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"Claudia," Mary started, "I hate to interrupt your religious fit, but why are you praying?"

Claudia looked at Mary and, pointing at Sol, asked, "Can you not see it?"

"See Sol? Yes I can see Sol."

"Not Sol, the aura on Sol."

Mary looked at Sol, who was looking at himself. "No," Mary answered, "Sol doesn't appear to have an aura to me. Perhaps if you describe this aura I'll be able to see what you are talking about. Is it a glow? Does it have a color?"

"You make fun of what you not understand. Sol has been touched by angel of God. His hands glow like beacons."

Sol and Mary looked down at his hands. Neither saw an aura or glow.

"You have a bit of dirt under you right index finger," Mary said, "but other than that I see nothing remarkable about your hands."

Sol looked at Mary, then knelt down in front of Claudia. "How do you know that I have been touched by an angel of God?"

"Don't goad her on," Mary said to him.

"I'm not," he said without turning. "She sees something and I want to know what it is."

"Well, I'll leave you two to your unearthly glowing. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready for the tour," Mary said, as she left the living room.

After she was gone, Claudia said to Sol, "You meet someone important tonight. Someone lost, but now found."

"Yes. Yes I did."

"He do this to your hands," she said, touching them.

"But I can't see anything. They're no different now then they were yesterday."

"They very different. You not see yet because you not believe. But you will. In time."

"Believe what?"

"What is before your very eyes."

"My hands?"

"Must you touch wound to believe?"

"What?"

"You are Doubting Thomas. But he believe and you will too."

Sol stood up with a bewildered look. "Perhaps someday I will understand," he said, as he walked to the kitchen.

"Did she known that I saw John Paul tonight?" he asked himself. "Did she know that he kissed my hands?"

"Sol," Mary yelled for the third time, finally shaking him out of his own thoughts. "Did you enjoy your talk with the old lady?"

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"Well, don't think too much about it. She is very nice, but mad as a hatter."

"I'm not so sure about that," he said. "Nonetheless, please take me on the grand tour."



[Copyright Reuben Gregg Brewer, 2005. All rights reserved.]
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