In Plain Sight

“Alex,” the big man said, tuning to envelop Alex’s right hand in his. “How are you, son?” Before Alex could answer, he went on. “Sorry to bring you down here again, but…well, you see.” He waved at the leaks, as if somehow Alex might have missed them.

“No problem, Father,” Alex said. “Always happy to help out. In fact, I should have come down sooner to check on the runes.”

“You’re always welcome, Alex, you know that, but you’ve got your own life to lead.” He put his huge hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Thanks to you,” Alex said, and meant it. “Now, do you have those roof tiles I need?”

Father Harry pointed over to a corner of the hall where the roof still seemed to be in good shape. “Brother Thomas has them on a table over by the good light.” He led Alex over to the table that stood under a shaft of bright light. “This corner is closer to Empire Tower,” Father Harry said. “This light never goes out.”

Alex laughed, setting his bag down next to a stack of fired clay roof tiles.

“I remember,” he said. He took a sharp metal stylus and a hard pencil from his bag, then added a jar of grayish paste and a small putty knife.

“I appreciate this, Alex,” Father Harry said. “I hate having to interrupt you at work.”

“It’s really no trouble, Father,” Alex said, tracing a modified Barrier Rune on the first tile. Once he carved it into the tile with the stylus and filled the cut with the wax solution of camphor oil and coal dust, the rune would cause all the nearby tiles to repel the rain.

Father Harry drew up a chair as if he intended to watch. From experience, Alex knew that he really wanted to talk. Alex had only lived here five years, but Father Harry had been like a real dad to him. He’d never admit it, but Alex looked forward to these talks.

“Maybe you should make the cuts deeper this time,” Father Harry said. “So they last longer.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way,” Alex said, smiling at the suggestion. “Runes wear out — that’s just what they do. If you want this roof to not leak permanently, you need to hire a sorcerer … or a roofer.”

Father Harry chuckled and sighed. “Too expensive. Thank God I’ve got you.”

“You do good work here, Father,” Alex said. “I enjoy helping. After all you did for me, it’s the least I could do. How’s the mission going these days?”

Father Harry’s countenance brightened.

“We’ve got two dozen people living in the guest wing, and we feed over a hundred every night.”

“Sister Morgan still do the cooking?”

“No,” Father Harry said. “She got too old. Asked to be transferred to a convent in Arizona. We’ve got a whole crop of new Brothers and Sisters now.” He looked sad for a moment as the years seemed to weigh on him. “The work goes on, though. There are always the poor and the forgotten to be cared for.” His countenance brightened after a moment. “So, how are things with you?”

Alex sighed.

“That bad?” Father Harry said, concern on his face. When Alex just shrugged, he grabbed Alex by the chin and pulled his face around so they were eye to eye. “You listen to me, boy. You’re a good detective and a fine runewright, God will give you a break one of these days.”

“God sure is taking his time about that,” Alex said, trying not to sound resentful.

“In the sweat of thy face shall thou eat bread,” Father Harry quoted.

“Genesis, chapter three, verse nineteen,” Alex recited. Father Harry had drilled the scriptures into his head while he lived at the mission.

“You know where it’s found but you don’t know what it means,” he said. “God doesn’t just give us the things we want, he expects us to work for them. To earn them.”

Alex flashed back to the lessons he’d had in this very hall. “The Lord helps those who help themselves,” he said.

“So you were listening,” Father Harry said, and smiled. “But did you learn the lesson?”

“If I keep working, the good Lord will bless me,” Alex said.

“In his good time,” the Father said with a compassionate smile and a nod. “We all must be patient.”

Alex looked up from his work and met the old man’s eyes.

“Thanks, Father,” he said. “I’ve been so busy, I must have forgotten.” He meant every word. It was impossible to let the world get the better of you when Father Harry spoke. He carried the light of his faith around like a torch that drove back the darkness. Alex wondered why he didn’t come back to the mission more often.

“So,” Father Harry said, a sly look crossing his face. “Have you found a nice girl yet?”

“Didn’t you just give me a lesson about patience and the Lord’s good time?” Alex asked, remembering why he didn’t come back very often.

Before the Father could rally, a Sister Alex didn’t know came hurrying across the floor.

“Father Clementine,” she said. “Sister Catherine can’t get the stove lit again.”

“Sorry, Alex,” Father Harry said, rising to his feet. “Duty calls.”

Saved by the bell, Alex thought.

* * *