In the Shadows of Freedom by C & C Spellman & C Spellman

Author:C & C Spellman & C Spellman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: religious fiction, dystopian, christian novel, catholic fiction, faith fiction, dystopian fiction, dystopian novel, god and faith, religious novels, dystopian christian
Publisher: C & C Spellman

Chapter Thirteen

Unveiling the Painting

Amanda arrived at 5th Avenue, between 50th and 51st, the next morning and found St. Patrick’s even more stunning in the early-morning radiance. She paused on the sidewalk, admiring the cathedral, awash in sunshine.

Inside, she paused for a moment in front of the Pieta, one of the cathedral’s prized works of art. The Virgin held the dead body of her Son in her arms. They were two figures, but the sculptor had fashioned them as a unified composition: so interconnected that they were almost one. She could understand that. She knew well the bond between a mother and child … and the pain that came when death severed that bond. The anguish and devastation Amanda carried inside, she saw reflected back on the Virgin’s face. But something else was there too, evident beneath her veil. The Virgin wore a look of peace, of resignation. Amanda shook her head and backed away. How could anyone find peace when she literally looked death in the face?

She found Morgan in a front pew, praying. She sat in the pew behind him, taking in the beautiful resplendence of the building.

He then made the Sign of the Cross and turned around, facing her. “Good morning, Amanda.”

His greeting was a bit more subdued than usual, his smile not quite so wide. She sat up a little straighter in the pew and peered at him. “Hey, Morgan. Everything okay?”

“I just have a lot on my mind today.”

“Work stuff? Still hard?”

“Something like that. But how are you? What brings you here today?”

“I don’t know actually. I just needed somewhere to go and think. Somewhere peaceful … My apartment isn’t the most welcoming place right now.” She shuddered a little. “You know, as I’m sitting here, looking around, I can see why it’s your favorite place. From an entirely aesthetic standpoint, the cathedral is very impressive.”

“I’m grateful that you’ve had the opportunity to experience it.”

“I might stop in here again. Not to pray, but just to be here.”

They began to walk down the aisle together.

“It’s kind of an oasis in the center of New York,” she said.

“I spend hours just being present here. Words aren’t even needed.”

Outside, they lingered on the sidewalk.

Morgan faced her. “How did things go at the Met yesterday?”

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you about that.”

“How about we take a walk to Central Park? There won’t be many more beautiful mornings like this.”

“Okay.”

The trees lining the park revealed hints of autumn colors: auburn, gold, and crimson. It seemed odd that there could be such beauty in something that was dying. The air felt cooler today, and she wrapped her corduroy jacket closer around her.

Morgan glanced at her. “So tell me about Portrait of a Mother.”

“The experience wasn’t what I expected. I kind of enjoyed it—I just sat and thought about her.”

“What did you learn?”

“I’m not certain I learned anything about her, per se. I suppose it’s more of a feeling. You were right: I could understand the painting better once I stopped trying to conquer it.

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