Free Hexed by Kevin Hearne Page B

what comes to Mass mellow ev’ry Sunday; he won’t be payin’ me no never mind regardless o’ what I say. «
    › Going to church drunk—I mean mellow—that’s pretty groovy. If the magic bus came through here now, I bet she’d hop on. ‹
    » You think Father Howard discounts you, or takes you for granted? «
    » Oh, g’wan with ye now! Of course he doesn’t! «
    » Okay, sorry, but I had to ask. «
    The widow’s face fell and she stared out at her lawn. » Well, now, maybe he does a bit. « She turned quickly and shook a finger at me. » But only a bit, mind! «
    » How so? «
    » Ah. Well, y’know I’m the oldest parishioner what goes there. He’s quite the youngster himself, and he’s there to minister to the college lot. Here I am a widow whose soul isn’t in any danger from temptation, so why worry about me then? I’m a settled issue fer him. Now I know it’s probably just me vanity talkin’, but I suppose it’d be nice not to feel taken for granted. «
    » Of course. You deserve to feel appreciated. «
    » Especially since I might be helping to keep the universe ticking, right? Wasn’t that the gist of what y’were trying to tell me before ye ran over there, « she waved toward the Superstition Mountains, » and got yer ear chewed off? «
    » Sorry. « I shook my head, trying to clear it of her coarse phrasing. » I don’t quite follow you. Remind me of what I said. «
    » Ye said all the gods are alive. All the monsters too. «
    » Oh, right. They’re all alive, except for the ones that are dead. «
    › I think you should submit that statement to win the Nobel Obvious Prize, ‹ Oberon said.
    » And the impression I got was they’re alive because we believe in them, right? «
    » Um. With lots of fine print, right. «
    » So in a sense it’s we with faith who create gods, not the gods who create us. And, if that’s the case, then it’s we who created the universe. «
    » I think that might be taking a big step into the windowless room of solipsism. But I see your point, Mrs. MacDonagh. A person like you with such powerful faith should not be ignored. Why, faithful people around the world have made miracles happen. «
    » Really? How do they do that? «
    » You’ve heard of people having visions of the Virgin Mary? «
    » Sure, all the time. «
    » Those are created by faith. You could probably make one happen. «
    » All by meself? «
    I nodded. » Absolutely. Mrs. MacDonagh, when you think of Mary, what does she look like to you? Could you visualize her clearly for me, describe her to me? «
    » Why, sure I can. ’Twouldn’t be a very good Catholic if I couldn’t, now would I? «
    » If Mary were to appear on this earth now, what do you think she’d look like? «
    The widow seemed pleased to be asked. » Ah, she’d have the patience of eternity in her eyes, she would, and the beatitudes in her smile. I suppose she’d be dressed sensibly for the modern world—to blend in, y’know, something cotton and navy blue. «
    » Why navy blue? «
    » I don’t know, it’s just what I associate with her. She’s not the flamboyant turquoise type, is she now? «
    » All right, go on. What sort of shoes? «
    » The sensible kind. But classy, y’know, not cheap tennis shoes made by a poor wee girl in an Asian sweatshop. «
    » Would she wear one of those habits, the elaborate headgear you always see in churches? «
    » I should think not. It’s hardly the fashion anymore. A simple white headband keepin’ her hair out of her eyes would be the thing. «
    » And if she came here, to Tempe, what do you think she would want to do? «
    » A saintly woman like that? She’d probably be down on Apache Boulevard, ministering to the homeless and the whores and the methamphetamine addicts—what do they call ’em, that slang term? «
    » Tweekers. «
    » Right. She’d be helpin’ the tweekers, she would, down on Apache Boulevard. «
    › Ever notice how Apache Boulevard is a lot like Mos Eisley? »