Dimensions of Genesis (5 page)

His eyes spoke the chapters of their love
that embraced a thousand lifetimes. Her soul resonated as she
stared, mesmerized, into his ice blue eyes.

“Lily!” Maggie’s voice penetrated their
transcendental déjà vu as she approached the scene of her
daughter‘s accident. The ethereal aura that had spoken to Gabe
suddenly vanished.

The moment they shared shattered into a
million fragments, creating a dreamlike rift of amnesia, leaving
the two children to grow up innocent each wondering if it had
happened at all.

“Lily! What on earth have you done now?!” Her
mother fretted as she checked her daughter over from head to toe.
Gabe picked Lily up once her mother had decided her daughter's neck
wasn't broken, although, she later told Lily she was angry enough
that she was tempted to break it for her.

Held closely to Gabe's chest, Lily could
think of nothing but the heat of his body next to hers. Her good
arm draped around his shoulder, she could feel the downy hairs on
the back of his neck.

Once they reached the car, Gabe and Mrs.
Konstantinos assisted Maggie getting Lily and her sisters into
their seats. Maggie was obviously embarrassed, having to end their
visit so abruptly to take Lily to the hospital.

Everyone mumbled their good-byes and well
wishes. Quinn had to be told several times to close the window and
sit down before they could drive away.

Sitting in the backseat, holding a towel to
her wounded head and her broken arm tight to her chest, Lily stared
out the window at Gabe.

~

Standing motionless in the driveway, his
family already loaded into their own vehicle, Gabe kept eye contact
with Lily as her mother drove away. Her scent lingered on his shirt
as he watched until he could no longer see the car.

It hurt his heart to see her go. This pleased
him, however; after losing his father, he wasn't sure his heart was
able to feel anything again.

The Light

“The light...David...the light.”

Clutching his chest, beads of sweat rolled
down his forehead, David lurched forward in bed. Coughing and
sputtering to catch his breath, he cursed as he rocked his body
back and forth, hoping to tame his peaking adrenaline.
Hyperventilating, he drew slow breaths to calm his heartbeat.

Damn that dream! He thought angrily, shaking
his head.

Since the age of ten, after his mother passed
away, he’d had the very same nightmare almost every night.
Drowning, always drowning. The nightmare occurred more often when
he was young, but still it continued to plague him for twenty-two
long years.

Swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he
rubbed his forehead forcefully with the palms of his hands. Pushing
the dream and memory of his mother as far away as he could, he
wandered into the washroom to splash water onto his clammy
face.

Meandering back to bed, he flinched at the
bright sun sneaking its rays past the blinds. Working the night
shift was hard on his body, mentally and physically. He rarely got
a good rest while sleeping during the day; his body wasn’t designed
for that.

Glancing at the clock, he realized he’d slept
longer than he thought; he had another shift at the hospital
beginning in an hour. Sitting on the bed, he stared longingly at
his pillow as it is beckoned him to lie down again. He could almost
hear the pillow whispering sweet nothings into his ear from where
he sat, luring him to rest his weary head for just a little longer.
Stretching his neck from side to side and yawning, he resisted the
temptation and bid farewell to his precious cradle of slumber.

Feeling refreshed after his shower and shave,
he wandered to the kitchen to get a bite to eat. The house was
quiet this late in the afternoon. Usually there was music blaring
from Tiffany’s room and clatter from the kitchen as Ellen prepared
supper.

Oh yeah! He thought, snapping his fingers. I
remember why I married Ellen, she's an excellent cook!

The quote, ‘the best way to man’s heart is
through his stomach’ was a glaring overstatement. She had other
redeeming qualities that had intrigued him during their courtship,
but man, was her cooking good! He recalled being blown away on
their first real date when she whipped up a three course meal that
was amazing.

Since then, she'd concocted a wonderful meal
almost daily for David, hence his slightly expanding waistline.
Patting his hungry tummy, he realized he was disappointed that
Ellen wasn't home; making a great supper.

Entering the kitchen, he noticed a note on
the counter.

David,

Gone to the spa for the weekend. Tiffany is
at Cassandra's house.

I'll be home Sunday night.

Ellen

“Short and sweet.” David said out loud,
sarcasm bouncing off the cupboards of the empty kitchen.

“Must be Friday today if the girls are gone
for the weekend.” he said as he crumpled up the note and tossed it
into the recycle bin. One of the hazards of working the night shift
was losing track of what day it was. With the realization it was
Friday, his spirits were instantly uplifted as he remembered the
Charity Golf Tournament on Sunday.

Searching the back of the fridge for
leftovers, he discovered some two day old lasagna. That was his
favorite since he was a kid, his mom made the world’s greatest
lasagna.

His mom had been a wonderful cook too; maybe
that’s what drew him to Ellen. In a strange way, having Ellen’s
cooking loosely tied with the memory of his mother seemed to
resurrect her even in the smallest way.

David didn’t venture into the painful memory
of his mother’s death very often...if ever. The reason David became
a doctor was because of his mother’s illness. It seemed fruitless
now, all the years of medical school, working two jobs to pay for
university and suffering through years of internship. She wasn’t
coming back, no matter how many people he could save now.

His thoughts drifted reluctantly back in
time...to her last moments.

Watching her beauty waste away like a
terrible entity had entered her, transforming his mother into a
skeletal monster right in front of his eyes, was so much more than
young David could bear.

Her radiance, traded for ashen skin that
clung to her bones, faded like the last ember in a dying fire. It
happened so quickly, within weeks of her announcement she was
ill.

The cancer ravaging her body was ruthless in
its pursuit to destroy her. The doctors couldn't find where it had
originated, it had spread throughout her body so voraciously, and
they had no way of tracking it...or treating it.

Ten years old and watching helplessly as your
own mother is destroyed, day after day, by an unseen predator. It
was so much more than David could come to terms with...even
now.

The day she died…

“The light, David, the light! Do you see that
light?” His mother’s ghostly last words echoed in his mind. Her
thin hands clambered at his face, her hair wild, her eyes
delirious...

“No!” He yelled loudly into the empty
kitchen, his hands squeezing his head; trying to force the memories
out. He wouldn’t let himself think of that day, he couldn’t--not
yet.

Vows

“Gabriel!” Angelo scolded his twelve year old
son. “Sit up! The Lord does not want his servants to be
slackers!”

Gabe immediately straightened out his spine
and fought back tears as he continued saying grace. The rest of the
children, seated around the table, followed suit in case their
father chose them next. Strangely though, Gabe noted, it was always
him his father picked on first.

Gabe knew his father loved his children; he
was strict because he wanted the best for them. At least, that's
what Gabe's mother often told him.

Every evening, Angelo insisted his children
thoroughly study the Bible. Though they were eager to please their
father, Gabe silently questioned his father's motives.

Angelo would often comment to his sons, “I
would be so proud if one of my boys would become a member of the
church. Could you imagine a priest in our family?!” then he would
always add cryptically, “Surely then, the Lord would find it in His
heart to forgive us our sins.”

Gabe sensed his father was deeply disturbed
by a dark secret and having one of his sons play such an important
part in the church community would somehow redeem him of this
sin.

Over the years, however, Gabe was convinced
this might be a good path for him. Though he never felt the
proverbial 'calling' from the Holy Father, he did feel a need to
please his own father.

Maybe this, Gabe would think as he
considered the priesthood, maybe this would make Papa proud of
me.

After Angelo's death, Gabe became consumed
with the idea of becoming a priest. He pursued it like a vendetta,
a debt he felt he owed. At night, after everyone else was asleep,
Gabe would devour the words of the bible. The pages lit only by
candlelight, he would memorize the words of the scripture until the
sun peeked its head over the horizon.

The words of the bible lit a passion within
him. To give back to humanity, to serve the Lord and help those in
search of Him. He couldn't wait until he could put on that black
robe and wear that white collar for the first time.

That is, until he met Lily.

~

Years blended like pages in a book flipped by
the wind.

Gabe tried to smother the feelings building
within him, the fury of lust branding sin upon his soul. Holding
her face to his, he softly kissed her cheek, then her forehead. He
felt her lips graze his earlobe, sending shock waves through his
body.

Pausing to catch his breath, he tried to stop
himself, to fight the inertia. He couldn't.

Tilting her face to his, he pressed his lips
to Lily’s for the first time

“Father Gabe?” A man’s voice at the door
queried, followed by a knock. “Father Gabe, are you in there?”

The ambiance pierced like a balloon popped
with a sharp needle sending reality rushing into the room.

Realizing his moral lapse, Gabe pushed Lily
away. He clasped his hand over his mouth and took deep breaths,
attempting to compose himself. He looked at Lily, a feeling of
betrayal surged through him as he shot her a look of contempt.

Her eyes filled with tears as she scanned the
room for another exit. Seeing a side door at the back of the room,
she bolted.

“Father Gabe?” The unfamiliar voice
insisted.

“Yes,” Gabe replied, finally finding his
own voice. “Yes, I’m here. One moment please.”

He searched his mind for a rational
explanation. He'd known giving up women, marriage…and Lily…was part
of the job. He was allowed to love Lily as a friend, just not…that
way.

Becoming a priest would make his mother and
deceased father proud of him. This was what he wanted…wasn’t
it?

He yearned to go after Lily, to explain his
reaction. He'd taken a vow, a sacred vow, to remain loyal to the
church and to God.

More than that--he wanted to kiss her
again.

Angry with himself, he raged inside, confused
and bitter for his choices, his restrictions.

The voice on the other side of the door
apparently decided he'd waited long enough. Gabe heard the doorknob
turning and taking a final breath of resolve, he turned to face his
mysterious visitor.

“Father Gabe.” stated the visitor as he
walked into the room. Donned in the standard black robe and white
collar, he extended his hand formally to Gabe. Feeling intimidated,
Gabe reciprocated and shook the priest's hand.

Still distracted by the interlude with Lily,
Gabe tried to push away his confusion in order to concentrate on
this strange newcomer.

“What can I do for you today Father?” Gabe
inquired politely, though his inner turmoil persisted. He was
curious, however, by this unexpected visitor. Gabe was certain he
knew all the Catholic priests in town by name, but this fellow’s
identity eluded him.

Outside the room, Gabe could hear Father
Matthew beginning the Sunday ceremony. Being the priest’s
assistant, Gabe knew he must help with the service as soon as
possible.

Part of Gabe’s job entailed distributing the
host. He and Father Matt would stand at the head of the church and
the congregation would form two lines to receive the host. Gabe
noticed with disdain that his line up usually consisted of
women.

He’d heard rumors that the women had
nicknamed him ‘Father Babe’. Embarrassed by this, Gabe ignored
their flirtatious glances, hoping they'd abandon their
inappropriate behaviors.

Looking at the clock, Gabe was anxious; he
hoped he could finish the conversation with this new priest
quickly.

“My name is Father Francis.” The old priest
began slowly as he perused a painting near the desk. “I've heard
good things about you from Father Matthew.” He never looked at Gabe
as he spoke, his eyes focused on the decorative artifacts in the
room.

“Oh?” Gabe said, happy his peer had good
words about him. Still, he was curious as to the motives of this
visitor. He didn’t like to judge people, but this old guy kind of
gave him the creeps.

Obviously not in a rush, the old priest took
off his glasses and puffed warm breath on the lenses, cleaning them
using his long black sleeve. His silver hair slicked straight back
with brill cream, obviously in attempts to camouflage the bald
spot. The wrinkles that overwhelmed his face indicated this man was
well into his seventies. His piercing blue eyes were cold and
hard.

The awkward silence lasted several minutes as
the old priest seemed to be articulating what he wanted to say.

“Father Gabe…” the old priest finally
began, “What do you know of exorcisms?” His voice was flat, his
stature motionless as he spoke.