Page 61 of Beneath His Robes

And for the first time that day, his gaze softened just a little, like he was starting to believe it.

“I know,” he said quietly, and the words hung in the air, fragile but the only tangible thing in our grasp.

* * *

Back at the hospital, I sat with Miranda. After visiting hours had passed at the penitentiary, I didn’t feel right just to go back to my Parish.

The steady beeps of her machines were a comfort as I read my scriptures and did the tasks that ‘the robe’ needed. Despite the chaos around me, the collar’s demands did not lessen. If anything, they felt more constrictive.

Miranda lay peacefully in bed as the testaments filtered through into her dreamless mind. Blessings were a common job of a priest, and in these walls, I felt obligated to give any and all that I was able to provide.

Whether it was a sick child struggling with the effects of chemo or a criminal covered in swastikas, God demanded we give everyone the blessings of His name.

One of the hardest things of the gospel to understand was how our divine leader could give absolution and forgiveness to those who strayed so far from the path of righteousness but cull one who made a mistake when following in his path from the beginning.

Was I the child, innocent of the sins around me?

Or was I the criminal fighting to rectify past sins yet unable to erase them?

“Father Cross? Sorry to intrude,” a nurse said from the doorway. “But would you please bless a man that does not have much longer on earth?”

My chest tightened, and I gave her a tight smile. “Of course. Lead the way.”

I tried to forget the memories of Ronan dripping blood on these glossy floors just nights before, and I tried to forget the sinking guilt and fear I felt as those police officers dragged him to the squad car. But despite my task and my good intentions, I couldn’t quite catch my breath when repeating the steps I had taken those nights prior.

The room of the man was quiet. There was soft sobbing from those who stood near his still body—a subtle hiss from the respirator that breathed life into the vessel before me. The nurse waited, giving me a path by his head while she took place at the machines.

His loved ones didn’t look at me. They kept their heads down, tears rolling off their cheeks in the dim light.

I swallowed and lifted my rosary beads from my neck, taking them off my head and circling them around the patient in the bed. His ashen face looked long gone despite the monitors.

There was no soft energy flowing from his body.

God had been ready to take this man back home to Him for a while, but his living needed him just a little longer. This was a young man, only around my age. It was sad but easy to see that his body had been ravaged by the poison he’d placed into his veins. It was a painful mirror of Miranda, but unlike her, this human had given up his soul, unable to hang onto the tether for his corporeal form.

“May you find peace in this moment,

as the world softly fades away.

May the love you’ve given return to you,

filling your heart, lighting your way.”

I began, letting my words fill the room.

“May the pain you carry be released,

as you are held in gentle grace.

May your spirit find solace and rest,

in the eternal embrace.”

His family members lifted their heads, a softness entering their tear-filled eyes as they continued to listen to the blessing.

“May the light of those who’ve gone before,

guide your journey through the dark,

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