Irises Read online

  “Why do you do that?” Kate whispered.

  “What?” Mary continued drawing without lifting her eyes.

  “You start drawing as soon as you come in.”

  “It helps me,” Mary said.

  “Helps you what?”

  “It just helps me.”

  Kate considered Mary’s answer and then looked away. It was one of those Mary-like statements that she had learned to accept. “But can you actually doodle and listen to what the preacher says? Did you ever listen to Father’s sermons?”

  Mary’s answer came quickly, as if she had expected the question for a long time and was glad it had finally been asked. “Drawing helps me listen,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I even draw what I hear.”

  Kate wanted to ask what she meant by that, but at that moment, Simon came down the middle aisle and sat next to her. He squeezed her hand. “Hello,” he said. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had car trouble.”

  “Oh no!” Kate exclaimed a notch louder than she intended. Father had always urged people to use the time before the service to quiet their minds in silence. “What is it? Do you know?” she said in a softer tone. She couldn’t help noticing Simon was wearing the same shiny black suit and purple tie he had worn to Father’s funeral.

  “I don’t know,” Simon said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s probably the battery. It started when I jumped it. I haven’t done too well in the luck department lately.” He looked at Kate meaningfully and she understood that he was still sore.

  Wait until he hears about Stanford, she said to herself.

  Mrs. Alvarado began to play a lively piece on the organ with blaring sounds meant to resemble trumpets. That was the cue that the minister was approximately five minutes away from entering. Only the very daring would continue to speak after Mrs. Alvarado sounded the general warning. Kate glanced back quickly and saw that the church was nearly full, fuller than it had ever been for Father, it seemed.

  She had always enjoyed watching Mrs. Alvarado play the organ. Now the music stopped momentarily and Kate watched with affection as Mrs. Alvarado went through her ritual. First she pulled each finger of her hand until it cracked. Then she opened her black purse and fished out a wadded tissue with which she wiped the moist space between her upper lip and her nose. Finally, she straightened her back and placed her hands over the organ keys in a ready-to-strike position.

  Mrs. Alvarado began to play a somber piece, and the members of the choir walked down the aisle two by two in their maroon robes. The size of the choir varied from Sunday to Sunday. Today the choir had fifteen members, a high number, with thirteen women and two men.

  When all of the choir had found their places behind the organ, the back door opened and Reverend Soto entered the church. It seemed to Kate that he walked as if he owned the place. He swooped to the front of the altar with his white cassock billowing like a sail, made the smallest of bows before the golden cross, and then strode up the steps and sat down in back of the lectern.

  They all stood up to sing the first hymn. Simon held the hymnal for Kate, but Kate only mouthed the words. She was watching Reverend Soto. The only times she had talked with him were when he came to the house after Father died, when he prayed for Mama, and again after the funeral services. Now she was able to take a longer look at him. He was strong-looking and walked with self-assurance. There was a maturity about him, an aura of power and wisdom that she liked.

  Suddenly, as if he sensed he was being examined from afar, he lifted his eyes from the page and caught her looking at him. He smiled, and she looked down immediately, embarrassed.

  The service moved forward to the sermon. Reverend Soto stepped up to the lectern and began.

  “Jesus said, ‘If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.’ ” Reverend Soto paused and scanned the congregation. There was silence. “Now, what we have to ask ourselves is what Jesus meant by truth and why it will set us free. I’ll tell you what Jesus meant by truth. If you ‘continue in my word,’ Jesus said, ‘you will know the truth.’ To continue in His word is to obey His word. And what is Jesus’s word? It is love. Truth, then, is a response to His call of love.”

  Someone in back of the church said “Amen.” Kate saw Simon turn to see who it was. Reverend Soto continued, his voice softer now. “Elsewhere He says, ‘If any man wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and day by day let him take up his cross and follow me.’ Love is the denial of self. We must choose what is best for others first, regardless of whether it hurts us or not, regardless of whether it hurts them or not. For the truth of love may at times even require us to hurt the people we love. We need to be awakened, sometimes through pain, to recognize the true nature of love.”

  Kate moved closer to Simon. On her other side, Mary was drawing pointed geometric figures. She had said that sometimes she drew what she heard. Now Kate saw that maybe she had been telling the truth. When Father preached, Mary made circles within circles and designs the shape of petals, but the triangles and pointed shapes she was drawing now seemed to go hand in hand with the intense voice of Reverend Soto. He was certainly a more dynamic speaker than Father.

  “Now hear this: We don’t want to be awakened. We prefer to doze on with our weak love. This sentiment we call love is not love. It’s something else: obligation; duty; security; good, nice feelings. But Jesus calls for a love that engages our whole being, our mind and heart and body. This love I’m talking about is so great that it can’t possibly come from us.”

  Kate lost track of the sermon for a few moments. He had looked at her at the precise moment that he said the word love, and while it was surely a coincidence, something about this sent a shiver through her. Now he was talking about the nature of freedom and duty, and how they too related to love. “Love is not just what we are obligated to do. It is not just what we have to do. Love is also what we want to do. It is what we have to do and what we want to do with all the power of our being.”

  Kate tried to make sense of what he was saying, but it was hard for her to concentrate. As Reverend Soto preached, a few more people here and there in the congregation were saying “Amen,” pronouncing the word the Spanish way: Ahhh-men. A kind of electricity filled the air, or it traveled through her veins, she wasn’t sure which.

  “To be free, we must first recognize our own poverty, our own dependence. To receive His love, we must first see and feel our need for His love. And when His love is offered, it is up to us to obey. How do we know what He wants from us? He shows us His will in feelings, in images, in our peace, in our discomfort, in our restlessness, in the words of our friends and enemies, in signs only we can interpret. Where our heart is touched, there is His will. He uses the needs of others to show us what we must do.”

  A part of Kate wanted to move to the rhythm of Reverend Soto’s voice, while another part wanted to hold still, to hold the feeling in. She saw the people around her rapt, afraid to miss a single word from his lips. Some had their eyes closed. Some were nodding at his questions, and some were standing and raising their arms to heaven.

  “Ultimately, to be free, to accept the truth that will set us free, is to let the Spirit of God act through us. ‘If any man must follow me, let him deny himself and day by day take up his cross.’ That is the test of love, isn’t it? Am I denying myself? Am I putting others first? Am I taking up my daily cross? Am I giving myself away, day by day? To love is to be willing to sacrifice. That’s the truth! The truth of love, the truth of sacrifice, will set you free.”

  Kate remained very still. She saw Reverend Soto’s eyes fall on her again, and for a moment she felt as if he had spoken directly to her, as if the whole sermon had been meant for her, urging acceptance of a truth that was unlike any truth she had ever heard. She could feel Simon next to her, indecisive as to whether he should stand or remain seated, watching to see what she would do. Mary had begun to draw a chain of circles.

  Then the rhy
thm of Reverend Soto’s voice became slower and a hush descended on the church. He spoke in a soft tone, almost a whisper. “I will make you this promise: For however long I am with you, I will always tell you the truth. Truth is what I’m here for. I know some of you think I’m too young and inexperienced. ‘What does he know of truth?’ you ask. But truth does not have anything to do with age or experience. It is God’s truth that I convey, not mine. That’s where my confidence and strength come from. I am but a vehicle for God’s truth.”

  Reverend Soto paused and waited for total silence. Then he went on, looking directly at Kate and Mary. “I want to acknowledge here before his daughters all the good that Reverend Romero did for this church. We are all indebted to him for his life, the same he gave to this church. We are grateful for his kindness. He was a sweet man, a saintly man. I ask that you not judge me by the standards he set. I’m not here to be sweet or saintly. I’m here to tell you the truth, and the truth is harsh sometimes.”

  Someone in the back yelled “Amen,” and then Reverend Soto sat down while the usher took up the collection. When the service was over, he walked down the aisle and smiled at Kate as he passed her.

  They waited for Mrs. Alvarado’s music to end and then they stood. Kate saw in Mary’s face an unusual expression of anger. She was sure that Mary was upset about what Reverend Soto had said about Father. Had not Father also told the congregation the truth? Mary wadded the piece of paper she had been drawing on and dropped it on the pew.

  “That was some sermon, huh?” Simon said as they filed into the aisle.

  “Yeah, some sermon,” Kate responded absentmindedly. She felt disoriented, confused. If the sermon was directed at her, what was he trying to tell her?

  “I’m going out the back way,” Mary said. “I’ll meet you at home .”

  “Okay.” Kate wished she too could skip the greeting. Already she saw people coming to talk to her.

  Mr. Cisneros was the first to approach her. He was in his late seventies, and whenever possible, he had driven Father to his pastoral visits so he wouldn’t have to take a cab. Father called him his right-hand man. He gave Kate a hug and shook Simon’s hand. “We haven’t seen you since the funeral. We were worried,” he said loudly. Mr. Cisneros was totally deaf in one ear and had a hearing aid in the other.

  “Thank you,” Kate said. “How have you been, Mr. Cisneros?” She called him Mr. Cisneros despite years of his insisting that she call him Manny.

  “Oh, not the same since your father died. I don’t have nothing to do. I used to feel useful when he was around.”

  “I’m sure Reverend Soto can find something for you to do.”

  “Pssh,” Mr. Cisneros said, as if swatting a fly from his face. “Everyone here seems to be gaga over him. I like my ministers to be a little older. I think I’m going to go back to being a Catholic. These Holy Rollers are too much for me.” People in front of them turned around to look at them. Everyone in the church probably heard Mr. Cisneros’s statement. Simon laughed outright. Kate smiled and put her index finger to her lips.

  “Oh, who cares who hears me?” Mr. Cisneros winked first at Kate and then at Simon. “If you want me to take you anyplace, you or Mary, you let me know — I mean, if this young man is not available. It’ll give me something to do.” Mr. Cisneros winked again and exited through the back door.

  All the longtime members of the church came to greet Kate and Simon. The line moved slowly. The greetings were, as Kate suspected, laced with curiosity. “What are you girls going to do now? Will you go live with your aunt? How will you be able to take care of Catalina?”

  “We’re going to be okay,” Kate answered. She tried to avoid answering the questions directly. She was aware that many of the questioners automatically thought that Kate would marry Simon and Simon would take care of them. People like Simon, Kate thought. It was funny that she had never valued that before. People saw them as perfect for each other.

  Mrs. Alvarado closed up the organ, came up the side aisle, and crossed over to talk to them. She expressed her hope that Kate would once again join the choir like old times. “Now more than ever,” Mrs. Alvarado went on, “you need to sing. In singing you can express your sorrow.”

  “I’ll think about it. I promise you,” Kate told her. She remembered how hard it had been to get out of the choir in the first place.

  “Simon.” Mrs. Alvarado grabbed Simon’s arm. “Convince her to come back to choir. You’ve heard her sing. And you should come, too! We have hardly any men, as you can see.”

  “I sing like a frog,” Simon said, laughing.

  “Well, then you’ll sing bass.” Then, turning to Kate, she exclaimed, “God, what a sermon! We’re all hoping that Reverend Soto can stay with us. He’s something else, isn’t he?”

  Kate nodded.

  With that, Mrs. Alvarado said good-bye. Reverend Soto was two couples away.

  “What’s bass?” Simon asked.

  “Someone whose voice sounds like a frog,” Kate quipped.

  Being tall and thin, Reverend Soto hunched over as he shook people’s hands. He straightened up as soon as Kate stepped in front of him. She felt his penetrating gaze travel to the pit of her stomach. He took her hand in his two hands and it seemed to her his hands were unusually warm.

  Kate’s mind went blank. She thought about telling him what a great sermon he gave but she wasn’t sure how she felt about the sermon. He was still holding on to her hand, and a current of electricity ran through her again. It was Reverend Soto who spoke first.

  “Kate,” he said. “Welcome. I’m glad you came.” His voice was softer and more personal than the voice he used in his sermon. Then he let go of her hand and cordially shook Simon’s before turning back to her. “I would like to come to your house for a visit,” he said. “It would be good to talk. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you and your sister since the funeral.”

  “Okay,” she said tentatively.

  “How about next Wednesday evening, say, seven p.m.?”

  “I work,” Kate said.

  “You can get off early,” Simon said to Kate. Then to Reverend Soto, he said, “She works at one of my restaurants.”

  “Thank you,” Reverend Soto said to Simon. “Then I’ll see you at seven,” he said to Kate.

  Kate could feel the people behind her growing impatient. She had taken more time than was permissible under the rules of church courtesy. “I’ll see you then,” she said. She moved on, still thinking about that touch, that look.

  Outside on the steps of the church, Simon asked, “It’s okay if I said you could get off early, wasn’t it? I just blurted it out. I didn’t even think that maybe you didn’t want to talk to him. I guess you have to talk to him since he’s the pastor.”

  Oh, Simon, she thought. How can you be so dense?

  Mary snuck out the back of the church before anyone could see her. She always liked going to church. Despite what Kate thought, she paid attention to everything that happened during the service. The drawing that she did only deepened her concentration for what was taking place, and she felt close to Papa whenever she listened to his sermons.

  But now she was angry. Anger was an emotion she wasn’t used to feeling but that had begun to creep up more frequently. It had popped up sometimes when she thought about Kate going off to Stanford and leaving her alone with Mama, and it almost exploded today at the end of Reverend Soto’s sermon. Reverend Soto said that Papa was a sweet and saintly man, but he said it as if Papa’s sweetness kept him from telling the truth or speaking about the evil and suffering that existed in the world. Besides, he had spoken without any knowledge of Papa. Sweet was not a word she would ever use for him. Papa was kind, and that was different.

  Mary got home to find Aunt Julia waiting impatiently for her. She wanted to leave for Mass early so she could get a good seat. She called a cab and then went into the bathroom to freshen up. It would have been easier for her to keep all her cosmetics and other beauty aids on Mama’s d
resser in the bedroom, but she preferred to store her things in the small wall cabinet in the bathroom. Mary had tried to understand what made her so afraid of being around Mama. The only thing she could think of was that Mama reminded Aunt Julia of death, and that was scary for some people.

  Mary looked out the front window and watched Aunt Julia hurry to the cab and climb in the back. Lately, Aunt Julia seemed restless, as if she were itching to go back home as soon as possible. Mary hoped the insurance money would make Aunt Julia want to stay with her and Mother, since Kate was planning to go away. Aunt Julia’s not so bad, she thought. But she wasn’t sure she truly believed that.

  Mary went into Mama’s room and propped her head up with pillows. She did that a few times a day to change the position of her spine. Then she turned on the overhead light as well as the lamp next to the bed. The curtains were closed, so only the pale light from the lightbulbs fell on Mama’s face. She reminded Mary of someone in a painting by El Greco, someone whose face glowed with light and shadow all at once. She wondered if she had captured that glow in the portrait of Mama she had done. At that moment, Mama had her eyes open, but they did not focus on Mary or anything else. In her portrait, Mama’s eyes were focused on a distant point, as if she were contemplating angels hovering above her.

  She heard a knock at the door and hurried to the front room. The front door was closed, so Kate must have gotten locked out. Mary opened the door and jumped back a step when she saw Mr. Lucas and Mr. Acevedo in their black Sunday suits. The kids at church called Mr. Lucas the Scarecrow because he looked like a brown version of the character in The Wizard of Oz. Mr. Acevedo was known as Humpty Dumpty behind his back on account of his round shape.

  It was Mr. Lucas who spoke first. “Hello, Mary. May we come in?”

  Mary looked at him and then at Mr. Acevedo. There was not even a hint of a smile on their faces. They had seemed happier at Papa’s funeral than they did now.