"And how much do you make for your healing hands?" Emily snapped.
"Nothing. We ask for sponsors, to cover travel expenses, nothing more. If someone wants to give us a gift, we donate it to a local charity in that community. We don't believe in taking money for what God gives us freely."
"Can you do that for my mother?"
"If she wants. I'll ask her." He put his hand on Emily's shoulder. "We're the real deal," he said softly, gazing into her eyes. "We have faith in God, and the skills he gave us. We heal people, Emily."
"Will you heal my mom?" she gasped, a sob escaping her.
"If she wants it. We can't do anything, unless the patient asks."
"Why not?"
"Because they need to believe they've received it."
"We'll ask her," Obi said, gazing into her eyes.
"You should consider joining us," Father Elvis said.
"I don't have the skill for it," Obi said quietly.
"Nonsense. You're a strong healer, you just don't know it. We'll talk."
Prescott was waiting by the front door. They walked out with Father Elvis, whose car was near theirs.
Obi got in back, sitting behind Emily, who scooted her seat up for him. She tried to get him to sit up front, but he refused.
"My mother would smack me, if I even considered getting in the front," he said with a grin.
"Fine. I don't want to be responsible for that."
"My cranium and I thank you."
Father Flannery bid them farewell.
"Thanks again, Father Elvis," Emily said, giving him a hug.
"You're welcome, Emily." He kissed her on top of the head, murmuring something.
Emily didn't seem to hear, but Obi did. It was Latin, asking for God's blessings and healing. He hung back a moment as Prescott helped her into the car.
"Healing?" Tipping his head, he repeated the phrase.
"We all need it," Father Elvis replied. "For Emily, it's not physical, but emotional. Not just her mother's illness has her upset."
"Thank you." He held out his hand. "I appreciate your help and prayers, Father."
"You're welcome—Father."
Back home, Obi walked into the sound of laughter and the scents of a delicious feast. No one was out front, so he assumed they were all in the kitchen. Kicking off his shoes, he wandered back. Clive was pouring Emily a glass of wine. He poured another for Obi.
"To family, friends, and good health," he said, raising his glass.
Repeating his toast, they clinked glasses before taking a sip.
"It was good to see Father Elvis," Prescott said with a smile. "How's he doing?"
"Very well. He helped me give Wanda the sacrament for the sick."
"He's a good man," Hester said. "He grew up in our neighborhood, but he was enough older, you boys weren't in school with him."
"He had to do a project on various religions," Prescott said, topping off their glasses. "He came to our service, and had a long chat with me afterward. He's a very astute fellow."
"I've always liked him," Obi said. "We served on a citywide panel of religious leaders, a couple years ago. He and I were seated next to one another, and found we had a lot in common. He kept offering to Baptize me into the Catholic faith." He laughed, shaking his head.
"You ready for your sermon tomorrow?" Eagle asked their father.
"I sure am. I expect you all in the front row."
"Like we were for our entire youths," Obi replied.
"Unless we were in the band, or choir," Clive added.
"I wondered why you all opted to be musicians," Prescott frowned, a smile tugging his lips.
"We could hide behind the partition, instead of having to be out front for everyone to stare at. I hated being on display," Eagle said with a shudder.
"Try being the man at the pulpit," Obi countered. "See how many people stare at you then."
"Woof—no thanks! I can't even imagine speaking in front of a bunch of people."
"Congregations aren't as bad as other religious," Prescott said. "Have you had to do that, Son?" he asked Obi.
"I belonged to a religious panel which required each of us to speak at least once a year. More often than not, the person assigned would cop out at the last minute, and I'd get a topic handed to me—as I walked in. More than once, I got up there and winged it. Luckily, I have my sermons memorized, and they cover a wide range of topics. Only one time, I got handed—" he paused, thinking. "What was it? Oh yes, Love Thy Neighbor – as applies to all those around you. I drew a blank, until I remembered Dad's Love Thy Brother Speech. I changed it up a little, and used it."
"What's the Love Thy Brother Speech?" Emily asked.
The brothers laughed.
"We had a tendency to smack each other around," Eagle said. "So Dad gave us that speech whenever we drew blood."
"So—roughly every other week," Clive added with a grin.
"It's a corker," Prescott said. "Calls upon brotherly love, Bible quotes, and a bunch of other good stuff. One of my best, if I may say so."
"The others thought so. Because of that speech, I got handed the job of preparing the next one, as well. It was good experience, though. And I met some great people. We had a sister city in Florida, and I got to fly down there to meet those priests. It was a good time."
"I can't imagine finding a bunch of other priests a good time," Eagle snarked, shaking his head.
©Dellani Oakes 2023
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