*Part 15A is a letter found folded within this page*
Monday, 29 Nov. 1999
Dear God. How do I face this? How do I write this? I've not even been able to speak of it. I knew that the moment I opened my mouth to mention it, my throat would constrict, no sound would come but strangled gasps. I should have gone to San Francisco. My friends need me, Kat needs me, but I'm frozen. I can do nothing. I offer Mass by rote, I give absolution by rote, I pray by rote, I eat by rote. If I divert from that constant path, I shall be lost. I shall fall off the edge of the world. I never realised how much of my own "being" was bound to the fact that Derek Rayne existed on this earth.
When I walked away from the Legacy, and from Derek, I was so sure that I was sure. I wanted the certainty of absolute faith. I couldn't bear the doubt any longer. How could we know that what we did was right? So much pain all around us - that's all we ever brought to those we loved - pain and death. A parish priest offers comfort to the sick, the bereaved, blesses weddings and the happy results of weddings. The Legacy seemed to bring nothing but death, horror, and blood. They are judge, jury, and executioner.
But it was more than that - my doubts had become so great that I was a flaw to be exploited. How could I place myself at Nick's back, or Derek's, knowing that I was the weak link, the chink in the armour? I think Derek knew. I had hoped that he understood, but from the letter I received today, I'm not sure he did. He never tried to force me back. He never even tried to persuade me. Never any anger. All I sensed was disappointment, which he cloaked behind that inscrutable mask of his.
Was I hiding in my faith? Was I so certain that a prayer here, a shoulder to cry on there could save a soul? Was it even one tiny step toward saving a soul, or was it an easy way out? Something that didn't need explaining. In his letter Derek asked me, "Will faith alone save the drowning man or will you yourself jump into the maelstrom to save him or drown with him?" Was I so busy salving my conscience, and my ego, by comforting a panic stricken wife that I made her a widow by failing to rescue her drowning husband? God have mercy on my soul.
What if I had gone to Ireland? Would Julia have survived? Derek came as close to begging as I'd ever seen him. God forgive me, my arrogance enjoyed turning him away. I've confessed that sin a dozen times over, done penance, and yet I did it again when Jane Witherspoon asked for help. In bitter arrogance I told her that I'd chosen to fight evil with my faith and that she would have to rely on her own people. Her own people, and Jane herself, ended up dead - Jane, Chris, Kristin, Kristin's young brother, Ethan. I was so arrogant in the strength of my faith - that my faith was a weapon. God, was myy pride in my faith the weapon that the Darkside used to decimate the Boston House? What if I had helped, then decided to return to San Francisco? Could my presence have made the difference? Would my friend be alive?
Derek said faith and compassion are the twin pillars of Christianity, of humanity. Without being sincere in both, both were shams. So what do I do now? The more I pray, the emptier the world seems - just as the more I fought, the more bottomless the grief and fear seemed and the more gargantuan the doubt became.
If only it had been me. Why did God allow such a force for Light to sacrifice
himself, and leave one such as me behind? Pax tecum, my dear friend. My our Lord
and all his Heavenly Hosts see you safely home.
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