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Synopsis
At thirty-eight years old, with ten years in the priesthood, Robert Halloway
still searches for his path – what, with an Irish bishop, corporate
lords, and beautiful women along the way. Peter Brown, the vicar general,
holds a strong dislike and distrust for Robert and plots against him.
Arrest and betrayal take Robert down the less-traveled road…
Excerpts
In a moment, Melinda appeared in a one-piece bathing suit, and Robert
felt the pang of conscience. He had never been nude with Melinda before,
and she in a swimsuit now only accentuated his bareness. Unceremoniously,
Robert plopped into the water.
Melinda was thirty-five
years old. If you described her as beautiful, you would not be precise.
She was tall, with short waist and long legs. It was at the Easter-week
picnic that Robert had first seen her bare legs – she wore a little
navy-blue jumpsuit. Her perfect calves led to her dainty ankles. Her
thighs had a delicious vertical roundness to them. At the picnic, an
annual event sponsored by Imperial Construction, who received most of
the diocesan contracts, her navy jumpsuit bloomered out ever so slightly,
but enough to give the appearance, Robert surmised, that he could have
inspected the birth place of her thighs, had be been so bold…
When
Robert yelled with pain, the two remaining union men in the holding cell
became alarmed. When the loud slapping began, they began to holler for
the guard and shake the gate. Marvin and his buddy decided they had better
quit their torture for the time being; they directed Robert to get dressed,
so he could be taken upstairs to his cell. Robert’s
temper had been smoldering, and now it erupted, as he rose to his feet, “You
two sons of bitches. I will not stop till I see you stripped of your
badges.” As he pointed at them his right hand was shaking so that
he seemed to have the palsy. “I will go to the sheriff; I will
go to the mayor; I will go to the newspaper…
Marvin cut
him off, “Look who is acting tough. I just saw you make a homosexual
advance to Deputy Deweese here – what are you a faggot or something?
You threaten an officer of the law and you will end up in the ‘hole’ tonight,
and there will be no witnesses to what we do to you down there…”
Robert
strode from the room. In the hall, he encountered Jim Flynn. “Robert,
I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Your suspension.”
Robert
just stared. So, it had all been decided previously and without him, he realized.
The institution must be spared at all costs, he thought, as he confronted the
morning air. The sky was all blue. The sun, extra bright. And the birds were
chirping – perhaps beginning their migration date – but Robert
saw and heard nothing.
Without remembering the
drive, he found himself sitting in the chapel of the new high school, the chapel
he had designed. His whole world had been turned upside down. He needed meaning,
direction. Prayer had never seemed so important as now. He slid onto his knees
and began, “God, oh God, I
need you now! I really need you…”
“No, no, not yet,
I get one follow-up question: Are you going to stay in the priesthood? Or,
am I getting too personal?”
“Well,
that is quite personal, but give me one quick swig of this Old Yellowstone, and
I will give you an answer, and it may even be the truth.” Robert was thinking. “To
be truthful, I am not sure. I love the priesthood and think my vocation
was right on target, but after ten years, I guess that I have to
say that I am in a holding mode. I have to think a lot of things out. Both
were silent for a few moments.
Now it was Robert’s
turn: “If
I remember correctly, you are an ex-school teacher turned realtor.”
“That is
correct, and as you probably discovered, I am recently divorced…”
“Divorce
must be terribly difficult, almost like a death. Have you recovered
yet?”
“I
think so, but who knows, I still have spells of sadness and regret.”
“Children?”
“Only
one, a thirteen-year-old daughter, Therese.”
“Is she as beauti…” Robert
caught himself – it must have been the bourbon. He began to blush, and
did not know exactly how to proceed, Megan’s silence did not help. “Well,
what I was going to say, and…well… I will say it, “Is she
as beautiful as you?”
Call your bookstore, or email the author at: clarkgabrielfield@clarkgabrielfield.com
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