The Miracle (54 page)

And suddenly the wiring ripped free, and the device was disconnected, and there was no thunder in his ears.

In the darkness he tried to make out the time on his wristwatch.

Two seconds left.

The hand moved one second, two seconds, and then one second beyond what would have been the moment of hell.

He sat with the loose wiring in his dirty hands, and listened to the beautiful silence.

After a while, when breath returned, he struggled to his feet. There was work to do and it must be done. He made his way recklessly, falling again and again, not caring, and finally crawling until he could see the marble statue set in the niche above the grotto. When it was within reach, he put a hand inside, and behind the statue's base he felt the bulky packet of dynamite. With patience and caution, he withdrew the explosive from the niche. When he had the dynamite in hand, he started back to his cache, treading more carefully this time.

At the oak tree once more, he opened the heavy brown shopping bag and laid the dynamite packet inside it, and then one by one he picked up his pieces of equipment and piled them inside the bag, also.

He had stuffed the last of the loose wiring into the bag, when he was startled to hear his name.

"Mikel." He heard it again, and there was Natale standing over him.

"Natale, what are you doing here? I told you—you might have— never mind."

"I wanted to see where you were. I followed. I had to crawl most of the way. I thought I was lost, but—here we are."

He was on his feet, taking her in his anns, kissing her. "I love you," he said, "forever."

"I love you forever and more."

Releasing her, he placed one arm around her waist, the hand holding her side, and with the other hand he had the bag.

As they started down the slope, he grinned at her. "So now you can see me. How do I look to you?"

"Sinfully ugly," she laughed, "but I adore sinful and ugly men." Her expression sobered. "Mikel, you're lovely, not as lovely as the Virgin Mary, but for a mere mortal you're lovely enough."

When they had reached the bottom, he did not turn toward the grotto and the domain, but continued straight ahead toward the bridge that crossed the Gave de Pau to the meadow that spread out before them in the moonlight.

Stumbling along beside him, Natale wondered, "Mikel, where are we going?"

"To the river up ahead," he said. He lifted the loaded shopping bag. "To get rid of this, some part of my past." He smiled down at her as they went on. "For the first time, darling," he said, "I can see, too."

Sunday, August 21

Liz Finch was walking on air.

Actually, she was walking finnly on the carpeting of the fifth-floor corridor of the Hotel Gallia & Londres, but for the first time since her arrival and stay in Lourdes she felt that she was walking on air.

With Amanda's manila envelope, and its contents, held fast in her hand, she was high and had never been higher. She had at her side the expose of the decade, and certainly the most tremendous and sensational story of her career, thanks to that incredible young lady, Amanda Spenser; and she had it for her very own for the millions and millions of readers on earth who would see it and go over it absorbing every word in stunned amazement. Liz would give anything to see Bill Trask's face as she dictated it to him. Better yet, she would give more to see the face of that bitch Marguerite when she heard about it and realized that her Viron disclosures were common dross compared to this.

Amanda's room was 503, and Liz had arrived before it. Amanda's note had promised that she would be back from the hospital and waiting in her room, ready to give a full explanation of the fantastic Bernadette journal before Liz wrote and phoned in the headline story.

After that, this dreary town would be blown away, blown off the face of the map forever and all time, as it deserved to be.

There was almost a lilt in the rhythm of Liz's knocking on the

door. She waited for the door to open, and when it didn't, she rapped harder, hoping that Amanda was in and had not been delayed at the hospital with Ken, whatever had happened to him.

Abruptly, the doorknob rattled, and the door swung wide, and there was Amanda in her silk nightgown, sleepy-eyed, her hair a mess, her expression confused.

"Liz, it's you?"

"Who else? Did you forget?" She held up the manila envelope. "You left this super dynamite, and made a date for me to meet you here."

"God, what time is it?"

"Eleven-thirty on the nose, as agreed."

"Dammit, I overslept. Yesterday exhausted me. I must have slept straight through when my alarm went off. I was supposed to be up at eight, and at the hospital to see Ken's doctor at nine-thirty. But mainly to see Ken and get him back to Chicago. Come in, Liz, come in while I get dressed in a hurry."

Liz went gaily inside, shutting the door as Amanda padded across the room to the bureau to pull out the drawers in search of clean pantyhose and a fresh brassiere.

Liz plopped into a chair, hoisting the manila envelope. "You ain't going to have no trouble with dear Ken, once he sees this. Say, what's he doing in the hospital anyway?"

Amanda was tearing off her nightgown. "He left me a message that he'd become worse and was carted off to the main Lourdes hospital in the Avenue Alexandre-Marqui. I went to see him right away, when I came in from Bartres, but he was sedated and out of it."

"How is he?"

"That's what I was supposed to find out at nine-thirty." She shpped her milky-white breasts into the brassiere cups and was fastening the bra in back. "Hell, I wish I hadn't overslept. I don't even have time for a bath."

But Liz Finch was again devoted to the copy of Bernadette's last journal that she had removed from the envelope. "Amanda, you're going to have no more problem with Ken once he sets eyes on this. He'll never be a believer in any of that Lourdes nonsense any more. He'll see how soundly, or unsoundly—unwittingly—Bernadette branded herself a fake. Imagine that little peasant hysteric seeing the Virgin Mary and Jesus all over the place—time and again among the sheep in Bartress— and then, after that dress rehearsal, doing her act all over again a month later in Lourdes. Wow, Amanda, the story of our time. But you didn't want me to phone it in until I talked to you, and I wanted every backup

detail of how you laid your hands on it, anyway. How did you, Wonder Girl, how in the devil did you ever do it?"

"Got to go to the bathroom," Amanda said, fluttering the pantyhose she had in her hand. "Got to hurry."

"Amanda, please," Liz implored as Amanda disappeared into the bathroom, "you asked me not to file my story till I heard how you pulled it off. Will you tell me?"

"Not this second, Liz," Amanda called out. "Soon as I finish dressing, I'll tell you what I know on the way downstairs. If that's not enough time, you can drive with me to the hospital. Then I'll tell you the rest."

In a minute, Amanda darted from the bathroom, yanked on her blouse, stepped into her skirt, fastened it, was into her low-heeled shoes, snatching up a second copy of the journal in its manila envelope on her way through the door. Liz was right behind her, skipping to keep up as they went to the elevator.

Waiting for the elevator, Liz pleaded, "Father Ruland gave you Eugenie Gautier's name in Bartres, right?"

"Right."

"How'd you know there was an earlier part of the journal?"

"Sister Francesca mentioned it in passing at Nevers. Father Ruland admitted that it existed but insisted that he wasn't interested in it. Actually, he'd never seen it. Madame Gautier confirmed its existence and showed it to me. She didn't want money, she simply wanted me to arrange to put her nephew through an American college. When I read the pages Bernadette wrote about her stay in Bartres, how she was sheep-tending and seeing Jesus and then the Virgin Mary monthly among the woolies—how many times?—"

"Jesus three times. The Virgin six times among the sheep in Bartres, and starting a month later, eighteen more times in Lourdes, only in Lourdes she had witnesses and her playlet went public. What a seductive nut."

"We get them often enough in clinical psychology. The flight from reahty syndrome. We treat older children who've experienced hallucinatory eidetic imagery—colorful, vivid, but unreal imagery that the subject has come to believe in."

The elevator had arrived.

"Can I quote you, Amanda?" Liz wanted to know. "The eminent psychology professor from Chicago, Dr. Spenser says."

They were inside the elevator and riding down to the lobby.

"The Church'll have me burned at the stake," said Amanda, "but no matter, the truth will out. Go ahead."

Liz was jotting notes furiously. Finishing, she stepped into the lobby at Amanda's heels. "Wowie, you've made my day, my week, my life. Good-bye to miracles. This is an absolute international headliner."

As both spun away from the elevator, preparing to rush out of the hotel, they found themselves face to face with Natale and Hurtado, who had just come into the hotel and were about to get into the elevator.

Amanda looked blank for a moment, but Liz recognized the couple at once. "Mr. Mikel Hurtado," she said. "And Miss Natale Rinaldi. Aren't you lovey-dovey, though." They were close to one another, holding hands, beaming happily.

Natale said to Liz, 'This is the first time I've seen you, but I recognize your voice. You're Liz Finch, the press correspondent."

"Hey, now—" Liz started to say, but her voice trmled off as she stared hard at Natale. At the same moment, Amanda had become aware of what Liz was aware of. The pretty Italian girl was no longer wearing sunglasses, no longer hiding her blindness. Her large dark eyes were shining, taking in Liz and then Amanda.

Amanda spoke first, quickly. "Did I hear you say to Liz, This is the first time I've seen you'? Are you telling us you can see?"

Natale nodded with intense pleasure. "Yes, I can see perfectly now."

Liz was puzzled. "But I'm sure you told us, when we dined together, that you were totally blind, and the ophthalmologists in Rome gave you no hope of having your sight restored."

Natale agreed. "I did tell you that. It's true. Medical science had given me up as a lost cause. So I had to pray and hope for something more than science, something supernatural, and I told you that's why I came to Lourdes."

Liz was blinking unceasingly now. "When did it happen, your regaining your sight?"

"Late last night at the grotto."

Liz's voice quavered. She pushed out one word, "How?"

"Yes, how?" Amanda wanted to know.

Natale hesitated and cast Hurtado a sidelong glance. He caught it and responded with a definite nod, adding, "Go ahead, Natale, you're allowed to tell six people the truth about it—I'm one -- your mother and father will be two and three—your Aunt Elsa will be four—and telling Liz and Amanda can make it five and six. After that, no more."

Natale's eyes went from Liz to Amanda. Her countenance was solemn as she made her quiet announcement. "I saw the Virgin Mary last night. Everything was black before me, then a brightness of light, and an apparition of the Blessed Virgin stood above me. She restored

my sight, and I could see Her, and everything else. The Virgin did it. She reappeared as She had promised Bernadette that She would, and She gave me back my eyesight."

Amanda reeled under the impact of the announcement. Her jaw was agape. She was shaking her head.

Liz was also thrown off balance, blinking more furiously than ever, scowling. "Wait a minute, wait a minute," she stammered. "You're sure this is true?"

Natale said simply, "Look at me."

Liz stared at her in silence, and tried to formulate words. "Natale, if this is true, and you'll support it, this is one of the biggest stories to come out of Lourdes in the century and a half since Bernadette. You— you've got to give me the details, every detail, at once."

Natale shook her head slowly. "Not if you're going to print it. I'm not allowed to have my miracle printed."

Hurtado stepped forward as if to protect Natale. "She's trying to tell you that this is one of the promises the Virgin Mary extracted from her last night. The Blessed Virgin told Natale, 'Your miracle and the way you came by it are for you, and six others whom you wish to tell about it. My reappearance before you, which had been intended as a secret in that earlier time, is meant to be a secret still. I trust you never to let the truth of your miracle ever to be known. Keep the trust, and I promise you happiness in this world, in Heaven thereafter.' "

Natale was listening to Hurtado, and nodding concurrence with every word he spoke. Natale faced Liz and Amanda. "I gave my vow to the Blessed Virgin that She could trust me."

"But—" Liz was too dumbfounded to continue.

"You both must pledge your word to me," said Natale. "You will not speak of this ever, or write of it, but keep it in your hearts. I told you as friends, meaning only to reveal to you that faith is worthwhile and miracles never cease happening. We have just been to the Basihca to give thankful prayers for our good fortune. We leave for Italy this afternoon. So this is good-bye, and good luck to both of you."

Their hands more tightly entwined than ever, Natale and Hurtado skirted around the speechless Liz and Amanda. The pair entered the elevator, and soon the two of them were gone.

Liz and Amanda stood rooted in their places, unable to speak or move for long seconds.

At last their eyes met.

Liz's voice caught in her throat until she could articulate words. "Amanda, maybe she—maybe she made it up?"

Amanda was shaking her head. "No, no, Liz. She can see."

Liz's head was going up and down. "Yeah, you're right." Then, ahnost to herself, "For Chrissakes, she can see. I—I don't know what to think anymore."

"Maybe we should both stop thinking. Maybe Shakespeare was right—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know that one. Hello, Horatio. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy"

"You better believe it, Liz. I—I'm beginning to."

"Yeah, maybe Bernadette did see Jesus and the Virgin Mary in Bartres, and maybe Bernadette did see the Virgin eighteen times here in Lourdes, and maybe the Virgin did tell her that she would return to Lourdes in this week of this year, and maybe Natale did see her encore."