Embracing Darkness Read Online Free PDF

Carroll’s abrupt and phlegm-filled cough. “I had no idea there was a convent on the premises,” said Father Poole.
    “This way to your r-room,” said Father Carroll, ignoring the priest, and a stronger whiff of garlic once again hit Father Poole.
    The two clerics entered a small room with a bed and wooden nightstand balanced by a book under one leg. There was a stained runner in the middle of the floor, and in the corner something that appeared to be a table with two stools. How cozy! Father Poole thought to himself, a look half of repulsion and half of regret now apparent on his face. Not quite , he reflected, what I’d expect for the head of a parish .
    Father Carroll began to walk toward the door, eager to say farewell and be done with St. Andrew’s once and for all. As he walked, his hips swayed from side to side, more apparent now to Father Poole than previously.
    “Yes,” said Father Carroll. “S-sister Ignatius will b-be your primary staff. As for th-the others I’m sh-sure you’ll meet them s-soon, but it’s S-Sister Ignatius you’ll meet first. Of th-that I’m shhh-sure.”
    As he said this, Father Carroll grinned a bit fiendishly and had to bite his lower lip in spite of himself. Father Poole was about to ask Father Carroll what he meant by that, but the ensuing silence had been long enough that it would have sounded awkward.
    Then the fat priest muttered to himself, “I hear retirement for p-priests is all but diverting. S-sleeping late, attending M-Mass, eating to one’s heart’s c-content. Food! Now th-th-that’s w-what s-sustains life.”
    Not satisfied with Carroll’s comportment, but also not wanting to infuriate the man, Father Poole replied, “Is there a problem with Sister Ignatius?”
    As he shuffled out the door, Father Carroll said slowly, without turning around to face his successor, “You’ll just have to see for yourself now, won’t you?” This time he didn’t stutter one syllable.

THREE
A Cold Welcome  
    Father Poole stood alone in his room. The door was wide open, and he could see a portrait of Pope Leo XIII from where he was standing. As he walked toward the door, suitcase still firmly in hand, young Father Poole began to wonder why this Pope, out of so many others, had his portrait on the wall of St. Andrew’s rectory. The small brass plaque under the portrait read, “His Holiness, Pope Leo XIII.” “ Let’s see now ,” mused Father Poole. “ Pope Leo XIII. He was what? Twenty, thirty, f  . . . . Of course! ”
    At that moment he remembered the dedication plaque hanging in front of the rectory, tarnished almost to the point of illegibility and hanging lopsided: ST. ANDREW’S ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH—ANNO DOMINI MDCCCXCII. “St. Andrew’s was completed in 1892,” said Father Poole out loud. “Leo the Thirteenth was Pope then.” Amused that he had solved an insignificant mystery, the young Father wanted more than anything to share the pleasure with someone else.
    Looking around his room, and then peeking into the empty hallway just outside his bedroom door, he chuckled at the idea that he was in the presence of papal company. Wanting to ease the tension about the less than congenial meeting he’d just had with Father Carroll, the young priest indulged in a bit of whimsical humor for his own benefit, as he once again looked around the room with no great enthusiasm.
    All changes within the Church have to come from Rome, don’t they? he thought. Laughing out loud in spite of himself, he came to the conclusion that it wasn’t that funny. Father Poole threw his lone suitcase onto the bed and opened it. Stockings, underwear, extra white collar, prayer book, suspenders, belt, Bible, Book of Psalms, bottle of aspirin, crucifix, two bars of soap, rosary beads… .
    The priest suddenly recalled an advertisement from his childhood: “GRUBER’S TOILET SOAP.” He and his father used to read it as they passed by Dodson’s General Store in town to go