the intent But I
also recognize the potential outcome."  She slid off the bed and stood.
"Enjoy the book."

He had enjoyed the woman.  He no longer lied to himself ; lying had
once been his fatal flaw.  No, he had enjoyed the woman.  Enjoyed
touching her, holding her, talking to her.  Kissing her.  And he had no
right to any of those things.

"Good night," he said.

She didn't close the door between them.  Even an hour later, immersed
in the book she had given him, he was still aware that she hadn't
closed the door.

Chapter 6

cc

It's the most conservative thing I own.  " Garnet came into the living
room and posed in the doorway.  She was wearing a bright turquoise knit
dress that nipped her waist and emphasized the swell of her breasts. It
stopped only an inch above her knees.  " Do I look like a minister's
wife?  "

Thomas had a vision of one of Pharaoh's daughters posing just this way
for a beleaguered Moses.  He wondered if the prophet had been sorely
tempted not to lead his people out of Egypt.

"Doesn't make it, does it?"  she asked with a grimace.  "I didn't think
so."

"You look lovely."

"Ah, but that's not the point.  Do I look properly docile?

Chaste?  Virtuous?  " " We can't ask the impossible.  "

Her teeth flashed in a blinding smile.  "I'll look more i chaste if you
zip it for me."

"You'll look more chaste if we button a full-length coat over it and
add knee boots."

"But I don't have to go outside to go to church.  I just walk
downstairs, and presto!"  She spun around, and the skirt of the dress
flared around her legs.  Her fingers gathered her mane of hair into one
thick loop, and she lifted it off her neck.

He saw that she had managed most of the zipper.  But the section she
hadn't managed revealed a long swipe of skin.  He crossed the room and
grasped the tab.  Her skin was a rose-tinted olive, smooth and glowing.
There were no signs of bruises here.  In the half-dozen days since she
had come to live with him, most of the visible signs of her injuries
had vanished.

The zipper glided slowly to the top.  He wanted to blaze the trail with
his hand, test for himself the resilience of her flesh, the silk of her
skin.  But he knew better than to initiate such intimacy.  Their
arrangement would only be successful if intimacy was a dream and
friendship the reality.

"Really, Thomas.  I don't want to embarrass you: She faced him.  " I
know you're trying to make a go of the church.  And people are going to
wonder why on earth you married me.  "

"Can you really believe that?"

She stared at him until a tiny smile tilted her lips.  Her eyes steamed
a tropical forest green.  "Well, thank you very much "

"I'll announce our marriage from the pulpit."

"

" They'll wonder why it was so sudden..  no matter what my charms . "

"Everyone wants to believe in fairy tales and love at first sight."

"Do you?"

"Do I want to?"  He shrugged.

"Do you believe?  I don't.  I don't even know if I believe in love,
period."  She thought for a moment.  "Cancel that.  I don't believe in
it.  But you were married before.  Maybe yours was one in a million
marriages.  A love for all time."

" " I've got a few things to do downstairs before people start to
arrive.  " He started toward the door.

She watched him go, only too aware that she had breached the unspoken
agreement they had entered into along with their wedding vows.  "You
know, you did have another life once, and I had one, too.  If we're
going to live together, our pasts are going to come up once in a
while.

Aren't you even vaguely cuno us about who I am and where

I've been?  "

"You don't owe me any explanations."

"In other words, don't ask questions, because that could complicate
this crazy arrangement of ours?  Instead of marriage wouldn't it have
been easier just to hire a bodyguard or buy me a suit of armor?" It
might have been a lighter load to carry around.  " y fieqturned to her.
 Did you think this was going to be easy.

"Obviously I didn't think at all.  I didn't have time to, or even a
brain that was working properly."

"I'm sorry you regret it.  It seemed like the best answer at the time.
It still does."

She sighed.  "You might not answer questions, Rev, but I know a few
answers already.  You're not the windup preacher doll you pretend so
hard to be.  Can't you just show a little more of who you really are
once in a while?  I know this is hard on you, too.  God knows, I'm not
a piece of cake to live with.  But wouldn't it be more fun if we got to
know each other a little?  Wouldn't this seem less like a waste of
time?"

To Thomas, the last thing their marriage seemed was a waste of time. In
the days since Garget had come to live with him, time had passed
swiftly.  Seconds became minutes before he was aware of their passing.
There was color, texture and music in his life, where before there had
been a gray pqgression of days.  He didn t want to think about the
changes the sham of a marriage had made, or his own surprising reaction
to them.  He was not a windup preacher q11, but what he was instead had
to be worse.  Much worse.

"Who am I?"  he said.  "I don't even know anymore.  I tiqouldn't even
know what to tell you.  "

"You could start with easy things.  Why did you come here?  Who were
you before you came?"

"I came because there were people here who might need what I could
give.  And those people are going to be waiting downstairs for me to
unlock the front door."

" " Have it your way.  " She shook her hair.  She'd had every intention
of tying it at her neck in a stab at appearing civilized Now she
decided to let it slither over her shoulders.  There was only so far
she would carry this charade of a marriage, and apparently Thomas felt
the same way.

He didn't sigh or shrug, but she thought she saw an apology in his
eyes.  "Thank you for coming with me this morning ," he said.

"I guess it's the least I can do to thank you for trying to help me."

The preliminaries were finished.  Greg had performed a rollicking
prelude, the choir had sung, opening prayers and readings had been
dispensed with, and Thomas had made his big announcement.  There had
besn the requisite discreet turning of twenty-five or so heads to gaze
at the new bride and the same number of welcoming smiles.

When the fuss had died down, Garnet sat alone in the back of the church
and stared at the man standing in front.

She wondered if a woman could ever grow tired of staring at Thomas.  He
was an enigma, and that was part of his attraction.  A woman could
imagine him to be almost anything or anyone.  Even his wife could
indulge in fantasy about him-since she had no more idea than anyone who
he really was.

But behind the aura of mystery was simply an overwhelmingly attractive
man.  Garnet could say that dispassionately Her husband, possibly the
only one she would ever have, was easy to stare at and hard to take
lightly.  There was nothing about him that was simple or forthright. He
was hard-edged and hard-hitting.  He was a brilliant, un flickering
flame, and his congregants were moths drawn to his majesty and power.
He spoke, and the church immedi

Dragon5layer g lately grew silent.  Every eye in the room was focused
exclusively on him.

His true appeal didn't come from his good looks.  Perhap5 that was the
first thing that attracted others, but the sheer masculine beauty of
his face, the width of his shoulders and length of his muscular legs
were quickly pa55ed by.

There was something elemental about Thomas, something q that cut
through all pretension, all polite meanderings, right to the heart of
life.

She didn't understand what that something was.  Magnetism , charisma.
These were words she had thought she understood.  But now she knew the
didn t o far enough.  They didn t qrasp the essential fact that somehow
this man had been honed in a fire, perhaps one of his own making, and
the man who had emerged was someone different, better, finer than the
man who had entered.

She might never understand exactly.  What she knew about T6omas she
knew only from clues.  And the clues were rare but oh, so potent.  The
emotion-laden voice she had been forced to listen to so carefully on
the rush to the hospital The warm flash of Thomas's eyes and the
ice-blue ;q caution that always followed.  The offer of marriage to a
:q::: woman he hardly knew, simply to protect her.

He began to speak, and the words rolled off his tongue as if they had
never been rehear5ed, as if every one of them came directly,
spontaneously from his heart.  His voice was resonant, and he had a way
of making love to a word until it became another, then another.  She
had never been a churchgoer, but she knew that she could listen to
Thomas _ Sunday after Sunday.  He loved language, its nuance5, its
cadence5.  He made his listeners love it, too.  And somewhere in the
loving, in the attraction to the minister, the congregation forgot him
entirely and somehow focused on the higher meaning, the higher being
toward whom Thoma5 was leading them.

"There is very little I can tell most of you about courage.

Many of you had to brave great odds to come here this q morning.  Many
of you are facing difficulties in your personal lives, and I can only
imagine the courage it takes for you to get up each day and face the
world.  But this morning

I want to tell you about others who showed great courage , men who
heard a voice and saw a vision.  Men and women who, by their beliefs
and their integrity, changed our world.  "

The front door opened.  For a moment Garnet ignored the interruption.
She didn't want Thomas to stop speaking; she was sliding somewhere far
away on the sound of his voice, somewhere where the brave stood up for
their beliefs and risked their lives to make the world a better
place.

Thomas fell silent, and Garnet turned to see why.  Andre was standing
in the doorway with Ferdinand beside him.  In front of him, sitting
proudly in her wheelchair, was Beulah Rollins, Andre's mother.

Garnet glanced at Thomas.  He hadn't moved, but she knew he had tensed.
His eyes searched for her, as if measuring the distance and how long it
would take to reach her if there was trouble.  Then his gaze flicked to
Andre.  Finally he spoke.

"Come in.  You're welcome here."

Garnet watched Andre's face.  Something passed over it.  He was a match
for Thomas; his feelings-or what was left of them after nineteen years
on the Corners' streets-were just as impossible to read.  He grunted
something to Ferdinand ; then, flanking the wheelchair, they moved to
the opposite side of the church, past the middle aisle and the section
where Garnet was sitting.  Ferdinand and Andre sat on the end of a row,
and Beulah guided her wheelchair to the space beside them.

"Once there was a gang of twelve," Thomas began again.  "More than two
thousand years ago there was a gang.  The twelve hadn't always been
members.  Some had been fishermen , some common laborers.  They didn't
even know they had the makings of a gang until one day a man came to
them and said, " Follow me.  " " "Follow me.  Two words.
Straightforward.  Easy to understand Follow me.  But what do you say
when a stranger,

Dragonslayer gg q,: a man with no degrees, no prestige, no skil)s
except those of a simple carpenter, comes to you and asks you to give
up everything?  What do you say when He tells you to leave behind the
boat that has brought you your livelihood, the quiet, blue lake that
has fed your family, the family itself who depend on you for support
and sustenance?

"Follow me."  Thomas left the pulpit.  He stood in front of the first
row.  " " What do you say when someone, anyone, asks you to follow
them?  What do you say when a stranger asks you to become part of a
gang?  When a stranger tells you to give up everything that is dear to
you and promises you no reward on this earth.  What can you do?  "

His gaze traveled to settle on Andre.  "Gangs have their pleasures,
don't they?  You leave behind the things you love, the family, the old
friends who are frightened by your new ones, but you gain something in
exchange.  Suddenly you're part of a larger whole.  The world expands.
There are people who will stand up for you, who will avenge you if need
be, who will protect your interests, so that life is no longer the
lonely struggle it once was.

"Maybe you'll be called on to do some things you don't believe m. But
what price do you pay if you don't?  If you're on the outside, and
there is no one to stand beside you, the q world is a lonely,
frightening place."

Pain flashed across his face.  Garnet knew that no one in q the room
doubted that Thomas personally understood what ; ," a lonely,
frightening place the world could be.

He continued.  "The gang of twelve was different, though.  q'.  There
was no one to stand up for them.  Even their leader q was nailed to a
cross, and there was no one who could stop q' it from happening.  They
died, one by one, and there was no q:.  one to interfere, no one to
avenge their deaths, no one to drive by in the night when the streets
are dark and dangerous and shower the houses of their persecutors with
bullets No one to wear colors for them, to spray paint buildings with
threats for them.

"But there were those who lived to carry on their message They met in
secret places and wrote their stories, their beliefs, for others to
use.  They had their " lit," just as our gangs today do.  They had
juice-influence.  And as the stories spread, as the beliefs were
weighed and practiced, the gang of twelve became a gang of millions."

Thomas walked down the aisle until he was standing in front of Beulah.
"And in the name of that gang of twelve and their leader, Jesus of
Nazareth and his apostles, wonderful things have happened, but terrible
things have happened , too.  We have evoked their names as we've gone
to war, led murderous crusades for purposes that Jesus would never have
sanctioned, kept our brothers and sisters in poverty or looked down
upon them because of their race or creed.

"That can happen, can't it?  Even a gang with the best of intentions
can get out of control.  Even leaders-" he looked right at Andre, then
at Ferdinand " " even the best leaders, the most intelligent and
courageous, can make bad decisions"

Finally he turned away.  " " But wonderful things have come from the
gang of twelve, too.  Men and women have reached out to their brothers
and sisters in more ways than I can tell you about today.  "

He walked up the aisle.  Garnet listened as he extolled the beauty of
Christianity, the purposes and principles of the gang of twelve, the
way the world could be made a better place because of what one gang,
two thousand years ago, had begun.

Then, as he had done the last time she had heard him speak, he focused
on what they could do in the Corners to use those principles to make
their community a better place.  There was nothing radically new about
what he asked for.  Brotherly love.  Reaching out to those in need.
Standing up for what was right.  Moving, one step at a time, toward
goals that would enhance the quality of life for everyone.

He ended in the pulpit, his gaze fastened on Andre and Ferdinand.  "The
gang of twelve still has memberships available," he said.  "The
initiation rites differ from church to church, but at the heart the
intent is the same.  We must practice what the gang's leader preached.
The commandments are simple.  Love one another.  Love God.  The rest
falls into place.

"But it is never easy.  No matter what form your membership takes, no
matter what your level of commitment, membership is never easy.  If
your life must be simple and uncluttered with decisions, if you don't
want to question anything your friends or even your leaders tell you,
then membership is not for you.  But if you are willing to take risks,
if you are strong enough to do what you know is right and sometimes to
sacrifice, then there is always a place in the gang of twelve for you
"

There was silence.  Garnet forgot to breathe.  Then Thomas brought his
hands down on the pulpit and announced the final hymn.

She expected Andre and Ferdinand to ilee at the first opportunity , and
perhaps they would have if Beulah had been easily able to maneuver the
aisles of the church.  But by the time Beulah's chair was humming
toward the doorway, Thomas was already shaking hands with departing
parishioners

Garnet stood back, accepting congratulations on her marriage to Thomas
from members of the congregation.  Dorothy Brown, pillar of the Corners
community, was the first to hug her and wish her well.  Dorothy had
been the first Corners resident to help Garnet solicit funds for Mother
and Child, Dorothy with her white gloves, disarmingly gentle smile and
razor-sharp tongue.  Dorothy, now pushing eighty, still maneuvered and
plotted and stirred the community to action.  She was a voice for both
stability and change, and Garnet wished there were a thousand more like
her living on the Corners' troubled streets.

"So, I picked the right Sunday to come here to church " , Dorothy said,
after the hug had ended.

"You're not a member?"

"Not me.  I make the rounds.  That way I keep all the preachers in this
neighborhood straight."

"Well, I'm sure Thomas is properly honored to have you today."

"That man of yours, he's not so bad at what he does," Dorothy said.
"Maybe he'll be even better now that he's got you.  More relaxed.  "

"

"Why

"You can't figure that out, this marriage is in trouble already ,"
Dorothy said with a wink.

Garnet grinned and gave Dorothy another hug before the older woman
moved away to speak to Thomas.  Garnet continued to smile and shake
hands, but she kept Andre and Ferdinand in her line of vision, just as
she'd done when she spoke to Dorothy.

Thomas had told her about his conversation with Andre the night she had
been beaten.  Andre had been at home and could not have taken part. But
Andre was a Joker, the closest thing to a leader the gang had, and she
knew where his loyalties lay.  Even if he had not ordered her abuse or
taken part in it, he would support those who had.  She was not fooled
by his attendance in church.  She imagined it was a scouting mission. 
He was finding out how the land lay, and it would be only a matter of
time before he used the information in negative ways.

Thomas had wasted his sermon.

She watched as Beulah waited patiently in line to leave.  Since they
had once lived on the same street, Garnet had known Beulah most of her
life.  Garnet had admired the woman's courage when multiple sclerosis
forced her into the wheelchair.  As a teenager she had spent one
memorable spring day planting flowers along Beulah's front walkway as
Beulah supervised; then she had sat in Beulah's sparkling clean kitchen
and eaten homemade cookies as reward

Beulah had taught Ema to crochet.  Jade had found her to be a good
listener when their own mother was too busy earning a living cleaning
offices day and night.  Beulah had been a friend to neighborhood
children, a kind, loving mother to her son.  There was no reason she
should be held responsible for Andre's failures.

Garget squared her shoulders and moved forward, past a fidgeting,
tattooed Ferdinand to Beulah's side.  She squatted' Beulah do you
remember me?  "

Beulah turned.  Her face, a chart of life's sadnesses and triumphs, lit
up.  "I thought that was you, Garget hone ."

"How are you?"  y

"Still getting around.  Andre's always there to take me anyplace I need
to go."

Garget looked into Andre s face.  He was watching her closely.  I m
glad to see he takes care of you," Garget said ?  .  turoing to Beulah.
" Do you come here often "

"Never before.  But I heard this preacher was good.  My preacher left,
and the new one preaches hellfire till I go away each Sunday moroing
with a sunburn."  She laughed.  "Between you and me, this one's
prettier to look at, too."

"Between you and me, I'm married to him."

Beulah slapped her thigh.  "No... Well, congratulations !  "

They chatted as the line shortened.  Then it was only

Andre and Ferdinand between Beulah and the door.

Thomas held out his hand.  "Hello, Andre.  I'm glad to see you again:
'

Garget watched Andre's struggle.  Then, as his mother looked on, his
hand shot out for a quick squeeze.  Afterwqd

Thomas held his out again, this time to Ferdinand but he didn't
relinquish it quickly, as he had Andre's.  ,

"You're the artist, aren't you?"

Ferdinand looked startled.  "Me?"

G.

"Dorothy Brown tells me that you're very talented.  I believe some of
your work was once on that wall."  He tilted his head toward the wall
where the graffiti had bled through.

"So?  I'd like to see some more of what you can do.

There's a whole big space up there where something beautiful and
creative should be.  I don't have much money to give you, but maybe we
could come to terms?  "

Ferdinand sneered.  Beulah slapped his wrist before he could say no.
"You do what the preacher says," she ordered' You just dying to get
your hands on some paint and a big space that people'll want to see.
Don't be tellin' him no when you be dying to say yes.  "

Ferdinand mumbled something unintelligible.

Thomas moved to Beulah's side and took her hand.  "I'm pleased to know
you, Mrs.  Rollins: '

"You know my boy?"

Thomas nodded.  "We've met several times."  He looked at Andre and
watched the young man's eyes narrow.  "Your son's a born leader," he
said, looking at Beulah.

"He's a good boy."

Garnet swallowed a laugh.  Suddenly life was funny again, as it hadn't
been since the attack in the darkness.  They were kids, these phantoms
who had moved through her life leaving pain in their wake.  Dangerous
and volatile, but kids nonetheless.  She watched Thomas push Beulah
through the door and down the sidewalk a little ways.  She put one hand
on Andre's arm and one on Ferdinand's to stop them from following.

"Did either of you gentleman beat up a defenseless woman in a parking
lot a couple of weeks ago?  I can tell you right now, I'm not going to
make it into the gang of twelve if forgiveness for something like that
is one of the initiation rites."

Andre shook off her arm.  Ferdinand seemed to feel trapped.  " " Well?
"she asked.

"You were warned," Andre said.

"As a matter of fact, I know you weren't there," she admitted , "but I
sure as hell expect better from you, Andre, than to condone it!  Your
mother deserves better."

She turned to Ferdinand.  "And you, you big hulking heap of God-given
talent, get a life, why don't you?  Paint Thomas's mural.  Stop hanging
out with qunkies and criminals And don't ever lift a finger toward
another woman or I'll make it my mission to be sure you serve time for
it!"

"I wasn't there," he mumbled.  "I didn't have nothing to do with it."

"Are you bragging or whining?"

His string of expletives was as colorful as his art.

"Well, apology accepted," she said.  She dropped her hand and watched
him sidle through the doorway.

Thomas came to stand beside her as Andre and Ferdinand followed Beulah
down the sidewalk.

"Andre taught himself to read before first grade.  I'd forgotten that
until today."  Garnet sprinkled a combination of herbs into fresh
vegetables she had stir-fried while Thomas watched.  Then she added
tomatoes and chick-peas and set the mixture on a back burner to finish
steaming.

In the days since she had come to live with Thomas, she had begun to
cook more vegetarian meals.  From the sparse furnishings in his
apartment to the worn necks of his suits, the man advertised that he
lived on a tight, tight budget.  Between them, she suspected, they did
not have enough money to eat meat as a mamstay.

"I've been to his house.  Where did you live in relation?"  he asked.

"Three... no, four houses down.  The house was shabby then.  Now the
porch is gone and the roof is sagging.  They'd condemn it if it had
been built anywhere but the Corners."

"And you knew Andre and his mother pretty well?"

Garnet shrugged.  She was chopping garlic and onions to add to bulgur
wheat.  The vegetables would be served over it.  "Andre was a cute
little boy, and I had all the requisite maternal hormones of a budding
young woman.  I used to play school with him.  Mostly we did recess-I
wasn't much of a teacher.  But by the time I got interested in playing
with big boys, Andre was reading by himself."

"Was he a success in school?"

"You're kidding."  She looked up from the cutting board.  "What planet
did you grow up on?  Smart kids don't do well in schools like the one
in our neighborhood.  The classes are huge, and the teachers are burned
uut.  There's nothing for gifted kids to do while the other kids are
struggling along, so they make trouble to get noticed.  Pretty soon
they've been noticed right out of the system and onto the streets."

"Are we talking about Andre or you?"

"Tricky, Thomas.  Very, very tricky.  Why don't you just ask me about
myself and see if you get an answer?"

He was silent.  She clamped her teeth together and remained silent,
too.  She was at the stove again, and the tiny kitchen was filled with
mouth-watering smells before he spoke.

"Start wherever you feel comfortable."

"In other words, I don't owe you any explanations I don't want to
give."

"

" You don't.  "

She wielded the spatula like a professional chef.  "What do you want to
know?"  she asked, placing the conversation squarely in his lap.

"Tell me about life on your street when you were grow It was as
impersonal a request as she had ever heard.  Her answer was the same. "
"We had about twenty houses on our block.  The garbage was collected on
Mondays.  The icecream man came on " Ihesdays and Saturdays in the
summer" She tasted her concoction and added salt.

"We're playing games."

"Yes, we are."

Garnet made a pleasing silhouette at the stove.  Her hair was tied back
in a bandanna, and her feet were bare, despite the faulty heating
system in the apartment.  He watched her bend and sway as she stirred,
as if the popping and hissing of frying vegetables was music for
dancing.  He could not pretend he didn't want to know more about her.
"Tell me about you."

"Much better question."  She looked at him and realized she did want to
share.  It seemed important, somehow, to tell him who she really was.

"I was one of those kids like Andre," she said at last.  "Not nearly as
bright, but what I didn't have in brains, I

made up for in spunk.  By the time I was eleven, it was pretty clear I
wasn't getting much out of school.  I had a well meaning teacher that
year.  She heard that Light Academy for Young Women was looking for
scholarship students.  " " "I know about the academy."

"Well, you've got to understand, they had all these incredibly rich
young ladies who needed expo-sure, thank you, dahling, to the real
world.  So they wanted a few students from the real world to give it to
them.  I was chosen.  I wasn't quite riffraff, not quite civilized.  A
perfect choice."

He detected unhealed pain under the hard shimmer of her words.  But he
wasn't sure.  Garnet was a master at suppressing her feelings.  If he
asked if she was hurting, she would tell him no, and probably believe
it, too.

"How long did you attend?"

"Long enough to finish convincing myself I was worthless The Corners
started the process, the academy finished it up nicely.  By the time I
was fifteen, I was skipping school more often than I was going.  The
headmistress would call my mother to complain, but Mama was hardly ever
home.  She worked twelve-hour days, and when she wasn't working , she
was trying to wring a little fun out of life with whatever man she'd
taken under her wing that month.  She was only sixteen when she had
Ema, eighteen when she had me and an old woman of twenty when Jade was
born."

"You weren't close to her?"

"Wrong.  We adored her.  Still do, in fact.  She moved to Florida a few
years ago, but I call her every week.  She did everything she could for
us.  She never got angry, she hugged us and praised us and cooked big
elaborate meals whenever she was home.  She just wasn't home very
often."

"Were you suspended from the academy?"

"Dropped out."  She looked at him.  "I got pregnant.

He stood very still, then he nodded, as if that was perfectly
understandable.

"Damn it, Thomas, take off your minister hat.  It's okay to react.  I
was sixteen and pregnant.  I was also in terrible shape by then.  I'd
been drinking and smoking steadily for a year, and I'd been doing
worse.  The drawer beside my bed was a pharmacy.  If a friend gave me
something to try, I tried it.  I wasn't hooked on anything except
trying to blot out the reality of my life, but that was bad enough.  I
weighed half what I weigh now, and I'd forgotten what it felt like to
be sober."

"

" The baby?  "

"Died."  She stopped stirring and put a top on the pan.  She faced him,
leaning against the stove with her arms folded.  "When my mother found
out I was pregnant, she marched me to the public health clinic in the
city.  A nurse sat me down and showed me pictures of babies whose
mothers had lived the way I was living.  My mother cried.  I cried and
sobered up fast.  By then I knew I wanted to have the baby.  No one
could persuade me otherwise, though God knows they tried.  I started
taking care of myself from that minute on.  But it was too late."

"

" You miscarried?  "

"No.  I delivered prematurely at seven months.  My mother's car was in
the shop, as usual.  By the time she found a neighbor who would take me
to the hospital, I was too far along to move.  She called an ambulance,
but it took an hour to arrive.  Even for a preemie the baby was tiny,
but she was breathing when she was born.  We did what we could while we
waited.  But the ambulance arrived too late to save her."

For a moment he wanted to go to her.  He wanted to take her in his arms
and comfort her.  But everything about the way she was standing told
him that was not a good idea.

"You wanted to know about me," she said.

"Why that story?  Why not the time you fell off your bike and scraped
your knee, or the first time you went to a movie with a boy?  Are you
trying to shock me?  You haven't."

"Because it tells you everything you'll ever need to know about me,
Thomas.  After I recovered, I took a good look at my life and saw I had
two choices.  I could go back to living the way I had before I
discovered I was pregnant, or I could start telling other girls what
it's like to lose a child and know you're directly responsible, you and
the Corners, with its lack of health care services."

She shook her head when he started to interrupt.  "So I chose option
number two.  I went back to high school and graduated near the top of
my class.  I won a scholarship to the state university and got my
nursing degree.  Then, when I'd had some experience, I came back here
and pounded on doors until I had the money to fund Mother and Child.
And I'm not leaving again.  Not ever.  Not as long as there's a
pregnant woman or a little child left in this hellhole.  Not until they
drag me out of here in a pine box !  "

"Which may happen sooner than later."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  Something inside her
eased.  She had told Thomas her story, and he hadn't flinched.  She had
needed his acceptance, and without so much as a smile, a tear, a touch,
she knew-somehow she knew-that she had it.  " " A long time ago, " she
said softly, " " I realized that there was a lot that could be taken
away from me.  But one thing that couldn't was my determination to stay
here and beat my head against the wall.  Maybe that's all I'm doing,
and maybe it will never make a difference.  But maybe if enough of us
keep beating and banging and complaining and staying on here..."

He understood better why she had married him.  There was no decision as
important to her as the one she had made at her baby's death.  Every
other decision was weighed against that one.  Even marriage to a man
she hardly knew.

"My story," she said.  She waited, hoping he would tell her his.

"You are an extraordinary woman."

She saw no answers in his eyes.  But what she saw was nearly as
riveting.  Something was blazing there.  Something warmer than
compassion, stronger than understanding.  He knew what she had gone
through, knew it deep inside him, because he had been scorched by the
same fire.

"The dragon got you, too, Thomas, didn't he?"

"One dragon at a time tonight," he said.

She thought it was a promise of sorts.  Someday-if they were married
that long-he would tell her what had brought him here, what drove
him.

He surprised her by reaching out to touch a lock of hair that had
escaped her bandanna to snake over her shoulder.  " " Extraordinary.
"

The word fek almost like a kiss.  For a moment something shivered in
the air between them.  She felt herself lean toward him.  She saw him
lean toward her.  But they didn't meet.

He turned away.  She let out a deep breath.

They spoke about the news and weather over dinner.

Chaqter 7

Even though he'd lived with Garnet for two weeks, Thomas was still
aware of her scent hanging provocatively in the air.  Like the woman,
it could not be ignored.  It was bold yet elusive, flamboyant but
somehow starkly elemental The flowers in the Garden of Eden had
undoubtedly combined the same divergent notes.  The woman in the Garden
of Eden had undoubtedly combined them, too.

The apartment was silent except for the noise of cars passing in the
street below.  When Garnet was home, the apartment was never silent.
But Garnet was gone.  Finn, Tex's cop husband, had arrived just minutes
before to whisk her off to Mother and Child.

Finn was a gift.  He had appeared the morning after Garnet moved into
Thomas's apartment, just-he claimed-to pass the time with her.  For the
past two weeks he had continued to appear faithfully each morning the
clinic was open.  Finn drank a cup of coffee while Garnet finished
dressing; then he walked her to work.  Casually, as if nothing could
please him more.  Casually, eyes darting right and left, hand hovering
close enough to his gun that anyone watching would have thought he just
might be expecting trouble.

So far there had been none.

In the stillness, Thomas located his worn-out briefcase.  He had a
little time before he was scheduled to be in his office , but the
apartment seemed unwelcoming, as if all the life had been sucked from
it with Garnet's departure.

Two weeks had passed.  Two weeks of a marriage that was, by anyone's
standards, a fraud.  Yet there were times when Thomas felt married to
Garnet.  They had already fallen into a routine.  He arose in the
morning before she did, and while he showered, she made breakfast.
Invariably it was manna from heaven.  She could take the simplest
ingredients and cook food fit for the gods.  Sometimes she made flour
tortillas filled with beans spiced with garlic and herbs, ham,
scrambled eggs, cheese..  The list of fillings was as long as the
woman's imagination.

Afterward he cleaned the kitchen while she showered and changed.  She
sang in the shower.  Her voice was throaty and sensual, and she always
chose love songs.  Steam edged through the cracks in the doorway,
scented steam that penetrated the pores of his skin-but never more than
the songs did.  When she emerged dressed in white, he didn't stare, but
secretly he searched out the small details that made her unique.  The
colorful costume jewelry.  The ribbon or scarf in her hair.  The bright
sheen of her cheeks and lips..

He caught himself staring at nothing.  He didn't want to reflect on the
ways that Garnet had changed his life in the weeks of their marriage.
Reflection was a pastime for those unscathed by the dragon.

Downstairs he unlocked the front door of the church and left his study
door wide open, even though doing so defeated the purpose of his small
electric heater.  He had no appointments to prepare for.  He had made
his office hours known to his congregation and to anyone else who might
be interested.  He was available to anyone who might need him during
that time, easy to find, receptive and, more often than not, alone.

Once he had needed a secretary to monitor his time and schedule his
appointments.  She had been trained to knock discreetly and to
apologize to whatever parishioner was in the office before she ushered
in Thomas's next appointment There had been no breaks, no time for
meditation or prayer.  He'd had a running argument with the church
board.  The board had hired an assistant minister, and there had been
funds available to hire another to lighten his load, but Thomas had
refused the help.

Now he didn't need help; he didn't even need a secretary.  And he had
all the time for prayer that any man of God could want.

More than this man of God had need of.

His desk was empty, no stacks of phone messages to answer , no
carefully coded correspondence needing his attention His desk was as
clear of self-important hustle and bustle as his life.  There were a
telephone, a blotter and one sheet of scratched-up notes for Sunday's
sermon that he had worked on the previous evening.

He stared at the notes.  Evenings, after he and Garnet returned from
work, were fraught with subtlety and innuendo Dinner was as creative,
as sensuous a treat, as breakfast.  While Garnet chopped and sauteed
they talked about their days as two strangers talk, but sometimes there
were moments of surprising intimacy.  The shared smile, the clink of
glasses, the husky laugh, the insightful comment.

He had come to look forward to that time together as he hadn't looked
forward to anything in years.  Sometimes during the day he found
himself thinking of things he would tell Garnet; sometimes he found
himself thinking of things she had told him.  Sometimes-as now-he
thought of the curves of her body, the forbidden length of leg under a
satin nightshirt, a glimpse of her neck when she lifted her hair.

At night, after dinner, when he knew she lay in the next room listening
to music or reading, thoughts of her kept him awake.

He had married Garnet to protect her and for no reason other than
protection.  Now he wondered how he was going to protect himself.

By the time the front door slammed, there was a second sheet, even more
scratched up, to attest to his struggle to concentrate.  But he still
had no firm ideas of what he was going to say on Sunday.  He leaned
back in his chair and waited for the visitor.

Ema came to the doorway and smiled her tentative smile.  "I'm bothering
you, aren't I?"

He stood in welcome.  Something like relief filled him at the sight of
another human face.  "Of course not."

"

" I could come back "

"Sit down, Ema."

"I can only stay a minute."

"Make it two, at least."

She smiled, exactly the same frightened doe smile, and sat.  "I
shouldn't be here."

"No?"  "

" I told Ron I was going out for groceries.  "

"And he'd be angry if he found out you were here?"

"He..  keeps track of me."  She looked around the room , as if hoping
there would be something there to comment on.

"Are the girls in school?"

"They're supposed to be.  They're... they're at a neighhor 's."

He sat a little straighter, alert now to barely perceptible signals
that she was distraught.  She was twisting the handle of her purse in
her hands.  He was so used to seeing her eyes red-rimmed and swollen
that he hadn't noticed immediately that this time the tears were
fresh.

"What's going on?"  he asked.

"Did you know my real name is Emerald?"  She laughed , and the sound
wrapped around his heart.  "Imagine that.  Someone like me with a name
like Emerald.  But Mama didn't have anything else of value.  Garnet's
probably told you all about that."

"

" Not much .  "

Dragon5layer Il5 She looked at him as if that was hard to believe.
"Your sister and I..."  His voice trailed off.  He couldn't find words
to explain his marriage to Garnet.  "I know.  She told me why you
married her.  But I thought..."

" " Thought what?  " " Well, Garnet's pretty good at making the best of
things.  " She looked away.  " Anyway, Mama named us all for jewels.
She said it was the only way she'd ever have any.  You know?  She
called us her little treasures.  " " And you were treated like
treasures?  " She seemed to consider the question.  " By Mama," she
said at last.  " But we were poor, and this is a hard place to grow up.
Garnet and Jade, well, they turned out different from me.  Jade ran
away and started a new life.  Garnet just fought everything that stood
between her and the kind of world she thought the Corners should be.
And I. " Her voice trailed off again, and so did her gaze.  " You got
married to a man who beats you," Thomas said.  " Well, not all the
time. " " "Once is too often, Ema ."  " " Do I deserve better?  " She
forced her gaze to his.  " " I want to know, Reverend Stonehill.  Do
I?"  " He qmarveled at how simple some answers were to give.  Yes.  "
Ron says women started all the trouble in the world.  " " "Ron is a
sick and violent man."  "I can't please him."  "No one could."  "I try.
I cook foods he likes.  I keep the apartment clean.  I don't complain
when he comes home drunk: " It comes down to two choice5, Ema.  You can
stay with him, knowing that things will stay the same or get even
worse.  Or you can leave him and start a new life for your5 elf and the
girls. But there is no third choice.  You can't stay and hope that
he'll change.  " " He doesn't mean to hit me.  "

"He does.  And he means to hurt you.  And someday he may mean to hurt
your daughters."

"

" Oh, he's never"

"Even if he never lifts a finger to Jody and Lisa, he's still teaching
them it's all right for men to hit women.  When your girls grow up,
they may look for men like their father, and if they do, they'll
probably act just like their mother when those men hit them."

The handle of her purse snapped in two.  Ema looked down at her lap. "I
don't want to teach them that "

"Do you want to stay with your husband?"

" " Is it all right..  does the Bible say.  ?  " " "Marriage is sacred,
but only if both people treat it that way.  Love, honor and cherish
aren't answers to a multiple choice question.  Until death do us part
doesn't mean that one partner has the right to cause the death of
another "

She flinched.  "Sometimes-" She looked up.  "I hate him ."

"I'm sure you do."

"But thaYs wrong!"

" " Sometimes it takes anger to get a job done.  You'll have plenty of
time after you leave Ron to work on forgiveness.  "

"That's not what the others told me.  You're not like any other pastor
I've been to "

He doubted that, in the most important ways, he was like any pastor
anywhere, but he wasn't going to explain that.  "This is not the Middle
Ages, and I'm not alone in this," he said.  "I can promise you that
there are pastors all over the world who would give you the same
advice."

She nodded, as if absorbing that.

"Do you have a place to go?"  he asked.

"Mama offered to let me come there.  She lives in Florida , and she has
friends who will help.  I think it's too far for Ron to follow me. Jade
offered, too-"

"Why aren't the girls in school today?"

She twisted what was left of her purse handle.  She seemed to be
debating.  Finally she spoke.  "I've got bus tickets."

"For when?"

" " Ron goes to work at one.  Our bus leaves at two.  " " "Does Garnet
know?  " " " I thought maybe you could tell her?  " " Why don't you
tell her yourself?  " " Because she'd make a speech about how I'm
finally doing the right thing.  And I know she'd be right, but I don't
want to hear her say it.  "May I say it?"  She looked up again. 
"Please."

" " You are doing the right thing.  " " "Am I really?"  He nodded.  His
words seemed to strengthen her.  "Will you tell Garnet tlqat I love
her?  Tell her I just wanted to do this because I know it's right, not
because somebody pushed me."  "And will you call?"  "When I'm all
settled, I'll call."  " " Good.  " " You won't tell Ron where I am if
he comes asking around?  " " I didn't let you tell me exactly where you
were going.  She smiled a little, and for a moment the worry lines in
her forehead smoothed.  He saw Garnet in the momentary sparkle of her
eyes.  Ema's eyes were green, like her sister's.  And someday they
might sparkle often.  "You've helped me," she said.  "I needed a place
to come where I could think.  I needed a place where somebody cared
about me, not because they had to, like family, but just because

I was a human being.  You made me remember that's what I am.  You and
your God.  Ron made me forget that, but you helped me remember.  " "
Don't forget again," he said.  " I'm going to try not to.  " She stood.
" I'll get a few groceries , then I'm going back to Ron.  For the last
time.  I'll be okay," she added, before he could ask.  " He waits till
he's done with work to start his heavy drinking.  He'll really have
something he g to be mad about when he comes home tonight won't " g '

Thomas stood and walked her to the door.  "He'll always find something
to be mad about."

She paused in the doorway, then shyly rose on her tiptoes and kissed
his cheek.  "Goodbye.  Take care of my sister.  And thank you again. 
You gave me something to hold on to.  It's the first good thing that's
happened to me in a long, long time."

She had been gone for minutes before he turned back to his desk.  He
was glad he had given Ema something to hold on to.  He gazed upward,
although he had never really believed in a bearded, complacent God on a
cloud-borne throne.

"Does that make me a hypocrite?"  he asked out loud.  "She's holding
on, and I let go."

There was only silence, a greater silence than he had ever heard.  But
perhaps, he reminded himself, years ago he had never taken the time to
listen for answers, anyway.

"I don't know where she is, Ron.  I just hope it's somewhere thousands
of miles away."  Garnet held the telephone receiver six inches from her
ear.  When the torrent of abuse receded she responded.  "Try any of
those things, Celabraze , and I'll have you in jail so fast your head
will be spinning for a week!  I'm not my sister.  I'd like nothing
better than to see you drawn and quartered and fed to the sharks ."

"Sharks?"  Thomas asked, after she had hung up.

Garnet tried to control the anger that had boiled over at Ron's
accusations.  "Big ones.  Ema's left Ron.  He went home early, probably
got the itch to beat her up before midnight for a change, so he
sacrificed drinks number ten through fifteen.  Anyway, he found a note.
Do you happen to know where she went?"

"Somewhere she and the girls will be safe."  Thomas poured Garnet a
glass of mineral water.  The clinic had been open late that evening
and, as always, Finn had escorted her right to the church's front door.
Ron's phone call had come only minutes after her arrival.

,

His face was inscrutable, and for once she couldn't pass it off as
vintage Thomas.  "So you know!  And you're not going to tell me where?
"

"I don't know.  I didn't want to know.  You don't, either, in case Ron
goes to the police and accuses her of kidnapping the children.

She told herself he was right.  She told herself to be calm.  "I don't
think he will.  There are too many people who could testify about the
way he beat Ema.  And he has a whole file drawer to himself at the cop
shop.  The law would move very slowly to assist Ron Celabraze."

"Then a toast might be in order: He lifted his glass.  q'Ema told you,
but not me."

He drank alone.

"Why?"  she asked.  "I wouldn't have said " I told you so.  " She knows
me better than that."

He heard the hurt under the anger.  Garnet was struggling for control,
but the wound was apparent.  "She wanted to be sure that you and
everybody else knew she was doing it on her own.  It was her decision
completely."

"Then why did she tell you?"

"I think she needed an objective stamp of approval.  , g .  " qqMa be
so.  I couldn t I've her that but she got mine.

She thinks you speak for God, Thomas.  They all do.  I watch their
faces on Sunday morning.  Those people drift in from the street to hear
you preach, and they all think you speak for God!  She stood up and
strode to the refrigerator to see what she could make for dinner.

"I don't.  And you're angry."

"She's my sister, and you're nothing to her!

He rose and went to stand behind her.  He hadn't expected this.  He'd
thought she would be happy that Ema had found the courage to leave her
husband.  When Garnet straightened, he put his hands on her shoulders.
"I'm nothing," he agreed.  "But what she found at the church is
something real and vital, Garnet.  Maybe you don't understand it. Maybe
I don't-"

She turned.  "What?  You're going to say you don't understand it,
either?  Come off it.  God's what you do for a living !  "

They were married, yet she didn't know him at all.  That fact had never
been more apparent to him.  Nor had it ever been more apparent that he
could never share his heart with her.

He grasped her shoulders again.  "I'm trying to say that your sister
found the strength to do what she's needed to do for a long time.  She
found it in her own way.  I'm sure if you hadn't stood by her for so
long, supported her, spoken your heart to her, she never would have
found it at all.  But now she's made the break.  Be happy."

She couldn't pull her gaze from his.  Little by little the anger
drained away, until finally she spoke.  "Damn it Thomas.  I'm sorry.
What's wrong with me?  Of course I'm happy for her.  I was just
thinking about myself.  I'm selfish and vain and envious.  Now that
Ema's gone, you'll have to work on changing me.  "

"I don't want to change anything about you: '

As she often did, she found a refuge in audacity.  "No?  I don't have
any of the qualities a man like you needs in a wife.  I'd need to be
docile."  She lifted her arms and pulled her hair from her face in the
semblance of a bun.  "Selfsacrificing" She lowered her eyes.
"Reverent."  She began to hum something that sounded like "The Old
Rugged Cross" with a reggae beat.

He felt a stab of irritation.  "Since you can't be any of those things,
then just be yourself."

"Well, at least there won't be any danger that someone might take this
marriage seriously: '

He was beginning to take it seriously.  He realized it before her words
had stopped echoing through the kitchen.  He had offered her the
charade of a marriage for complex reasons , but he had never expected
it to profoundly change his life.  Now he saw that nothing could be
further from the truth.

His hands dropped to his sides.  He had kept himself from her in all
the important ways.  She was, for all purposes, married to a stranger.
And most of the time she had kept herself from him, as if by open
agreement.  Yet somehow she had crept into his life, into his thoughts,
into..

"Don't tell me you taking it seriously," she said, when he didn't
answer.  "Thomas, I'm closer to the boy who delivers clean linen for
the clinic than I am to you."

He turned away.  "Don't let me keep you from making dinner."

"

" Answer me!  "

"You didn't ask a question."  He felt her hand on his arm.

She was still riding the wave of emotion that had crested with the news
of Ema's flight.  Humor, irreverence, repression None had brought her
to firm emotional ground.  Now she couldn't control her words.  "Here's
the question.  Are you taking this marriage seriously?  Or are we just
playing house like a couple of preschoolers?  "

"You cared about Ema, and now she's gone.  You're feeling a lot of
things.  Don't take them out on me."

"Cool, Thomas.  Collected, rational.  Thank you for the objective
analysis, but I'm still waiting for an answer to my question !  "

He turned.  She was only inches away.  The mocking light was gone from
her eyes.  She was awash in emotion.  He understood why.  The last
weeks had brought so many changes in her life.  Even Garnet could only
shrug off her feelings for so long.

He understood so much, but he felt so much more.  She moved closer to
him.

"You don't tell me anything about yourself," she said, eyes narrowed.
"You don't share your feelings.  You don't touch me.  You don't even
smile very often.  Maybe we agreed to all this.  Maybe it's best this
way.  But don't go looking at me like the rules changed and you forgot
to mention it!  Don't go looking like I've wounded you because

I said out loud what we both know.  This maniage is not serious.  I'm
nothing to you, and even if you get just the teeniest twinge of desire
for me sometimes, the Reverend Thomas Stonehill is too much of a god
himself to be tempted by someone as lowly as Garnet Anthony.  "

"We were both wrong to think we could pull this off without it
affecting us "

"I'm not affected.  I sleep in that bedroom and I cook in this kitchen.
Sometimes I talk to the God-fearing robot who passes through these
rooms: She stopped.  Slowly her hand dropped from his arm.  " Damn!  "
She faced the refrigerator

He understood turning points.  There had been some so crucial in his
life that, after them, nothing had been the same.  He recognized this
one.  Every part of him screamed that he should back away and give her
time to compose herself.

Instead he put his arms around her.  She was as tense as he had
expected; he could feel the tension everywhere he touched.  She was
also warm and enticingly female, and immediately his body cried out for
what hers had to offer.  She didn't yield easily, but he pulled her
against him.  "Maybe you're not affected," he said.  "But I am."

She was very quiet.  For a moment he wasn't even sure she was
breathing.  "What's wrong with me?"  she asked at last.

"A very difficult situation."

"WhaYs so difficult?  You've given me a place to stay, protection, your
name-just in case it helps to scare off the little boys with guns!  How
can that be difficult?"

"Because we've taken a sacred institution and made a mockery out of
it."

"Sacred?  Maybe in the world you come from.  Here marriage is just an
institution, like prison or the state mental hospital.  My mother was
married to Ema's father.  It lasted six months before he left her
pregnant and alone.  She thought she was married to my father until she
discovered he was already married to somebody else.  She didn't even
bother fooling herself about Jade's father."

"It's a sacred institution."

"Was your marriage sacred, Thomas?"  She turned in his arms.  "Your
real marriage, not this one.  Did God bless it?  Did He honor it?  When
Patricia died, did you have that to comfort you?  "

"I had nothing to comfort me."

She saw pain in his eyes, a pain so deep, so powerful, it threatened to
suck her into its vortex.  She had been prepared to taunt him again,
but she found she couldn't.  Somehow she knew there was nothing she
could tell him that he didn't tell himself every hour before dawn.

"I could give you comfort," she said softly.  The words came from
nowhere, yet she didn't want to call them back.  "Maybe it wouldn't be
enough, but it would be something"

Her breasts pressed against his chest; her scent enveloped him.  As he
stood with his arms around her, powerless to release her, she smoothed
her hands up them.  He felt the cool slide of her palms on his neck,
against his heated cheeks.  Her fingers burrowed into his hair, and she
pressed his mouth to hers.

The taste, the feel of her lips against his, was as pleasurable as he
remembered.  His arms tightened around her.  She was soft and giving;
her warm flesh was as pliant as her spirit was not.  She was his wife
before man and God.

His hands traveled to splay against the curve of her hips.  With a
helpless groan he delved into the secrets of her mouth.  She was
everything womanly and desirable.  Their tongues moved together, giving
and taking pleasure; their bodies moved together, too.  They were
married strangers, yet her touch, her curves, her taste were familiar,
as if he had always partaken of them with this heady rush of desire.

He had partaken in his dreams.  Thomas knew it as surely as he knew he
had never touched her in these ways before.  He had dreamed of her in
the hours when dreams aren't remembered , when sleep is so deep it
buries all thoughts and feelings, all desires.

All desires.

Garnet drank in the heady pleasure of his body against hers.  She had
not indulged in fantasies about him.  She had admired his body, saucily
assessed the potential of his hands and lips, but she had not allowed
herself to imagine being in his arms.  Now she knew why.  There were
realities so potent that fantasy was too poor an imitation.  She had
known, before she had been conscious of knowing, that passion with
Thomas would be light-years beyond imagination.

"Come to bed, Thomas," she whispered against his lips.  "If the rules
have changed, then come to bed and make this marriage real.  Even your
God couldn't object."

She had said nothing of love and commitment, but he knew if he took her
to bed everything would change.  And still, he was helpless to say
no.

Garnet unfastened the top button of his shirt as she kissed him.  The
second was as easy, and the others followed in quick succession as her
trembling fingers would allow.  She smoothed her hands over his chest,
murmuring provocatively She did not give herself easily or casually.
She had always been wary of relationships that bound her too tightly.
She was too enamored of freedom to give control of her life to
anyone.

But Thomas hadn't asked for control.  He had given her freedom when he
married her, given her the chance to continue doing what she had to do,
to continue walking the streets of the only neighborhood she would ever
call home.  He wanted nothing, asked for nothing.  And in return,
because he made no demands, she could give him what little she had to
give.

There was more, though, and as desire swept her away, she was compelled
to face it.  Her gift wasn't unselfish.  At that moment she wanted him
with an urgency no other man had ever provoked.  She wanted him inside
her, where intimacy would destroy his mystery.  She wanted all barriers
lowered, all defenses exploded.  In every way, she wanted to know the
man she had married.

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and clasped her closer.  She
pressed her knee between his legs and felt his reDragonslayersponse. He
wanted her, too.  There was no mystery there.  He was a man desiring a
woman.  He was not the minister, the husband of Patricia, the slayer of
The Cornen' dragons.  He was simply a man, like every other, a man
aroused enough to enter a woman and make her his.  " " Come to bed, "
she repeated huskily as she started to slip his shirt over his
shoulders.  " It's time, Thomas.  It's right "

He felt her knee stroking the sensitive flesh between his thighs.
Thought, doubt, creeds and rules melted away.  He was nothing but a
man, a man alive and hungry and aching for a woman.  He felt himself
growing to meet her, growing with need, bursting with desire, throbbing
and aching to bury himself inside her.

And then, as strong as his response had been, as potent as his need, he
was no longer ready.

If the world had depended on their joining, if all the stan in the
heaven had decreed it, he could not have made her his.

Garnet felt the new tension in Thomas's arms, in the muscles of his
back.  It was no longer the tension of a man bursting with passion.  It
was no longer the tension of a man denying himself what he most
needed.

It was the tension of a man who no longer wants nor needs the woman in
his arms.

She felt his response to her disappear.  She shifted her weight so that
she was no longer against him; then she stepped back and stared at
him.

"What is it?"  she whispered.  "What's wrong?"

He shook his head.

"I..."  She didn't know what to say.  Humiliation washed over her.  She
had forced this, read signals that weren't there.  She had believed he
wanted her, and she had admitted how much she wanted him.  But
somewhere she had gone desperately wrong.

He saw her confusion and shame.  He touched her hair; it seemed to
singe his skin.  "Don't," he said.  "Don't think any of the things
you're thinking."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?  For acting like a married woman?  Sorry because

I can't act like a married man?  " He turned away and straightened his
shirt.  " Can we go on like before?  "

"Like before."  Something new boiled up inside her.  She wanted to
laugh or cry, but she choked down both.  She wanted to reach out to
him, but she had already learned what a mistake that would be.

"Can we go on like before?"  he repeated.

"Yes.  I guess... No!  Are you saying we'll pretend this didn't happen?
That one minute you wanted me and the next you thought better of it?"

"Thought?"  He faced her.  "Thought had nothing to do with it !  Were
you thinking?  Was either of us thinking?  "

"I was thinking that I wanted you.  And somewhere along the way you
were thinking you didn't want me!"

"No!"

"Then what happened?"

"You ran up against the truth.  This marriage is a charade It can't be
real."

"For a few minutes it felt real.  It felt real to you, too.  You can't
deny it "

"It was a few minutes of dreaming."

"Then let's dream a little longer.  Maybe we'll wake up and find out we
weren't dreaming at all."

"Maybe we'll wake up and find out that we're in the middle of a
nightmare."  He put his hands on her shoulders His eyes were bleak.  "I
can't make love to you, because

I can't.  Not because I don't want to.  Because I can't!  "

She stared at him, then she shook her head.  "What are you saying?  I
don't believe you."

"You're wasting your vote of confidence.  I haven't made love to a
woman since Patricia died.  And this isn't the first time I've
tried."

"But you wanted me.  I know it.  It's not something you can hide!  "

"Wanting has nothing to do with it!"  He dropped his hands.  "

" Thomas,

I- "

"This wasn't supposed to happen.  I just didn't factor in-"

"What?"

"How desirable you are."

"If there's something wrong there are doctors, clinics-"

"There's nothing physically wrong with me."  He turned away again. "You
didn't sign on for this.  I married you to keep you safe, not to make
you my sex therapist, Garnet.  I'm not going to try to keep you here. 
If you have a better alternative than this farce of a marriage, go. 
I'll understand I'll wish you well."

There were better alternatives.  She knew that now.  She could have
found a more acceptable plan for her life than marriage to a man she
hardly knew.  But she had let Thomas rescue her, not because she had no
other alternatives, but because.  "I married you because I needed your
strength," she said after moments had dragged into more.  " " And
because I felt something for you.  I don't know, maybe just curiosity,
but something.  "

"Now you don't have to be curious anymore."

"I've never met anyone who was more of a man."

His laugh was short and bitter.

There were no words in any language to reassure him.  She knew that
instinctively.  And she knew that there were no words to reassure her.
All that was left were words that should have come naturally, words
like "goodbye."  And those words wouldn't form.

"I'll choose this over the other alternatives for now," she said at
last.  "If you'll still have me."

"You're welcome here."

She wondered what it had cost him to say that.  She knew she wasn't
really welcome.  She would be a constant reminder of failure at the
deepest level.

"I'll make dinner," she said.

"Don't make anything for me."

"Are you going out?"

"For a while."

She watched him button his shirt and find his coat, watched as the door
shut quietly behind him.

She was still awake long after midnight when she heard the door close
again.

Chapter S

In his heart, Thomas was still married to Patricia.  She had been gone
from his life for three years, but obviously she was not gone from his
heart.  In every way that mattered to him, she was still his wife.  If
he made love to Garnet, he was being unfaithful to Patricia.

It had to be as simple as that.

Garnet set the table for supper, even though Thomas wasn t home.  It
was unusual for her to arrive at the apartment before he did, but
tonight she'd had to let herself in with her key.  There had been no
note or phone call explaining his absence.  He simply wasn't there.

In the week since they'd nearly made love, nothing had !  followed the
pattern set in the early weeks of their marriage Thomas had taken pains
to avoid her, and when he hadn't been able to find an excuse to
disappear from the apartment, he had drawn into a shell she couldn't
penetrate

After a week of silent questions, of suffering alternately from anger
and tortuous self-doubts, Garnet had come to a conclusion.  The reason
for Thomas's impotence had to be a commitment, even after death, to
Patricia.  He was a married man, sorely tempted by an adulteress-never
mind that the adulteress was now his wife in the sight of man and God.
He must have loved Patricia beyond death, 'oeyond his own ability to
adjust to her passing.  Even with the advantage of breath in her body
and a beating heart, Garner could never hope to prevaii over Patricia's
memory.

Bested by a dead woman.

Garnet had failed repeatedly in her life, but the last few years had
taught her the joys of being a winner.  She had grown to like herself,
to feel pride in what she had accomplished She had learned to believe
that she had much to offer.  Now, a memory offered Thomas more than she
could.

She bent and turned up the boom box on the floor another notch to
discourage more analysis.  The station was Spanish-speaking, the music
sensuously Latin.  She hummed along, forcing herself to concentrate on
the words.  Her Spanish was as mongrelized as her heritage, but she
eventually caught the gist of the musical story.  A man had lost his
lover, and all he could do was dream of her.  He would dream of her
until the day he died.

She snapped off the radio and kicked it with her bare toe.  Pain shot
up her leg.

"Magnavox might design next year's model to kick back."

She looked up and saw Thomas leaning against the doorjamb , his arms
folded.  She wondered how long he had been watching her.  "Well, I'll
be ready for it."

"I thought I'd probably missed dinner."

"Weren't there phones where you were?  A call would have been
appreciated."  " " I'm sorry.  "

She was in no mood for an apology.  "Is that all you're going to say?
You're sorry?  That's not enough, even for someone as unimportant as a
roommate, Thomas.  Why were you late?  Embroider a little.  Give me a
sentence or two about your day.  Pretend I matter: '

He stared at her; then he turned and left the kitchen.

She followed him, tired of backing down.  If no other kind of
interaction was available, she would take a fight.  " " What's wrong?
Is pretending against your moral code?  Too much like lying?  What is
it, the eleventh commandment or some thing?  Thou shalt not pretend
your wife matters if she doesn't?  "

"I guess I don't have to ask you what kind of day you had."

"Yes, you do have to ask.  If we're going to live together, you have to
ask!  She listened to the reverberations of her voice.  She was coldly
furious, or at least, that was the impression she was giving.  Furious,
and she hadn't even realized it.

She hadn't known he mattered so much.

"I am sorry I'm late, Garnet."  He faced her.  For the first time she
noticed how bleak his eyes were.  "And I should have called.  I just
didn't realize how late it had gotten."

"Where were you?"  She tried to temper her tone.  She didn't quite
succeed.

"At the hospital... and the funeral home."

And obviously he had been doing his job, a job sometimes as grim as her
own.  Her desire for answers faded.  Silently she cursed her bad
temper.

Thomas saw the anger fade from her eyes.  He saw her glance away and
noticed the beginnings of regret.

He recognized the last with ease.  He knew all about regret He had
wallowed in it for the past week.  Regret that he couldn t make her his
wife.  Regret that he had tried.  Regret that he had ever believed this
phony marriage would benefit her.  He had married Garnet on a wave of
sentiment so intense it had wiped away whatever logic he possessed.  He
had wanted so desperately to protect her, the way he hadn't protected
Patricia.  Nothing else had mattered.

Now everything did.

"I'm sorry," she said.  "I don't know what came over me.  eq := You
didn't sign an agreement saying you'd call if you were going to be
late.  I've never even asked you to call."  q'You've never had to.  "
y

She met his gaze.  Still bleak.  Still looking as if something inside
him had died.  She asked the question she really didn't want answered.
"Did someone in your congregation... ?"

"Dorothy Brown died this evening."

"No."  She looked away again and swallowed.  She had seen death a
hundred times.  Dorothy was an old woman who had lived a good life.
Hers was not a death to mouro.  The death of children, the death of
young mothers, the death of warring teenagers, those were deaths to
weep for.  But not the death of an old woman whose time had come, who
had probably met death with her arms wide open.

"No."  She blinked back tears, but they would not disappear

Thomas stepped forward and enfolded her in his arms.  It was as
natural, as perfect an answer to their mutual sorrow as existed.  "I
was with her.  She'd had a heart attack.  She had the hospital call
me."

"Why you, Thomas?  There were a hundred people she could have
called."

He held her tighter.  "She wants... wanted me to do her funeral
service.  She was organizing right up to the end.  She wanted me to go
to the Jokers and the Boyz and demand that they come to honor her.  She
thought it would help unite the community if they would both come
peacefully to her service."

Garnet moved far enough away to see his eyes.  She could feel the tears
gliding down her cheeks at the same time she felt something different
bubbling in her chest.  "She was planning her funeral service?"

"

" She was.  "

"While she was dying?"

"No, she was just polishing the details.  She's had it planned for
years.  She just hadn't decided on a preacher until today.  She said
I'd find instructions at the funeral home.  She already has a casket.
Everything's paid for "

Garnet tried not to smile.

He saw the glint of humor behind her tears, and something eased inside
him.  He framed her face with his hands.

Her smile broke through.

"Garnet."  He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Thomas," she whispered.  "But don't you see how " Dorothy'
she was right up until the end?  I can just sea her with St.  Peter
right now, demanding a house on the one heavenly street that's not
paved with gold.  Before you know it she'll be organizing angel
committees, circulating petitions"

He kissed her.  It was the only thing he could do, although he could
feel the shock register in her body.  The sorrow that had plagued him
at Dorothy's death began to drain away.  He held life in his arms.
Dorothy's essential spirit was still alive in others, most notably the
woman he had married.  Since he'd been called to the hospital, he had
forgotten that the world still contained hope and joy.

And love.

He tasted hope against his lips, tasted the potential for joy.  Garnet
was so warm, so quintessentially female.  But she was more than just a
pleasing feminine form, a pliant, willing lover.  She was strength and
courage.  Her commitment to what was right resonated in every movement,
every decision she made.  She was the real slayer of dragons, not he.

And the dragon she was slaying right now was his despair.

He gave himself up to her mmistry.  For that moment he forgot that he
couldn't take what she offered, that his capacity to take solace and
joy from a woman had vanished.

He let himself drink in her comfort, bathe in her life-giving
femininity.

"Thomas."  She broke away, bewildered.

He pulled her to his chest.  His shirt was already wet from q tqrs, but
he didn't care.  "She made me pray with her," he said.  "She didn't
care that-" He broke off abruptly.

"Care about what?"

He shook his head.

"That your religions were different?

He was silent for a long time.

"But she wouldn't care, Thomas.  I doubt she even belonged to a
particular church.  The last time I saw her, she said that she visited
all the churches in the Corners to keep them on the straight and
narrow."  She slipped her arms around his waist.  Standing against him
felt better than her most forbidden dreams.  Seeking comfort, giving
comfort, were experiences too new to test.  She just stood there, her
body melting against his, and let warmth flow over her.

"She left money in her will to the church.  I'm supposed to use some of
it to pay Ferdinand to paint a mural."

"He'll do it.  If you approach him again and tell him it was Dorothy's
request, I think he'll do it."

"He'll be at the funeral, along with the other Jokers.  I'll ask him
then."

She stood in his arms, absorbing the heat from his body, the
satisfaction of his comfort.  Then his words penetrated.  " " The
Jokers?  " " "And the Boyz: '

"No."  She put her hands on his chest and stepped back.  "Wait a
minute...."

"That was Dorothy's request.  I told you.  That's why she wanted me to
do the service.  She wants them both to come.  She wants her funeral to
be a step toward uniting the community "

"Thomas..."  She realized that he had already told her as much.  But
she had been so shocked by the fact of Dorothy 's death, she had
somehow blocked out the rest.  "My God, what could she have been
thinking of?"

"She was thinking of this community.  She gave her life to it.  Now she
wants to give her death."

"Look, no cute little twist of words can change reality.  You ask both
of those gangs to show up, they'll tear this place down, and you with
it.  You know what they're capable of.  Look what they did to me!  "

"I know.  And that's why you won't be at the funeral: '

"What do you mean, I won't be there?"  She put her hands on her hips.

"My head's not in the sand, Garnet.  I know this is a pobentially
volatile"

"Potentially volatile?  Try explosive, why don't you?  Try cataclysmic,
for God's sake!"

"A potentially volatile situation.  Dorothy knew it, too.

She asked me whether I could handle it.  I told her I could.

And one of the ways I'll handle it is to ask you not to be there.  "

She stared at him.

"I couldn't function at all if I thought you were in any danger," he
said.  "I would only be worrying about you.  I wouldn't be able to do
what needs to be done."

"You've really lost it, Thomas."  She shook her head.  "First you tell
a dying woman you'll let a mob of bloodthirsty kids gang bang at the
church in place of a dignified funeral service.  Then you tell me that
I'm not free to attend and keep score?  Where do you get off playing
God?  You think you can really control the situation so that everything
comes off with a happy ending?  You think the Boyz and the Jokers are
going to walk out of that church saying pray en and making plans to do
lunch?"

"I'm not a fool!"  He grasped her shoulders.  "Listen to me for once,
okay?"

"For once?  What's that supposed to mean?  When do you ever talk to
me?"

"Now!"  His fingers dug into her shoulders.  "Tomorrow I'm going to
Andre, and I'm going to Francis's brothers.  I'm going to tell them
when and where the funeral is being held, and I'm going to request
their presence.  I'm going to remind them of every good thing Dorothy
Brown ever did for them.  I'm going to remind them that they're human
beings and that as such they have duties.  And one of those duties is
to hold their violence in check during that funeral service.  Then,
when they arrive, I'm going to have people stationed at the doors to
take their weapons."

"People?  Don't you mean cops?"  p

"No!  Members of this congregation.  No cops.  Because everyone at the
funeral is going to show respect and dignity"

"You're out of your mind."

"Well, be thankful you aren't going to be there to witness the worst of
it."

His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were bleak again.  Silently she
mourned the comfort they had given each other.  It had been so
short-lived.

"I will be there," she said.  "If you think I'm going to let you stand
up there alone, you don't know anything about me."

"If you come, I'll be-"

"Shut up."  She put her fingers over his lips.  "Just shut up, Thomas.
This marriage may be a joke, but as long as it's still legal, I'm your
wife.  A wife doesn't let her husband face hungry lions by himself.
Even if we did it for the wrong reasons, you and I vowed before God
that this marriage was for better or worse.  Well, I can't imagine
anything worse than this funeral, can you?"

He turned away, his shoulders hunched forward defiantly She shut her
eyes, knowing she hadn't reached him.

"Then you'll sit in the front," he said at last.  "Where I can get to
you quickly."

"I'll sit in the front to honor Dorothy and support you: '

"You're making this harder for me."

"That's not possible.  It couldn't be harder."  She hesitated ; then
she put her hand on his arm.  Tentatively.  When he didn't jerk his arm
away, she moved closer.  "You've been married before, Thomas.  You
should understand that I have to do what I think is right, just like
you do."

"Patricia would have done exactly what I asked."

She supposed it had never been clearer to him that she wasn't Patricia.
She dropped her hand.

She was sorry those were the last words he spoke, because they seemed
to resound through the silent apartment for the remainder of the
evening.

* * *

Thomas stood in one side of the doorway.  Kimmy and

Frankie's father, Jack, stood in the other.  Thomas had turned down
Finn's offer of assistance, because even in plain , clothes, Finn
looked like a cop.  He was in attendance, but only as a guest-a guest
who would keep one eye on Garnet ; at all times.  ; When Jack had heard
about the circumstances surrounding

Dorothy's funeral he had volunteered to help with security.  Jack had
just found a new job, the breath of hope for his small family, but he
had taken off the afternoon without pay to stand beside Thomas.  There
were un canonized saints walking every city street, angels without
halos, prophets and priests who would never be asked to preach a
sermon.  Thomas gazed across the space separating him from the
thin-framed, stoop-shouldered father of two and felt humbled.

"Here they come," Jack said.  "The first to arrive."

Thomas looked outside.  The day was relentlessly gray.  A drizzle one
step removed from sleet darkened the sidewalks and made the November
chill more bitter.  He had awakened that morning sure that Dorothy's
funeral would not be well attended.

For better or worse, he had been wrong.

The three young men approaching the door were dressed in navy blue
trench coats.  One wore a bandanna on his head, tied like a pirate's.
One wore a bandanna around his neck.

Thomas blocked the entryway.  "

" Welcome, " he said.

"If we're welcome," the spokesman for this small group of Boyz said,
"why are you standing in our way?"

"Because we're taking weapons at the door.  This is God's house.  There
will be no violence here, out of respect for

Dorothy Brown .  "

"You think we're going in there without being strapped, like itty-bitty
lambs to the slaughter?"

"I'm asking you to respect a woman who had nothing but respect and
concern for you.  Everyone else who walks through this door will be
asked for the same.  Those who can't comply will not walk through."

"Yeah?  You and him gonna keep 'em out?  You got that much heart?  "

"We have all the heart we'll need."  Thomas held out his hand, as if he
expected the young man to cooperate.  "You're the ones who can make or
break this," he said.  "You're the first here.  If others see that you
had enough courage to leave your weapons at the door, they'll do the
same."

The spokesman's expression was insolent.  He was a handsome teenager
with a teardrop tattooed under each of his heavily lashed green eyes,
symbolizing the loss of two fellow gang members to violence.  With the
right haircut and without the tattoos, he could have passed for an Ivy
League fullback.

"You couldn't stop me from coming in if I wanted," the spokesman said
with a sneer.

"Knowing won't stop me from trying.  But I don't want to try.  I just
want you to do what's right for this occasion: '

Thomas waited, hand still extended.  Then, just as he was sure he'd
lost this first encounter, the young man shrugged.  He reached inside
his trench coat and pulled out a handgun As if on cue, the others
divested themselves of knives.  Thomas nodded.  "Thank you," he said.
"You'll get them back on your way out ."

"Yeah?"  The young man snorted.  "You'd better mean what you say."

Thomas nodded solemnly.  "I always do."

The next half hour passed swiftly.  There were more confrontations ,
more near losses.  The church filled up with the Corner Boyz, along
with a growing number of members of the Corners community.  There were
also people who were obviously from outside the neighborhood, people
who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the almost primitive
simplicity of their surroundings and the calibre of the others
attending.

During a lull between arrivals, Thomas felt a hand on his shoulder.  He
knew without looking who stood behind him.

"It's after four," Garnet said.

He didn't turn.  He was afraid be couldn't afford even that weakness.
"There are more coming."

"How do you know?"  qqe didn't.  He had gone to Andre, just as he had
gone to

Francis's brothers, and pleaded his case.  Andre had stared at him, his
dark eyes suspicious, but he had not made any promises.  Nothing had
passed between them to give Thomas hope.  But still he waited.

"Is it fair to make the people who did come just sit there staring at
the coffin?"  she asked.  She dropped her hand, wondering if her touch
had made him more stubborn.  There was no evidence it had any positive
effect on him.  In the days since he had told her about his plans for
Dorothy's service, there had been no evidence that anything she did or
said had any effect on him at all.

"We'll wait five minutes," he said, still not turning.

"Then we'll begin."

She knew better than to argue.  "Shall I go up and ask

Greg to start the prelude?  "

He was forced to face her.  She was dressed somberly in black.  It only
served to make her more exotic, more alluring' Go sit with Finn and
Tex.  It's bad enough you came," he said in a low voice.  " Don't put
yourself on display.  "

She searched his face.  There was no rebuke there, only something akin
to concern.  "I'm fine," she reassured him.

"I'll stay fine."

"Please.  Go sit down."

She looked past him, and suddenly the doorway was filled with young men
in dark trench coats and watch caps.  Andre stood at the head of the
line.  "Jesus," she said softly.  It was as much a prayer as any words
she had ever uttered.  " Thomas turned, stepping in front of her for
protection.  " " I'm glad you came, " he said.

"You think we be coming 'cause you asked?"  Andre said.  "We're here
for Dorothy.  That's all."

"

" She would be pleased.  "

Andre stepped forward, but Thomas blocked his way.  "No guns," he said.
"No weapons of any kind.  This is God's house."

"And you think you be speaking for God?"

"No.  That's one thing I don't claim: '

Andre folded his arms.  He was the picture of insolence.  "So who makes
the rules, Padre?  If it's not your God?"

"I made them, at Dorothy's request.  Nothing good can come if you walk
through this doorway with weapons."

"

" And you're going to stop me?  "

Garnet heard laughter in the ranks on the sidewalk.  From her limited
vantage point she looked for Demon, but couldn't find him.  She hoped
he had been left behind.

"I can't stop you," Thomas said.  "You know that.  There are two dozen
of you, and only two of us here.  I'm putting my faith in you, Andre,
you and your goodwill.  You came to honor Dorothy Brown, not to
dishonor her.  Cross this threshold with a gun or a knife, and she will
be dishonored" " " We got no weapons.  " Andre pulled his trench coat
open to display his clothes.  The others took his cue and did the same.
There were no weapons of any kind in sight.  " You gonna search us,
Padre?  "

"That would dishonor you Thomas stepped aside.  " I believe you. You're
welcome here.  "

"Thomas."  Garnet stepped forward.  She couldn't believe that he had
taken Andre at his word.

He turned, and the anger in his eyes told her how far she had
overstepped her bounds.  She couldn't tell him that it was fear for his
safety and his safety alone that had made her speak out.  She couldn't
tell him of the vision of impending disaster that knotted her stomach
and clutched at her throat.

But there was nothing she could do about that vision.  Now she could
only show Thomas her support.  "Thomas ,

make sure you show them where the memorial book is so everyone can
sign.  " She turned to Andre.  " It will be sent to

Dorothy's sister in California.  She couldn't attend.  "

Andre's eyes narrowed; then he shrugged.  She turned away, but not
before she saw Thomas staring at her, his eyes still angry.

Somehow she walked slowly to her seat, while every second she expected
a shot to ring out behind her.  There was an audible rustling as heads
turned and those already seated watched the Jokers find chairs.

Greg began the prelude.  There was nothing somber about the music
Dorothy had chosen.  The medley of hymns was as cheerful as Dorothy's
smile had been, but the room was still tense when the hymns had ended.
Garnet could shut her eyes and still feel suspicion and anger choking
off her oxygen The little church was a conflagration waiting to
ignite.

"Let us pray."  Thomas bowed his head.  Garnet bowed hers with effort,
but she doubted that many other heads in the room twitched in
response.

"We come together to honor a woman's life, a life that has touched each
of us because of the contributions she made to this community.  As we
both mourn Dorothy Brown s passing and celebrate her life, help us to
remember that we have been called here to listen to her last words to
us, words we may not desire to hear.  Give us courage, O Lord, to
listen with open minds and willing hearts.  Amen."

She was surprised at the abruptness of Thomas's prayer.

She tried to compare it to other prayers she had heard him , give, but
surprisingly she could not.  Upon reflection, she could not remember
the substance of one, much less its length.  Thomas seemed to spend as
little time as possible invoking the Lord's assistance.

There were opening words.  Several close friends of Dorothy 's did
readings.  Several others spoke of her role in their

lives, of the important differences she had made in the lives of
others.  Community leaders who had worked with her stood to pay her
tribute.  Two songs, both favorites of Dorothy s, were sung.

Then it was time for Thomas's eulogy.

As he always did, he abandoned the pulpit at the first opportunity.  He
came down the aisle and stood in the middle The Boyz and the Jokers had
aligned themselves perfectly along each side.  Had they stood, faced
each other and bowed, the scene would have looked like the opening
strains of a deadly minuet.  Now, with Thomas standing between them,
they looked only like volatile young men bent on destroying their lives
and the lives of anyone who loved them.

"Dorothy asked me to dispense with praising her life," he said.  "It
was a life worthy of praise, an exceptional life, but I, like most of
you here, would never have dared to disagree with Dorothy Brown.  So I
am not going to do a eulogy Instead, I am going to do exactly what
Dorothy asked of me."

Thomas hooked his thumbs in his pockets.  He was wearing a suit, but he
didn't look like a preacher.  His hands were clenched.  His mouth was
grim.  His eyes blazed with almost unearthly light.

"This service will be concluded when Dorothy's body is respectfully
carried out to the hearse waiting in front.  Then there will be a short
ceremony at the graveside.  In her last moments Dorothy named her
pallbearers.  I can't tell you how glad I am that they're all here
today.  I can't tell you how much I hope that each of them will stand
when I call his name and come forward to carry Dorothy's casket out
that door."

Garnet felt her heart beat faster.  She knew what was coming next.
Dorothy, damn her saintly soul, was about to make her final
statement.

Thomas looked around the church as he spoke.  "Dorothy named six young
men whom she was especially fond of.  She was color-blind, and blind to
all other immaterial differences that keep us from respecting and
loving each other.  She chose young men who she believed would someday
take her place in this community as leaders.  She believed that each of
them can help change the Corners from a place of despair to a place of
hope.  She believed that each one of them would stand proudly today and
take his place beside her casket."

He paused to let that sink in.  "May her belief in the goodness of
others, may her good instincts and supreme faith be rewarded with this
final act."

He turned and pinioned Andre with his gaze.  "Andre

Rollins, Dorothy believed in you.  " He found Francis's older brother
Xavier with his eyes.  " Xavier Ramon, Dorothy believed in you.  "

There was an audible gasp, as if the two hundred or so people crowded
into the room had all realized, at the same moment, what Dorothy had
intended.

Thomas continued calling out names until three Jokers and three Boyz
had been singled out.  Thomas straightened, and his arms fell to his
side.  "It's time to take your places beside Dorothy Brown's casket."

Garnet shut her eyes.  She had no hope that any of the six young men
would comply.  Thomas had asked too much, too publicly.  They would not
stand, and when the import of what had been asked of them was
understood, they would react with anger.

And their anger would be enough to ignite the church.

She heard a rustle.  She could not block out the inevitaq ble.  She
opened her eyes in time to watch Andre slowly get to his feet.  He
started toward Thomas.  She lifted her hand _ as if somehow, even from
yards away, she could protect her q husband.  Then, as she watched,
Andre brushed past

Thomas and started toward the casket.  The other two Jokqq en stood and
moved to join him.

"God," she said softly.  It was another prayer.

Xavier Ramon got to his feet.  "For Dorothy," he said clearly.  The
other two Boyz who had been chosen rose and joined him.

Garnet took a deep breath as the Boyz reached the casket and took their
places on the opposite side from the Jokers.

Then she forgot to breathe again as they lifted and shoulq the heavy
casket as if they had practiced together for hours.

The procession, with Thomas at the head, was slow and silent.  Those
gathered to witness it rose, as if they were one body, and stood
respectfully until the casket was gone.  Then they filed quietly and
tearfully from their seats.

Garnet, following Tex and Finn, was the last to leave.  At the door she
turned and stared at the picture of the multifaceted

Jesus that Dorothy had given to the church.  Then she closed and locked
the door behind her.

Chapter 9

There had been no violence.  Maybe Dorothy Brown, vqaring angel wings,
had been just out of sight directing her own funeral, or maybe God
himself had rained blessings on the Church of the Samaritan.

Or maybe, even more miraculously, a man named

Thomas Stonehill had displayed enough courage, enough commitment and
charisma, to convince the teenage fiends from hell to act like human
beings for one afternoon.

Garnet peered out the window for the fifteenth time, hoping to see
Thomas's car pull into the parking space just below.  She had gone to
the graveside to assure herself that the truce in the war between the
Boyz and the Jokers was going to last.  Then, when the serv iq had
ended and the only remaming mourners were a few community leaders and
fqqly members, she had gotten a ride home with Tex and Finn.

Now she waited impatiently for Thomas to return.  She didn't know how
to tell him she was sorry.  She had showed an abysmal lack of faith.
Granted, all her reasoning had qqn sound.  She had lived here forever.
She knew these boys and what they were capable of, both good and bad.
They did not respond well to coercion or public tests, and even the
respect they felt for Dorothy Brown would not outweigh devotion to
their chosen gangs.

She had been sure she understood so much more than Thomas, but in the
end, he had been the one who understood He had understood about
miracles.  Dorothy, even on her deathbed, had understood about
miracles, too.

While Garnet waited for Thomas to return, she put the finishing touches
on the table.  She had worked swiftly to turn the apartment into a
place to celebrate.  The table was covered with her favorite blue
tablecloth, and she had unearthed her most festive pottery to set it.
There were candles in the center and an arrangement of dried flowers.
She had even defrosted a steak she'd intended to divide for three
nights of stir fry and set it to marinate in cooking wine and herbs in
preparation for broiling.  There were potatoes baking and a salad in
progress.

And no Thomas.

She changed her clothes.  Black had hardly seemed appropriate for an
event as uplifting as Dorothy's last stand.  She put on cropped pants
and an oversize T-shirt the dark red of her name and let her hair hang
loose around her face.  Her necklace was a double strand of
papier-mache watermelon slices and her earrings matching hoops of
watermelon seeds.

And still there was no Thomas.

She had just finished making dessert, her mother's favorite

Key lime pie, when Thomas walked through the door.

"If you were a drinking man, i'd say you needed a drink," she said.

Thomas felt completely drained; there was nothing left of him.  He had
watched Dorothy's coffin being lowered into the ground, a simple pine
coffin that held the remains of one of the finest women he had ever
known, and he had felt such despair that he had wanted to throw himself
in after her.

He hadn't wanted to come home.  In the past few days the tension in his
apartment had been nearly as thick as the q Dmgonslayer 147 tension in
the church today.  Garnet was impossible to ignore He was sure she had
no idea how aware he was of every move she made, every sensuous,
provocative move.  She couldn't know how his eyes followed her, how his
traitorous body reacted to her presence, how desperately he wanted to
talk with her, touch her, replenish himself with her warmth and
wisdom.

But he owed her more than that.  He owed her a life free of his
inadequacies.  He could not bind her to him in any way; she had to be
able to leave when the time was right.  In the meantime, he had to keep
his distance.

But how could he keep his distance at this moment, with Garnet gazing
at him and her earthy Garden of Eden smile flooding the room with
light?  How could he keep his distance when she was not about to keep
hers?

"Since you're not a drinking man," she said, "how about hot cider?  IYs
all made."

He wanted to turn and run.  After the funeral he had found a hundred
excuses to avoid coming home.  He should have found a thousand.

"Thomas?"  She walked toward him, frowning.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

She stopped just an arm's length away.  "You're burned out ," she said.
"I know the signs, preacher man.  You've given your last for today. Sit
down."  She pointed at the closest armchair.  "Sit and let me take care
of you, starting with some cider."

"You don't need to wait on me."

She tossed her head, and her smile widened.  "Sure I do.  This is my
party.  We're having a wake for Dorothy.  Just you and me, and probably
Dorothy, looking on from above."

He wanted to protest again, but she had already gone into the kitchen.
He sank into the chair.  He did not have the strength to leave.  God
help him, he had never had the strength to do what was right.

His eyes were closed when she returned.  His hair fell gqoss his
forehead, and he had managed to loosen his tie.

But he looked like a warrior who had returned from a battle so terrible
he would never be the same man again.  She set his cider on the table
beside him.  When he didn't move to take it, she squatted to look at
him, resting her hand on his arm.

"Thomas, that funeral was the most wonderful thing that's happened in
the Corners in years.  Those boys stood together without a fight or
even an angry word.  I know you must be exhausted, but I hope you
realize how important that was.  There's still hope here.  Maybe all
hell will break loose tomorrow, but today there was hope.  And that was
something."

He opened his eyes.  For once her face was devoid of all defenses.  Her
expression was earnest, her lovely mobile mouth rounded in entreaty.

"It wasn't enough," he said.

"No?  Well, you didn't save the world, that's true.  But this little
corner of it looked brighter for a while."

He wanted to deny even that much, but he couldn't.  He reached for the
cider and swallowed some as she watched.  It was hot and spicy, and it
spread warmth in its wake, chasing away some of the chill that had felt
almost natural.

"Your problem, Reverend Stonehill, is that nobody ever taught you how
to celebrate.  How can you possibly slog through life without
celebrating the good things that come along?  Even the church has more
pizzazz than that.  For every Good Friday, there's an Easter."

He searched her eyes.

"I'm sorry I doubted you," she said softly.  "No, that's not quite
true.  I never doubted you.  I just doubted that even you could pull
off something this impossible.  But you did, and I'm sorry."

"I don't want an apology."

"Too bad."  She smiled.  "Seems to me there's a lot of things you say
you don't want, but I think you're lying to yourself."

"

" Garnet"

"For instance, I think you want to rest right now and let some of your
sadness drain away.  Then I think you want a good dinner with good
company."  She began to untie his shoes.  " " Garnet"

"I think you really want to be quiet and relax.  You want me to wait on
you a little, maybe turn on some soft music and dim the lights before I
go and broil the steak.  You want to sit here and remind yourself that
something good happened today until you feel it inside you a little
more."  She slipped off his shoes.

"No one ever taught you the meaning of the word no."

"And you won't be the one who does, so relax."

He didn't want to feel better.  Feeling better was dangerous It made
him believe that life could be good, that he had something to offer in
return for what he got.  But she was gone before he could protest
again.  Gone just far enough that he could still hear the husky music
of her voice murmuring love songs with the radio.

His body responded to the sound of her voice as it had responded to her
presence.  His desires were still imprisoned deep inside him; only his
ability to relieve them had disappeared He ached; he burned.  The
torments of hell existed inside him, and there was no escape.  The
connection between desire and fulfillment had somehow been lost, and he
was doomed to suffer for that desire until death.

He shut his eyes again and willed himself to relax.  He could get
through this evening as he had gotten through othen.  Garnet would back
away if he remained uncommunicative He didn't want to hurt her, but
there was more hurt just around the corner if he let himself respond.
He had nothing to give her, just as, in a different way, he'd had
nothing to give Patricia.  But the biggest difference between the man
he was and the man he once had been was that now he knew the truth
about himself.

He was a fraud and a liar.

In the kitchen Garnet sang along with the radio.  Under the broiler the
steak spat and crackled.  She put the finish

150 i)ragonslayer ing touches on the salad and tossed it as she kept
her eye on the oven.  But beneath all the bustle and good spirits was a
certain anxiety that, despite all her plans and intentions, 'q'homas
was not going to respond.

He had come to her fresh from Dorothy's hospital bed; and he had shared
himself in a way he never had before.  She had rewarded him by doubting
his abilities.  She hadn't trusted him.  She had let fear for his
safety stand between them.  Now it was too late to go back to those
moments of sharing.

She turned off the broiler and finished setting the table.  Then, when
everything was done, she went into the living room to tell Thomas.

He was asleep.  In repose his face looked younger, less the Roman
soldier, more the man.  But sleep, which should have been rejuvenating,
seemed to suck something essential from him.  As she watched, his head
turned restlessly, as if he was following movement with his closed
eyes.

She knelt beside him, studying his face.  He looked younger, but even
more troubled.  She wondered what he was living or reliving, what fear
or memory had him in its grip.

"Thomas?"  She touched his arm.  "Thomas?"

He jerked upright.  His hand grasped her wrist, and she gasped from
shock.  " " Patricia?  "

She shook her head.  "You were dreaming.  ihomas, you're hurting me!"

He seemed disoriented.  "No... I can't- '

She wrenched her arm from his grip.  "I'm not Patricia.  I'm Garnet.
You were dreaming."

His eyes focused slowly.  He saw Garnet, nothing like Patricia , alive
and vibrant and..  hurt.  He reached for her hand.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so
sorry.  I saw..."

"What?"  She cradled her throbbing wrist with her other hand.  " " What
on earth did you see?  "

"The man who killed her."  "

She forgot her own pain.  "Oh, Thomas."  She leaned toward him.  "I'm
sorry.  But I'm glad I woke you."

He shut his eyes.  " " You said she died in a fight for her purse, "
Garnet said.  She touched his cheek in sympathy.  " Did they find the
man?  " She didn't know what else to ask.  She didn't know how Patricia
had died, or even why, exactly.  Except for that one fact, she knew
nothing at all about his past.

"No."  He turned away, as if to escape her touch.

She refused to allow it.  She followed him, her stroking hand offering
the comfort he didn't seem to want.  "You said you saw the man who
killed her.  Then the police know who it was?"

"They don't know anything.  I don't know anything!"  He pushed her hand
away.  He could not tolerate her touch.  His throat was blocked with
emotion; his head was threatening to explode.  And her touch, the soft
warmth of her hands, was threatening to send him over the edge.

"Then it was just a figure in the shadows?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"  He sat up straight and opened his
eyes.

"Well, I do," she said softly.  "Because it's eating you alive.  And
I'm not going to let that happen.  You don't deserve it."

"You don't know what I deserve!"  He rose on unsteady legs and found
his way to the window.  The room, which had seemed pleasantly warm when
he'd first come in, now seemed unbearably hot.  He opened the window
and stared out at the gray streets below.

"You don't deserve to suffer," she said.  "I've tried leaving you
alone.  I thought you'd tell me about your past in your own good time.
But you won't.  I know that now.  You'll keep it locked inside you to
fester.  I'm tired of being shut out: '

"Are you?"  He turned.  "Believe me, it's for the best.  You don't want
to be where I am, Garnet.  IYs not a fit place for any human being,
especially not one like you."

"

" Like me?  "

"That's right.  You're so full of life, and I'm so full of regrets"

She folded her arms.  She was standing beside him, but not close enough
to touch.  She knew what a mistake that would be.  "Tell me about
them."

"Leave it alone."

"No.  I don't think so.  I think iYs time we faced each other the way
we really are.  You see shadows in your dreams?  I see them every
waking day.  I see them every time I look at you.  I want to see the
real Thomas Stonehill.  I deserve that much : '

"You don't know what you're asking "

"I do know.  Exactly."

He turned away again and slammed the window shut.  Then he leaned
against it, his cheek against the cool glass, and slut his eyes.

He had no right to keep his past from her.  Not anymore.  Their
marriage had never been real, yet in more ways than he could have
guessed, it bordered on reality.  If he'd learned anything from his
years with Patricia, it was the mistake of not sharing.  Patricia had
died because he had kept the most essential parts of himself from
her.

"You look at me, and what do you see?"  he asked.

She felt for words, discarded them.  "A voice crying in the wilderness,
" she said at last.

"You've been to Deering Hills to see Candy and Francis.  Have you
passed the Deering Hills Community Church" "

"It's not possible to go through Deering and not pass the church.  The
town's practically built around it "

"I was pastor there for six years."

She whistled softly.  The church was a phenomenon.  It sat on a hill
like an ancient temple.  The parking lot took up a square block.  A
fleet of buses and vans was parked along the roadside to gather in the
faithful on Sunday moroings.

"We had six thousand people on our local mailing list," he said, "and
another six thousand nationwide who subscribed to my sermon series. The
attendance on Sundays doubled the first year after I was called. We
went to three services the second qear, two in the moroing, one in the
evening.  The third year I began my own radio show to reach the people
we couldn't fit in the pews.  My fourth we added two wings and knocked
out a wall to double the capacity of the sanctuary.  During my final
year we were looking into a television ministry."

"

" And then something happened, " she said.

He faced her.  "I always wanted to go into the ministry.  My family is
influential.  One brother is a vice president in the family bank.  The
other is an attorney in an old, old Philadelphia firm.  I was the
youngest, the one who didn't fit in.  Eventually my parents saw that I
wasn't going to change my mind.  I wanted a pulpit, and I wanted to be
heard.  So I went to seminary, but my father told me that if I was
going to pursue this nonsense, I'd better be the best damn minister in
the business."

"And were you?"

"I went to seminary at Harvard.  I did postgraduate work at Yale.  I
interned in one of the largest churches in New York, and while I was
there, I married the bishop's daughter Patricia's mother died when
Patricia was a teenager, and she had taken over her mother's duties
without a blink of an eye.  She was perfectly suited to become the wife
of an upcoming star in the denomination.  She knew exactly what to say,
what to do, in any situation.  She could listen and lead unobtrusively
, of course-and she could entertain.  She looked wonderful in the front
pew every Sunday, refined, feminine, prayerful.  The only thing she
couldn't do was get my attention ."

He turned to the window.  "She wanted children.  I was in agreement,
just as long as she assumed full responsibility for them.  Children are
an asset to a minister's image, but congregations don't, as a rule,
understand that they also need some of a father's time.  As it turned
out, it didn't matter.  Patricia couldn't get pregnant.  We were never
sure exactly why.  She had several problems that were corrected, and I
had none.  We followed all the rules.  But she never conceived "

"That must have been difficult for you both: '

"I didn't have time to be concerned.  In a way, I guess, I was
relieved.  I was climbing the ladder so quickly I didn't want anything
to slow me down.  And Patricia was such an asset, I didn't really want
her to be sidelined by children.  But she wasn't relieved.  She was
devastated.  I realize now that she saw motherhood as a role that had
nothing to do with her image as a minister's wife.  She knew by then
that she would never really have my attention.  I was focused totally
on my career.  She expected children to give her the love I didn't have
time for.  When she couldn't have them, her life no longer had
meaning."

"But there were other things she could have done."

" " She knew that.  " He watched Garnet's image in the glass.  She was
standing just behind him now.  He turned so the real woman was visible.
" " She tried to talk to me, " he said.  " " She really tried.  I made
promises and didn't keep them.  There was always a meeting I had to
attend, a hospital to visit, a sermon to prepare There was never time
to get away with her to plan our lives.  My life was fine the way it
was.  I refused to understand that hers was not.  "

He was still facing her, but he shut his eyes again.  "Then one evening
she came to the church to see me.  She never made it to my study, but I
found out later that she had come to tell me she was leaving me.  She
had confided that much to a friend.  Afterward, the friend made sure to
let me know.  The police put together what must have happened after
Patricia got out of her car.  She started toward the front door.  When
she got there, she was accosted by someone.  There was a struggle. That
much we know.  She wasn't the kind to struggle, but I think she was
distraught by then.  She was tired of standing by and letting others
rob her of everything that mattered.  So when the man went after her
purse, she fought him.  The police think he shoved her.  Hard. What we
know for sure is that she fell backward and hit her head on the corner
of the entryway.  She died instantly."

"Thomas."  She didn't know what else to say.

Dragonslayer I55

"I stayed at church until almost midnight.  I wanted my sermon the next
morning to be perfect.  There was to be a meeting of the board of
deacons after the service.  The television ministry was to be
discussed.  I wanted everyone going into that meeting to know that I
was worth whatever funds we had to raise, that my ministry would be a
credit to the church.  When i came out the front door, I stumbled.  At
first I didn't know what had caught my foot.  Then I saw her...."

"I'm so, so sorry, Thomas " She put her hand on his arm.

He jerked away.  "Why?  It's fine to be sorry for Patricia.  She died
without having a chance to live.  I made sure of that.  But don't be
sorry for me.  I brought it all on myself with my greed and vanity.  I
stole her life and used it for my own purposes !  "

"She had choices, too."

"And when she decided to exercise them, she died."

"But how could that be your fault?  You didn't know she was coming to
see you that night.  Maybe if she'd stood up to you sooner, she'd be
alive today."

"It was not her fault!  I rode over her.  I molded her into the image I
thought I needed in my ministry.  I never once thought about her needs.
Don't you see what that says about the man I was?  I wasn't thinking
about her, I wasn't thinking about the people I was ministering to, I
was thinking about myself.  And Patricia died because of my sins !  " "
" You have this all out of kilter!  "

He didn't meet her eyes.  Some part of him wanted to believe her.  A
larger part knew he was guilty and would remain so until the day he
died.  "I've had years to put it in perspective.  I resigned my
pastorate the day of Patricia's funeral, then I left the state.  I
spent two years wandering.  As far as my family and friends knew, I was
dead.  I took any job that came my way, slept in doorways if nothing
did.  I drank my way through a 1>un dred gallons of rotgut liquor, but
I sobered up after six months.  I wasn't even a successful drunk.
Alcohol just made my nightmares worse."

"What happened then?  What brought you here?"

"I found out that you can't run away from who you are."

"

" And who you are is a man of God, with God's message to proclaim . "

He met her eyes this time.  "No."

"But isn't that where your story is leading?  Isn't that why you came
back?  Because you knew you had something to offer?  That your own
experiences had taught you about the pain, and you wanted to start a
church in a place where you were really needed?"

"That part's true."

"Then I don't understand."

"I'm not a man of God, Garnet.  There hasn't been any God inside me
since Patricia died."

She still didn't understand.  But she did understand that now his eyes
were not empty of emotion.  They brimmed with it.  They burned with
it.

"I'll make it simple," he said.  "I stand up on Sundays and preach. And
I say what's in my heart.  I talk about ways people can change their
lives.  I talk about the community coming together to make things
better for everyone.  I tell stories about men and women who have done
that throughout the ages.  But I don't pretend those messages come from
God.  Because I gave up on God the day He gave up on Patricia I can no
longer speak with assurance about something

I don't really believe in "

"You don't believe in God?"

"" I'haYs as close to the truth as anything,1 guess.  "

"I don't believe you."

She knew he was struggling to hide his feelings, but nothing he did
could hide his torture.  "Sometimes I don't believe myself.  I don't
believe I have the gall to speak of things I no longer understand.  But
when I stopped speaking of those things, I was in hell.  When I came
here and began to speak of them again, I put hell on hold.  I can make
a difference in the Corners.  Maybe I can even keep someone else from
suffering the way I suffered, the way Patricia must have suffered."

"But how did you... ?  How could you... ?"

"I woke up one morning and realized that even if I have nothing else
left of all those years in the ministry, I could still do some good in
the world.  I've been trained to counsel , trained to preach and
organize.  I could use that training or I could sleep in doorways.  And
put that way, the choice seemed simple."

She didn't believe him.  She knew he was telling the truth as he saw
it, but there was more behind his words.  She could sense as much, even
if she didn't know what, exactly.

"So I resumed a life of sorts, here in the Corners.  I send cards to my
family from time to time, and they do the same.  They'd prefer not to
acknowledge my existence, but they're too upstanding to give in to that
impulse.  Most of my friends and colleagues still don't know where I
am, and I've preferred to keep it that way."

"You've been so alone."

"Now you know what an impostor I am," he said, as if she hadn't spoken.
"You wanted the truth, and you've got it.  Our marriage isn't the only
thing I've faked.  My entire life is as counterfeit as a three-dollar
bill."

She looked at him for a long time.  She saw the same man she had known.
A man of integrity.  A man of courage.  A man of compassion.  The blue
eyes that could snap with life when he preached were desolate now, as
if by admitting the truth he had doomed himself.  But they were the
same eyes.

"We have a celebration dinner waiting for us," she said at last.

He shook his head.  "What do we have to celebrate?"

"The first day of our marriage."

He shook Z>is head again.

"I was married to a stranger," she said.  "Now I'm married to someone
made of flesh and blood.  And I like this man better."

"Garnet..."

"Thomas."  She smoothed his hair off his forehead.  He brushed her hand
away, but she wasn't intimidated.  She touched his cheek.  "Something
wonderful happened at the church today, even if you can't see it right
now.  You made a difference.  Dorothy made a difference.  Come with me.
We'll toast Dorothy with mineral water and eat our meal in her honor.
And we'll do it as two human beings with a thousand flaws between them
who are still, despite everything , trying to do what's right."

He stared at her.  He had told her his darkest secrets, secrets he had
never admitted to anyone.  And still she touched him.  She strove to
heal his pain.

He took her wrist, but he couldn't push it away.  "I could hurt you,
the way I hurt Patricia," he said.  "Even in the short time we'll be
together."

"I'll take my chances."

She shrugged.  "Why not?  Because you've admitted you're human?  That
you made mistakes?  That you have doubts?  Those are just more reasons
to care about you "

"Don't care about me!"

"I'm afraid you're too late."  She withdrew her hand, but she felt as
if she was still touching him.  She wanted to ease his pain, to wipe
away all his terrible memories and his guilt.

But she had done all she could tonight.  She knew better than to say
any more.  And she knew better than to touch him again, even though she
ached to give him solace.

"Now will you come have dinner with me?"  she asked.

He watched her start toward the kitchen.  She had disappeared before he
realized that he was going to follow.  He waited for the all too
familiar feeling of defeat.  He had failed again, failed to warn her
away, failed to make her understand his sins.

But the feeling didn't come.

"Thomas?"

Even as he tried to steel himself against her, he was drawn toward the
sound of her voice.

Chapter 10

qutside the window a truck gunned its engine in sync with the
out-of-tune morning chimes from St.  Michael's blocks away.  In fifteen
minutes Garnet would be late for work.  She had awakened late after a
restless night, and judging from a peek at the living room couch,
Thomas hadn't awakened at all.

She imagined his night had been restless, too.  Their celebration
dinner had lasted into the wee hours.  She had borne the greater part
of the conversation, but he had relaxed as the evening wore on.  She
knew how painful his revelations had been, but she believed-or
hoped-that it had helped him a little to tell her about Patricia.

It had helped her.  She paused in the middle of twisting her hair on
top of her head and examined the face staring back at her.  She had
been so wrong about his first marriage.  Thomas did not look at her and
wish she was Patricia; he did not even want her to be like Patricia. He
had loved his wife-his sorrow would not be as profound if he hadn'tbut
she didn't think he wished for marriage to someone like Patricia again.
He needed a woman who would stand up to him, who would insist that she
be included in his life.  Ironically , when Patricia had finally
rebelled, she had died.

The face of a brash, worldly-wise woman stared at Garnet , but this
morning she could see more than the obvious.  The woman in the mirror
had blamed Thomas's rejection on herself.  She had believed herself to
be the cause of Thomas 's impotence.  He had not wanted to make love to
her because she had failed, just as she often had, to be good enough,
bright enough, attractive enough.

The worthless teenager who had turned to drugs and alcohol , to
absences from school and unprotected sex, stared at her.  Garnet knew
she had come a long way in the intervening years, but apparently she
had not come far enough.  She could still let her own perceived
inadequacies drag her down.  She could still blame herself for things
that were not her fault.

"So grow up already," she said, turning away from the mirror.

In the living room she noted that Thomas slept on.  Finn had called
almost half an hour earlier to tell her that he wouldn't be able to
walk her to work.  He was ill and furious at his body for forcing him
to take the day off.  She had promised him that she would let Thomas
accompany her.  But Thomas had never gotten up, and she wasn't about to
wake him.  Not when he seemed to be sleeping so peace fully.

His arm was thrown over one stubbly cheek.  The covers were twisted
around his hips, and his pajama shirt was unbuttoned She studied him,
but not dispassionately.  Naming what she felt when she looked at
Thomas wasn't easy.  Desire wasn't broad enough.  Love was too
frightening.  Yearning?  Well, perhaps that was closest.

She yearned to be held in his arms.  They were strong arms, arms that
could hold back the world as well as embrace it.  She yearned to lay
her head on his chest, to run her hands over his narrow hips and wide
shoulders.  She yearned for the intimacy of passionate nights and lazy,
sensuous mornings.

Thomas was all man, yet he claimed not to be able to consummate their
marriage.  What secrets were still locked away inside him?

They were married.  Husband and wife.  But she had never seen him
without his clothes.  She let her gaze rest on him for another moment;
she knew if he awoke, he would see longing in her eyes.

Thomas slept on as she finally closed the door quietly behind her.  She
left the building through the church, although there was another exit.
She supposed it was silly, but she wanted to see if the room had
changed somehow after yesterday's triumph.  The impact of Dorothy's
funeral would be felt in the Corners for weeks to come.  She wondered
if success lingered in the very rows where the two gangs had sat.

The church didn't look any different, but Garnet walked through it and
felt different.  She felt hopeful, a luxury she had carefully schooled
herself against in days past.  She worked hard to change things, but
she rarely let herself believe that things could change on the most
basic level.  Believing was too painful.  Now she was close to
believing anyway.

She locked the front door behind her, instinctively scanning the street
before she turned the lock one last notch.  She planned to take
precautions, but she wasn't really worried about her safety this
morning.  There had been no trouble on her walks with Finn.  And she
hoped, after yesterday, the Jokers and the Boyz had better things to
think about than harassing her.

There were cars passing, it was nearing rush hour.  But there was no
one on the street who looked as if he didn't belong there.

She started down the steps.  It was a rare, crisp November morning.
Yesterday's drizzle had stopped, and the sun was peeking between the
units of Wilford Heights.  No one was sleeping inqKensington Park.  She
could almost pretend that all the city s homeless had been taken care
of for the night at the Kensington Hotel and places like it.

She said good morning to a grandmother with a stroller and go away to a
stray dog who had nothing better to do at that hour than follow her to
the clinic.

She had almost reached the end of the block when a car on the opposite
side of the street caught her eye.

There was nothing particularly noteworthy about it.  It was a dark blue
sedan with rusting chrome and one rear side window held together with
duct tape.  There were plenty of beat-up cars in the Corners, and
usually she didn't think twice when she saw one.

But this car caught her eye.  Maybe she was jumpier than she'd thought
because Finn wasn't with her, or maybe her instincts were just finely
tuned after years of inner city life.  Whatever the reason, she let
herself examine the car as it passed.  The windshield and the window on
the driver's side were both tinted for privacy.  She could hardly tell
anyone was inside, much less discern anything about them.  There was
only a little traffic on the street that morning, and it was speeding
by.  But the car in question moved slowly, as if its occupant or
occupants were scanning the street-or the sidewalk.

Garnet looked for a place to take cover.  She didn't expect to have to
use it.  She imagined the driver of the blue sedan was looking for an
address, maybe even for the stray dog, who had found refuge on a stoop
half a block behind her.  But one night in a parking lot had taught her
to heed warnings.  True, the Boyz and the Jokers had sat like choir
boys at Dorothy's funeral and even teamed up to carry her coffin.  But
they were the same young men who normally carried weapons and roamed
the streets looking for trouble

There was a doorway up ahead, with a low wall jutting forward in an L
shape to shield the entrance.  From experience she was sure that the
space would be crammed with garbage cans, but there had to be room for
one slender female body.  She moved faster, keeping her eye on the car
as she did.  By the time she reached the wall, the car was well past.
her She hesitated, turning to see if there was any reaDragonslayerson
to wait, but the car had apparently rounded the corner and was now out
of sight.

She kept watch for the next block, but the car didn't return Nothing
else seemed out of the ordinary.  Just yards from the clinic she had
relaxed her guard when tires squealed behind her and a car turned onto
the street from a narrow alleyway.  She caught a flash of blue, of a
window spider webbed in silver, of the muzzle of a gun tied with a blue
bandanna, just before glass exploded outward and a volley of shots
disturbed the pleasant sounds of morning.

"She's all right.  All right, Thomas!  Are you listening?  One of the
bullets grazed her shoulder, but that's it.  Even with an automatic,
these guys couldn't aim."

"Automatic?"  Thomas gripped the telephone receiver harder.

There was silence as Tex seemed to realize that sometimes not being one
hundred percent truthful was kindest.  "Look, whoever shot her was
serious.  We know that much.  But he was also a lousy shot.  Garnet's
fine.  Furious, but fine."

"

" Where was Finn ?  "

"He called her this morning and told her he couldn't take her to work.
He picked up some bug and he's home in bed.  He told her to... get
somebody else to go with her."

Thomas banged his fist on the telephone table.  "She told her to get
me, right?"

"She didn't want to wake you up."

There were a few choice names for a woman who behaved like Garnet.
Mentally Thomas went through them all.

One more thing, Tex said.  "She says the car was blue.  And just before
they started to shoot, she saw a blue bandanna tied to the gun."

"When will she be ready to go?"

"They're cleansing the wound now but she'll be able to go in an hour or
so, just as soon as the police are finished taking her statement.  Do
you want to come get her, or do you want me to drop her off?"

Thomas hung up after assuring Tex that he would be by to pick up Garnet
himself.

He had one hour.  He could go and make a fool of himself at Garnet's
bedside, or he could find Andre.  The choice seemed simple.  Perhaps
Garnet had seen a blue bandanna, but it wasn't the Corner Boyz who were
angry at her.  She had helped Francis, one of their own, when she had
delivered

Candy's baby.  Unless they were trying to confuse this issue for
purposes he didn't understand, there was only one explanation for what
she had seen.  The Jokers wanted to throw suspicion on the Boyz.  And
they had done it by false flagging, by showing Boyz colors when they
shot at Garnet

She could have been killed.  He found himself in the chair beside the
telephone table.  Shock washed over him.  She could have been killed.
Yesterday's hiatus in the war between the Boyz and the Jokers had
lasted only a few hours.  Now it was in full swing again, and Garnet
was still a target

She could have been killed, and he could have been left with nothing.
Until that moment he hadn't realized how much she filled his life.  She
was light and warmth.  He had married her to protect her, but she had
never needed him the way he needed her.  His contribution to her life
was debatable Despite their marriage, she had almost died today.  But
her contribution to his life was so far-reaching that he couldn't even
see an end to it.

Except the ending that would come when she left him.

He found Andre in a boarded-up house the city had promised to tear down
ten months before.  Kids in Deering Hills had keys to their parents'
summer cottages when they needed a private place to meet.  The Jokers
had no keys or cottages, nor did they need them.  They had made this
house theirs, despite numerous complaints to the authorities.  The
outside walls were sprayed with graffiti to warn away strangers.  When
the city finally got around to tearing the house down, the block would
become a battlefield.

Thomas took the steps to the porch two at a time.  The door rattled
under the assault of his fist.  There were two shorties lounging on the
porch throwing signs at each other.  They were the youngest of gang
members, no older than thirteen, and the elaborate hand signs that
proclaimed their membership in the Jokers looked like the slapping,
clapping games of another more innocent generation.  " " Hey, you can't
go in there, " one of the boys said when Thomas shoved the door open.

"You're supposed to be in school," Thomas said.  "Get going."

"Yeah?"  One of the kids stood.  He didn't stretch to Thomas's
shoulder.  Thomas stared at him.  The kid rested his hands on his hips,
but he didn't meet Thomas's eyes.

"Why aren't you at school?"  Thomas asked.  "" Cause I don't like them
teachers at the middle school.  " " qy not?  "

"They be saying the Jokers are bad."

"If you don't show up, they'll think the Jokers made you stay away."

The kid cursed like a pro.  "I don't gotta listen to you."

Thomas stared at him.  "I think I know your grandmother , " he said at
last.

The kid squirmed.

"In fact, I know I do," Thomas said.  "Letitia Whitney.  Right?"  q

"So?"

"So, when I leave here, I'm going to give Letitia a call and tell her
we had this talk."

"So?"  The kid cursed and squirmed some more, scuffing his toe against
the porch.

"So maybe if you leave right now you won't be more than an hour late
for classes.  Letitia doesn't have to know about an hour."

The other kid stood.  "Don't let him-"

"And you're Annie Wade's kid, aren't you?"  Thomas asked.

"Come on, Jerome."  The two boys scurried off the porch.  There was no
guarantee they were going to school, but at least they started in the
right direction.

"I'm going to call the attendance office this afternoon " , Thomas
shouted after them.  They walked faster.

"What you doing here?"

Thomas turned to find Andre in the doorway.  His hair was in neat
cornrows that hung halfway to his shoulders.  Thomas was struck with
the young man's proud male beauty.  With his fierce dark eyes and
mahogany skin, he looked like an African deity.  He never should have
had to fight the battles of urban America.  His fitness for other
things, for anything he chose, had never seemed more apparent

"Garnet was nearly killed today.  By a bullet from a Joker 's gun.  Or
am I boring you with old news?"

Andre lounged in the doorway, smoking a cigarette.  Behind him, Thomas
could see movement.  Andre was not alone.  Thomas didn't care.

"I heard," Andre said.

"You heard right: '

"What makes you think it was us who did it?"

" " There was no reason for anyone else to do it and pretend it was one
of the Boyz "

"Maybe it was them."

Thomas fought to read Andre's expression.  He knew that the most
important communication would not happen with words.  There was only so
much that Andre could say.  But his eyes spoke volumes.

"I don't think so," Thomas said.  "And you don't, either"

Andre shrugged.

"You didn't plan it, did you?"  Thomas asked.

Andre shrugged again.

"So who did?  And don't shrug again, damn it.  You're upset about it,
too."

"I don't know."

Thomas was silent, assessing Andre's answer.  Then he nodded.  " "
Okay.  " " She's not supposed to get hurt.  " Thomas was surprised
Andre had admitted that much.  " No?  " Andre tossed the butt of his
cigarette into the bushes beyond the porch.  " "No."

" " Well, she was .  " " Yeah.  And I don't like it when somebody bangs
without my say so " " Can you find out who it was?  " Andre's head
barely moved, but Thomas took it as a sign.  " The police should be
told," Thomas said.  " Cops?  " Andre snorted.  " We take care of our
own business, Padre.  "

"It's not your business to take care of.  There are courts and higher
justice."  Andre folded his arms.  "Higher just iq Like your God,
maybe?"  Thomas didn't answer.  "You don't say much about God," Andre
said.  "I hear you talk a lot, but I don't hear you talking about God.
You believe in God, Padre?  Or just in trying to pretty up the Corners?
" It didn't surprise Thomas that Andre had picked up on his greatest
failing.  The young gang leader was highly intelligent , and years of
life in the Corners had taught him to pick out anyone's weakness and
twist it to his advantage.  He had survived, even risen to be a leader,
by his abilities.  "I believed with all my heart until a few years
ago," Thomas said.  "Then my wife was murdered, and I didn't believe
anything anymore."

"What kind of preacher can you be?"  "The honest kind.  The kind who
doesn't pretend the world's filled with easy answers."  "You're walking
and talking a lie."  Thomas looked past the young man's ridicule.  "You
unqntand what I'm talking about," he said.  "You're a lot like me.
You'd like to believe, too.  You've seen things in your life that make
it hard.  You've done things you're ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed of nothing."

"You're a better person than you believe you are."

"You don't know nothing about it."  "

" I think I do.  "

"You can leave now."

Thomas nodded.  "Whoever shot at Garnet should go before a court of
law.  Will you think about that?"

Andre didn't answer.  Thomas wondered how much of what he had said had
fallen on deaf can.  He hoped none of it.  He felt a strong kinship
with the young man.  He and this product of the Corners streets had a
lot in common.

" " Tell me you're done," Garnet said.  The policeman who had come to
the emergency room to get her statement was Finn's partner, Jake.

Jake, who had the dark good looks of a television cop, grinned.  " "
Just about.  "

"I lost blood today, pal.  I've got to go eat a hamburger or
something."

"Yeah, right.  I've lost more blood than that shaving: '

"Well, go nick yourself again and leave me in peace."

"Just one more question about the gun you say you saw "

"Say I saw?  If you don't believe there was a gun, go pry a dozen
bullets out of the wall of the discount store!  "

"Garnet, Garnet."  Jake shook his head.  They were old friends.  Tex
and Finn had tried repeatedly to match them up, but Garnet had never
had the urge to be hooked to a cop.  Nor, of course, had she ever had
the urge to marry a minister.

She looked up, and the minister himself was standing in the doorway. He
looked surprisingly the worse for wear.  "Don't come in," she said.
"Not if you're going to read me the riot act, Thomas.  I've been
through enough."

"Are you really all right?"

She could have drowned in the emotion in his eyes.  She stood on
unsteady legs.  "Fine.  Really."

He crossed the room and enfolded her in his arms.  He didn't care that
a cop was looking on.  He needed to hold her to be sure she was really
all right.  She seemed to melt against him, The sensation was
delicious.  She was pliable, boneless

She was unconscious.

"Damn."  Thomas lifted a sagging Garnet in his arms and carried her to
a gurney in the corner.  "Get a nurse," he told

Jake.  "What are you doing questioning her when she's in this shape?
"

Jake got up.  "She seemed fine.  She insisted."

"She would have."  Thomas rubbed Garnet's hands as

Jake left.  After a minute her eyes opened.

She looked at him for a long time, as if she was piecing together this
final chapter of her morning drama.  "I can't believe I did that," she
said at last.

"Garnet, you're going to stay here overnight so they can keep an eye on
you.  I'm going to insist!"

"Not a chance.  It's a reaction.  ThaYs all."  ; Thomas looked up to
see Tex in the doorway, with Jake right behind her.  "She fainted," he
said.

"She's been through a tough time.  IYs probably just starting to hit
her."

"She needs to stay here overnight."

"They've got people sleeping in hallways here.  I think she'd be better
off somewhere else, someplace where she could get some rest."

Thomas realized there was wisdom in Tex's words.  He looked at Garnet.
Her eyes were closed, and she looked very pale.  He thought of their
war zone apartment and discarded that possibility immediately.  "I know
a place," he j said finally.

"Hawa ?"  Garnet asked.  "Bermuda?"

"Close.  Are you up to a short trip?"

l 70 Dragonslayer

She opened her eyes, and surprisingly, they filled with tears.  " " I
would like to get out of here for a while, " she said softly.

He pushed her hair off her forehead.  Until that moment he hadn't even
realized his hand was trembling.

Thomas's marriage to Patricia Collins had been celebrated before five
hundred family members and friends.  Their wedding gift from her father
the bishop had been a small cottage on a lake just three hours from
Deering Hills.  Before the wedding he had warned them of the need for a
minister's family to get away from time to time.  Owning the cottage
gave them few excuses not to.

Thomas had used every one of those few excuses over and over again.

Now, as he pulled onto the gravel road that led to the lake, he tried
not to remember the times he had refused to come here.  The cottage had
been too far away.  He had been too busy, too invaluable, too obsessed
with his own importance Finally they had found a renter, with the
intention of using the rental income for occasional nights out
together.  Those nights had been few and far between, too.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"  Garnet asked.

He debated not telling the truth, but even to be tactful, he couldn't
lie.  "There's a lake up ahead.  The house we'll stay in belongs to
Patricia's father now, but it used to be Patricia 's and mine when we
were married.  I gave it back to the bishop after Patricia died.  He
only took it on the condition that I would come here whenever I
wanted."

"Did you come here often with her?"

"

" Almost never.  "

"

" And since?  "

"

" Not at all "

He slowed to a standstill.  The brush beside the road ahead rustled
visibly.  As they watched, two deer, a stag and a doe, crossed in front
of them.

Garnet put her hand on Thomas's arm and held her breath.  The deer took
their time crossing, as if no one had ever mentioned hunting in their
presence.  "Do you think there are others?"  she asked.

"I've never been here when I didn't see deer.  Everyone on the lake
posts their property.  I think the animals sense it."

"Hey, maybe we should post the Corners."  She smiled, to let him know
she was teasing.  "This is wonderful."

She still looked pale, but the stress had seemed to disappear from her
face with each mile they traveled.  Thomas covered her hand with his.
The deer passed from view, but the oaks and poplars lining the road
swayed in the breeze against a brilliant blue sky.  "Winter comes
earlier here than it does in the Corners.  We might see snow."

"Snow that hasn't already turned to slush."  Suddenly she yearned for
it.  "There was a park across from the hospital where I took my
training.  I used to get up early on mornings when there'd been snow
just to go over and look at it before everyone trampled it."  She
looked at him, embarrassed to have revealed something so sentimental.
"That probably sounds silly."

"

" It sounds like you "

"

"No, too sappy."

"You're gifted at extracting beauty from little things."

She tossed her head.  "Well, if you don't extract it from little
things, you might not find any at all.  There aren't too many Taj
Mahals in the city."

He started the car again, and her hand fell to her side.  He didn't
want the moment of intimacy to end.  He smiled at her.  "There aren't
any Taj Mahals here, either, but the sunsets are spectacular."

She felt as if he had filled all the bitterly cold places inside her
with sunlight.  "I wish you'd smile more often," she said.  "It does
funny things to me."

"I'll smile nonstop for the next few days "

"Few days?  We can't stay a few days.  You've got a church, and I've
got aclinic."

"Tex is taking care of Mother and Child.  Greg is organizing

Sunday's service without me.  "

"What?"  She turoeq, ignoring the rasp of the seat belt against her
bandaged shoulder.  "Thomas, that's crazy.  Tex can't function without
me.  And Greg hasn't had any experience "

His smile disappeared.  " " You are not indispensable, Garnet And
neither am I. The clinic and the church aren't monuments to us.  If
they don't survive while we're gone , then they weren't meant to.  "

She sat back and let his words sink in.  "If I'm not indispensable ,"
she said as they entered a clearing, "then what in the hell am I ?  "

"A woman who needs a few days away from gangs and bullets and death
threats."

"And who are you?"

"Her husband," he said.

"Tell me you need a few days away, too."

He needed a few days with her.  He needed to be sure she was all right.
He needed to be sure she would continue to be.  But he couldn't tell
her that, because it was too revealing.  "I do, " he said.

"The last time you said those words, they got you into more trouble
than you'd bargained for."

"They might again: He stopped the car.  The cottage was juqt ahead of
them.  He turned and touched her hair.  " For the next few days we take
care of ourselves and each other.  We don't worry about anyone or
anything else.  "

"Like two married people on a vacation?"

"Yes."

She didn't ask how married they would be.  Suddenly everything seemed
possible.  "Will you feel strange being here with me?"

"I've hardly ever been here," he assured her.  "I'll only feel as
strange as you do."

"Then you won't feel strange at all, because I think we tv ere meant to
come here."

"

" Meant to come here sounds surprisingly religious coming from you: '

"I might surprise you in a number of ways: She smiled at him again and
thought of days alone together in a lakeside cottage.  Suddenly the
world was a brighter place than she had believed it to be that
moroing.

Chapter 11

The cottage was rustic, haphazardly built of logs and stone throughout
a generation.  Rooms had been added without thought of easy access or
privacy.  The living room, with a wall of windows looking over the
lake, stretched the length of the house.  The kitchen had to be entered
through a bedroom The second bedroom was perched on top of the first
and reached by a steep stairway in a corner of the kitchen.  A third
bedroom was set away from the main part of the house with only a
covered walkway to link it.

Garnet completed her tour while Thomas carried in groceries and
suitcases from the car.

"This is a great house," she said, when he brought in the last load.

"I always liked it.  It has character.  It's been painted recently ,
and the furniture's been changed around.  It hardly looks the same."

"Does Patricia's... the bishop know we're here?"

"I called him."

"I'm glad he wasn't using it."

Thomas thought about that brief phone call.  Patricia's father had
sounded surprised that Thomas had asked permission He had as much as
said that the cottage still belonged to Thomas.

"Do you talk to him often?"  Garnet asked.

"I didn't talk to anyone for almost two years.  When I decided to
rejoin the living, I got back in touch.  That's how I got my
denomination to finance starting the Church of the Samaritan.  They
agreed to fund a small salary for me and expenses for the building for
three years.  By then the church should be able to survive on its own.
And after that the bishop expects me to take another big church and go
back to the life I led before Patricia died."

"

" And will you?  "

He turned.  Garnet's question had been asked in a deceptively casual
voice, but he sensed emotion behind her words.  " " What do you think?
"

Sheshrugged.

"You still don't think I have a commitment to the Corners , do you?"

"This could just be a very colorful chapter in your life, Thomas.
Minister loses wife, loses faith, and wrestles with demons on the
hellish streets of the inner city.  Then, when his faith in himself and
his God returns, he goes back to preaching to the multitudes.  With
lots of new and dramatic anecdotes to spice up his sermons."

"I could do that."  He dumped fruit into a wooden bowl on the kitchen
table.

She reached for an apple.  "Who could blame you?  You could reach a
hundred people in the suburbs for every one you reach in the Corners.
Of course, they would be a hundred people with only a problem or two
between them."

"Money solves a lot of problems, but it doesn't make life run smoothly.
People get sick, have breakdowns, lose jobs or loved ones.  Even in the
suburbs: He took the apple from her hand.  " You haven't washed this
yet.  "

She forced a jaunty smile.  "I like to live dangerously."

"So I've noticed."  He strode to the sink and let the water run for a
few moments before he plunged the apple under it.  " " You never really
answered my question .  "

"It was couched in preconceived notions and conceit."  "

" Conceit?  "

He tossed her the apple.  She caught it without flinching and dried it
on the tail of her shirt.

"Conceit," he repeated.  "You think you're the only person in the world
who cares what happens in the Corners and places just like it?  Guess
again.  You're just one."

"And you're one of the other half dozen or so?"  She held up her hand.
"Okay, okay.  An exaggeration.  I'll admit it "

"I care," he said.  "And I'll be staying.  If I ever have a large
church again, it'll be because I built it on Wilford and Twelfth, one
pebble at a time."

"On this pebble I build my church: She considered, then took a large
bite of her apple.  " That lacks something.  "

He leaned against the sink and dried his hands.  "You're enough to
drive a saint to sin."

"Exactly what I had in mind: She met his eyes.  " There's a long line
of women just like me in the Bible, Thomas.  Eve, Delilah, Mary
Magdalene..  "

"Mary Magdalene didn't succeed."

"

" But I'll just bet she livened up a saintly life or two along the way
"

"You've certainly enlivened mine."

She took another bite of apple, but her heart nudged her rib cage.  His
expression was tender, as if the words that accompanied it had been a
tribute.  Her response lost most of its impact because she couldn't
look at him anymore.  "Well , our life together has been anything but
boring."

"I could use a little boredom.  No more phone calls telling me you've
been shot at, for a start."

"Shot, not shot at: She struggled to be offhand.  " Want to see my
bandage?  "

"Why didn't you wake me up this morning and tell me Finn couldn't go
with you to work?  Didn't you think I'd care?,q

She turned to him.  "Has that been bothering you?  Of course that
wasn't the reason.  You just looked so peaceful, and I guess I was
fooled by yesterday."

Suddenly all the shattered hopes of the past twenty-four hours were
real again.  She didn't have the strength to pretend anymore.  "I
believed... something good had come from that funeral.  I felt safe."

"I was sleeping peacefully."  He didn't add that his sleep had been
undisturbed for the first time in a long time.  He had confessed all
his faults, all his sins, to Garnet, and she had taken them in stride.
She didn't expect perfection from him.  She seemed to prefer honesty.

"And what good could you or Finn have done, anyway ?"  she asked.  "I
was paying attention to everything.  I'd even suspected the driver of
that car might be up to no good the first time he passed me.  And I
picked out a safe place on every block, so by the time that car turned
the corner-" She swallowed.  Her throat felt as if it had swollen shut.
"By the time..."

"Garnet."  He went over and knelt beside her, taking the forgotten
apple from her hand.

"I'm sorry."  Tears filled her eyes.  "I don't know whaYs wrong with
me."

"Don't you?"  He pulled her against him.  "You could have died this
morning."

"I would have."  She had no desire to resist.  She put her arms around
his neck and rested her cheek against his shirt.  "Except that I saw
the car coming out of the corner of my eye, so by the time he got a
second round of shots off, I was lying at the bottom of some convenient
cellar steps."

"Then he wasn't just a lousy shot?"

"He was trying hard, but the car was moving fast, and I was moving
faster."

He stroked her hair.  "You're so brave."

I 7g Dragonslayer

"No, just scared to death.  I kept thinking I'd never told you that I
care about you.  I expect to die young.  I've never believed in leaving
any loose ends in my life.  But there they were, the loosest ends of
all: " " I know you care."  He searched for more reassuring words.
"You've been a good friend."

"I'm not a friend, Thomas: She pulled away a little so she could see
his face.  " I have friends.  I play pinochle with them or go to the
movies on Friday nights.  "

"And I don't play pinochle."

"You know what I'm saying: '

He felt trapped, but hadn't he known that bringing her here would bolt
the door behind him?  And still he had brought her anyway.  Not because
she was a friend.  Because he cared about her as he hadn't cared about
anyone since Patricia.

Because he loved her.

He shut his eyes so she wouldn't see the truth.  He felt as if someone
had punched him in the stomach.  He loved her.  He, who was so
unworthy.

"Thomas."  She cradled his face in her hands.  "Is it so bad that I
care about you?  I know we didn't plan it that way.  You married me out
of some misguided notion of keeping me safe, because you hadn't saved
Patricia.  Don't you think I see that?  And I married you because I've
always been alone, and just that once, it was too tempting not to let
someone else shoulder some of the burdens of my life.  But we've grown
beyond that."

He opened his eyes.  "Garnet-"

She couldn't let him speak.  She had to push on, because she might
never have the courage for this conversation again.  "We've grown
beyond those reasons.  You matter to me now.  I think about you when
I'm not with you.  I try to imagine what it would be like to be really
married to you, heart and soul.  And when I'm with you, I find excuses
for being near you, for touching you or talking to you: " "Even if we
wanted to try a real marriage..  : '

He let his words trail away.  He couldn't choke out the words that
should follow.  "You don't try a real marriage," she said softly.  "You
commit yourself for better or worse."

"I'm sure thaYs not what you told Ema."  "You're wrong.  It is.  And
she did.  Ema committed herself , but Ron didn't.  She has nothing to
be ashamed of.  You and I do.  We've been playing at something sacred.
You've said as much yourself.  But I don't want to play anymore, and I
don't want to try a real marriage.  I want to have one."  "And I can't
give you that: " Are you attracted to me?  This isn't because you don't
find me.  appealing?  " He stood.  " I find you appealing, damn it.  It
doesn't make any difference.  " " You had a terrible thing happen to
you, Thomas.  It was bound to affect you.  But you're on a different
road now.  Your life is different.  That could be different, too.  " He
ran his fingers through his hair.  " Let's not talk around it anymore!
I'm impotent.  We're talking about a man who can't make love to his
wife, Garnet.  Whether he's playing at marriage or wallowing in it.  I
can't make love to you, no matter how appealing you are.  Something
happens inside me.  Some switch gets turned off, some defense goes upI
went for a thorough physical, and every cell of my body was poked and
prodded.  I'm in perfect health.  I'll live to be a hundred, but I'll
live those years celibate!  It's just too bad I'm not a priest or a
monk, isn't it?  " " You're afraid to try," she said.  " You're afraid
you'll prove your theory.  Well, listen, you're talking to a nurse.  I
know a little about this.  If you tell yourself enough times that
you're impotent, you will be.  You-" q'I don't need any two-bit
psychology.  I know it's in my head!  It's just too bad it's not
manifested there, isn't it?  Because then I could claim you as my wife.
And I'd like nothing better!  If we're going to be honest, let's really
be honest.  I want you.  I go to bed at night hard from wanting you. 
And I know as well as I know anything else in the world that if I try
to make love to you, I won't be hard any- He wanterl to tell her, but
once again, he couldn't lie.  She more!"  suited him too well.  He
hadn't married her just because he

He wanted her.  She was filled with triumph.  "So what if had failed to
keep Patricia safe.  He had marrieq her be that happens nine times out
of ten?  And what if the tenth cause she was all the things he was not,
and he had feared time you succeed?  What then?"  those things might
die.  He hadn't given his name to protect

"What if it's ninety-nine times out of one hundred?  What a woman.  He
had done it for this woman, a woman who then?  Could you stand the
frustration?  Would you feel had stirred him from the first moment he'd
seen her.  anything for me by then except pity?"

"I don't care if we fail at making love," she said.  "I don't

"I don't feel anything like pity for you!  And I never care if we have
to try a hundred times, or even a thousand.  would.  You're not a man
to feel sorry for.  You lost your wife Will you give us a chance?  Will
you give this marriage a in a terrible way, and you lost your faith.
But you've try?"  climbed out of the hole you dug, and you're fighting
back.  He could feel himself teetering on a threshold.  And the Now
it's time to fight back on this, too.  " voices in his head that
screamed for him to run away were

"It shouldn't be a fight!"  not loud enough.  She pressed against him
and rose on tip " " But we can't have everything just the way we want
it, can toe.  He shut his eyes as she kissed him; then, powerless to
we?  So we take what we've got, and we make it suit us.  " She " , do
otherwise, he groaned-in defeat, in victory-and kissed stood and walked
slowly toward him.  I suit you.  I won t her back.  ever let you be
pompous or self-important.  I'll keep the She was jubilant as his arms
came around her.  She had gloom away when you come home feeling tired
and de- been so afraid he would reject her.  She had never risked
feared.  I 11 shake hands with your congregation on Sun- herself this
way, because the stakes had never been this high.  days, but even
better, I'll fight for them if they need me.  I , , , , Now she, let
herself bask in the heat of his body, the strength won t be Patricia. I
can t be.  But I 11 be Garnet, and that 11 of his arms.  She had won
this much.  be good enough.  " " Garnet.  " There was nothing else for
Thomas to say.  His " "This has nothing to do with you suiting me!  "

"But do I?"  She put her hands on his shoulders.  "You hands moved down
her back.  Even through a cotton T shirt, suit me.  I love it when you
touch me.  And I love it when you her skin was warm and smooth.  As he
kissed her he traced bare your heart.  I love watching you preach,
because I know the curve of her waist, the il are of her hips, the
rounded that under the sincerity, the passion and compassion, is the
Perfqtion of her bottom.  Her breasts tantalized his chest; man who
smiles at me sometimes over the dinner table, who her arms, velvet soft
and utterly beguiling, brushed his sneaks my mystery novels and hums my
favorite songs un- cheeks as they tightened around his neck.  , " "I've
never seen you without a shirt: She murmured the der his breath when he
thinks I'm not listening.  words against his lips.  " And I want to
now.  " She slid a hand

She leaned against him.  You suit me, Thomas.  between them and
fingered his top button.  "Will you look

He covered her hands, as if to tear them from around his , , neck.  But
he loved the feel of her body against his.  Her as sexy out of one as
you do in it?  breasts pressed softly against his chest; her hips
melted into He felt her fingers stroke the pulse point at the base of
his his.  The fragrance of her hair wrapped around him.  neck, then
feather over his throat to rest lightly at his col "And I suit you,"
she said.  She pushed her hips more larbone before they played with the
button again.  "Your firmly against his.  " You can't tell me I don't!
" heart is racing," she whispered.

He couldn't answer.  Conscious thought dissolved.  He felt the first
button give way.  She trailed a finger along the skin she had exposed.
The second button followed the first's example So did the third and
fourth.  She kissed the base of his throat and murmured against it.

He felt her hands brush his chest, parting his shirt.  He could feel
each separate finger splayed across his rib cage.  Her lips were warm
and soft against his skin.  His eyes closed, and without thinking he
arched to give her better access.

She unfastened the remainder of the buttons with impatient swipes of
her hand.  Then she eased the shirt off his shoulders until it fell to
the floor.  "Thomas," she said, moving back to see him better, "you're
beautiful."

"Aren't I supposed to tell yocc that?"  His voice sounded strange.
Hoarse and muffled.

"Not in the nineties.  Not unless the spirit moves you: '

The spirit moved him.  He lifted the hem of her shirt, a bright
fuchsia, and slipped it over her breasts, over her upraised arms, over
her head.  Her skin was a warm rose, and her breasts, when the bra had
been removed, were the same provocative hue.

"You are beautiful," he said.  " " Touch me.  " She moved closer, and
her eyelids fluttered shut.  " Tell me I'm beautiful with your hands:
'

He told himself he knew how she would feel against his palm, but
reality was so much sweeter.  He hadn't remembered that a woman could
feel this way, that the differences he took for granted were so
enticing, so overwhelmingly seductive

She threw her head back and moaned as his thumb traced slow circles
around one nipple.  "Sweet and slow and perfect ," she said.  "This is
perfect, Thomas."

The part of his mind that could still form words wondered how perfect
their lovemaking would remain.  He was aching for her already, a man
who'd been celibate too long; face-to-face with the most enchanting
temptress he had ever known.  But what would happen when she was in his
arms, pleading for release?

As if she knew his thoughts, she opened her eyes.  "I want you, too,"
she whispered.  "But maybe I'll be the one who doesn't please.  That's
always a possibility, isn't it?  This takes so much trust: '

He pulled her to him and felt her naked torso melt against his.  Her
hair danced over the backs of his hands; her lips caressed each place
they touched.  He slipped his hands ins iq the waistband of her pants,
and the elastic stretched to accommodate him.  His hands were filled
with her flesh; his senses reeled at the onslaughl.  He was aware of
fear, but more aware of desire.  He wondered if he had ever wanted
anything else as he wanted this.

"There's a bed in the next room," she said.  "Our room: '

He had never slept there with Patricia.  She had always chosen the room
upstairs, so he could prowl the downstairs at night without waking her.
The bed downstairs was narrow and old-fashioned, made for lovers who
wanted to spend the night entwined in each other's arms.

She led him by the hand.  At the bedside she slipped off the rest of
her clothes as naturally as if he had always intimately known her body.
When she was naked except for a white patch of gauze and adhesive on
her shoulder, she straightened and faced him.

He could have told her she was beautiful again, but the words seemed
trite.  She was all women, and still, somehow , only herself.  She was
everything female and enduring , a symphony of fluid, changing lines
and curves.  He undentood why ancient man had revered and honored
woman's fertility.  He understood how men had been brought to their
knees throughout history by the feminine form.  =f ::.  She held out
her arms, but he didn't want to go to her clothed.  He undressed as
quickly, as easily as she had.  Her smile was all-knowing.  "I won't
repeat myself," she said.

She sat on the edge of the bed; then, as sinuously as a cat, she rolled
to her side, leaving room for him to join her.  He stretched out beside
her, riveted by her expression.  She believed the battle was won.  She
knew her powers, and she could see his response.

She stroked his shoulder, but her eyes never left his.  Her hand glided
down his arm, then rested at his waist.  She leaned forward, their
gazes were still locked until the last moment before she kissed him.

Her hand trailed fire, moving slowly over the part of him whose
ultimate destiny was to give her pleasure.  His response was immediate.
He moved against her hand as she wrapped her fingers around him.  He
felt one long leg drape over his hip as she inched closer.  And all the
while her hand worked potent magic.

He couldn't touch her enough.  His palms, his fingers were limited
receptors.  He wanted to know her with all his senses, to immerse
himself in her purest essence.  He touched her breast with his lips,
savoring the salt-tinged warmth of her skin.  He filled his lungs with
the erotic fragrance of her flesh.  His eyes feasted on the hills and
valleys of her body.

She was every woman that marvelous, enduring creature who from the
beginning of time had peopled the earth with her hard-won bounty.  But
she was more; she was Garnet, the woman who could be his for all
time-if he allowed her to be.  The woman who wanted to make him whole
again.

He moved away from her touch and leaned over her to better explore this
prize.  Her smile was as old as woman's first triumph.  Her eyelids
fluttered shut as he touched her again with his lips.  Then, as he
moved over her with the slow stealth of shadows at nightfall, she
gasped and murmured endearments.

She was so alive in his arms, so responsive.  He wondered how any man
could resist her.  Every cell of his body seemed to swell with longing,
but especially that intimate part that had betrayed him since
Patricia's death.  But never in the years since had he tried to make
love to a woman he loved.  Sex had been intended as a momentary release
from reality.  Now it was more.  So much more.  Garnet was not just a
woman; he was not using her in a way that was against all his
principles.  She was his woman.  He loved her, despite not wanting to.
He loved her, and she was his wife.  " " Thomas, come to me, " she
said.

He had almost convinced himself that this time would be different, but
as she pulled him over her, the fears returned , faint, nagging voices
inside his head that fought to be amplified.  He could feel her lips
drinking the passion of his, feel the lush curves of her body press
against him.  For a moment, for one brief, victorious moment, he knew
that she would win against the voices-that he would win-and they would
become one.

And then he knew there would be no victory.

The longing didn't disappear.  He had never wanted anything so much.
His body screamed for release at the same time that it denied him the
possibility.  In seconds he went from man to eunuch.  Half a man.

He sank against her, unable to complete what she had begun.  Her
fingers dug into his back, then soothed him with gentle caresses.  She
kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his lips.  "Rest a moment, and we'll
try again," she whispered

He would have, if there had been any point to it, but there wasn't.
That much he knew.  "No."

She was silent for a moment.  "I told you it doesn't matter , and it
doesn't," she said at last.  "What matters is that you want me, and
that you trusted me."

He wanted to believe her; he also wanted to scream that she was lying,
that this mattered more than anything.  He moved away from her and lay
beside her, his hand over his eyes.

She lifted his hand.  Her hair snaked provocatively along his chest.
Her eyes gazed into his.  "You're a wonderful lover, Thomas Stonehill,"
she said huskily.  "We've just got to work on the ending a little."

He swept her against his chest and held her so that he didn't have to
see her expression.  He heard her small, surprised gasp as his hand
moved over her.  He parted her legs and sought the most intimate part
of her.  She gasped again,

explosively this time, but she didn't move away.  She twisted, then
moved against him, giving him freer access.

He was quickly caught up in giving her satisfaction.  Even as
desperation filled him, some remnant of pride asserted itself, too.  He
could give her release and bring her pleasure, even if it was denied to
him.  He could fight back in this way.  He was not quite worthless.

She moved with him, and when he bent to kiss her breasts, she gasped
again.  He could experience her pleasure building by the mounting
tension in her body.  She was more beautiful in this last moment of
passion then she had ever been before.  Restless and completely
sensual, and somehow pure.  There could be no artifice, no pretense.
She was a woman, his woman, letting desire claim her.

And when it had, she lay in his arms, boneless with exhaustion He
cradled her head against his shoulder.  He wanted to weep, although
everything that made him a man told him he couldn't.

"I don't know if I could have been that generous," she said.

"Generous?"  He stroked her hair.  "I wanted to give you pleasure.  As
much for myself as for you."

"

" You did: '

He knew he should move away.  He had only proved how impossible their
marriage was.  But he was as powerless to leave her now as he was to
make love to her.

The day to leave her would come soon enough.

"I've imagined sleeping with you," she said.  "You wouldn't sprawl. You
probably don't sleep that deeply.  And even though some people might
think you're aloof, I know better.  You wouldn't move away to find your
own space.  You would sleep with your arms around me.  Not too tightly,
because you'd still want me to feel free.  The perfect man to sleep
with : '

Perfect except in the most important way.  But he didn't remind her of
that; he was sure she needed no reminder.

"I think I'm falling asleep now," she said, laying her hand on his
cheek.

"

" Go ahead, " he said.  "

"You need to rest."

"Will you stay with me?"

"I'll stay."

But he didn't say for how long.  There would be time for that
discussion later.  For now he held her and felt her body relax into
sleep.  And as she slept, he lay awake and contemplated his own
failures.

Chapter 12

The mural was in progress when they returned to the Corners There had
been no opportunity to negotiate with Ferdinand at Dorothy's funeral,
and the following day had been too eventful.  But when Garnet and
Thomas walked into the church after their too brief holiday at the
lake, there were already whole figures blocked out on the wall that had
once been tainted with graffiti.  Ferdinand hadn't needed a key.  No
Joker needed a key to walk through a door.

The mural grew and changed over the next weeks, but no one ever saw
Ferdinand inside the church.  Several times at night Thomas heard
noises downstairs when he was trying to sleep with Garnet breathing
peacefully beside him.  But he never left her to confront Ferdinand.
Ferdinand would come to him when he was ready.  It was enough that the
young man had decided to cover the wall with the stirring New Testament
images that spoke of his own struggles and pain.

The Thanksgiving holidays passed.  Thanksgiving itself was a quiet day
spent at the lake.  Garnet cooked a traditional feast with his
assistance.  After dinner they walked through the surrounding woods
together, scuffing autumn leaves and gathering fallen butternuts.  And
that night he tried and failed once more to make love to her.

Since their first time together in the cottage, she had never once
indicated distress at his failure.  She was supportive to a fault.  He
wanted her to rage at him, as he raged at himself He wanted her to tell
him that she doubted his masculinity But he could detect no anger or
doubts.  She truly seemed to find pleasure in his arms.  She truly
seemed to believe that his impotence was temporary, and that together
they would overcome it.

He couldn't discuss his failures with her again.  He couldn't find
words to tell her that he had given up hope that he would ever make
love to her.  There was no woman more seductive, more entrancing than
Garnet.  He couldn't imagine desiring anyone more.  The fault lay
somewhere inside him, in some dark, terrifying part of his mind.  And
nothing , not passionate nights in her arms, not years of therapy, not
meaningless hours of prayer to a God he no longer was sure of, would
uncover the reason for his impotence.

With the end of the Thanksgiving weekend came the beginning of the
Christmas season.  The despair that gripped the Corners seemed to
lessen with each store display and Christmas tree shining bravely
through a living room window A city crew appeared one morning and
strung lights on the trees in Kensington Park, and surprisingly, they
weren't vandalized.  Thomas could see them from his apartment window at
night, a secular symbol of an approaching holy event.

Once Christmas and Easter had been his favorite times of the year. They
had been busy times, busier than any other for a Christian minister,
but they had been days filled with wonder.  He had felt humbler, more
in tune with the son of God at those times than at any other.  His days
had never seemed fuller or more miraculous.  His life had been touched
by the Holy Spirit.

That feeling was gone now, even though he desperately wanted to bring
it back.  The approaching holiday season was something to get through,
one day at a time.  A committee was formed by enthusiastic, devoted
members of the congregation to plan a celebration.  He faithfully
attended all meetings, but for once he couldn't provide leadership.  He
had no idea how the small church could make Christmas special for its
members.

He was staring at a blank study wall one afternoon, taunting himself
for his lack of inspiration, when Garnet appeared in the doorway.

"What are you doing off so early?"  he asked.

"Have you noticed Christmas is coming?"

He knew she had noticed.  Her white knit dress was festooned in ropes
of green and red glass beads.  Miniature Christmas tree bulbs swung
merrily from her ears.

"Did Finn walk you home?"  he asked.

"Yes, yes and more yes.  I've got more protection than an armored
truck.  I'm here in one piece.  No bullet holes, no psychological
traumas.  Just an overwhelming urge to buy a Christmas tree."

"

" A tree?  "

"Yeah, you know.  Green.  Bushy.  Symbolic.  Something to drop needles
on the rug?  "

"Did the clinic close early?"

"It's your fault I'm home.  You told me I wasn't indispensable So I'm
taking the afternoon off."  She grinned.  "But don't get cocky.  We've
got three nurses in training from the hospital giving shots today, and
Tex is watching them like a hawk.  They needed my office.  I was in the
way."

She walked to his desk, perched on the edge and brushed her shapely
legs seductively against his.  " " So, how about it?  "

He didn't want a Christmas tree.  He didn't want a Christmas
celebration.  At that moment he didn't want to be the minister of a
church that needed faith and wisdom he no longer possessed.

He looked at Garnet's shining eyes and knew he couldn't disappoint her.
"Fine.  I'm just drawing a blank here, anyway"

"No sick to visit?  No lame to heal?"

"Your jobs, not mine."  He stood.

She slid against him as she stood, too, and clasped her arms around his
neck.  "Are you all right?"

"Yes."  "

" Are you sure you're up to this?  We could do something else.  "

He was afraid the something else she was going to suggest would be even
more torturous.  Even now his body betrayed him, as it always seemed to
when she was in his arms.

Yet he knew that if he took her upstairs and tried to make love to her,
he would fail.  " " Where did you want to look for a tree?  " He
unwound her arms, but he pressed a kiss against her palm so she
wouldn't feel rejected.

"Somewhere I can walk around the lot and not have to duck flying
bullets."

"L.et's just drive out of the Corners and look."

"Do you have any decorations?"

"No"

"Mine were destroyed in the fire."

"Then we'll buy some."

"Good.  I like the idea of starting over together, anyway.

Let's get a smallish tree and just pick out a few things that we really
like.  We can add to our collection every year.  "

He looked away.  She was planning for a future together that he
couldn't envision.  The time was as good as any to tell her not to hope
for the impossible, but he couldn't find the words.  Not now.  Not when
her eyes were sparkling with

Christmas spirit.

"I'll meet you upstairs in a minute," he said.  "You'll probably want
to change your clothes first."

"Why, are you going to make me haul the tree to the car?  "

"It was your idea, wasn't it?"

"Which simply means I'm the creative end of this project , and you're
the muscle!"  The door closed behind her with a cheerful bang.

He was left to count the days until January.

* * *

Garnet made hot chocolate while Thomas struggled with fitting the
tree-not a small one at all-into the tree stand.

The stand was new, the lights were new and the ornaments, two boxes of
them, were new, too.  Somehow, they had been of one accord on
everything they had chosen.  At heart she guessed they were both
traditionalists when it came to Christmas.  The lights were replicas of
old-fashioned bubble lights, and the ornaments were colored glass
copies of antiques.  She had splurged on a dozen hand-crocheted
snowflakes to fill in the emptiest spaces.

It would be a tree the children in the Sunday school would love.  She
planned to ask their help next week, when they came upstairs for their
class.  She would buy colored foil to cut into strips.  "The children
could make chains to wrap around the tree, and they would feel that it
belonged to them, too.  1'he thought of busy little fingers and
innocent faces glowing with Christmas excitement gave her a funny pang.
She missed her nieces, although she was fervently thankful that Ema
had escaped Ron's abuse and was making a new life for herself.  Ema was
in Florida, Garnet knew that much now, and she had managed, with their
mother's help, to find a job as a receptionist in a doctor's office.
She and the girls had rented a tiny house just miles from the beach,
and each time Garnet spoke to them they seemed happier than the last.

Until they left she had never realized the hole the girls had filled in
her life.  She had never expected to have children of her own.  Her own
child lay buried in a tiny grave miles away, and with her, Garnet had
buried all hopes of having another.  She had committed herself to
helping all the children of the Corners, and when she had done so, she
had sealed away her own desire for a child.

But now that desire seemed to have forced its way to the surface.
Perhaps it was her nieces' departure.  Perhaps it was facing a waiting
room of babies and toddlers nearly every day.  Perhaps it was the
small, well-scrubbed survivors of the

Corners who arrived each Sunday morning for Sunday school.  Perhaps it
was loving Thomas.  The last thought )eft more than a funny pang.  It
left such longing in its wake that she stopped her preparations and
stared unseeingly at the refrigerator.  She loved Thomas.  Love hadn't
blazed into her life.  It had crept slowly, insidiously, through all
the cracks in her defenses, until one morning she could no longer
pretend that what she felt was anything else.  Desire was a part of it.
Identification with his struggles, his hopes and dreams was another.
Rqespect was an ingredient; compaq ion for what he had survived was
another.  But love was more than the sum of all those parts.  Love was
waiting for Thomas to discover the reason for his impotence and
overcome it.  "Are you trying to make the milk come to you?  Startled,
she turned to find Thomas standing in the doorway.  " The cocoa's all
done," she said.  " I was just.  daydreaming.  " " Your tree is in the
stand.  Your small, insignificant, inexpensive tree is scraping the
paint off the ceiling.  " " Goody.  " She went to the counter and got
the mugs for coacoa Then, as he watched, she poured it and topped with
a plump marshmallow.  She turned and offqed him one.  " LeYs go sit by
the fireplace and drink it" she said.  He reached for his.  "We don't
have a fire lace."

"We're going to pretend."  p "Is that a habit of yours?"  "It's gotten
me through some tough times.  My mother _k taught me.  There was one
Christmas.."  She stopped, wondering if he wanted to hear her childhood
stories.  "Go on."  He started into the living room.  She followed,
setting her cocoa on the coffee table.  Then qhe watched, she threw
cushions against an empty wall.  q oops, I almost threw that one on the
fire," she apologized.  " Get another log, would you?  Then come settle
over here with me.  " " " Where are the logs?  "

She shrugged.  "Wherever you stacked them."

He shook his head, but he stooped and pretended to lift something.
Then, as she supervised, he leaned over and dropped his imaginary
bundle against the wall.  "Did I hit it?"  he asked.  " " Perfectly.  "
She patted a pillow.

"Sorry, but it needs stirring.  Hand me the poker and the bellows."

She leaned back, smiling smugly.  "They're right beside you: '

"You moved them again."  He made an elaborate pretense of stirring the
fire, then fed it gusts of air with the invisible bellows.  Finally,
satisfied, he settled himself against the cushions.  "Warm enough?"

"Much better, thank you.  Nobody makes a fire like you do, Thomas."

"No one enjoys one like you do.  So, tell me about that Christmas: '

"My mother's choice in men was abysmal.  You've probably figured that
out.  I'm afraid Ema learned from her.  Mother's lovers weren't all
abusive, like Ron, but they all had major flaws.  Anyway, the December
I was eleven, her boyfriend of the moment stole everything that wasn't
nailed down in our house, emptied mother's tiny checking account and
drove off in her car.  The car wasn't paid for or insured, and the
boyfriend was never caught."

She sipped her cocoa.  "Do you have stories like this one to tell?"

He thought of the Christmas he had received both a baseball autographed
by Joe DiMaggio and a pony.  "Not exactly."

"My childhood was colorful."

He lifted his cu.  "I'll drink to that."

She smiled.  "You can guess there was no money left for Christmas that
year.  In fact, the landlord was threatening to

Thagonslayer 195 evict us because the boyfriend had also gobbled up the
rent money.  Christmas was always more show than substance with us,
anyway.  Mother always wrapped up anything she could find.  She'd buy
us socks and wrap them separately.

One year I got three plastic hair bands in three different boxes.  But
at least it was a celebration.  The year I was eleven, there wasn't
even money for hair bands.  "

"If you tell me it was the best Christmas of your life, I'll know this
story isn't true."

"It sure as heck wasn't.  But it was the most educational.

On Christmas Eve Mother came home from cleaning up after other people's
office parties, and we were all moping because we knew the next morning
was going to be dismal city.  Mother got down our Christmas tree
ornaments, which the boyfriend hadn't wanted, I guess, and told us to
decorate the tree.  Of course, there was no tree, but she kept
insisting So finally Jade hung a bulb on the coat tree in the corner,
just to shut her up.  It looked pretty silly, so I hung another.  In
half an hour, we'd strung it with lights and hung ornaments on every
arm, even from the light strings.  "

She wriggled closer to him.  "Then Mother told us to get out our
presents and put them under the tree."

"That almost seems cruel."

"It wasn't.  She told us all she could give us that Christmas was
dreams, but that dreams were important.  So one by one, we put our
dreams under the Christmas tree.  I wanted a new bike, so I wheeled it
in.  It was bright red, and the chrome was so shiny it reflected the
lights from the tree.

Ema wanted new clothes, and she modeled them for us, one outfit at a
time.  She looked beautiful.  Jade wanted a piano : We stood around it,
and she played Christmas carols for us.  "

She stopped.  "It wasn't our best Christmas, but we survived it. And
sometimes I remember that Christmas Eve q the next day when we ate
canned hash and pretended it qlqey and dressing, and I use that memory
to make my ter.

He wanted to ask her what she pretended now.  Did she pretend that they
were a normal married couple, reminiscing and strengthening their
bonds?  Did she pretend that this Christmas season together would be
followed by others?  Did she pretend that someday their own children
would be standing beside them, gazing at another Christmas tree and
bringing the Christmas miracle into their lives in a special way?

"Do you think I'm silly?"  she asked.

"I think you're incredible," he said.

It was a compliment, but it was said with such sadness that she felt
hollowed by it.  "Your turn," she said.  " Mine?  " " " For a Christmas
memory.  "

He stared at the fire.  It was almost real to him now.  He wasn't sure
why, but the memory that popped into his head was of a Christmas spent
with Patricia.  And he certainly wasn't going to relate a story about
his first wife.

"How did you and Patricia celebrate?"  she asked, when he remained
silent.

He turned his gaze to her, surprised.  "Why do you want to know?  "

"Well, she was part of your life.  An important part "

"Most of the time I was too busy for much celebration.  But there was
one year..."

She rolled to her stomach, propping her chin on her hands.  "Tell me
about it: '

"She kidnapped me."  He smiled at the memory.  "After our midnight
candlelight service.  Everyone had gone home, and I was still at the
church, making notes on what I'd do differently the next year.  She
came into my study and told me there was an emergency.  She said she'd
tell me about it as she drove me there.  I followed her out, already a
little suspicious.  When we got in the car, she got right on the
interstate going out of town.  She told me to go to sleep, that she'd
wake me up when we got to the emergency.  The emergency was a little
country inn on a snow-covered lane.  She'd reserved their best suite
for a week.  There were no phones,

and a blizzard hit the next morning.  I couldn't have left if I'd
wanted to.  There were half a dozen other couples there, escaping jobs
and in-laws and stress.  It was the best Christmas we spent together.
"

"Were you angry at her?"

"No.  I think I was relieved."

"And you had a wonderful time."

"Yes."

"You were a better husband than you think."

He closed his eyes and lay back on the pillows.  "It was one week,
Garnet."

She crawled closer and rested her head on the pillow next to his.  He
had no choice but to put his arm around her.  "And if you put your mind
to it, you'd come up with other weeks and days and hours."

For a moment he wondered; then he shook his head.  "She was going to
leave me.  There weren't enough hours."

"Maybe she was just trying to scare you into taking a look at yourself.
Did she love you?"

"I don't want to talk about this."

" " Fine.  But give it a thought or two sometime.  Because if she still
loved you, threatening to leave might have been just a different
version of kidnapping you that Christmas.  "

He wondered.  He had assumed for so long that Patricia had stopped
loving him.  Now Garnet had planted the seeds of doubt.

She put her hand on his cheek and forced him to look at her.  "People
never change completely.  You can tell me you're a different man now
than you were, but I won't believe you.  The man I know is the same man
who was married to Patricia.  Maybe you were more self-centered and
driven, but underneath you were the man you are now.  She married you
because of who you are.  I'm lying here with you because of who you
are.  I can't speak for Patricia, but I know I would have fought to
keep you.  I will fight to keep you if our relationship is
threatened."

He wondered how she could imagine that it wasn't.

Loud knocking at the door saved him from making a response

"I'll get it," Garnet said, getting reluctantly to her feet.  "But I
don't care who it is, we've got to decorate this tree before you go
anywhere."

"

" Find out who it is before you open the door.  "

She obliged him by looking through the peephole he had installed. "It's
Andre.  Your choice.  Do we open it?"

"

" Is he alone?  "

"Looks that way."

Thomas joined her at the door.  "I'll let him in."

"And I'll stay."

He didn't protest.  He trusted Andre, although he wasn't completely
sure he should.  He opened the door and gestured him inside.  "You look
cold.  The temperature's dropping out there, isn't it?"

"I didn't come to talk about the weather."

"I didn't think so."

Garnet took one look at the two men and made her decision' Andre we
were just having cocoa.  I'll make you some.  "

"I don't drink cocoa."

"Then I'll heat up some antifreeze or drain cleaner.  Something for a
tough guy."  She flashed him a cocky smile and left for the kitchen.

"I know.  She's got a mouth," Thomas said: "Come on in and sit down.
She'll make you drink the cocoa, so you might as well get
comfortable."

"Looks like I'm interrupting."

Thomas followed Andre's gaze to the pillows scattered haphazardly
against the wall.  "We were about to decorate the Christmas tree."

"I got my mama one yesterday "

Thomas was surprised he had admitted to something so absolutely normal.
So harmless and sentimental.  "And she'll probably make you decorate
it, right?"

"I do that stuff for her.  I take care of her plants and the yard.  She
can't be doing it herself: '

"She's still a strong woman.  Garnet says she was always there for the
neighborhood kids.  All of them."

"Yeah.  I guess."  Andre sat, then rose again immediately and walked
restlessly around the room, finally coming to rest beside the tree.
"I'm not staying for no cocoa.  I just came to tell you I know who shot
Garnet."

Thomas sat absolutely still.  He was afraid to move, afraid Andre would
stop talking.  " " It's nothing you got to worry about.  I took care of
it.  ,.

"Did you?"  Thomas stood.  "Precisely how?"

"You don't got to worry about that, either."

"I am worried."  Thomas joined him by the tree.  "Ve worried ."

" " He won't hurt you or her.  He won't be coming back to the Corners.
He knows if he do, he'll be looking at the Jokers to take care of him
once and for all.  "

"Who are we talking about?"

Andre was silent.

Thomas made his best guqs.  "It was Demon, wasn't it?"

Andre didn't deny it.  "It was him who shot Wolfman too."

Thomas remembered that Wolfman was the Joker who had been killed in the
drive-by shooting that had been blamed on the Corner Boyz.  "Demon did
that?  Why?"

"A mistake.  He was out driving around, looking for Francis.  He'd been
smoking a lotta bud, and it was dark.  He saw Wolfman over by Wilford
Heights and thought he was Francis, so he shot him.  Then, next day
when he found out what he'd done, he told everybody that he'd been
talking to Wolfman just before the shooting, and he'd seen a car with
Francis and his brothers cruising the streets when he was leaving."

"All to get even with Francis because Candy had left him?  "

"When he heard what happened at Dorothy's funeral, he started getting
scared we was going to talk to the Boyz, maybe find out the truth.  So
he shot Garnet and made it look like it was the Boyz "

"But you knew better."

Andre didn't answer.

"A man who goes around shooting when he's unhappy isn't someone we need
out on the streets."

"You think he's the only one?"

"No.  But I think he's a lot more erratic than the rest of you kids
with your guns and your swaggers and your signs.

, You ve got some sense left, Andre.  Ferdinand does, too.  And those
kids I saw on the porch a couple of weeks ago, they've got some sense
left.  Demon doesn't.  He'd just as soon shoot at somebody as pass them
on the street.  And banishing him from the Corners isn't going to make
a bit of difference to him.  He'll just keep on shooting.  "

"He won't be able to shoot nobody for a long, long time."

Thomas didn't ask what Andre meant.  The young man had already made it
clear he had administered his own brand of justice.  Thomas knew that
in a lot of places and in a lot of gangs Demon wouldn't have survived
to walk away.

"Tell me where he is now," Thomas said.  " " What for?  " " " So I can
tell the police."

Garnet walked into the room with Andre's cocoa in her hand.  " " The
police?  "

"Demon was the one who shot you," Thomas said.  "I imagine he was also
responsible for beating you up.  The big surprise is that he also shot
Wolfman: '

Garget set the cocoa on the coffee table.  Her hand was shaking.  "Do
you know how Wolfman got his name, Thomas?"  she asked, looking
straight at Andre.  She didn't wait for an answer.  "He and Andre were
best friends when they were little.  Wolfman had a dog, a big
husky-shepherd mix.  He called him Wolf, because that's what he looked
like.  He and Andre used to train Wolf to do tricks in Andre's
backyard.  That dog was still alive when Wolfman was killed.  I don't
know what happened to him afterward.  What did happen, Andre?"

Andre stared at her.

I would guess he died, she said, her voice shakin too.  "I'd guess that
Wolf couldn't take Wolfman dying.  What about you, Andre?  Could you
take it?"

Thomas let Garnet's question hang in the air for a moment before he
spoke.  "Demon will kill again.  He will.  There's only one way to stop
him.  If you can't go to the police , tell me where he is.  I'll go to
them.  He has to be locked away."

"You'd like to lock us all away!"

"No.  I wouldn't.  I'd like you to live on safe streets.  I'd like your
mother living on them, the kids you'll have living on them.  I'd like
to live on them.  I don't want my wife shot at anymore!  "

"If you knew the things I've done, you'd want me in jail, too."

"You are not Demon Harris."

Andre turned away, but he didn't leave.  "You don't know nothing about
nothing."

"I know about this."

The silence seemed to stretch into forever.  Then Andre walked to the
door.  He spoke without turning.  "Demon's at his aunt's.  She lives on
Chester.  Sally Harris."

"Who can testify to what you've told me?"  Thomas asked.

"Raygun's the one who told me.  Demon told him all about it.  The car
he was driving when he shot at Garget is parked at his aunt's."

"The police kept shards of glass from the car window," Garnet said.
"Maybe they can match them."

"With luck they'll find his gun," Thomas said.  He watched Andre turn
the doorknob to leave.  "Thank you, Andre."

"He shouldn't have killed Wolfman: He walked through the doorway, then
he turned.  He looked straight at Garnet.  " Wolf's mine now," he said.
" Wolfman's mama gave him to me.  "

She imagined Andre taking care of the old dog.  She looked away, afraid
he would see how moved she was that he had admitted it.

She heard the door close behind him and felt Thomas's arms come around
her.  She leaned against him.  "I'm pretending

I believe in miracles," she whispered against his shoulder.

He held her tighter.  Because suddenly he was pretending, too.

Chapter 13

Thomas stared at the finished mural.  Emotion filled him.  Ferdinand
had used muted colors and vivid images.  One scene blended into
another.  Jesus on a donkey riding into Jerusalem; Jesus walking on
water; Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane and at the Last
Supper; Jesus on the cross; Jesus risen from the dead.

None of the multiple images of Jesus were the same.  Like the picture
Dorothy Brown had donated for the front of the church, these saviors
had different faces, different colored skin.  The Jesus presiding over
the Last Supper was Asian, and his disciples were a mixture of races
and nationalities.  The Jesus praying in the Garden was Hispanic,
dressed much as Ferdinand himself liked to dress, down to the tattoo on
his left arm.  There was a white Jesus on the cross and a black one
risen from the dead.

The Jesus walking on water was female, and She looked something like
Garnet.

Thomas could not look at the mural without something clutching at his
throat.  There would be people who would see it who would not
understand, people who would think it was blasphemous.  He felt sorry
for them, because the images were the essence of Christianity.  He
believed that the man, Jesus, would have approved.

For a moment he felt that approval.  Something moved over him.  He felt
as if someone had touched his shoulder, as if someone was in the room
with him.  He stood in a hollowed -out storefront, in a neighborhood
that God seemed to have abandoned, yet he felt a presence he remembered
from other, better times.  A presence stronger, surer, brighter than he
had ever felt before.

He turned instinctively, but the room was empty except for the mural
and the picture looking down at him from the front of the church.  He
was as alone as he would ever be, yet he felt comforted and
strengthened.

He bowed his head, but no words would come.  Frustration warred with
faith.  He wanted to cry out, to command the tranquillity that had
ebbed away to return and fill him again.  But the harder he struggled
to hold on to that brief moment of inner peace, the less comfort he
felt.

He stood with his head bowed until the pain was too great.  He
straigtened, then started toward his study when the front door swung
open.

Ferdinand walked in, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his khakis. His
trench coat was wide open, despite a heavy snow falling outside.

"So, what do you think, Padre?"  he asked.

For the first time Thomas gazed at the young man through the lens of
his own pain and saw a fellow traveler.  Ferdinand had struggled for
simple survival for most of his life, yet this masterpiece had sprung
directly from the tortures of his childhood.

The young man understood pain, and Thomas felt a kinship with him that
he could never have experienced in his days at Deering Hills Community.
He beckoned for Ferdinand to join him in front of the mural.

He found he had to clear his throat to speak.  " " Thank you seems
pretty lukewarm.  I don't know what to say.  "

"Then you like?"

"I like."  He waited for Ferdinand, and they stood together staring at
the mural.  "I can't even find words to tell you how much I like it."

"My mama went to church.  She took me.  I had to look some of this up,
but I remembered some."

"You'll always be welcome here if you want to give church another try.
You know that, don't you?"

"I'm going away."  Ferdinand folded his arms.  "My mama 's been trying
to get me to go live with her.  She left when

I was little because my old man beat her bad.  She tried to take me,
but he said he'd kill me first.  He's loco.  He would have found us,
and she didn't have no way to stop him.  But she sent me letters all
the time at my aunt's house, so I'd know she still wanted me.  Now I'm
bigger than my old man, and he's afraid of me.  I guess I coulda left a
while ago, but

I didn't want to desert the Jokers.  You know?  "

"I know.  But now you're ready?"

"Yeah.  I guess.  She wants me to go to art school."

"Judging from this, you can probably show your teachers a thing or
two."

"You think I'll make it?"

Thomas heard the young man's self-doubt.  Ferdinand had never been
anywhere except the Corners.  He had never lived any other kind of
life.  And since adolescence he hadn't had to face life without the
backing of his gang.

"I know you'll make it," Thomas said.  "Dorothy Brown left money in her
will for you to paint this mural.  Did you know that?"

"I didn't do it for money."

"Dorothy would have wanted you to go to art school.

We'll call it a scholarship.  "

"I'll be leaving soon."

"The Corners will miss you: '

Ferdinand looked at him.  "Now that Demon's gone, things are
different."  ' Thomas knew what he meant.  It wasn't only Demon's
arrest that had changed the atmosphere in the community, but the
discovery that the Boyz had not been responsible for

Wolfman's death.  Suddenly there was no tangible reason for the two
gangs to be at war.  They didn't have the long history of hatred other
big-city gangs had.  They had sat next to each other in school
classrooms, played together as children at city playgrounds.  They had
tenuous bonds as well as trumped-up excuses for anger.

There was hope here.  Just a fragment, but more than there had been a
week ago.  " " Jails are crowded, and judges can't do much about kids
like Demon.  It won't be long before he's back out on the streets
again," Thomas said.  " What kind of neighborhood is he going to come
back to, do you think?  " " "Who knows?"

"If we make the right kind of changes here, he won't be comfortable.
He'll move on."

"Buena saerte, Padre."  Ferdinand gave Thomas a playful sock on the
arm.  "Me, I'm going to a place where I won't be comfortable.  You
know?"

"You can be comfortable anywhere.  Just remember there are people here
who believe in you.  Believe in yourself."

"I think He believes in me."  Ferdinand inclined his head toward the
mural.  " " I think so, too.  " Thomas waited for the rush of shame to
come, as it always did when he mouthed platitudes he no longer felt.
But there was no shame, only an emptiness waiting to be filled.  "
"Maybe I'll come back and see you."

Thomas turned to him and smiled his warmest smile.  "I'll be waiting
for that day."

"I've got the diapers.  Six packs, but the way Candy says she changes
that baby, they'll be gone in a week."  Garnet rummaged through a
series of shopping bags.  "I've got her present, and one for Francis.
I've got the sweater Tex crocheted for Matty-" She looked up.  "Do you
believe Tex crochets?  Can you see me with a crochet hook in my
hand?"

"Right now I just want to see me with a steering wheel in mine."

' "All right.  Let's go."  Garnet picked up two of the bags and watched
Thomas get the others.

She followed him out to his car.  She still thought of it as his.  When
she had to drive somewhere she always took her own car.  Their
possessions were still separate, the possessions of roommates.

She settled into the passenger seat and relaxed as he pulled onto
Wilford and wove through the streets that would take them out of the
Corners.  She had been looking forward to this jaunt all week.  They
were taking Christmas presents to

Candy and Francis.  She had talked to Candy often by telephone , but
she hadn't seen Matty since his birth.  She was eager to see for
herself that he was doing well.

Thomas seemed less excited about the trip.  He had seemed pleased that
morning when he shared Ferdinand's visit with her.  But as the
afternoon drew closer, he had grown quiet.  She knew returning to
Deering Hills was hard for him.  How could it not be?  The symbol of
his former success sprawled across a hill in the center of town,
visible from almost everywhere in a five-mile radius.  How could he
help but compare himself and what he had achieved in the Corners with
what he'd once had?

Did he compare her with Patricia?  Garnet didn't have to take a long
look at herself to see how different she was from the stereotypical
minister's wife.  She was no shepherdess, no beaming helpmate.  Her
skirts were too short and her vocabulary too colorful.  She said what
she thought and did what she wanted.  She wondered if he was reluctant
to take , her to his old home.  ' "Why don't you show me around town a
little while we're there?"  she asked.  She supposed the question was a
test.

"What would you like to see?"  "

" Your church.  "

He was silent.  She considered the possible reasons he hadn't said
yes.

The visit might be too painful for him.  The church, after all, had
been the scene of Patricia's death.  It was a symbol in

Thomas's mind of all his failures.

Or perhaps he didn't want her there because it would be too blatantly
apparent how drastically his life had changed.

"All right: '

At first she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly.  "All right?  "

"All right.  As in yes."  "

" Really?  "

"I've stayed away too long " He glanced at her.  "I'm glad you'll be
with me.  I don't think I'd want to go back alone."

She stared straight ahead for the rest of the trip.

Matty was adorable, with a ready smile and dark curly hair.  Candy
looked well, and Francis looked as if his hours outdoors on a work crew
had honed his body from a boy's into a man's.

They seemed happy in their new life.  Candy helped Marcia around the
house and no longer had to pretend.  Marcia was frankly grateful for
the help.  Francis had already been promoted and given a raise.  The
reports were that he was an enthustiastic worker with real aptitude for
construction.  His boss, Stu Wilson, who had never been blessed with a
son of his own, seemed to think that Francis had the potential to learn
all the building trades.

There was only one part of Candy and Francis's life that brought them
sadness.  They had grown up in the Corners.  Their friends were there,
and so were their memories.  But they could not go home for visits.
They were happy to live in Deering Hills, but they still wanted the
Corners to be a part of their life, too.  And even with Demon's arrest,
they did not feel safe enough to go home with Matty.  " " I feel sorry
for them," Garnet said after the visit, as she and Thomas drove toward
the Deering Hills Community Church.  " They've been uprooted, with no
chance to go back and renew their old ties.  Candy has friends in the
Corners with babies.  She could sit and have a soda and talk to them
about Matty.  She likes Deering, but it's not home, and she doesn't
feel like she fits in with the other young mothers in the neighborhood,
with their private-school educations and their imported English prams:
'

Thomas was silent.  The problem had been nagging at him, too.  It was
Christmas, the season of goodwill.  Yet Candy and Francis were still
afraid to return to the Corners A young couple with their first child,
afraid to come home at Christmas.

There had been another young couple..

"Thomas?"  Garnet said, wondering if he heard her.

"Maybe we can do something," he said.

"What?"

"Let me give it some thought " His mind was whirling with
possibilities.  For a moment he forgot they were headed to the scene of
his greatest failures.  He forgot that the church he ministered to had
only one member for every one hundred at Deering Hills Community.  He
could think only about the celebration of Christmas that had eluded him
all week.

He turned into the church parking lot, and suddenly all his memories
came crashing down on him.  He parked, but for a moment he could not
get out of the car.

"You were never supposed to be perfect," Garnet said , reaching for his
hand.  "There was one perfect man, or so the Bible tells us, and his
name was not Thomas Stonehill."

"I was glorious in my imperfection," he said bitterly.  "A man trying
to play God."

"On anybody's sin list, trying to do too much good is way at the
bottom: '

"I did it for myself

"I doubt it.  Not at first, anyway.  later, well, maybe you got carried
away.  Power does that to people.  For a time it sounds like you let it
take over your life."

"I haven't been inside that door since I turned in my keys."  y

"Then it's time."  She opened her door and got out.  The parking lot
was icy, and reluctantly he got out and went around the car to give her
his arm.

"I'll bet the parking lot wasn't icy when you were the minister," she
said, hoping he would smile.  "I'll bet you were out here with your
giant bag of rock salt and your snow shovel before the snow even
hit."

"It didn't dare fall when I was the minister."

She laughed and rubbed his arm.  The church loomed just ahead of them,
one tall copper spire pointing straight to heaven, surrounded by a
sprawling two-story building of tan brick.  From the outside Thomas
pointed out the additions that had been constructed during his tenure.
Then he opened the front door.  She tried not to think about what had
taken pl are on this spot.

He looked perfectly calm.  His blue eyes didn't show any of the turmoil
she knew he must be feeling.  "We'd better let the office know we're
here, then we can wander around," he said.

"Shall I come with you?"

"Of course.  I want to introduce you: '

She walked beside him, but she dropped his arm.  The church halls were
cool, institutional beige lined with pale, tasteful watercolor
landscapes of the Holy Land.  She thought about Ferdinand's mural and
tried to imagine it anywhere inside this building.

The office was a series of rooms.  The main one faced the hall near the
sanctuary, with glass windows, much like a doctor's reception area.  An
older woman with tightly permed gray hair looked up from her desk as
they approached' May I-" She stared at them, then pushed herself to her
feet.  " Thomas?  Is that you?  "

Before Thomas could respond, the woman was shouting behind her. "Thomas
is here!  Thomas Stonehill!  He's come back to see us."

She disappeared for a moment, then reappeared followed by a small
stream of women.  In seconds she was hugging him ferociously while the
others waited their turn.  Garnet stood to one side, watching.  She
wondered if this answered the questions he must have asked himself
about what kind of reception he would get here.

i He hugged each woman in turo before he motioned for

Garnet to qoin him.  "I'd like to introduce my wife," he said.

"Garnet Stonehill."  He named each woman in turn.  Garnet shook hands,
murmuring polite greetings.

Afterward the first woman, whose name was Barbara, put her hands on her
hips.  "Well, we heard you were back in j town, but I had to see you to
believe it.  Why haven't you come back to visit us before?"  Garnet
wondered if he would be honest.  He was.  "There were too many painful
memories connected with this place."  I They all nodded and clucked
sympathetically.  Garnet had a vision of the women, as a unit, serving
Thomas chicken noodle soup every day at lunchtime and tucking his
napkin on his lap.  They were all comfortably past middle age,
beautifully groomed and-she bet-absolutely efficient at their jobs. She
could see that they adored her husband.

Her husband.  She wondered how the women felt about

Thomas's new marriage.  One of them, a woman named

Marie, smiled at her, a very down-to-earth enuine smile.

"I'll bet Thomas has told you stories about, his place.,

Garnet doubted Marie was talking about the stories

Thomas had told her.  "Not enough," she said with a smile.

"Well, I will fill you in."  Marie took her by the arm.  "Let me show
you the office."  Garnet looked over her shoulder j as Marie pulled her
along.  Thomas smiled and shrugged.

She was regaled by Thomas stories for the next fifteen minutes.  It was
another side of Thomas's days in this church, a side he had never told
her about.  She heard about a man Thomas had befriended because, on a
hospital visit to one of his own parishioners, Thomas discovered that
no ; one ever visited the lonely old man in the next room.  So he had
added the old man to his visitation list, and months later, upon his
death, the man-though atheist to the end left a small fortune in stocks
and bonds to the church.

She heard about the couples Thomas had married and others he had
refused to marry, about the families he had comforted and the dying he
had sat with.  She heard about sermons that had filled the huge
sanctuary and sermons so controversial that half a dozen deacons had
resigned over them.  She listened to the love seeping through the
stories, the love of an older woman for a young man who, in a unique
capacity, had shared some of the important moments of her life.  Her
husband's death, her grandchild's christening, the troubled antics of a
teenage son.

Garnet came out of the office wondering if she had ever known Thomas at
all.

She found him talking to a man near his own age.  He gestured for her
to join him.  "Garnet," he said, "this is Chris Shallcross, the senior
pastor at Community now: '

They shook hands.  Chris Shallcross was tall and dignified , but his
smile was warm and-she realized with appreciation -admiring.

"I was just telling your husband that I have big shoes to fill here,"
Chris said.

"And I was telling him to be careful not to fall into the trap I did
and try to fill them," Thomas said.

"He was also telling me about your church in the Corners I don't know
if I could do what Thomas has done there, but it sounds like important
work.  I think our board would like to help in any way we can.  Money,
personnel."

"There might be some projects we could work on together ," Thomas told
him.  "I have one in mind right now: '

"I'd like to hear about it: '

"Garnet, will you let Dorothy or Marie show you around some more while
I talk to Chris about this?"

She nodded.  Thomas looked different.  For a moment she didn't know
why; then she understood.  The tension was gone from his face.  He
looked relaxed and at home.  He looked like a powerful man who was once
more in control of his life.

He smiled at her, as if he realized what she was thinking.  "I'll join
you must as soon as we're done," he said.  "There's more snow expected,
and we've got a long drive home."

Home.  Not "back to the Corners."  Home!  She was comforted by his word
choice.

Garnet turned on the Christmas tree lights that evening and watched
them sparkle joyously.  She had spent little money on holiday
decorations, but there was no doubting the season in this room.  Fat
red candles from the grocery store decorated the windowsills.  Holly
from a parishioner's bush lined a bowl filled with pine cones and
seedpods.  Loops of gold and silver tinsel hung over the door, and
dangling from the door frame was a sprig of mistletoe.

Thomas came up behind her and pulled her under the mistletoe before she
could resist.  His kiss was long, slow and thoroughly provocative.  She
clung to him afterward, wishing for more.

"Thank you for going with me this afternoon," he said.

They had talked of other things on the ride home-when they had talked
at all.  She had wondered when or if he would discuss their visit to
the church.

"They loved you there, Thomas.  They still do."

"I've never doubted that they loved me.  I loved myself.  That was the
problem."

"Can you honestly say that when you were serving that church, you were
doing it all for your own glorification?  That you didn't feel a sense
of commitment to others or maybe, just maybe, to a higher purpose?"

"I'm not sure what I think right now," he said.  "Except that it's
getting late.  IYs been a long day."

"And you want to go to bed."

He pulled her closer.  "Yes."

Her heart threatened to stop beating.  This was a different

Thomas, one who was not so torn by his past mistakes.  A man looking
toward the future.  And if the light smoldering in his eyes was any
sign, he believed that future included one Garnet Anthony Stonehill.

"I love your hair."  He reached up and unclasped the wide gold barrette
holding it back from her face.  "It has a mind of its own.  Like a
certain woman I know."

She had always done the seducing.  Now she was nearly tongue-tied in
her eagerness to see what he would do next.  She circled his waist with
her arms.  "What else do you love?  " " " Your eyes.  They're a collage
of greens, and they change with your moods.  When you're angry they're
almost gold, the way I imagine a tigress's eyes.  " " "Grrr..  : '

"And your skin."  He trailed kisses to her neck.  "It's the color of
wildflower honey, and it tastes as wild and sweet... : '

She arched her neck to give him better access.  "Don't stop."

"Oh, I don't intend to: He sealed his intention by swinging her up into
his arms.

He kissed her as he carried her into the bedroom.  She felt boneless in
his arms, a willing participant in this new chapter in their marriage.
She was sure, absolutely sure for the first time, that he wanted her.
Not because she had provoked him.  Not because she had seduced him. But
because he was a man who desired the woman he had married.

He helped her undress, one piece of clothing at a time stripped at an
agonizingly slow pace from her willing body.  She repaid him in kind,
her pace even slower and more provocative , until they were both naked,
their bodies flushed with desire.

The evidence of his desire was there for her to see.  He was ready for
her, proud and indisputably male.  She had seen him this way before,
then felt his desire disappear in the next moment.  But she knew that
tonight was going to be different Tonight Thomas wanted her.  Tonight
he believed in their future together.  Tonight he believed in
himself.

They fell to the bed together.  Their limbs tangled; their hands
collided as they caressed each other.  Thomas kissed her as if each
kiss was a discovery.  She entwined her legs with his as he pulled her
on top of him.  She looked into his eyes and knew that he was the man
she had never believed existed, the man she had given up hope of
finding-before hope had even been allowed to grow.

"I love you," she whispered.  "The man you were, the man you are, the
man you'll be.  All the Thomas Stonehills"

He closed his eyes, but not in sorrow.  He looked humbled , as if the
gift of her love was more than he had ever asked for.  " "

Make love to me, Thomas, she said, closing her eyes, too.  And let me
be your lover now.  "

She eased herself over him.  She could feel the rigid pulsing of his
arousal inside her.  Pleasure burst through her.  He filled her as
completely as a dream.  This was a dream that g " ,y had been denied
them too long.  .  Oh es, she whispered.  " Oh, yes, Thomas.

She moved slowly, filling herself with him again.  His whole body was
rigid beneatfq her, as if his pleasure was too exquisite to allow him
movement.

And then the pleasure was gone for both of them.

At first she was confused.  They had conquered the problem They were
victorious.  They had mated and become one.  She moved, but there was
no answering pulsing inside her.  His body no longer responded to hers.
She opened her eyes and saw that his were open, too.  And instead of
confidence , instead of belief in a future, she saw a bleakness that
turned his eyes to ice.

She couldn't tell him it was all right.  It wasn't, and she wouldn't
patronize him by pretending.  She lay against his chest, but his arms
didn't come around her in comfort.

Finally she moved to the bed beside him.  "This time we're going to
talk about it," she said.

He wondered how much pain one person could endure, how much humiliation
a man had to experience before he " saw the truth.  What is there to
say.

What happens in your head, Thomas?  What memory or thought comes
between us?  " " , , y g

If I knew that don't you think I could et beyond it "

"We got farther today."

"As if it made any difference!  Sex isn't a climb up Mount Everest. You
don't get credit for every hundred yards you go up the side of a
cliff."

"Maybe not, but it gives me even more hope that eventually we'll reach
the top."

He stared at the ceiling.  There was so little he was sure of, but in
the last agonizing moments, one thing had become crystal clear.  "There
won't be any eventually, Garnet.  I'm not going to put you through this
again.  The marriage vows don't apply here.  You never signed on for
better or worse.  You signed on so I could help you through a tough
time in your life.  That time has ended.  You're safe now.  No one is
going to go after you again now that Demon's in jail: '

"And I'm not allowed to stay with you through your tough times?  "

"You would be bound to me for life."

"That's ridiculous.  This will change.  It was better tonight "

"Better?"  He sat up and faced her.  He could no longer avoid the fact
that she was lying there, warm and desirable and completely
unattainable beside him.  "Do you think this travesty was better?  Do
you know how tortured I feel every time I fail?  "

"I know.  Thomas, I know it must be terrible.  The frustration must
tear you apart inside.  But you didn't fail, you just weren't as
successful-"

"I failed you!"  He stood up and reached for his clothes.  They were
right beside the bed, but he couldn't find them quickly enough to suit
him.  " " No, you" " "I can live with the frustration.  I have been
living with it.  But I can't live with you and know that I'm failing
you every time we try to make love.  You're a sensual, vital woman who
needs a man in her life who can perform!"

"You make it sound like I'm looking for a gigolo!"

"You need a man.  Not a eunuch!  I'm not going to sit by and watch you
dedicate your life to someone who can't give you sex, can't give you
children-"

"But you will.  When the time is right: '

For a moment, for just one single moment, he found himself yearning to
believe her.  Then reality intruded.  He was standing beside the most
desirable woman he had ever known, and he was incapable of making love
to her.  Even now, with their relationship coming to an end, his body
could not comply with what his heart craved.

He turned away from her.  "The time will never be right.  I thought
tonight it might be.  I thought maybe I'd put some of my ghosts to rest
today.  But it didn't matter.  Not even a little bit.  And it's never
going to be better than this.  I'm never going to be better!  It's time
for you to think about the rest of your life."  He turned away.  "But
don't include me in it.  Because I'm not going to be there."

"Do you care anything for me at all?  Since you're being so viciously
honest, why not go all the way.  Do you?  Have you learned to care for
me?  "

"That doesn't have anything to do with this."

"It has everything to do with it."

"I've learned to care enough to let you go."

She sat up, pulling the sheet around her as she did.  "What does that
mean?"

"It means that it's time for you to think about moving out ."

She stared at him.  "Moving out?"

"Soon, Garnet.  We're fooling ourselves.  We're just getting deeper
into something that's going to hurt us both.  Get out now, while it
doesn't matter so much.  You told me your old apartment is almost ready
to move back into.  Talk to your landlord and tell him you'll be in
after Christmas."

"I see."  She looked away.  The sheet felt cool against her breasts.
The wall she stared at was a pale yellow; she had painted it herself
one weekend.  She was aware of cars passing on the streets below,
cautiously, because of the falling snow.  She was aware of so much-and
so, so little.

"I'm sorry," he said.  The words threatened to choke him.  " " I never
wanted to hurt you .  "

"So your intentions were honorable, Thomas.  They were honorable when
you were married to Patricia, too.  Just exactly what does that say
about the patterns in your life?"

He didn't answer.  He disappeared into the living room.  She could hear
sounds, as if he was dressing.  Then she heard the front door close.

She wondered why he had given her until Christmas.  Was this to be her
Christmas present, a few more weeks with the man she claimed to love? A
few more weeks of trying to make him see that they could conquer his
problem together ?

She didn't want those weeks.  She stared at the wall and knew that she
couldn't stay in Thomas's apartment any longer.  She cast around for a
place to go until the repairs on her apartment were finished.  There
were plenty of people who would welcome her.  Serena would take her in,
despite having only a little space for herself and Chantelle.  Tex and
Finn would be happy to have her.  She considered a dozen other names
and discarded them.  No place was really right.

No place but home.

Still trailing the sheet, she went into the living room.  Thomas was
gone, just as she'd thought.

She found her address book and turned the pages.  For the first time in
the years since she had committed herself to staying in the Corners,
she could not imagine staying here any longer.

She called Tex for a brief conversation.  Then she dialed her mother's
phone number in Florida.

Chapter 14

There was a light snow on Christmas Eve after a week of no snow at all.
The snow crunched softly under the tires of workers rushing home for
the coming holiday.  It fell over Kensington Park, and the city's
Christmas lights glittered brighter against the swirls of white.  It
fell on the sidewalk in front of the Church of the Samaritan and in
front of all Corners' churches, where it disappeared under the booted
feet of candlelight processions moving toward the Kensington

Hotel.

Thomas led the silent procession from the Church of the Samaritan.
Behind him, two by two, walked the members of his congregation.  There
were many more than the thirty who had made their membership official.
Some of the men who had helped him repair the building walked behind
him.  Others in the procession had been brought there by publicity
about the coming event.

The publicity had been excellent.  With the help of his contacts at
Deering Hills Community and media people he had known during his years
there, the word had gotten out to the city at large.  When the other
churches in the community had agreed to participate, even on such short
notice , news had spread still farther.

There were representatives from Deering Hills Community in the line
behind him.  Chris Shallcross and his family planned to come later,
after their Christmas Eve service was finished.  In the meantime, two
dozen Community members walked behind Thomas in support.

He could see the other candlelight processions converging on the hotel.
Some had walked for over a mile, lighting and relighting candles, he
supposed, as the falling snow extinguished them.  Some processions were
short, and one that was now nearing the hotel looked to be almost a
block long.

His procession walked slowly.  They were to converge on the hotel and
the abandoned warehouse just beyond it at seven-thirty.  The time had
been chosen to coordinate with various church services.  It fell
between the most traditional times of early evening and midnight.

They paused at the stoplight where Thomas had first encountered

Garnet.  Across the street at Wilford Heights a procession was forming
on the sidewalk.  The leader was a retired minister who lived in the
housing project with his daughter and her family.  He had been a friend
of Dorothy Brown's, and now he was a friend of Thomas's.  He was an old
man, and life in the project was particularly hard for the old, who
were easy prey for the young and armed.  But when Thomas had told him
of the plans for Christmas Eve, the Reverend Ray Johnson, bent and
wizened, had gone from apartment to apartment throughout the complex
recruiting his own volunteers.

By the time everyone gathered on the sidewalk outside the hotel, the
count was in the hundreds.  Thomas was gratified that so many had
turned out.  Some of those in attendance were onlookers.  The
processions had drawn attention, as they had been designed to do.
Thomas saw kids wearing gang colors on the sidelines, along with people
who had obviously just returned from work and vagrants who hadn't
worked in years.

He also saw the media.  He recognized one newscaster, a young man who
anchored the earliest local evening news program and probably wished
that he was home with his family.  There were others who weren't
familiar but whom he identified by their equipment.

The crowd parted as the Samaritan procession arrived.  Thomas, as prime
organizer, was to lead the way.  It wasn't an honor he had asked for or
even coveted.  The idea had been his, but he felt no claim on it.  This
demonstration of the meaning of Christmas belonged to the community,
and he wished someone else would act as spokesman.  But the decision
had been unanimous.  Thomas and his church were to lead.

There was a narrow alley behind the Kensington Hotel.  Some of the
homeless families who lived temporarily at the hotel watched from
windows as the procession turned into the alley.  Until this afternoon
it had been lined with garbage cans and debris.  Now it was cleared of
everything except one permanent Dumpster in front of the empty
warehouse that stood at the alley's end.

The alley wasn't dark.  It was lit by one security beacon from the
warehouse roof.  It shone on the people walking, two by two, toward the
warehouse doors.  The people in the procession were silent, but the
barking of guard dogs inside the warehouse shattered the reverent
hush.

As Thomas and his followers approached the doors, they were pushed open
from the inside.  The warehouse was dimly lit, empty of almost
everything except cobwebs and a few abandoned crates.  But in the
center, fifty yards from the doors, were two figures kneeling beside
another crate, and others standing nearby.  This crate hadn't been
abandoned.  It was open at the top, and inside it, on a bed made of
blankets and swaddled from head to toe against the cold, was a child.

The procession parted as they reached the center of the room,
surrounding the two lonely figures kneeling beside the child.

Candy, kneeling on one side, was dressed in the colors of the Jokers,
army issue T-shirt under a dark plaid shirt with an open trench coat
pooling along the ground at her feet.

She wore a mud-colored watch cap over her blond hair, but the reverent
look on her face as she gazed at Matty was worthy of any Madonna.

Francis was dressed in Boyz colors, blue shirt, blue parka and a blue
bandanna tied over his ears like a Gypsy.  He gazed at his son, too, a
proud young man who was obviously moved by his participation in this
event.

The procession continued to enter the warehouse, and behind them, the
onlookers came, followed by the media.  When everyone was assembled,
Thomas nodded.  The dogs, four Dobermans chained near the doors, had
barked unceasingly as the procession had filed into the room.  Now,
with their handlers beside them, they were brought to the front.  At a
spoken command, the dogs stopped barking and lay, heads on their paws,
at the side of the room.  They stared silently at the tableau in front
of them, but they didn't move.

Men in uniform, who had been waiting as the crowd entered , moved
closer to the center of the room, as if to adore the child.  There were
no shepherds in the Cornen.  But there were city workers who cleaned
the streets and cared for the park.  There were firefighters and
police.  Finn was one of the men who moved in a semicircle around
Candy, Francis and Matty, as if to protect them.

No one else moved for a long time.  The room was silent.  Then the last
of the people who had been in the warehouse when the others entered
stepped forward.  They were three women.  One was dressed in the
distinctive uniform of the Salvation Army.  Another was dressed in a
suit and heels.  The third wore jeans and a heavy sweater.  Separately,
one at a time, they approached the kneeling mother.

"I have no frankincense," the woman from the Salvation

Army said, "but I have clothes enough for you and your child."  She
left a bundle in front of the crate where Matty lay.

The second woman stepped forward and left her gift.  "I have no gold,
but I work for the welfare department, and I have forms you can fill
out to get aid for your child."

"I have no myrrh," the third woman said, "but I bring supplies from the
e=q3ergency food pantry."  She put a small box of canned goods beside
the other gifts.

The women stepped to one side and stood silently.

Thomas nodded to the choir director of St.  Michael's church.  A group
of nearly a dozen stepped forward, and after one note on the director's
pitch pipe, they began to sing "Silent Night."  The assembled wonhipers
took up the song.

Thomas looked around at the faces of those singing.  They were all
beautiful, old and young, black and white, Hispanic and Asian.  He saw
people who were singing the carol in a language other than English,
people whose lives were so bleak and desperate that only a great faith
could have brought hem to this place tonight.

He tried to sing, too, but his throat closed around the familiar words.
The idea for the manger scene had come to him when he and Garnet had
spoken of Candy and Francis 's alienation from their own community.  It
had been a simple idea, but there had been a great deal of planning and
coordination needed.  He had thrown himself into it, as he had once
thrown himself into his ministry at Deering Hills Community.  He had
ignored everything else, as he had once ignored his personal life in
Deering Hills.

He had ignored Garnet's departure from his life.

Now there was no more work.  The community had come together for this
brief, shining moment.  There were still people coming in from the
streets.  He saw Jokers colors and Boyz colors.  He saw someone in the
back who might be Andre, and closer to the front he saw Francis's
brothers , with their mother between them.  No one was pushing or
shoving, no one was speaking.  Everyone stood together, witnessing a
small miracle.

The St.  Michael's choir went on to sing more carols.  Their voices
were fine and strong, and the others joined them when the songs were
familiar.  The choir from the Church of the Samaritan stepped forward
to sing a gospel version of "Go Tell it on the Mountain."

Finally the singing ended and Thomas's own part in the program
arrived.

He stepped forward and opened the Bible that he had carried under his
arm.  The lights were dim, but not too dim to make out the familiar
words.

He swallowed.  The pages blurred mysteriously in front of his eyes. For
a moment he was sure that he wouldn't be heard.  He knew he couldn't
speak above a whisper.

He began, and his voice wavered, just as he'd feared.  He pushed on,
reading the familiar, comforting words from the Gospel of Luke, and his
voice grew stronger.  He told the story of a humble woman and man,
caught up in a drama that had changed the world.  He told of a baby so
beloved, so awaited, that angel choirs and beacon stars had announced

His birth, and shepherds and wise men had come to pay tribute.

Finally he closed his Bible.  A minister from a church at the far end
of the Corners stepped forward for a benediction He prayed that those
gathered there that night would remember the all children were holy.

Thomas looked over the bowed heads, his heart full and yet emptier than
it had ever been.  He had worked tirelessly for this moment.  Both the
procession and the reenactment had been more poignant, more memorable
than he had dared to hope.  But now it had ended.  Some people would
stay; more would come and go through the evening.  Candy, Francis and
Matty would leave in a little while to be replaced by another young
couple and their child.  But his part in the drama had ended.

He would go back to his empty apartment and his empty personal life. He
would go back to face the demons that tormented him, the memories of a
faith that was no longer his.

He would go home to think of Garnet.

If one thing wasn't perfect about the events of the night, it was that
Garnet wasn't there to witness them.

He scanned the crowd again as the benediction ended.  Heads lifted,
candlelit faces were glowing with faith and hope.  And one face toward
the door of the warehouse, a face more beautiful to him than any of the
others, lifted just as his gaze found it.

The night had been perfect after all.

He couldn' tret urn to his apartment for another hour.  The alley
outside the warehouse was crowded with people wishing each other
Christmas happiness.  He was interviewed by the television crew about
the meaning of the reenactment.  His status as fomter pastor of Deering
Hills Community and the tragic history of Patricia's death were mined
by the young anchorman for all they were worth.

But he also had an opportunity to talk about his ministry at the Church
of the Samaritan, and what he and his small congregation were trying to
build here in the Corners.  He talked about hope, about taking back
city streets, about providing opportunities for babies like Matty, for
families who were struggling against terrible odds and kids who
believed their only opportunity for protection and community was in
joining a gang.  When he was finished, he knew that most of what he had
said would be edited away, but he hoped that the core of his message,
the simple words of a Nazareth carpenter, "Love thy neighbor as
thyself," would still shine through.

He went to the church to find people still lingering there, as if
reluctant to let go of the evening's experience.  Finally he closed and
locked the front door of the church when the last well-wisher had gone
home.  He turned off the lights one by one until the church was dark.
Then, because he had no alternative, he went upstairs to his
apartment.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to find.  Garnet was back in town; he
knew that now.  The day she had returned from Florida was unknown.  She
might have been back for a while.  She'd had no reason to announce her
return.  He had told her their marriage was over.  He had been the one
to sever all ties.

But the thought that she might have come back and been here for days
without letting him know filled him with despair The thought that she
might just have returned, that she might be waiting in the apartment
for him now, filled him with a different kind of despair.

The door was ajar and he knew that he was going to find.

Garnet was in the bedroom, folding clothes that she had left behind and
stacking them neatly in a suitcase.  "I won't be long," she said
without looking up.  "I just need my warm clothes.  I'll be back to get
everything else at the beginning of next week."

"

" There's no hurry.  "

She tossed her hair from her face and flicked him a quick glance.
"Sorry to disagree, but I think there probably is."

"I meant that I don't need the room."

"I'm glad I'm not inconveniencing you: '

The words could have been sarcastic, but they hadn't been said that
way.  She seemed to feel no emotion whatsoever.  " " Where will you be
living?  " he asked.

"With Tex.  My apartment will be ready on Monday.  It just needs
another coat of paint: '

"I can help you move."

"Thanks, but I'll manage."  She looked up from folding a sweater. "That
was very inspirational tonight, Thomas."

He nodded.

"You must have worked hard to puli it off."

"It took some time."

"I'm sure you're proud."  She stared at him, then shook her head.  "No,
I forgot, you wouldn't feel proud, would you?  It probably wasn't
perfect.  You're probably ashamed."

"

" I am proud : '

"Well, good: She went back to her packing.

"How was Ema?"

"Happy.  And the girls look better than I've ever seen them.  She sends
her love."

"

" And your mother?  "

; "She's happy, too.  For the first time ever she's found a decent man.
I think she'll be getting married soon: '

"I'm glad.  I-"

"Thomas, there's no point in polite conversation, is there?  We aren't
going to survive this as friends, you know.

You'll look at me and see your failures.  I'll look at you and feel
angry that you gave up so easily.  We'll be better off just to get this
out of the way quickly and be done with it.  " She turned toward her
dresser for an armload of sweaters.

He formed a hundred answers but didn't have time for even one.  There
was a knock at the front door.  Another well-wisher, he supposed, who
was coming to share good feelings.  ; He didn't want to answer the
door; he wanted to walk through it and keep on walking.  Whatever hope
he'd had of salvaging anything from their relationship had died with

Garnet's words.

He opened the door anyway to find Andre standing on the threshold.  He
had never felt less hospitable or patient, but months of work aimed at
a moment like this one were too important to destroy now.  Andre had
come to him.  He had to listen, regardless of any personal crises.

"Hello, Andre."  Thomas stepped back and gestured him inside, scanning
the stairway to see if Andre was alone.

"Were you at the warehouse?  I thought I saw you there."

"I was there."

Thomas closed the door.  "Have a seat.  What's on your mind?"  He
softened the abruptness of his words by sitting down on the sofa to
signal that he planned to give the young man his complete attention.

Andre didn't sit.  He had taken off his watch cap.  He twisted it in
his hands as he looked around the room.  "You don't have much, do
you?"

"No."  He was going to have even less in a few minutes when Garnet
walked out of his life.  Thomas saw that she had closed the bedroom
door, although it was still ajar.  He could see flashes of her green
sweater through the crack as she walked back and forth, packing her
clothes.

"Why do you do what you do?"

Thomas's attention was snagged by Andre's tone.  "I'm not sure what
you're asking."

"Did God call you or something?"  "

" I thought so once.  "

"But now you're not sure?"

"There are a lot of things I'm not sure about.  But I'm sure that what
we're doing in that church down there is good.  And I'm sure that what
happened tonight is good."

"How do you know?"

It was a fair question.  "I feel it inside me, I guess.  And I look
around and see that no one is hurt by what I do, but that a lot of
people claim their lives are better."

"You look around."  Andre paced, twisting his hat.  "That's all you got
to say?"

"Believe me, I'd like to be able to give a better answer."

"You used to believe in God.  In Jesus."  It wasn't a question It was
definitely a statement.

Thomas nodded.  "

" Yes.  "

"I did, too, when I was a kid."

Thomas didn't say the obvious, that in many ways Andre was still a kid.
"What happened to make you stop believing ?  Or did you?"

"I grew up!q,

"On tough streets, in a tough neighborhood.  You don't get too much
Jesus in a place like this one, do you, Andre?"

"You don't know what iYs like, what it do to you living in a place like
this "

"I don't know it like you do, that's true."

"I went to church with my mama when I was a little kid.  They told me
all about how much God loved me.  All that Jesus crap.  Then I'd go out
and dudes would be prying radios out of people's cars or clocking right
there in front of the church."

Clocking meant selling dope, and Thomas knew it was a favorite Corners
Sunday afterooon pastime.  "Go on."

"When I was eleven, my cousin told me I had to be a Joker.  There
wasn't no way out of it.  I didn't be a Joker ,

i they'd make sure I didn't live long enough to be anything else.  So I
was a wannabe for a few years.  I kicked with the ,

Jokers, but I didn't do it all the time.  Just enough to keep them from
coming after me.  "

Thomas's attention wandered.  He could still see Garget moving past the
door.  He suspected she had slowed her packing.  She was too
considerate to break in on this conversation She would wait until Andre
left before she left , herself.

"Then I got to be sixteen, and it was time to jump in,"

Andre said.  "You know about jumping in, Padre?"  "

" No.  "

"You got to do something bad.  You got to prove you're bad enough to be
a Joker."

Jumping in sounded like an initiation rite.  Thomas tried to pay
attention to what Andre was saying.  "And so you were forced to do
something to show you were man enough to belong?"

"They told me I got to steal something."  He flopped to the edge of the
sofa, as far away from Thomas as he could sit.  "Do you think someone
can do something bad and then get forgiven for it?"

Thomas knew the beginnings of a confession when he heard one.  Andre
had his full attention now.  "I believe that with all my heart."

"You don'teven believe in God: '

"I'm not sure of some things, but I am sure that forgiveness exists."

That seemed to satisfy Andre.  "The night I was supqI posed to jump in,
there were three of us.  We possed up, then we was told to get
somebody's wallet and bring it back.

They took all our money, so we wouldn't have no way home except by
walking unless we got a wallet with some money in it.  Then one of the
brothers drove us out of the city.  " He stopped.

Thomas tried to prod him on.  "Were you afraid?"

Andre didn't look at him.  "The place they took us to was

Deering Hills.  "

A cold wind seemed to sweep through the apartment.  Thomas sat frozen,
afraid to hear what was coming next, and afraid not to.

"You know about Deering Hills.  You was living there once," Andre
said.

"Yes."  Thomas calculated Andre's age.  He had been sixteen on the
night he spoke of.  He was nineteen now.  Three years ago.  Three
years.

"They dropped us off in the middle of town.  I went one way, the other
two went off somewheres else, I never did hear where.  It was a cold
night, and I wasn't wearing much warm clothes.  I started to walk.  All
I wanted was to grab a wallet and get out of there.  Deering Hill's the
kind of place where cops follow you around if you black."

"Yes."  "

" I saw a church sitting on a hill : '

Thomas leaned forward and put his head in his hands.  He felt the sofa
move beneath him, and he knew Andre was pacing again.  "Go on," he said
in a low voice.

"I saw a church, and I wasn't going to bother with going there, because
it was late at night and there wasn't any cars I could see in the
parking lot.  Then a car turned in from the road.  I saw a woman was
driving, and I knew I'd found my mark."

"You didn't mean to kill her, did you?"  Thomas squeezed the question
out of some sane part vf himself.  The only part that could still
speak.

"I got to the door before she did.  All I wanted was her purse.  Just
her wallet.  I told her that, but she didn't listen.  She tried to push
me away, then she made like she was going to scream.  I couldn't let
her scream.  I knew the cops'd be all over me.  I pushed her hard to
shut her up.  She fell back, like she didn't know I was going to push
her "

"And she hit her head and died."

"I didn't know that till the next day.  I got her wallet, and I ran
real fast.  I walked for a long time, then I got a bus into the city.
When I got back to the Corners I gave the wallet to the main man.  He
threw away all the ID and kept the ; money.  I got to be a Joker."

Thomas looked up.  " " And the next day I found out she was dead and
I'd killed her: Andre twisted the hat in his hands.

Thomas stared at him.  Patricia's killer was standing an arm's length
away.  He had come of his own accord, the first real step in a life
that could someday be filled with meaning

Andre had killed Patricia.

Thomas was filled with such fury he could hardly breathe.  Every
instinct he possessed told him to take justice into his own hands.
Andre deserved punishment.  He was larger than the boy, larger and
stronger.  Thomas could feel the blood rushing to his fingertips.  His
hands tingled with the desire to hurt Andre.

Andre stood there as if he expected punishment.  He stood regal and
tall and in definably different.

"How could you come to me this way?"  Thomas asked.

"I don't know where else to go."

Thomas shut his eyes.  Anger was a red cloud tinting the room, tinting
the very darkness that should have helped him grow calmer.  It suffused
his very being, threatened to shut off the air he breathed.

He saw Patricia on their wedding day, a glowing young bride with her
whole life ahead of her.  He saw her at the window of a country inn at
Christmas time, her face serene with happiness.  He saw her in a
million different ways, some that he didn't want to remember and other,
happier ways that he had allowed himself to forget.

And he saw her at prayer, a bishop's daughter, whose religion had been
lived and not spoken.  She had believed in

God.  Her faith had never wavered.

His faith in God had wavered.  But he had told Andre that he believed
in forgiveness.  Patricia had believed in forgiveness , too.  He opened
his eyes, not sure how much time had passed.  Andre still stood before
him.  Waiting.  A young man poised on the brink of a life that could be
filled with meaning A young man with so much to give.

Thomas extended his hand.  Andre swallowed hard; then he grasped it. As
Thomas watched, tears filled the young man's eyes.  Answering tears
filled his own.  Andre joined him on the sofa, and they sat together in
silence.

In the bedroom Garnet sat on the edge of the bed.  Tears slid down her
cheeks.  There was no privacy in the small apartment.  She had heard
Andre's confession, and she knew the woman tie had killed must be
Patricia.  She knew her own anger and sorrow must be only a small
fraction of what Thomas felt.  She wished that she could go to him when
Andre left and soothe his pain, but that was no longer a possibility.

By the time the front door had closed and Andre was gone, she had
washed her face and finished her packing.  She gave Thomas a few
moments alone, then opened the bedroom door.

He was sitting with his face in his hands.  Her heart twisted painfully
at the sight, but she lifted her suitcases and carried them to the
front door.

"I heard it all," she said quietly.  "

" He killed Patricia "

"I know: She set down the suitcases.  " Are you going to turn him in to
the police?  "

Thomas looked up wearily.  "

" No.  "

"No?"

"Andre isn't Demon.  He's suffered for three years because of what he
did " " " A woman died : " " He never meant to kill her, not even to
hurt her.  He was caught up in something that got out of control.  " He
stood.

"He came to me, knowing I would probably go to the police I think he
was ready to be punished by somebody else.

He's been punishing himself since that night.  But if he was sent to
jail, and I think he probably would be, no one would ever have a chance
to reach him again.  He's vulnerable now ,

and he's made the first step toward a new life.  I'm not going to cut
him off before it begins.  "

"Then he just walks away?"

"No.  I'll talk to him when I'm under control again.  We'll decide
together what he should do.  Community service, maybe, or going back to
school.  Something that assures me he's on the right track."

She nodded.  Thomas was being fairer, kinder than anyone should ever
have to be.  He moved to her side, and when she looked in his eyes, she
saw that neither had come easily.  And she saw something else.

"You've forgiven him, haven't you?"

Thomas looked inside himself.  He was still angry and filled with
unspeakable pain.  Patricia's death would always be an empty space
inside him, an empty space in a world that had needed her sweetness,
her gentleness.  But Garnet 's question had been a different one.

"I've forgiven him," Thomas said, and knew, deep in his heart, that he
was telling the truth.

She stared at him, and tears glazed her eyes.  She saw a man in
conflict.  A good man, heroic in all ways.

Except one.

"So, that makes you better than God, doesn't it?"  She opened the door
and picked up her suitcases.

He watched her turn to leave.  He was so filled with emotions , a
spectrum of emotions, that he could hardly speak.  He clamped his hand
on her shoulder to stop her.  "What in the hell does that mean?"  he
asked softly, fiercely.

She turned her head to look at him.  " " You can forgive Andre, but you
don't believe God can forgive you.  That makes you better than Him,
doesn't it?  You always said you were arrogant.  I just never
understood how far it reached.  "

He dropped his hand.  She saw powerful emotions cross his face.  Then
she saw nothing more of him at all.  She found her way to the stairs
and left the building.

Chapter 15

Sometime during the night of Ash Wednesday, the homeless man broke into
the church again.  In the morning when Thomas walked through on his way
to a meeting, he found the man standing in front of Ferdinand's
mural.

The mural was illuminated by springtime sunshine.  In the strong light
the old man looked dirtier and more destitute.  "Do you like this
better than you liked the picture in front?"  Thomas asked, crossing to
stand beside him.

"Still don't understand what you're doin' here in the Corners."

Thomas crossed his arms.  "I've asked myself that a time or two."

"Who asked you to come here, anyway?"

Thomas contemplated that question.  "I think I came here because I
needed what the Corners could give me."

The old man humphed.  "No one needs this place."

"I did," Thomas said.

"You're as crazy as the person who painted that."

"I hope so."  Thomas smiled at his uninvited guest.  "I know you don't
take charity, but we have sharing suppers on

Wednesday night"

"You told me that last time."

"I know.  But I'm hoping that this time you'll join us.

You've lived on these streets for a long time.  I think there are
things you could tell us about them.  "

The old man's eyes narrowed.  "What things?"

"First and most of all, what needs to be done for the Corners, I guess.
You'd know better than anyone."

"I'm just a sick old man who drinks himself blind every night.
Remember?"

"Has that changed?"

The old man didn't answer.  " " At one time I drank myself blind every
night, too.  And even when I stopped drinking, I was still blind.  Then
one day I was lucky enough to have someone open my eyes.  "

The old man spat on the floor Thomas had swept the night before. "God?"
 he said.

"No.  A woman.  But she opened my eyes so I could see

God again.  "

"Doesn't sound like any woman I've ever heard of."  i'homas didn't know
how to respond to that.  Garnet was not like anyone else in the world.
But the world was filled with people who cared enough about each other
to stretch out a hand when a hand was needed.

She had taught him that.

It was time to tell her.  At that moment, after months of waiting and
praying, after surges of hope and lapses into doubt, he knew it was
finally time.

"Sunday is Easter," he said.  "It's a time of new beginnings Come join
us.  You're always welcome here, even when the door isn't locked."

The old man chuckled.  Thomas hadn't thought it was possible.  But in
the last months he had come to believe in the impossible.  Nowadays he
called it faith.

* * *

The rubber band pinged off the side of the wastepaper basket and fell
to the floor.

"You've really lost your touch: Tex dropped a file on Garnet's desk.  "
You should have retired a winner.  " " long, long day.  " Garnet stood
and stretched.  " And I just got a call.  Mary Ann had her baby.  " " "
So what's the verdict?  " " " A boy, almost six pounds.  A seven on the
Apgar scale.  No obvious signs of addiction, but they've put him under
constant watch for the next forty-eight hours.  "

"I think Mary Ann cleaned up her act toward the end."

"She says she did, but we'll know better in a day or so, I guess ."

Tex folded her arms.  "We've got four free days coming up.  What's
planned for the weekend?"

Garnet tapped her fingernails on her desk.  "You don't have to take
care of me.  I'll be fine.  It's just a long weekend"

"It's Easter.  Come over for dinner on Sunday.  Finn's going to smoke a
leg of lamb."

"

" Can I let you know?  "

"Can I give you some advice?"

Garnet stopped tapping.  "Since when did you need permission ?"

"Don't spend the holiday alone.  Get out and see people"

"Do what?  Go to church services?  Did you know that Thomas is slaying
dragons again?  He nd the other local pastors are sponsoring a sunrise
service at Kensington Park.  They're going to take over the park
because the city refuses to, plant flowers, pick up litter, trim
shrubs-"

"I'll expect you for dinner.  Three o'clock sharp."

Garnet sighed.  "I'm sorry."

"And no excuses."  Tex gave her a hug before she left the room.

Garnet stared after her.  She knew that in the months since Christmas
she hadn't been herself.  She had done her job,

gone through the motions of keeping in touch with her friends, but she
had craved silence and space to lick her wounds.  Tex, and others who
cared about her, were tired of standing back.  They wanted her to feel
better, to be the old Garnet.

She wasn't that woman anymore.  That Garnet hadn't expected or wanted
anything from the world, and every good thing that had come along had
been a surprise and a pleasure Then something had come along that she
had wanted, and her life had changed.

But not for the better.

The day had been long; she knew she could make it longer.  There was
always more work to do and no one to stop her from doing it.  But more
work wasn't an antidote for what she was feeling, which was why she had
agreed to close the clinic from Friday through Monday.  Everyone on
staff needed a break, and all the physicians were going out of town,
anyway.  Maybe Tex was right.  Maybe what she needed was to call a
friend and go out for the evening.

Halfway up the stairs to her apartment she knew she wasn't going to
bother.  She wanted to spend another evening alone, with her familiar
possessions, her music.  She would make dinner and read the novel she'd
bought last week.  And she wouldn't let herself think about Thomas.
Because in the months since Christmas, Thomas obviously hadn't been
thinking about her.

In the hall outside Serena's apartment she paused and considered
knocking.  But the apartment was quiet, which meant Serena and
Chantelle probably weren there.  A young man from the neighborhood-a
young man with defimte possibilities-had been showing up a lot lately
to take Serena and the baby out for the evening.  Serena just smiled
when Garnet asked about him.  She wasn't getting serious about anybody,
she claimed, not until she was finished with school.  The young man in
question was just coming to see Chantelle.

Inside her apartment Garnet promised herself a good dinner.  For too
long making complicated meals had re minded her of evenings with
Thomas.  Evenings had been the best part of their days together, quiet,
intimate times when they had worked side by side and talked about their
jobs.  Tonight she would cook something special, and she wouldn't
remember those nights and the hope that had stirred in her heart with
each brush of a hip, each quiet laugh, each warmly assessing look.

She had already prepared the sauce and grated two kinds of cheese for
lasagna when there was a knock at her door.  She didn't even jump at
the sound.  Nowadays she was in no more danger than anyone else living
in the Corners.  No longer was she marked for retribution.

The Boyz and the Jokers hadn't suddenly become buddies ; that might be
asking the impossible.  But a truce of sorts was in force.  Until
another Demon came along to stir up trouble, they coexisted warily.
Candy and Francis came and went freely now.  Andre was working at a
community center for the elderly and studying for his G. E. D. so that
he could start college in the fall.  Rumor had it that Thomas had been
successful in having the gangs meet together at the church to discuss
their differences.

Rumor was her only source of information about Thomas.

She washed her hands before she answered the door.  The apartment
smelled like garlic and herbs, and her favorite tape of Billie Holiday
songs was resonating from her new stereo.  Quite possibly she was on
the up side of down now.  Quite possibly she was going to put Thomas
out of her life.

Four seconds of staring at Thomas, who was standing on the threshold,
proved just how wrong one person could be.

"You look well," he said.

"What did you expect?  Camille?"  She stepped back so that he could
come in if he wanted.

"It smells like I'm interrupting dinner."  "

" Not yet.  "

"I could come back another time."

"But the question is, would you bother?"  She gestured toward the
apartment.  "Come in.  Or the hall's going to smell like garlic."

"It already does."  He stepped inside.  The apartment was hardly the
same sad place he recalled from his last visit.  Then it had been a
burned-out shell, and most of her belongings had been damaged by water
or smoke.  Now there were no signs that anything had ever been wrong
here.  The paint was fresh and the carpet new.  Garnet's possessions,
an eclectic mixture of things she had brought to his apartment and new
purchases, were tastefully arranged to fill the room.

Why, then, did something seem out of order?  He took another moment to
scan the room, even though he knew Garnet was watching him.  The
apartment was pleasant, tidy and..  dull.

For the first moment in a long, long time he wondered if things were
really going to be all right, if they were finally, irrevocably going
to be all right.

"WhaYs wrong, Padre?  Doesn't it meet with your approval ?  Think I
should have put the sofa where the stereo is?  I was still a little
gun-shy there for a while.  I kept thinking someone might use the back
of my head for target practice if I sat too close to a window."

"Padre again?  I've been a lot of things, Garnet.  But never your
father."

"True.  You were around longer than he was.  Not much longer, but
longer."  She gestured to the kitchen.  "Want something to drink?  I've
got mineral water, juice-"

"This place doesn't look like it belongs to you."

"I'll have to talk to my decorator."

"There should be plants, funny little things on the shelves, a stuffed
giraffe in the corner..  "

"My ceilings would have to be taller."  q

He swept the room with his hand.  "The woman I knew wouldn't be happy
living here."

"The woman you knew?  I don't know who that is , Thomas.  But the woman
who moved back in here is satisfied with things the way they are."

"Is she?  The man you knew isn't."

She looked away.  "Feel free to take a seat.  I've only put in a
ten-hour day, and I'm in the middle of making dinner"

"At least the sense of humor hasn't changed."

She felt herself go cold with anger.  Icy, aching cold.  "Don't you
think so?  Well, who the hell are you to worry about it?  You find this
situation humorous?  I don't.  Not one little bit.  Why are you even
here?  One of your pastoral calls?  Haven't I been at church often
enough for you?"

"You haven't been at church at all."

" " And that's the way it's going to stay.  If I want church on a
Sunday, I'll visit St.  Michael's or Second Baptist or the temple at
the end of Wilford.  "

"Better try the temple on a Saturday or you'll be disappointed"

She stared at him.  "What are you doing here?"

"Right now I'm trying to warm you up a little."

She couldn't believe him.  This was not the Thomas she had known.  His
blue eyes were sympathetic as they searched for clues to her feelings.
He looked both tormented and confident, a combination no one else could
have managed.  The torment?  She couldn't speak for its source, but the
confidence was easier to pinpoint.  It seemed to exude from him, to be
a very part of his being.

"Why?"  she asked.  "Why do you care whether I'm warm or cold as a
glacier?  Why should it matter to you?  You're here to talk about a
divorce, aren't you?  You're too considerate to have me served with
papers without a warning.

"ThaYs not why I'm here."

"I'm a little tired of guessing games."

"May I sit down?  Or would it really be better if I came back later?"

She sighed.  "

" Sit.  "

He sprawled at the edge of her new sofa.  It was something she'd bought
without much thought.  She'd nEeded a place to sit.  The sofa had been
in the front of the first and only furniture store she'd visited, which
had cinched the decision for her.  Now she noticed that it was too low
to the ground and too narrow.  Thomas made it look as if it had been
designed for a children's playhouse.

"Will you sit, too?"

Reluctantly she chose to sit beside him.  The only other seat had been
placed so far away that sitting there would look as if she was afraid
of him.  And fear was one of the few emotions she wasn't
experiencing.

"I don't know how to start," he said.  " " Then I guess this is going
to be a long evening.

"Make this a little easier for me.  Be polite."  He softened his words
with a smile that cut heavily into her defenses.

She leaned back and settled in a little.  "I'm so " she said stiffly.
"I'm listening."  q'

"I've wanted to see you for months now.  I've wanted to talk to you
every day since you left."

"You've known where I lived."

"I've been afraid I'd get here and do what I'm doin now."  g " "
Ramble?  Avoid the issues?  "

He smiled again; then he leaned back, too, and slipped his arm along
the back of the sofa.  He wasn't touching her, but he was closer. Their
positions were almost intimate.  i She felt her body respond. Her
analysis of it was clinical.

Her heart beat faster; her temperature rose.  Her immune system refused
to cooperate with her brain and reject the foreign body beside her. She
still wanted Thomas.  God help her, despite the most crushing
rejection, she still undeniably wanted him.

"I've done a lot of thinking since you left," he said.  "I've had lots
of time.  I never knew an apartment could feel so empty."

She knew just how empty an apartment could feel.  She gave a
noncommittal nod.

"Do you remember the last thing you said to me?"  He didn't wait for an
answer.  "You told me I thought I was better than God, because I could
forgive Andre, but I didn't believe God could forgive me.  I felt like
you'd slugged me in the gut."

"If you've come for an apology, I'm sorry.  I had no right.

"Don't be sorry.  You changed my life.  He wanted to touch her hair. It
was restrained in a tight braid, as restrained as her apartment, as the
tight line of her mouth.  He wanted to release her hair, to see it fall
over the back of the sofa and bounce against her shoulders, to send its
electric tendrils curling around his fingers.

Garnet wanted to demand that he get to the point, but she knew how
revealing that would be.  She had already revealed far too much
emotion.  She waited, and the atmosphere in the room grew more
charged.

"You were right," he said at last.  "You made me face the truth.  I
never lost my faith in God, but I believed God had lost His faith in
me.  If I, with all my sins, all my fallibility, could forgive Andre,
then surely God, the infallible, could forgive me.  But in my
arrogance, I believed that my sins were too terrible for God to
forgive.  I'd failed to be a god myself, but I still thought I was
above God's forgiveness.  So I shut Him out of my life."

Despite all her efforts, she was moved by the expression in his eyes,
an expression almost of wonder.  "And that's changed?  "

"Yes."  He smiled again, such a different smile than she remembered,
but somehow a hundred times more captivating She could feel more of her
defenses being destroyed.  Quite obviously this war was to be won with
smiles and warm, sensitive looks.

She looked away, but the damage was already done.  "I'm glad for you,
Thomas."

"You've given me back my life," he said.

"No, I didn't give you anything.  I was angry.  I wanted to hurt you.
That's all: '

He touched her shoulder.  She couldn't avoid looking at him any longer.
"" You gave me back my life.  You were the only person who would stand
up to me and make me face the truth.  Not only because you were angry.
Because you saw my arrogance, and you cared enough to make me see it,
too.  "

"However it happened, I am glad for you: '

As the rest of her defenses crumbled, she faced the fact that she had
never stopped loving him, never stopped caring what happened to him.
Despite what she knew was coming, a divorce, a complete and final
severing of all their ties, she could not protect herself from loving
him.

"I'd lost the most essential part of myself, Garnet.  IYs taken months
to put it in perspective."

Months when he hadn't called her or come to see her.  She was happy for
him, genuinely happy, but she knew that those months were proof that
she, Garnet Anthony Stonehill , had never really mattered to him.  If
she had mattered, he would have come to her sooner and shared his
battle with her.

She told herself that the last thing she could do for him was to make
this easy.  " " Now you want to get on with your life," she said.  "
Both of us deserve that much.  Our marriage was never intended to be
real.  I was upset when I left, but afterward I realized I'd never
thanked you for what you've done for me.  Maybe it didn't turn out
exactly the way either of us planned, but you tried to protect me.  And
that was the reason you married me.  "

"No, it wasn't " He gave in to the impulse to touch her hair.  The
solid mass of the braid was unsatisfying against his fingertips.  "I
married you because I needed you in my life.  You were everything I
wasn't-warm, vital, alive.  I'd been a dead man for more than two
years. I couldn't bear to think that something might happen to you,
that you might die and I'd lose the one glimpse of life I'd had.  Even
then, even in those first hours together, I loved you: '

She couldn't look away again.  He had captured her.  She made a noise
low in her throat, a protest, a moan.  He wove his fingers into the
braid and slowly, giving her all the time she needed to move away,
brought her lips to his.

She'd had both no time and all the time in the world to resist, but
only when his lips touched hers did she realize how final her defeat
was.  Kissing Tlqomas was a door into the world, into emotion, sorrow
and despair.  She didn't believe that they could start where they'd
left off and build something new together.  She didn't believe he
really loved her.  He was an honorable man, a man who believed in
standing by vows, even vows made for the wrong reasons.

Yet she kissed him anyway.  His mouth slanted over hers, and she drank
in the moist warmth of his kiss as if she were dying and he could keep
her alive.  Her hands crept to his neck.  His skin was warm, and she
could feel the rapid thrum of his pulse against her fingertips.  Her
lips parted, and the invitation was accepted.  The kiss deepened, and
he moved closer; she moved closer, too, until her breasts pushed gently
against his chest.

At last he cradled her head against his shoulder.  He had loosened her
hair and spread it like a cape around them both.

"The attraction's always been there," she said, giving him one last
chance to retreat, "but that doesn't mean the marriage can work.  You
don't have to stay married to me.  Your obligations are over, and
you're alive again."

"Will you marry me?"  he asked against her hair.  "A real marriage?  I
couldn't come to you before.  I wasn't sure I could be the husband you
needed."

"Sex is only a part of marriage.  We could have worked it out if we'd
tried."

"I'm not talking about sex.  I'm talking about all the ways I failed
Patricia.  I was ambitious and shortsighted and selfish I never let
Patricia be a real wife, and then she was gone and I didn't have a
chance to try anymore."

"But you understood how you'd failed her."

"I still questioned my ability to be a real husband to you.  Can you
see that?  I was afraid I hadn't learned enough from what had happened,
but even worse, I was afraid tliere was something vital missing inside
me.  I couldn't trust myself, and I didn't trust God.  I was sure I'd
sinned so terribly that

I was beyond His love.  I couldn't be a real husband to you before, not
in any way that mattered.  I wouldn't let myself.  Now, I can be.  "

She knew he was talking about more than days spent building a marriage.
He was talking about nights together in each other's arms.  " " And
what will happen if you try to be a husband, if you try to make love to
me, and you still can't?  "

"Then we try again.  And if that doesn't succeed after a while, we go
for help " He smiled tenderly, confidently.  "But I don't think we'll
need to save money for counseling.  I don't think we'll need to worry
about counseling at all: '

She knew what he was offering.  A lifetime together.  This was not to
be a marriage of convenience.  Nothing would be held back now.  From
this moment on, if she said yes, they would share their days and
nights, share their anger and sorrows, and most of all-and most
frightening-share their love.  It would hurt.  There would be times
when they both would wish they had never married, times when life in
the Corners would make love painful.

She knew what she was getting into.  But she knew, even better, what
life was like without him.  "I think I've said it before.  I've always
lived dangerously."

She could feel him sag against her, as if he had doubted that she would
accept.  He squeezed her tightly, exuberantly' You can't know how much
I've missed you.  I just had to be sure I could give you what you
needed.  I love you too much to shortchange you: '

This time she surrendered her doubt that he loved her.  He had told her
twice.  But she didn't know where to go from here.  This was nearly
perfect.  She was afraid to breathe, afraid to move, because she was
afraid that if she did, she would find she had dreamed it all.

Then he kissed her again, and she knew it wasn't a dream.  He was warm
and real and determined.  The patience it had taken to explain himself
was gone.  His hands trembled slightly against her neck, but not, she
thought, from fear.  From desire.  From longing.

Months of repressed feelings welled inside her.  She couldn't touch him
enough.  Later she would take her time , explore him slowly and
thoroughly, indulge herself in the feel of his broad shoulders under
her palms, his heartbeat under her fingertips.  Now she swept him with
her hands, touching everywhere and nowhere, filling her senses with the
whole man.

She couldn't separate one kiss from another, one warm, intimate caress
from the next.  Her clothes disappeared, and she didn't know how they
were removed.  He followed the same path, and she had only the vaguest
sense of helping him undress.  Passion was a haze that both sped and
slowed time.  Words blurred one into the next in her head.  She only
realized that she had told him out loud that she loved him when he
responded in kind.

On her bed, their bodies entwined, she was too overcome with happier
emotions to have any room for fear.  Sometime between one burst of
sensation and another she had pushed away all doubts.  She had to
believe Thomas's promise that if he was still unable to make love to
her, it wouldn't matter.  They would find a way to conquer this, as
they had conquered their emotional barriers.  Surely this, too, could
be theirs.  He wouldn't withdraw ashamed, tortured into silence once
more.  He wouldn't sacrifice their marriage on the altar of his pride.
The marriage would be real, no matter what happened here.

While they were entwined, he rolled to his back, bringing her over him
as he kissed her.  She could feel the long stretch of his legs, the
rock-hard breadth of his chest, the cradle of his hips, the proof of
his longing for.  her.  She knew he was ready for lovemaking.  He had
branded her with his kisses, left indelible impressions in her heart.
Now he had only to claim her.

She slid her hands between them, but he grasped them before she could
possess him.  He turned her to her back, covering her with his body as
he did.  Then, gazing into her eyes, he made them one.

He didn't take his eyes from hers as he made love to her.  Every
emotion he felt was there for her to see, the joy, the love, the pride.
In seconds she was lost, consumed by what she saw.  She could feel his
love inside her, like dawn after the darkest night.

He struggled for patience, murmuring love words and kissing her as he
filled her again and again.  He seemed to understand her deeqSt.  needs
and doubts, showing her with his body, his lips, the emotion in his
eyes, that she was his very heart.  His love was sunlight, blazing
through her to warm the coldest parts of her soul.

She had not known that lovemaking could be this way, that each
movement, each caress, could be an awakening and a renewal.  Now she
was sure that he needed her in the most elemental way, just as she my
him.  Ecstatically she fed the flame of his desire each time they
melted together.

When fulfillment wasn't an impossible dream but a reality neither of
them could resist, she gave herself to the heat and the radiant burst
of passion that encompassed them both.

She gave herself to him.

Time passed before they spoke.  She didn't know how much time.  She had
drifted into sleep, exhausted.  Complete satisfaction was more draining
than she had ever iznagined.  " " Are you awake?  " he asked.

"Mmm..."  She tried to cuddle closer and found it was impossible.

"Does this mean you're going to give our marriage another try?"  he
asked.  " " And another and another.  " She brushed a lock of hair off
his forehead.  " I'll have to lengthen my skirts, won't I?  And learn
to scoop ice cream at Wednesday night sharing suppers.  "

"Your skirts are fine, and you can leave the ice cream to somebody else
if you want.  Just be there for me, and I'll be there for you.  It will
be simple."

She knew that being together would never be simple.  They both had
dragons to slay, both inside themselves and in the small world of the
Corners where they had chosen to stand and fight.  But she wasn't going
to remind him of that.  Not now.  Because, simple or not, it was
possible.  It was necessary It was as vital as the air they breathed.

"I'll be there," she said.  "You can count on it: '

He smiled the warm, confident smile that was completely new and one
hundred and ten percent seductive.  "And I'll be there, too," he
said.

She gave herself up to the promise in his voice, his eyes, his hands.
They had months to make up for and a lifetime ahead of them.

A real marriage had begun.