The Lance by George Vasil

Author:George Vasil [Vasil, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532044137
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2019-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Wake up! Wake up!”

Les slowly raised his weary head. “What?”

“Leslie Connery, wake up me boy!” The speaker carried a strong Irish accent. Les quickly wiped the sleep away from his eyes. When he saw who was in front of him his jaw dropped.

“What’s wrong, Leslie?”

“Father Flaherty?” Les guessed.

“Good to see you still recognize me after thirty years.”

“What are you doing here? This is a ship! We’re in the middle of the Aegean Sea!”

“Well, not the middle.”

“This isn’t real! This isn’t happening!” Les said as he looked around. He repeated himself two or three times, each time with a little less emphasis until it appeared that he had finally convinced himself. Then he looked up at his visitor. “You died ten years ago,” Les declared with unquestionable certitude, only to buckle at the last minute. “Didn’t you?”

“Fifteen.”

“So you aren’t real! This is just a dream!”

“Call it what you like; I’m here nonetheless.”

“So why I am dreaming about you?”

“It’s your dream, Leslie.”

“Well in that case, go away.”

“I can’t.”

“I thought you said this is my dream.”

“It certainly isn’t mine.”

Les groaned when he realized he couldn’t make the priest vanish.

“I see your exasperation, my boy,” the priest said. “Why don’t we have a little talk?”

Les bowed to what seemed to be the inevitable. “Yeah, why not? You’re not going away, and I’m not waking up,” he conceded with a surly grin.

“Do you go to Holy Mass, Leslie?”

Les chuckled. What else would a priest ask? “Eh, no.”

“Why not?”

“The wife,” Les answered after a brief delay. “She’s a Protestant.”

“That’s good.”

“Good? It doesn’t bother you that she’s not Catholic?”

“‘All who call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”

“How ecumenical of you.”

“Time is a great teacher. So, you go to services with your wife?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh, then sometimes you go by yourself?”

“No.”

“You don’t go much at all, do you?”

“Hardly ever.”

“I can see why not.”

Les felt strangely impressed by Father Flaherty’s compassion. “I’m glad you understand.”

“You’re a very wise and important man, Doctor Leslie Connery. You have acquired the knowledge of the centuries and more wealth than your father ever knew.”

“What are you driving at?”

“You’re a strong, self-made man. You have everything you need because of your own hard work. Never needed anyone’s help. You’re truly a rich man, Leslie.”

“I’m not a rich man,” Les retorted. “Well… I’m not a poor man.”

“Maybe you are a poor man.”

“What do you mean?”

“A rich man has all he needs, be it money, happiness, love. A poor man is needy.”

“Needy? Yeah, he needs money.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he needs something else. Maybe the man or woman with the most money is among the poorest of all.”

“That’s deep,” Les said mockingly.

“How about a story?”

“A story?”

“You seem pretty bored with the course of this dream so far so let’s liven it up a little.”

Les cringed. He remembered oh-too-well the torture of sitting through one of the good father’s endless yarns.

“Once there was a man, not unlike yourself, Leslie—”

“Of course,” Les said as he rolled his eyes.

“Let’s call him Leslie, for the sake of convenience.”

“Sure.”

“Now Leslie was a shepherd.

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