The Jew's Wife & Other Stories by Thomas J. Hubschman Page B

is?”
       “ Vaguely.
       “ I was in their
wedding.”
        He would have
thought someone who had served as bridesmaid for one woman would
feel out of place in the house of the second wife, cousin or
not.
       “ Actually, I introduced Charlie to Sylvia. At about the time
he was filing his papers against Nancy. Sylvia was a real wimp in
those days, afraid of her own shadow. I knew she and Charlie would
hit it off after what he’d been through with Nancy. Of course, I
had no idea he would end up marrying her.”
       “ They
didn’t get along—Charlie and his first wife?”
       She laughed.
       “Fought like cats. Nancy and I
still keep in touch. No hard feelings. If she bears any grudge,
it’s toward Charlie’s mother.”
       “ I can
imagine.”
       “ You met Mrs.
Weeks? Well, then you know what she’s like. Needless to say, she
wasn’t thrilled about either the divorce or Charlie’s remarrying.
But you’d never know it today. She’s crazy about Sylvia. Took to
her like she was a new daughter. All she talks about is when
they’re going to give her a grandchild. Drives Charlie up the wall.
That was why he was so keyed up this morning.”
       “ Charlie doesn’t
want children?”
       “ No way. Sylvia
told me he made her agree not to have any, before they got married.
Of course, Sylvia would like nothing better than to get pregnant.
She doesn’t have many years left. But she’s so crazy about Charlie
she’ll do whatever he wants.”
       “ Unlike his
first wife.”
       “ Exactly.” She
turned toward him. “I don’t know why I’m repeating all this.
Ordinarily I don’t gossip.”
        They
walked in silence for a while. He looked up and saw a break in the
overcast. A star darted in and out of view. When he looked down
again he thought he could see its reflection on the
waves.
       “Did you always want to be a
priest?”
       “As far back as I can recall. My
mother says I used to imitate the priest when they took me to
Sunday mass. I couldn’t have been more than two or three at the
time. The sermons seemed to have a special effect on me. Back in
those days there was a lot of thunder and lightening in the pulpit.
The church has changed a great deal in my lifetime. Mostly for the
better.”
       “ Do you
miss those captive audiences, the ones the old-timers used to
harangue when you were just a babe in arms?”
       “ Not
really.” He stopped to look at the lights of a freighter. His own
monsignor had been one of those harum-scarum types until senility
put a damper on his righteousness.
        As if
following his thoughts, she asked, “What would your pastor say if
he saw you now?”
       “ Bust a
gut, probably. Then again, his mind is so far gone he might not
recognize me.”
       “How can you work under someone
like that?”
       “It’s not easy. Still, I get to
handle more responsibility than the ordinary assistant pastor.”
       “ You like
that.”
       “ Yes,” he
admitted, “I do.”
       “ Maybe some day
you’ll have a parish of your own.”
        He turned to
read her expression, but by now she was just a slim
silhouette.
       “ I’ve
never been in the least bit religious,” she went on. “I don’t
suppose I should say this, you being a priest, but I don’t think I
believe in God. I’m not even sure what God is supposed to be,” she
said, as if confessing to never having understood the operation of
a simple arithmetic function.
       “ I think
that’s how it is for most people, including orthodox
Christians.”
       “ But not
for you. To you God is the man who loved Lazarus’ sister. Do you
believe he died and rose from the dead?”
       “ Yes. The
crucifixion was his most important act.”
       “ To
die?”
       “For a reason.”
       “Then, why hasn’t everything
gotten better? Why do people go on killing each other and babies
starve?”
        He
hesitated,