Page 55 of The Voice of Wild Places
Cornelius slowly unfurled and took the stone with gentle fingers.He turned it over, rubbing his thumb over the black stone worn smoothed by time.It was mostly round, but had a few curving bits that reminded Watt of a clover.He glanced over at Watt and tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.“Thank you.”
Watt opened his mouth, but Cornelius abruptly turned his face away, towards the sky.
He boldly asked, “Do you believe in God?”
Watt had to bite his tongue on his first answer.His second was a highly redacted version.Simple.“Yes.”
Cornelius nodded, still fiddling with the stone.“Thought so.”He didn’t say it with any venom, and yet Watt shifted in place anyway.“I don’t hold it against you.”
“But you hold it against others.”
Cornelius stared at him, then back to the sky.Although the moon was thin, it was marvelous all the same.It had to be two or three in the morning.“A imagem do Cruzeiro resplandece,” Cornelius said, lifting his free hand to the stars.His fingers extended, lazily tracing a shape.Watt leaned his head closer, trying to see.Cornelius whispered, “The image of the cross shines.”
After a moment, and a little tilting of the head, Watt could see it.Four—five?—stars, arranged in the shape of a cross.There was another star, one that neighbored the left point, but it wasn’t as bright as the others.He wasn’t certain why it belonged, then he remembered.
“It’s the flag,” Watt said.“But … mirrored.”
Cornelius smiled, and pride bloomed in Watt’s chest.“Yes.And their motto.An entire country bound beneath a cross in the sky.”His hand drifted higher, pointing out another constellation.His pointer finger swept across lines that Watt had trouble following, zig-zagging in places.“But why not Centaurus?It’s the biggest one up there.One of the biggest constellations in the whole sky, with some of the brightest stars.Or there’s Corvus, or Virgo.Back down here, there’s Musca.”
Cornelius’ hand fell to his lap, and he sighed.“I try not to.”
“Hmm?”
“Hold it against people.It’s just …” Cornelius shook his head.“I’ve seen so much done in the name of God that it makes me wonder what kind of bastard he has to be, to want things like that done for him.To allow them to happen.It’s—it’s—sacrilegious.”
“What is?”
Cornelius began turning the stone over in his hands, faster and faster.“This place.All these places.”
Watt thought about that.Slowly, he said, “They’re offering them education.That’s—”
Cornelius shook his head, knocking his glasses askew.“They take far more than they give.It’s not fair,” he said, voice strained.
Watt hesitated for only a moment before resting a hand between Cornelius’ shoulder blades.Cornelius drew his legs up again and rested his forehead against his knees, his chest expanding beneath Watt’s hand as he fought for air.Watt didn’t know what to say, or what Cornelius was upset about exactly.He wanted to ask, but you only got so many answers from Cornelius.Questions had to be efficient.Careful.
“You probably don’t remember,” Cornelius said, his voice muffled.
Watt knew he wasn’t saying it to be mean, in fact he sounded terribly sad, but it still hurt.Watt couldn’t help it.
Cornelius went on quietly, turning his face towards Watt so his voice came out clearer.“But there’s a place back home.A school.The Holy Childhood of Jesus Catholic Church and Indian School.”
“I remember,” Watt said, surprised.He recalled a decent sized church neighboring an enormous set of adjoined buildings, three stories and bedecked with crosses at the tallest points.It reminded Watt of a campus, except it was surrounded by fencing.It was nothing like the fence they sat before now, but … Watt swallowed.“It’s a little ways before the Point, right?It had a bell that rang all hours of the day?”
Cornelius’ lip curled.“Yes, that’s the one.”
They said nothing for a while.Watt could practically feel Cornelius brooding, and his body was warm beneath Watt’s hand.He wasn’t sure why, but he felt certain that at this moment he was grounding Cornelius, and it was a heady thought.His fingers gently curled and flexed between Cornelius' shoulders.
Cornelius said, “Well, everyone thought they were doing good there, too.Back home it’s kill the Indian and save the man, here it’s order and progress.But who is all this ‘help’ actually benefiting?Did these people ask for their names to be erased and their language forbidden?What are you supposed to do when people show up and say, ‘accept Jesus, or else’ and the or else is pillaging their land, forcing them into servitude, killing children—”
Cornelius inhaled sharply and tucked his face against his knees, cutting himself off.He held his breath, then let it out.In a muffled whisper, he said, “I just don’tunderstand, Watt.How can God and Greed exist side by side like this?How did it all go so wrong?”He lifted his head, staring at the fence.His lashes were wet with tears, and Watt’s heart clenched.
“They have a cemetery there, you know.Not for the parishioners, but … well, none of those graves are marked and there was no funeral, so I couldn’t—I couldn’t even say goodbye to him.John wasn’t even a boarder, and they got the worst of it.But still, one day he was alive, and the next he wasn’t.No one would tell me anything.It was an accident.Anaccident.Mama and Papa said it wasn’t our business.”Cornelius closed his eyes, and the tears finally cascaded down his cheeks.“But one night, I heard Papa talking about it with Mama.He worked with John’s father, you see.He told her that while cutting wood for the clergymen with the rest of the boys, real splendid education there, that there’d been an accident.But he didn’t think it was.”
He began to cry in earnest and when Watt pulled him close, Cornelius went willingly.Watt stared up at the stars and held Cornelius as the other man wept.He wasn’t good with words, but if his arms could offer the other man a semblance of comfort, they would always be open to him.It was the least he could do, especially after having his own breakdown last night.
Watt explored his heart and his own relationship with God, a fragile one tested by war and a family such as his.He’d been raised Presbyterian with the United Free Church of Scotland, which was a world of difference from the Catholics, but he knew they were not exempt from spreading the word of God through missionaries in Africa, India, and other places.Watt didn’t think all missionaries could be bad, there had to be a line between spreading the word and converting those who were unwilling.What made people cross it?
Money, of course, and everything that followed.Superiority.Power.
