Book of Q - Jonathan Rabb - Hardcover

Chapter 1 Rome, August 2000 The smell of incense hung in the air, strong and sweet within the confines of the church of San Clemente. A summer rain had caught most of the gathering unawares, dank heat compacted within the stone and marble walls, hats and hands turned to fans so as to combat the humidity. Even the mosaics above, ocher reds and greens, seemed to glisten in the heat. Usually left open, the nave was set with row after row of chairs directly behind the schola cantorum, the choir seats filled with boys in white robes. On occasion, a small hand slowly lifted to brush away a pool of perspiration; otherwise, the boys remained perfectly still as they listened to the Latin Mass for Monsignor Sebastiano Ruini. A voice rose from the altar in doleful Latin, its singular cadence lulling the crowd to sleep. Father Ian Pearse sat on the left-hand side in the second-to-last row. He was using his program to fend off the heat, his thoughts on the multiple strands of sweat racing down his back. Truth to tell, he hadn't really known Ruini, had seen him only once or twice at the Vatican Library -- a man fascinated with fourth-century architecture, on a three-month dig somewhere in Turkey up until a few weeks ago -- enough of an acquaintance, though, to merit an appearance at his funeral. It was the same with most of the congregation, fellow clergy whose time in Rome was spent less with matters of faith than with scholarship. Each might have been hard-pressed to distinguish between the two, but theirs was a different kind of service to God, one without the desire to tend a flock. It had been the perfect place to come for a young priest restless in his small Boston parish. But perhaps restless was the wrong word. Uneasy. Uncertain. The questions in Bosnia had never really gone away. How could they have? Petra had stopped writing a couple of months after he'd gotten back -- he'd made his decision; she was making hers. All ties cut. It only made the numbness more acute. Mom and Dad had told him that he needed to go back for her, figure it all out. No ulterior motive this time. They just wanted him happy. Instead, he'd gone down to South Bend, played the young alum, worked out with the team, put on the ten pounds he'd lost. Best shape of his life. Still, that same emptiness. So he'd called Jack and Andy. Little brother in need of help. Jack had been studying for orals; Andy had been three weeks into a Harvard philosophy Ph.D. They'd both dropped everything and met him out on the Cape. A week at the old summer house. Nights on the beach with more cases of beer than any of them cared to remember. And, of course, the mandatory midnight swim their last night together. "This is fucking freezing, Padre." It was Jack's little joke. The Padres had been the one team to show any real interest in Pearse during college. Jack liked the irony. Less so the cold water. "You get on a plane and you find her. Trust me. Situation solved." Jack had a way of spelling things out for you. Ever since his two younger brothers had eclipsed his more than respectable six-foot-even, Jack had asserted his primacy in other ways. The words trust me were a favorite. As ever, Pearse was trying to float on his back, his eyes locked on the stars. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the shriveled balls theory of resolution." Andy let out a laugh and immediately sucked in a mouthful of water. Blessed with an Adonis-like build-six foot four, 220 pounds-he didn't have an ounce of athletic talent to go with it. He began to cough up water as he tried to stay afloat. "You drowning on us, Lurch?" asked Pearse. "I'll let you know." "At least I've got some," Jack piped in. Pearse laughed. "And this from a man who's getting a Ph.D." "Well, it is freezing." Jack began to backstroke his way to shore. &quRabb, Jonathan is the author of 'Book of Q - Jonathan Rabb - Hardcover' with ISBN 9780609604830 and ISBN 060960483X.