Absolute Reality

The Garden

Let's step beyond smut for a moment. I mean - let's get biblical. All verses in this chapter are from 'The Song of Songs' or 'The Song of Solomon' in the Old Testament. And if you'd like an epic choral soundtrack to accompany this journey, I recommend Dieterich Buxtehude's "Cantata VI: Vulnerasti cor meum," although any of the cantatas in that particular arrangement could work. VI is simply my favorite.

The weather was truly delightful. Timothy Howard breathed in the fresh air as he left the stifling confines of Briarcliff. That horrible smell was a plague. But here - in the quiet behind the building - he found peace. The sun shone warm and bright, spring making her presence known. A rustle from the trees of the surrounding forest.

He closed his eyes, and simply basked in God's love.

"Did you see that?!" A shout rocked his peace.

"Sister Mary Eunice!" The girl streaked by him, a rush of black. "Where are you going? The garden -"

"I have to catch him, Father!" The novice squealed, turning excited paces ahead. "The white rabbit! Did you see him? He went this way!"

"Sister! Wait!" But she was already gone, disappeared past the garden plot and around back of the garage. "What is happening?" He murmured to himself. And where was Sister Jude? She was supposed to have joined him. He scowled, supposing she was held up by him. Frank McCann. The security guard...with his disarming smile and strapping arms.

Sinful, to feel such jealousy. After all, McCann was just a man. And Jude - Jude was a rara avis. The holiness within her spoke to the holiness within Timothy. So while her past may have colluded with that man's, her present - and her future - colluded only with Timothy's. They were meant to be together; wed in the eyes of God to Christ and to the Holy Virgin. Timothy's Jude was incorruptible.

As was he. Despite what his early morning dreams might reveal to him - the delicious temptations the subconscious could create; Jude in satin, in nothing at all, in his lap, in his bed. Challenges. Tasks set forth by the Holy master to overcome! To forge a strength! Flesh and fantasy versus the spirit and virtue. And spirit and virtue? Well, those would always win the battle.

He moved on, hoping and assuming Jude would join him in time. He would be bitterly disappointed (though he may never admit it) if she didn't join him at all.

Indeed, the ice house foundation was cleared out nicely. A fine sizeable plot now packed with healthy, dark soil. Tilled and clean. Smiling, he knelt to test the dirt. It was warm and moist. Yes, definitely ready for planting - for plowing.

He rose at the sound of a woman's voice. Ears and curiosity piqued by familiar verse. "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee."

The voice was comely. Alluring. And the Song of Songs always a beautiful passage to behold. Timothy followed the voice, stepping through the soft fertile soil of Eunice's garden. The deep, rich tone grew louder as he neared the spreading apple tree. And how peculiar... His eyes narrowed on the blankets spread beneath the tree - lush, velvet in scarlet and aubergine. Pillows of gold and argent beckoned him with their thick tassels. Clumsily, he snapped a twig and the voice stopped.

He paused, too, and encouraged the mysterious woman's continuation himself. "I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots.Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver."