The Eighth Sacrament Page 2

  Rod replied equably. "Elijah's going to be fine. Leave him to me for awhile. He and I go back a pretty long ways, too, you know."

  ***

  To Carolyn, it was like pushing Elijah out of the nest all over again, but she had to do it. He'd kept his promise and remained clean. He really wanted to get back on track and graduate with all his friends. She, like the poor widow in the Old Testament, had used the last of her meal and oil to make a cake for the prophet, while her marriage and everything else in her life languished like the poor widow's son. All she could do was hold her breath and hope that her Elijah, like his prophet namesake, might somehow, by his recovery and by the future she knew he could have, breathe the breath of life back into Carolyn's world.

  Three days before he was to register for classes, Elijah set off in his truck and headed south and west towards Mawne. He spent most of the drive trying to formulate what he would say when he inevitably ran into Irene come Fall. He was fairly certain that she would not be taking any classes during the summer, but he knew she'd be working her job at Mawne's agricultural station. Luckily, the ag station was somewhat removed from the campus proper, but he knew that her boss also had an office near the student center, right in the heart of campus, so he'd have to be careful.

  "I'm sorry," seemed to be as far as he could get with his rehearsed speech. There seemed to be nothing else to add.

  Night began falling as he reached the outskirts of town, and by the time he turned onto Rod's street, the sun was a sultry red ball perched precariously on the southwestern horizon. He parked in front of Rod's apartment, and rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment that seemed filled with tiredness and self-doubt. A light flicked on in the apartment in recognition of his arrival. A duffel bag on the passenger seat of the truck contained his most vital possessions, and he uprighted it ready to haul inside. Because of the gathering darkness, he failed to notice the wallet-sized photograph of Irene as it fell out of the bag and slipped silently underneath the seat of the truck. It would be 1988 before he found it.

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