Stained Glass Read Online Free Page A

the Lord to put some fight into the pastor.
    â€œWe’ll see, Marie” had been his final word, and she knew what that was worth.
    Her pace slowed as she neared the side door of the church. She pondered her decision. She didn’t want to be a show-off. When she reached the walk that led away to the school, she took it. God would understand. She would drop in on him after she had visited Edna
Hospers. After all, if God had intended her to be a contemplative nun he would have issued her a veil. At the moment, she just had to talk things over with someone who would talk back.
    On one of the benches beside the walk a figure sat. Willie, the alleged maintenance man, who occupied an apartment in the basement of the school. He gave Marie a tragic look.
    Marie stopped. To say that she did not approve of Willie would have been an understatement. He was the most recent in a line of parolees for whom Father Dowling had found employment in the parish, making St. Hilary’ a kind of halfway house between Joliet and the wider world, not that he had ever got much work out of any of them. On this score, Willie was a clear-cut winner. According to Edna, for an hour or so each day he pushed a broom around the area of the school used by the seniors, and that was about it. Willie had brought the broom with him to the bench.
    â€œI knew it couldn’t last,” he said.
    â€œYou need a new broom?”
    Willie shook his head sadly. “Don’t try to spare me.”
    â€œI never have.”
    â€œIs it true we’ll soon be out of a job?”
    That her plight could be compared with Willie’s filled Marie with anger. She was about to say something cutting, something cruel, but suddenly she was drained of rancor and collapsed on the bench beside Willie. “Father Dowling is seeing the bishop now.”
    â€œWill it matter?”
    â€œHow can we know? You might say a prayer about it.”
    â€œI already have,” Willie said, moving the brush of his broom from one shoe to the other. The handle he gripped firmly in his left hand.
    â€œGood.” Marie found herself doubting Willie. Good Lord, what a trial the man was. A minute in his presence and she felt like a
pharisee. She remembered the story of the rich man entering the temple to thank God that he was not like the rest of men, the contrast was with the poor wretch who barely entered and prayed, “Have mercy on me, a sinner.” The parallel was too close for Marie’s comfort. “Your prayers will go right to God’s ear.”
    â€œHe doesn’t need ears,” Willie said.
    Once more anger flared up in Marie. Was this parolee presuming to instruct her in such matters? “I had no idea you were a theologian.”
    â€œI’m not, but I studied a bit in Joliet. With the chaplain.”
    â€œFather Blatz?”
    â€œThis guy was a Baptist. He knew the Bible backward and forward.”
    â€œI thought you were a Catholic.”
    â€œThat’s what it says in my records.”
    â€œHave you forsaken the faith?”
    â€œYou mean quit?”
    Marie inhaled. “Did you become a Baptist?”
    â€œWhat was the point? You don’t have to be a Baptist to read the Bible.”
    Marie gave up. She stood. Impulsively, she took Willie’s broom and began to shake it vigorously. Little puffs of dust and lint flew away in the slight breeze. She tightened the handle before giving it back, twisting it into the brush.
    Willie looked on with admiration. “You must have worked as a janitor once.”
    â€œMy aspirations never rose that high.”
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    Inside the school, the former gym, which was the chief meeting place for the seniors, was strangely quiet. No one played shuffleboard; no cards had been dealt for bridge; the television set was a
gray eye in the corner. There were groups clustered about, whispering as if they were at a wake. At the sight of Marie, they surged toward