Poughkeepsie by Debra Anastasia Page B

eyes. “Why, yes. Yes you are.”
    The old woman patted Livia’s hand with her cold, soft one. On impulse Livia grasped Bea’s hand to warm it.
    Bea smiled again. “You’re a nice girl, Livia. Love is sacred. Hold onto it. I know a lot at my age. Everything else fails you—money, possessions, sex. But love never fails.” Bea touched a locket around her neck with her free hand. “Would you like to see my Aaron? You’ll have to help me. I can’t work these hands so well anymore.”
    Livia reverently opened the locket to reveal the faded image of a handsome man in a military uniform.
    “We were married for sixty-two years before he passed,” Bea said. “I still can’t take a deep breath without smelling his scent.” Her face filled with strength, rather than tears. “We had a good life. He always made me laugh. Loving him was a wonderful way to pass my time here. And someday we’ll be together again.”
    Livia closed the locket carefully. “He’s a handsome man.”
    Bea nodded.
    Cole began the mass. As the familiar service proceeded, Livia saw that the actual priest did only the most essential of the acts. He let Cole lead prayers and give the sermon. Cole did a magnificent job of speaking to a crowd that had already learned most of life’s cruelest lessons.
    Cole took his place behind the pulpit, and Livia could almost see him trying to ignore her presence.
    “Welcome, friends and visitor.”
    He was doing a poor job of it.
    “Tonight I would like to talk about faith in the unseen. Here, in God’s house, we have many physical reminders of our faith—our statues, the pews and stained glass, and the very peace we feel here. We have things we can touch, feel, and see. Faith isn’t a surprise here. It’s expected. We’re covered by faith in our church, like a well-used blanket.
    “Faith is much harder to feel when we’re far from our rituals and must rely only on what we can fit in our hearts. Trials and tribulations rarely happen in church when we’re surrounded by other believers to bolster and encourage us. Sometimes we’re in a store, struggling to understand how the checker could be so slow. Sometimes we’re in a hospital, grasping the hand of a loved one.” Cole looked at Bea, who nodded.
    “And sometimes we’re just a little child inside when someone in power takes more from us than they ever have a right to.” He dropped his eyes for a moment.
    Livia watched as Bea shot a look of concern to some of the other ladies present. Cole had revealed a tiny bit of himself on the pulpit, and judging from the reaction, he didn’t do it often.
    “These are the times when God whispers to us,” he continued. “We have to listen carefully to his important guidance. Sometimes that guidance is to just endure. And that’s when our faith has to hold us up.”
    Livia continued to hold Bea’s hand as Cole concluded his thoughts. When he prayed for the departed, the length of the list became almost comical, until Livia heard Aaron mentioned and felt a squeeze from Bea . Each name is attached to a heart here .
    Cole seemed truly holy as he recited the words. “I leave you peace. My peace I give you. Now let us all offer one another the sign of peace.”
    Livia watched the parishioners greet those next to them, then hold up their hands to wave at others around the room. Livia looked around. Sweet Bea in her wheelchair was one of easily sixty people in the sanctuary. Livia was overwhelmed by their quiet kindness. Cole had a roomful of family now.
    Livia stood. Waving the peace was a tradition she had every intention of breaking. Cole looked at her with a suspicious eyebrow cocked.
    Livia started with Bea. “Peace be with you.”
    “And also with you, Livia,” Bea said as they shook hands.
    Livia walked to the front pew and began methodically offering her hand and words to each person. At the second pew, Livia changed her sign of peace into a hug. In her peripheral vision, Livia could see Cole now going