MARIEL

5~ The Gate Has Opened ~

Fr. Jerome had not spent much time at the diner talking to Mariel before he left to go to the church. He stayed long enough to get his coffee and make sure Mariel was okay, since his son looked a little dour this morning. Mariel had explained it was because he had not slept well, but Fr. Jerome had also noticed his eyes repeatedly darting to the Caravan bookstore across the street. By this time, Fr. Jerome was curious as to if anything had happened between Mariel and Esther, but at this point in his life he knew not to ask Mariel too many questions about the girl. For some reason, his son was sensitive to the subject of Esther, and Fr. Jerome assumed it was because the Caravan family had not returned their full mark of approval upon Mariel as it had once been. Maybe it was something else. He did not know, but he knew better than to ask.

Quietly, Fr. Jerome knelt before the altar with his eyes closed. He felt weak today, feeling the aches and pains of his old age. Despite this, he prostrated himself before the altar, praying silently for his congregation, for the world, for himself, and especially for Mariel. His prayers came in the form of requests, asking God to provide him answers for the things he desperately wanted to know. Even close to 20 years later, he still felt lost and unsure. Constantly, he thought back to that first night he had Mariel... in the store, when the child caught the bullet shot towards the stroller.

Humans can't catch bullets.

But he was human. Mariel lived, breathed, experienced, and felt just as everyone else did. If God had performed some miracle, what had the good Lord wanted to prove? Nothing, in Fr. Jerome's life so far, had been given as a sign to explain the miracles that had happened in Mariel's life. He asked God if this was something he, himself, had to figure out for himself. Or was it even meant to be known?

He knelt like this for at least twenty minutes, lost in the quiet peace he so adored.

Then, that peace ended at the sound of a familiar voice he strongly disliked.

"Fr. Jerome, sorry to interrupt your prayers."

The priest sat up, trying to control his face from showing annoyance, and turned to see Phil Jameson at the back of the church. "Hello, Phil."

The skinny, red-haired man came forward. "I guess I am lucky. I wasn't expecting to find you here today."

"I come here often on Saturdays."

Phil shrugged and leaned against the front pew. "I have a question for you."

Fr. Jerome struggled to stand. His knees hurt. "Ask." He wished Mariel would come now. The only person from whom Phil seemed to feel any form of intimidation was Mariel.

Phil folded his arms. "I heard a rumor that you didn't like my Sunday school lesson from last week. Is that true?" His voice was cold.

Fr. Jerome stared at him. Let the arguments begin. "Phil. You talked to the children about hell."

"Shouldn't they know about hell?"

Sighing, the old priest came down the steps and sat down. He was too old for this. "Phil. It is important to learn about the afterlife. I appreciate your intentions, however, one of the parents told me that you went into great details regarding the things that you think happen in hell, such as melting flesh and quote, 'the gnashing of teeth and wailing'. Do you really thing six year olds need to hear about this?"

Phil threw his head back and laughed. His sour laugh echoed within the sanctuary. "Father, of course they need to hear about this. It's to protect their future."

Fr. Jerome scratched his head, which still held close-cropped white hair. "I'll say this with as much grace as possible. Please do not talk to the children about graphic topics anymore. Please."