Of Love and Evil Page 3

Me? Lucky the Fox, the contract killer? “You will never know,” I murmured under my breath. I remembered that The Right Man had told me the night we met that I had the coldest eyes he’d ever seen.

  “You’re a bit heavier,” she said, as though she’d just realized it. “More muscular, but I guess that’s normal. You were so thin when you were a boy. But your head still has the same shape, and your hair’s as thick as ever. I could swear you’re more blond; maybe it’s the California sun. And your eyes look almost blue sometimes.” She looked away and said softly, “You’re still my golden boy.”

  I smiled. I remembered now that she used to call me that, her golden boy. She would say that in a whisper.

  I mumbled something softly under my breath about how I didn’t know how to handle the compliments of beautiful women.

  “Tell me about your studies,” I said.

  “English literature. I want to teach college. I want to teach Chaucer or Shakespeare, I haven’t made up my mind which. I’ve had fun teaching grammar school, more fun than Toby cares to admit. He looks down on kids his age. He’s like you are. He thinks he’s a grown-up and he talks to grown-ups more than he does to children. It’s his nature, just like yours.”

  We laughed at that because it was true. That’s the nicest kind of soft laughing, when you laugh as an answer, or as punctuation, and southern people do that easily and all the time.

  “Remember when we were kids we both wanted to be college teachers?” she asked. “Remember you said if you could teach college and own a beautiful house on Palmer Avenue, you’d be the happiest man in the world. Toby goes to school at Newman, by the way, and he’ll tell you as soon as you ask him that it’s the best school in town.”

  “It always was. Jesuit runs it a close second when it comes to high school.”

  “Well, some people would argue about who’s on first when it comes to that. But the point is, Toby’s Jewish and so he goes to Newman. My life’s been happy, Toby. You didn’t leave me in the lurch, you left me a treasure. And that’s how I’ve always seen it, and that’s how I see it now.” She folded her arms and leaned forward on the table. Her tone was serious but matter-of-fact at the same time. “When I got on that plane, I thought, I’m going to show him this treasure that he left me. And I’m going to show him what that treasure might mean to him.”

  She stopped. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. And she knew it. She knew it by my tears. I couldn’t put the fullness of happiness or love into words.

  Malchiah, can I marry her? Am I free to do that? And what about that other angel, is he near me? Does he want me to reach across this table and take her in my arms?

  CHAPTER THREE

  WE DROVE OVER TO THE MISSION OF SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO that afternoon.

  I figured there were many wonderful things for a little boy Toby’s age to see on the West Coast, Disneyland, for one thing, and the park at Universal Studios, and other places of which I didn’t know the names.

  But the one place I wanted to take him was the mission and he seemed completely delighted by the idea, and though I had to provide watch caps for both of them, Liona and Toby both liked the Bentley convertible quite a lot.

  When we reached the mission, I took them for a leisurely walk around the grounds, through the garden patches I loved, and around the koi pond, which delighted Toby. We looked at some of the mission exhibits that have to do with the way people did things in those days, but it was the story of the big earthquake that had destroyed the church which fascinated Toby the most.

  He was having a lively time with his iPhone camera, and he took dozens of pictures of us in just about every setting imaginable.

  Sometime or other, when we were browsing in the gift shop, amid the rosaries and the Indian jewelry, I asked Liona if I could take Toby with me into the chapel and pray.

  “I know he’s Jewish,” I said.

  “It’s fine,” she answered. “You just take him and talk to him about it any way that you want.”

  We tiptoed inside because it was shadowy and quiet, and the few people at prayer in the plain wooden pews seemed very serious at it, and the candles gave a soft reverent glow.

  I took him up to the front with me, and we knelt on the pair of prie-dieux that were there for weddings, for the bride and the groom.

  I realized how much had happened to me with Malchiah since I’d come to this chapel, and when I looked at the tabernacle, when I looked at the small house of God on the altar, and the sanctuary light beside it, I was overcome with gratitude just for being alive, let alone being given a chance at life such as I’d been given, let alone being given the gift of Toby that was mine.

  I leaned down close to him. He was kneeling there, with his hands folded just as mine had been folded, and he didn’t seem to object to the fact that it was a Catholic house of worship.

  “I want to tell you something, something I want you always to remember,” I said.

  He nodded.

  “I believe God’s in this house,” I said. “But I know that He is everywhere too. He’s in every molecule of everything that exists. It’s all part of Him, His creation, and I believe in Him, in everything He’s ever done.”

  He listened to this without looking at me. His eyes were down. He just nodded when I stopped.

  “I don’t expect you to believe in Him because I do,” I said. “But I want you to know that I do believe in Him, and if I didn’t think He’d forgiven me for leaving you and your mother, well, I don’t know that I would have ever had the courage to pick up the phone and call her and tell her where I was. But I do believe He’s forgiven me, and now it’s my job to get you to forgive me, and to get her to forgive me, and I aim to do exactly that.”

  “I forgive you,” he said in a small voice. “I really really do.”

  I smiled. I kissed the top of his head. “I know you do. I knew it when I first saw you. But forgiving doesn’t really happen all at once, and sometimes it takes some maintenance, and I’m prepared for the maintenance that this is going to require. But … this isn’t all I have to tell you. I have to tell you something else too.”

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  “Remember this,” I said. I hesitated. I didn’t know quite how to start. “Talk to God,” I said. “No matter how you’re feeling, no matter what you’re facing, no matter what happens to hurt you or disappoint you or confuse you. Talk to God. And never stop talking to Him. You understand me? Talk to Him. Realize that because things go bad in this world, because they go well, because they come easy or they come with difficulty, well, it doesn’t mean that He is not here. I don’t mean here in this chapel. I mean here everywhere. Talk to Him. No matter how many years pass, no matter what happens, always talk to Him. Would you try to remember to do that?”

  He nodded. “When do I start?”

  I laughed softly under my breath. “Anytime you want. You start now with or without words, and you just keep talking and you never never let anything come between you and talking to God.”

  He thought about this very gravely and then he nodded. “I’m going to talk to Him now,” he said. “You might want to wait outside.”

  I was amazed. I got up, kissed him again on the forehead and told him that I’d be right outside whenever he wanted to join me.

  About fifteen minutes later he came out and we started walking down the garden paths together, and he was taking pictures again, and he didn’t say too much. But he walked right close to me, next to me, as if he was with me, and when I saw Liona sitting on a bench just smiling at us as we walked together, I felt such happiness I couldn’t find words myself to contain it. And I knew I never would.

  We walked back, Toby and I, to the giant shell of the ruined church, the largest part that had been left by the old quake.

  For the first time, I saw Malchiah, over to one side, leaning rather casually, for all his fine clothes, against the dusty brick-and-mortar wall.

  “There he is again,” said Toby.

  “You m
ean you’ve seen him before?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he’s been watching us. He was in the chapel when we were in the chapel. I saw him when I was going out.”

  “Well, you could say I work for him,” I said. “And he’s keeping a bit of an eye on me.”

  “He’s young to be somebody’s boss,” said Toby.

  “Don’t let him fool you,” I said. “Hang here a minute. I think he wants a word with me and doesn’t want to interrupt.”

  I crossed the broken ground until I caught up with Malchiah and I drew in close so that none of the tourists would hear what I had to say.

  “I love her,” I said. “Is that possible? For me to love her? I love him, yes, he’s my son, and that’s what I’m meant to do, and I thank Heaven for him, but what about her? Is there world enough and time to love her?”

  “ ‘World enough and time,’ ” he repeated smiling. “Oh, those are such beautiful words, and how you make me mindful of what it is I ask of you. World enough and time is what you have to give me,” he said.

  “But what about her?” I insisted.

  “Only you know that answer, Toby,” he said. “Or maybe I should say that the two of you know it. I think she knows it too.”

  I was about to ask about the other angel, but he left me.

  How it looked to others I had no idea.

  I found my son busy at the koi pond with his camera, determined to catch one fish which didn’t want to be caught.

  The afternoon went fast.

  We shopped in San Juan Capistrano, and then I drove them along the coast. Neither of them had seen the Pacific and we found some breathtaking vantage points and Toby wanted to take as many pictures as he could.

  Dinner was in the dark and atmospheric Duane’s steak house, at the Mission Inn, and mother and son were suitably impressed. When nobody was looking Liona gave Toby a sip of her red wine.

  We talked all about New Orleans the way it was these days after the horrors of Hurricane Katrina and how difficult the storm had been. I could tell it had been a great adventure to Toby, even though his grandfather made him do his homework in the motels they’d had to rent for the worst part of the aftermath, and that for Liona something of the old New Orleans was still gone.

  “You think you’ll ever come home to live there?” Toby asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m a creature of the coast now, I think, but there are different reasons why people live in different places.”

  And very quickly, heartbreakingly fast, he said, “I could live just fine out here.”

  There was a sudden flash of pain in Liona’s face. She looked off, and then at me. I could scarcely disguise what I was feeling. Impulses, hopes, a sudden volcanic flow of dreams obliterated my thinking. There was a tragic quality to it. A grim pessimism took hold of me. No right to her, no right to this.

  In the hazy gloom of the restaurant, I saw nothing. And then I realized I’d been looking at a pair of men at the table nearest us, Malchiah and my guardian angel. They sat still as a painting, regarding me just as figures in paintings often do, from the serene corners of their eyes.

  I swallowed. I felt a rising desire. I didn’t want them to know this.

  At the door of her suite, she lingered. Toby had hurried off proudly to his own room, where he wanted to take his own shower.

  Somewhere in the shadows of the veranda, those two were there. I knew it. I’d seen them when we came along the walkway. She didn’t know. Maybe they weren’t visible to her.

  I stood silently, not daring to move closer to her, or to touch her arms, or to bend down for the smallest kiss. I was miserable with desire. I was in agony.

  Is it possible for you two to understand this, that when I take this lady in my arms, she expects more from me than a brotherly embrace? Damn it, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, if only to give her the chance to say no to me!

  Silence.

  Maybe I could persuade you to go look out for somebody else for a while?

  I distinctly heard the sound of laughter. It wasn’t mean or derisive, but it was laughter.

  I kissed her quickly, on her cheek, and went back towards my room. I knew she was disappointed. I was disappointed. Hell, I was furious. I turned around and leaned against the door of the Amistad Suite. Of course they were seated at the round table. Malchiah had the same serene and loving expression he always wore, but my guardian angel was anxious, if that was the right word, and he looked at me as if he were slightly afraid for me.

  A torrent of angry words came to my lips, but the pair of them were gone just that quickly.

  About 11:00 p.m., I got out of bed and went out on the veranda. I hadn’t slept at all.

  It was damp and cold, as it often was at night in California, even when the day has been mild. I deliberately let myself get miserably cold. I contemplated knocking on her door. I prayed. I worried. I watched. If I’d ever wanted anything more than I wanted her now, I couldn’t remember it. I simply wanted her. Nothing in this world seemed more real than her body, inside that suite, lying in that bed.

  I was suddenly ashamed. From the first moment I’d spoken to her on the phone, I’d imagined her in my arms and I knew it. Who was I kidding with all this, about her expecting things, and me being a gentleman, and, ah, the loftiness of love and being reunited and all of that. I wanted to kiss her and to have her. And why not, and was it right that I be tortured like this? Hell, I loved her. I had no doubt in my heart of hearts that I loved her. I could love her until the day I died. I didn’t care what that meant, I was ready for it, all of it.

  I was about to go back into my room, when I saw Malchiah standing nearby.

  “Yes, what!” I demanded angrily.

  This clearly startled him but he recovered immediately. I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in his face. But he only smiled when he spoke. His voice was as always caressing, filled with a careful tenderness that made his words penetrate.

  “Other humans would give almost anything to see the proofs of Providence that you’ve seen,” he said. “But you’re still human.”

  “What would you know about that?” I asked. “And what makes you think I don’t know all about it?”

  “You don’t mean what you say,” he said soothingly. He sounded very convincing.

  “You may have been watching humans since the dawn of time,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean you know what it’s like to be one.”

  He didn’t answer. His loving and patient expression made me furious.

  “Are you going to be with me forever, till the day I give up the ghost?” I asked. “Will I never be alone again with a woman without you two being there, you and that guardian angel? That is what he is, right? My guardian angel? What’s his name? Are you two going to be hovering over me forever?” I turned and jabbed my finger at him as if it were the barrel of a gun. “I’m a man,” I said. “Human, a man! I’m not a monk, or a priest.”

  “You certainly lived like one when you were a killer.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You denied yourself the warmth and love of a woman year in and year out. You didn’t think you deserved it. You couldn’t bear to be around the innocence of women, or the warmth of a woman who might accept you. Do you deserve it now? Are you ready for it?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmured.

  “Do you want me to go away?” he asked.

  I had broken out in a sweat, and my heart was racing.

  “Simple desire is making a fool of me,” I whispered. I think I was pleading with him. “No, I don’t want you to go,” I murmured. “I don’t want you to.” I shook my head, defeated.

  “Toby, the angels have always been with you. They’ve always seen everything that you’ve ever done. There are no secrets from Heaven. The only difference is, now you can see us. And that should be a source of strength for you. You know this. Your guardian angel’s name is Shmarya.”

  “Look, I want to be filled with awe, with gratitude
, humility, fine feelings! Hell, I want to be a saint!” I stammered. “But I can’t be. I can’t—. What did you say his name was?”

  “Can’t what?” he asked. “Can’t live with restraint? Can’t deny yourself the immediate gratification of your passions with this woman when you’ve been with her less than twenty-four hours? Can’t keep yourself from running roughshod over her vulnerability? Can’t be the honorable man your son might expect you to be?”

  His words could not have stung more if they’d been spoken in anger. The gentle persuasive voice was fatal to all the lies I’d been telling myself.

  “You think I don’t understand,” he said calmly. “I’ll tell you what I think, that if you were to overwhelm that woman now, she would hate herself for it, and hate you too when she’d had time to think on it. For ten years, that woman has lived alone for the sake of herself and her son. Respect her. Win her trust. That takes times, does it not?”

  “I want her to know that I love her.”

  “Did I say you couldn’t tell her this? Did I say you couldn’t have shown her some small measure of what you were holding in abeyance?”

  “Oh, Angel Talk!” I said. I was furious again.

  Once more, he laughed.

  For a long moment we stood there in silence. I was ashamed again, ashamed of having gotten angry.

  “I can’t be with her now, can I?” I asked. “I’m not talking about desire. I’m talking about genuine love and companionship, and learning to love everything about her, being saved every day by her. You wanted me to know my son for his sake, and for her sake. But I can’t have them both, not as an intimate part of my life, now, can I?”

  “Yours has been a dark and dangerous path, Toby.”

  “Am I not forgiven?”

  “Yes, you’ve been forgiven. But is it wise that you walk away from the kind of life you lived, without anticipating repercussions?”

  “No. I think about that all the time.”

  “Is it right that you make no reparation?”

  “No. I must make reparation.”

  “Is it right you break your vow to work with me to do good in this world, instead of evil?”