The Miracle by Irving Wallace

Author:Irving Wallace [Irving Wallace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Bernadette, Saint, 1844-1879, Foreign correspondents, Women journalists
Publisher: New York : E.P. Dutton
Published: 1984-11-12T05:00:00+00:00

She strode up to Father Ruland, and, indeed, he appeared to be expecting her.

"Father," she said, "I'm Liz Finch. Perhaps you remember that the good bishop suggested I speak to you about Bernadette."

Father Ruland's mouth crooked slightly. "Yes, Miss Finch, I do remember."

"Perhaps you can spare me a few minutes now, or would you rather I make an appointment for later?"

"Miss Finch, crowded as my calendar is with appointments, I think I can fit you in right now for fifteen or twenty minutes, if that will do?"

"It will do fine."

"Follow me."

She trailed his imposing figure off" the platform and went with him as he entered an austere office. The priest signaled Liz to the chair in front of the desk, then stood at the desk reaching into a jacket pocket "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Not if you don't mind if I do." She sat, digging into her purse, came up with her packet and shook free a cigarette and put her lighter to it. He'd found his box of cigarillos and busied himself putting a match to one.

She held her gaze on him, trying to assess him. If he had not become a priest, he might have been a matinee idol. He was much too male and attractive to be wasted on cehbacy. His long sandy hair and eyelashes, the faintly Mongolian cast to his eyes, the sensuous lips, really too much. But there was more, she sensed. A suavity colored by a brush of cynicism. Perhaps a pohtician priest, as well as a historian. Surely a worldly priest. But what was he doing, then, cooped up in a provincial tank town like Lourdes? Why not in Rome and in the Holy See itself? But then she realized that Lourdes was more than a tank town, far more, a notable adjunct to the Vatican in fact. Here was also where the action was, especially in this elongated week, a municipal stage for exposure and action. The Pope would know who his most effective servants were. Presently, for certain, this Father Ruland would wind up in Rome where he belonged.

Liz came out of her reverie to realize that Father Ruland was seated across from her, puffing his cigarillo, and contemplating her with mild amusement.

She was briefly disconcerted. She sat up, taking one more pull at her cigarette, leaning forward to grind it out in a ceramic ashtray on the desk. "I—I am glad you could see me. Father. Perhaps I'd better tell you exactly who I am, what I do, and what I'm after in Lourdes."

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