When We Were Saints Read online

  Archie stood up, hesitated for a second, looking to see who might be watching, and then when he was sure no one was looking, he undid the rope around his waist and pulled off the robe. He folded it up as best he could and coiled the rope and set it on top. He sat back down, placing the robe beside him, and returned to his thoughts of home. He missed the mountain and his home, but most of all he missed his grandmother and felt guilty for the way he had deserted her. What's wrong with me, anyway? he wondered. One minute I want to run away from it all and never think about it, and the next minute I want to go home again. Why don't I make up my mind already?

  A tour group stepped out into the arcade where Archie sat, and the guide began a speech about the herb gardens and the Italian wellhead that stood in the center. The visitors walked along the arcade and spread out through the garden, then moved back inside to the Gothic Chapel.

  Archie thought of Clare in there praying. He didn't know what he was going to do. When he looked at her all he wanted was to be with her and follow her but when he walked away from her he felt lost and just wanted to go home. He knew he needed to give the Virgin one more try. He wanted to at least pray to her for the sake of his grandmother but the thought of going to the altar and waiting for the tears—and his memory of that morning, when he had wanted to get everyone's attention by bragging to them that the Virgin was crying—made him doubt that the Virgin would ever cry for him and heal his grandmother.

  Archie grabbed his robe and returned to the Gothic Chapel before closing time. He caught Clare's look of surprise when she saw that he didn't have on his robe, but she didn't say anything. She was standing with a small group of people. She waved him over and introduced him to the group, and they all left the building together moving down the stairs and out to the parking lot. They stood and talked some more out by the cars, and Archie talked a little bit, too, but he was also watching the people leaving, thinking he might see the strange man still hanging about. He noticed that the tan car near where they had last seen him was still there. A while later he saw a couple get into the car and drive off. He wondered where the strange man had gone, and if he lived somewhere nearby.

  The people Clare was speaking with invited Clare and Archie to join them for dinner but Clare declined, thanking them and saying that she and Archie had to be on their way. After hugging Clare and then, with hesitation, Archie, the people in the group left and Clare said, "It's hard being a true pilgrim. Everyone wants to feed us. We have too much."

  Archie nodded, but he would have liked to have gone out to eat. The group had suggested a Chinese restaurant. Archie had eaten Chinese food only once, when his home-schooling group was returning from a weekend retreat and the group had stopped at the Peking Duck restaurant. His grandparents had never taken him out to eat. He was enjoying experiencing all the new foods.

  They returned to the Cloisters, and after a quick visit to the bathrooms, Clare found Will, the guard, and asked him if they could go up into the tower to visit her aunt's old friends. Will nodded and told them they could use the staff elevator The two of them got on, and Clare pressed the button for the third floor where her aunt had once worked.

  Clare introduced Archie to all of her aunt's old friends, and like the guards and the rest of the staff on the floors below, everyone was delighted to see her Some commented on her robe, and several people said, "I always knew you'd want to be a nun when you grew up." Archie held his robe under his arm and felt awkward when Clare introduced him; her aunt's friends looked at him as if they were wondering what had been the point of bringing him along. He wondered himself.

  After a brief visit Clare hugged them all and told them she wanted to introduce Archie to the director but instead of going toward the elevator she led Archie to the stairs. "No one uses the stairs here," Clare said. "We can wait in the stairwell until closing, and no one will find us. The guards will think we took the elevator down to the basement and left the building."

  Archie sat and waited next to Clare on the cold cement steps. His heart was beating hard in his chest. He felt like a spy or a criminal. He didn't know how they would get away with living up on the top floor of the tower. He was sure they would get caught. He and Armory had always gotten caught at home. His grandfather had had a naturally suspicious nature, and he'd always found them out. He whispered to Clare, "Are you sure this is going to work? What if they've installed alarms in the tower since you were last here?"

  Clare patted Archie's hand. "Don't worry. There are no alarms. We just need to be quiet so the guards downstairs don't hear us in the night, but even they are so far away that they're not likely to."

  They waited in the stairwell a long time. The hard cement became uncomfortable to Archie. He stood up and placed his folded robe on the top step and then sat on it. The cushioning and the warmth felt better; he just wished he could find a way to make his mind feel better too.

  While they waited Clare told Archie about the times she used to play on the top floor of the tower while her aunt and other staff members sat around the conference table in a meeting. She played with her trucks and dolls on the floor of the room. "The tower's always been a happy place for me," Clare said. "Everyone is so nice here. When I got older I brought my books to read, and I got to stay up there all afternoon, reading until closing time. Some days the director didn't come and I'd have the room all to myself. I love it here. This is my home. That room is my home. It belongs to me."

  Archie watched Clare while she spoke. She seemed so happy and calm, as if there were nothing wrong with sitting in a stairwell waiting for everyone to leave so that they could sneak into the top room of the tower for the night. God may have told Clare that it was the right thing to do, but it didn't feel right to Archie. He wished God would let him in on the plans for once, so that he could feel good about things. Instead he felt nervous and on edge, and Clare's happy memories and her belief that the room belonged to her did nothing to calm him.

  After what seemed like hours, Clare gave Archie the signal to follow her and they crept up the steps toward the top floor They climbed a long flight of stairs and came to a landing, then they turned and climbed another long flight. At the top they came to a door. Clare pushed it open a couple of inches and peered in. Then she opened it wide and let Archie enter first.

  The room was huge and square, with two sets of tall, narrow windows on each wall. The lights were off, but there was plenty of light coming in through the windows. The director's desk stood to one side of the room and to the other was a conference table with chairs set around it. Behind the table were shelves filled with books. There was little decoration. There were curtains in the windows and several Oriental rugs on the floor and that was it.

  Archie went to one set of windows and looked out. He could see much of the city before him. "The view's nice," he said, moving to another set of windows and seeing the Hudson River below. He turned around and saw Clare sitting cross-legged on the floor and he went and dropped down beside her surprised to be safely in the tower room.

  After a few minutes of silence, while they took in their surroundings, Archie asked, "So, when will we see the crying Virgin again?"

  "Tomorrow," Clare said. "Tomorrow morning before the museum opens."

  "But how? How will we get past all the guards?"

  Clare smiled. "It will be okay, Francis, I've made arrangements."

  Archie could see her shining eyes even in the dim light. He shook his head. "Nothing feels okay to me anymore," he said. Then he touched Clare's hand and added, "Except you. You have a way with people that I don't have. People love you. They flock to you like sheep. You know just what to say. I feel like one of those stone statues fastened to the wall of the Cloisters. I have nothing to say."

  "Francis, it's not about you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that if you want to know what to say to people, you have to look at them, pay attention to them, not yourself."

  "That's easy for you; you've been given the gif
t from the crying Virgin."

  "You don't need to see the Virgin cry to be able to reach out to people and love them. You just need to pay attention and care. You have to notice them. You have to really see them, the way they're walking, their facial expressions, their body language—you can tell so much just by paying attention to them. Are their voices timid or bold? How do they use their hands when they speak? How are they dressed? Are they alone or with others? Who is with them? Is one person in charge, or are they all equals?"

  "You're in charge of us," Archie said.

  Clare shook her head. "You drove us all the way to New York. You got us here."

  "Because you asked me to. I'd do anything you asked me; you should know that by now."

  "I love you, Brother Francis."

  Archie liked the sound of that. He liked being called Brother Francis, although he didn't feel worthy of it. "I'm losing it," he said after a moment's silence. "I'm no saint. That's why I took the robe off. I feel like a phony in it. I don't know; I feel so angry all the time lately, and depressed." He looked up at Clare and felt tears forming in his eyes. "I feel depressed all the time. If it weren't for you, I don't know. I'm so lost. God is—God is gone. I..."

  Clare reached out and touched Archie's hand. "Let go, Brother Francis. Let go of yourself. Put your trust in God."

  Archie pulled his hand away. "How? How do I let go? What do you mean? I try to pray and I feel nothing. You don't know what that's like. It's all 'glory hallelujah' to you all the time. It's different for me. I'm empty. The only thing I have is you. I don't even know what to do with myself anymore. I have to wait for you to tell me. I'm so—so lost."

  Clare moved closer to Archie and stroked his head. "God is with you even now, Francis."

  Archie liked having Clare's hand on his head. He lowered his head and sighed. "But what does it matter if I can't feel God with me, if I have no sense at all that God is here? You're here. That's all I know—all I'm sure of."

  "That's God's presence working through me."

  "But I want God working through me, too. How am I supposed to be a saint? I'm not a saint. I'm not anything."

  "You're learning. We're both still learning. I guess we always will be."

  Archie twisted away from her. "What? What are you 'learning'? You're perfect. I've never met anyone more perfect. You're so perfect you're unreal, you're not human."

  "You don't believe I'm human? Francis, I ran away from home. I'm very human. I'm searching just like you. But I'm doing what you said. Remember? Didn't you say you wanted to see if you could lead a sin-free life? Didn't you want to see if you could be like Jesus?"

  "Yeah, and the answer is I can't be."

  "You believe you can't, so no one can? Is it not even worth trying?"

  Archie didn't answer He knew he was sounding like a jerk. How egocentric could he get? Clare was right—just because he couldn't be like Jesus didn't mean it was impossible for everyone. Clare was proof of that. The real Saint Francis had been proof of that.

  "I'm sorry," he finally said.

  "You don't have to be sorry for anything. I'm not perfect. I'm not trying to be, and you don't have to be, either Just listen for God."

  Archie slapped his thigh. "But God's not talking to me!"

  "Keep listening. God is talking, all right. Why is it that you're so upset? Why are you unhappy because you can't reach out to people? Maybe that's God speaking to you. Maybe your unhappiness is God in you. Why do you think that God's voice is always going to make you happy?"

  "Because you're always happy."

  "I'm happy because I'm just listening to now, to this moment. That's where God is—in this moment. Don't you see that, Francis? You have to put your mind on the present. You won't find God by worrying over what's already happened or fretting about what's going to happen."

  "Yeah, I guess," Archie said, trying to understand.

  "God is speaking to me now and I'm listening. God is speaking to you, too, but you're not listening. If you won't listen to God, then listen to your anger and unhappiness. Ask yourself this: What are they trying to tell you?" Clare stood up and went over to one of the windows.

  Archie stayed seated on the floor stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands, and thought about what she had said. What were his anger and unhappiness telling him? What had changed in him? Why had he been so happy, so blissful at first? He remembered being on his mountain, eating a lemon and looking out at the cows and the trees, feeling the sun shining down on him. His grandmother was home and her hip wasn't broken. He was drawing pictures of Mountain Mike the Mountain Biker and the Back Street Thrasher. What was God saying to him back then? Archie thought about the question and decided God had been pleased with him. So what happened? Why wasn't God even more pleased after Archie changed? He was devoting his life to God, so why wasn't God happy with him? What had he done wrong?

  Archie thought about when things had started to change. When was it? Then he remembered. It was the day he had gone to talk to Miss Nattie Lynn and told her he wouldn't be moving in with them, that he had to be about his Father's business. What had been wrong with that? Isn't that what God would have wanted? Isn't that what Jesus had done? And then he had fought off those boys for Clare. Was that the problem? Was God mad at him for using violence? That was when everything had changed, all right, and he had to admit that even though it seemed like he had done everything right, he didn't feel right, even back then. He had left Miss Nattie Lynn's feeling upset with her and worried about his grandmother and later when he'd attacked the boys in the woods, he had felt murderous and that couldn't have been right. But then, what was the answer? What should he have done? Archie sat up and bowed his head in his hands and demanded that God tell him—what should he have done?

  Chapter 30

  THE NEXT MORNING CLARE nudged Archie awake and told him it was time to go to the Langon Chapel to see the crying Virgin. Archie sat up and felt the stiffness in his shoulders from his lying on the floor all night. He looked at Clare, who stood above him in her robe with its hood drawn up over her head. Her face was hidden in the shadows, and she reminded Archie of cartoon drawings he had seen of the Grim Reaper: He shuddered and got to his feet, rubbing his eyes. He had put his robe back on sometime in the middle of the night to keep warm and decided to wear it again, at least to the chapel. He pulled the hood up over his head and said, "Okay, I'm ready. What do we do?"

  "Follow me."

  They started down the stairs, and Archie held his robe up with both hands and followed two steps behind Clare, just to be sure he didn't trip her or himself. The steps seemed to go on forever and he could see that the long descent tired Clare. She took her time going down them, and even so she was breathing hard and leaning into the railing to steady herself. Clare's behavior worried Archie. She was too thin. She would have more strength if she would just eat. He made a promise to himself that after their visit to the chapel, he would find them some food and get her to eat it.

  They stepped out onto the second floor and Clare whispered, "We'll wait here."

  They found a couple of chairs and sat down. Archie asked, "Who are we waiting for?"

  "Mr. Endly. He took over my aunt's job when she died. He's coming early to do some work. We'll have about an hour before the museum opens."

  "When did you arrange all this?"

  "I saw him yesterday when you were in the garden. I told him all about our pilgrimage. He was very excited about it, and he offered to get permission for us to pray in the chapel by ourselves."

  Archie smiled. He liked that they had permission to be in the chapel. "That's great. That's really great," he said, feeling a spark of hope. "I've been really worried about my grandmama. I'm going to pray for her the whole time."

  Clare patted Archie's shoulder but didn't say anything. She began to hum, and Archie knew she was praying. He stood up and went to the window and looked at the city view. He drew in a deep breath and let it out. He wondered where his grandfather's
truck was in relation to where he stood. If he looked out of one of the other windows could he spot it? He went around the room to the other windows, trying to find it, and was disappointed when he couldn't. He understood that to Clare the Cloisters felt like home, but to him the only bit of home he had with him was his granddaddy's truck—and he had a sudden longing to sit in it and smell the familiar if unpleasant, odors of cigar smoke, mountain mud, and pig urine.

  Archie smiled at the memory of the pig urine. A few months before Armory had moved away, Archie was showing off the new camera his grandparents had given him for his birthday. Armory had the great idea of posing a pig in the driver's seat of Archie's grandfather's truck, with its front hooves up on the steering wheel, so that Archie could take a picture. It took both of them to get the pig into the truck, but it stayed there only long enough to pee on the seat before leaping back into Archie's arms and knocking him to the ground. The pig ran over his head, cutting his forehead, and his grandfather said the gash served him right. He and Armory had to spend the afternoon cleaning up the urine, but they never did get rid of the odor completely. Archie laughed to himself and wondered what Armory was up to. Then, remembering their last phone conversation, he felt a twinge of sadness. Maybe it was best that their friendship had ended, he decided. Armory had never brought out the best in him.

  A short while later Archie heard a noise, and he turned around looking panic-stricken at Clare.

  "It's all right," she said. "Mr. Endly is meeting us up here. That's just the elevator."

  When Mr. Endly, a portly man with a thick mustache and a pasty complexion, stepped off the elevator, he was surprised to find them standing there.