Now and at the Hour of Our Death

By JSB Morse

THE CHOICE TO BELIEVE IS YOURS. IT'S THE ONLY THING THAT TRULY IS.

Mary Credence wants to be a modern day Joan of Arc battling the skeptical world around her. But when the ardent virgin finds herself pregnant, she's thrust into a much bigge

• Language: English
• Publisher: Code Publishing
• Release date: Mar 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781600200779

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NOW and at

the HOUR of

our DEATH

JSB MORSE

Now and at the Hour of Our Death

www.code-interactive.com/publishing

This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are entirely fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the entirely fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Joseph Morse

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by New Classic Books, an imprint of Code Publishing.

For distribution opportunities, please contact [e-mail].

ISBN 1-60020-054-0

978-1-60020-054-0

First Edition

for Gina Maria

who showed me belief

Miraculous wine will intoxicate, miraculous conception will lead to pregnancy, inspired books will suffer all the ordinary processes of textual corruption, miraculous bread will be digested. The divine art of miracle is not an art of suspending the pattern to which events conform

but of feeding new events into that pattern.

-CS Lewis in Miracles

PART I

PERICARDIAL

On the seventh of October, 2012, the Feast of the Holy Rosary, a group of believers were gathered in the so-called United Hearts field at an ecumenical shrine in Lorain County, Ohio. They were to listen to a message by the organizers and to witness a promised miracle, though they did not know what to expect in the way of the miracle. At three o’clock p.m., an organizer began reading a message over a PA system to the rain-soaked crowd of hundreds. The message was political in nature and gave weight to the upcoming national election.

Three minutes into the message, after the speaker said, You must not have hatred in your hearts, the onlookers began to cry out in surprised awe and point upward. They saw a cloud that resembled an illustrated heart forming in front of the sun. Moments later, onlookers were surprised to see what looked like another heart-shaped cloud formed in front of the sun, linked to the other by wisps of cloud. Together, they appeared to be united hearts.

This event mirrored a more dramatic celestial event witnessed by an estimated 100,000 people on October 13, 1917 in Fátima, Portugal. The crowd had gathered in order to experience a miracle predicted by three young shepherd children from the area. The children stated that the Mother of God would reveal herself to those present at high noon on that day.

According to many witnesses, dark clouds broke after a period of rain, and the sun appeared as an opaque, spinning disc in the sky. It was said to be significantly duller than normal, and to cast multicolored lights across the landscape, the people, and the surrounding clouds. The sun was then reported to have careened toward the earth in a zigzag pattern, frightening those who saw it as a sign of the end of the world. According to historian João de Marchi, witnesses reported that their previously wet clothes became suddenly and completely dry, as well as the wet and muddy ground that had been previously soaked because of the rain that had been falling.

Several accounts from various witnesses, including secular journalists and a professor of natural sciences from the local university, reported the same spectacle, which has been dubbed the Miracle of the Sun and accepted as a miracle by the Catholic Church. De Marchi reported that the witnesses, included believers and non-believers, pious old ladies and scoffing young men. Hundreds, from these mixed categories, have given formal testimony. Reports do vary; impressions are in minor details confused, but none to our knowledge has directly denied the visible prodigy of the sun.

When asked why the miracle would happen, the three shepherd children reported, So that all may believe.

Maybe I’ll be a martyr.

The thought came in a flash like so many similar thoughts had, but instead of flitting away, it persisted. Throughout her seventeen years, Mary Credence had always known she was destined for something great. It wasn’t a drive or an urgent will to do something monumental and substantial that she harbored, just a peaceful confidence that she would. Whether it was becoming the first female President of the United States, doing missionary work like Mother Teresa, or consecrating herself to God, she always had some different vision of greatness for herself. But at the most unlikely of times—as she was heading back to her parents’ Easter ball with her sister—greatness appeared to her as martyrdom.

Mary subconsciously brought her fingers to the dime-sized sterling silver medal that hung on a dainty chain around her neck. The medal contained the impression of a young woman carrying a sword complemented by the words Saint Joan of Arc Pray for Us encircling the small likeness.

Saint Joan of Arc was great, Mary thought, and she was only a few years older when she was martyred. To Mary, being martyred—burned at the stake—for your beliefs was the most profound form of devotion and certainly a path to greatness.

Mary’s far-off look of lofty yearning annoyed her sister. Oh, my god, Hannah complained in a nasally tone. Are you, like, daydreaming of going to church or something?

Mary shook herself out of her reverie and turned to her sister. What? No. Of course, she couldn’t just tell her sister what she was thinking, there in the upstairs hallway with hundreds of friends and socialites a floor below them. Aspirations of martyrdom weren’t the type of things Hannah would have understood. No doubt she would have thought her little sister was losing her ever-loving mind.

Hannah stared at her sister as the two walked slowly through the upstairs hall toward the home’s back staircase. Mary was perfectly composed without a single wave of golden hair misplaced or a visible imperfection on her fair skin. She wore no makeup aside from a swipe of mascara and a light rose lip balm, but her face glowed with a natural radiance that was impossible to ignore. She had always been fashionable, helped by a never-ending wardrobe provided by her father, and that night was no exception. Sheer scalloped lace trimmings around her neckline held up her stunning yellow Empire-waist dress, which would have looked immodest on a more voluptuous woman but which was fitting on Mary’s slender figure.

So, like, can you maybe grow a zit every once in awhile for these parties? Hannah sneered.

Mary tried to decipher the compliment but couldn’t.

I mean, you’re never going to hook up with any of these guys, so you should, like, grow zits so none of them fall into your little trap. Hannah laughed off the comment so as to not sound too antagonistic.

What are you talking about?.

Right, you don’t tease boys, I forgot, Hannah snapped.

I don’t tease! Mary shot back.

Yeah, right, tell that to what’s his face.

Who?

Your little boyfriend, Ethan.

He’s not my boyfriend! Mary contested.

Did he know that when y’all went to the spring dance together?

Yes. I made it perfectly clear that we were just going as friends.

Sure, whatever, Hannah said with a shrug.

Hannah exhaled audibly through her nose and looked down as the two stopped at the top of the stairs, which curved down to the kitchen. Hannah and Mary’s parents’ parties usually consisted of clients and other important people, but that year’s celebration included an influx of dignitaries and donors involved with their father’s United States senatorial campaign. Those guests stayed in the front of the house and the great room. However, most of the young people and the sisters’ friends congregated in the kitchen. Sounds of cheering guests, clinking glasses, and boisterous laughing floated up from the party, filling the air under the vaulted ceilings.

Speak of the devil, Hannah said, spotting Ethan Cooper downstairs. He appeared to be assaulting a female guest with his puckered lips.

Mary shrugged.

Are you jealous? Hannah asked.

Mary shook her head, trying to assess the scene.

Evidently, he gave up hooking up for Lent and now that it’s Easter, he’s putting the moves on every girl he sees.

Gross! Mary exclaimed.

I know. As if he’s Ryan Gosling or something. Totally revolting. Hannah eyed the young man with a wisp of a smile.

Mary looked at her sister, glad that it seemed they had found some common ground, then offered, Well, shall we?

It’s what I live for, darling, Hannah said in a faux British accent.

The Credence sisters glided elegantly down the dark brown marble staircase leading to the foyer. The exterior of their parents’ home had been designed in a Venetian revival style in the 1920s—popular for the exclusive gated Shadyside community of central Houston in which the house was nestled. The interior, however, was a richly appointed combination of light marble and dark wood trim and furniture. Bright green palm fronds grew out of large planters scattered throughout the kitchen, and brushed metal chandeliers emanated warm light through ornate and colorful stained glass.

Welcoming smiles and rhetorical compliments from the loquacious guests greeted the Credence girls as they landed on the ground floor.

Here they are!

Hey, beautiful . . . .

Here comes trouble.

Hannah! Ethan Cooper shouted, noticeably ignoring Mary.

Hannah lowered her head and raised her eyebrows, giving Ethan a don’t-you-dare look.

Come here, come here! Ethan wore his voluminous black hair and his finely tailored suit in an intentionally disheveled manner—a style he had picked up from fellow boarding schoolers who wanted to display wealth but also a nonchalance about it that no one who had actually earned his wealth would show. He wrapped his arm around Hannah and raised his glass to the group around him. It’s effin’ Easter! He whooped enthusiastically but was careful enough to maintain a slightly mocking tone. Where Jesus came back from the dead to get some more of that gefilte fish!

You’re so right, Ethan, Hannah replied reluctantly. You must be a theologian or something. Others welcomed the chance to cheer and take a sip from their bubbly drinks.

It’s your lucky day, Hannah, Ethan said.

Why’s that?

I’m sure your sister told you that I gave up hooking up with girls for Lent. Now that it’s Easter, you’re finally allowed to make out with me. I know you’ve been waiting patiently for the last six weeks to lay one on me.

Hannah burst out laughing. Yeah, because I couldn’t stop dreaming about you for the last forty days.

I know you couldn’t, Hannah, that’s why I’m allowing you one little peck. He pointed to his cheek. But just one.

Yeah, okay, I can’t wait to fulfill your dirty little fantasies about me, Hannah said with a smirk. It’s probably what you think about all night, huh?

You know I hate offering my lips to people like you—you know, the lower class— he said with a nasal, snotty air, "—the les misérables. But I will make an exception in your case."

Mary watched with a grimace. What are they doing? she wondered. Each person in the exchange was saying the exact opposite of what they meant. How can they keep all the layers of sarcasm straight? How do they know what the other is really thinking? So bizarre.

You’re so cool, Coop, Hannah lied. I’m so super impressed that you could pretend to give up hooking up for six weeks. I’m so turned on right now.

If you only knew how hard it’s been, Ethan whimpered. What’d you give up? Shopping? He looked Hannah up and down, implying that she had outdated clothing. He knew exactly how to insult her. It kinda looks like that.

Tersely, Hannah responded, No, I gave up selling meth out of our basement, of course.

Ugh, Mary thought. The sarcasm was unbearable. Can someone be martyred by drowning in sarcasm? Death by sarcasm?

You’re not going to kiss me? Ethan asked.

Hannah didn’t answer, but her twisted face said that he’d have a better chance of hooking up with a supermodel than her.

Ethan turned to Mary, angling Hannah out of the conversation and causing her to seethe. So, Mary, it’s been a while. You’re looking foxadelic tonight—

Fine! Hannah said, digging her index finger into Ethan’s jacketed chest and returning his attention to her. One kiss . . . on my cheek.

Ethan turned back to Hannah with a gotcha grin. Oh, of course, I wouldn’t be imprudent, he said, mocking a tone of stern gravity.

He wasted no time in leaning toward Hannah with his most suave look, aiming his mouth at her cheek, and then suddenly redirecting his face and planting a kiss on her lips. Hannah flinched, but she didn’t retract as their friends let out whoops of excitement around them.

Mouth agape, Mary stared in shocked horror as her sister opened her lips and let her tongue mingle with Ethan’s, giving the spectators a show and producing even louder jeers. Mary turned away from the sight with an embarrassed shake of her head.

When the couple separated, Hannah wrinkled her nose. I was hoping for better, Ethan. Must have been all that time off. You’re getting sloppy.

Ethan smiled at the insult. You’re pretty good, Hannah, despite the clear evidence of that garlic bruschetta on your breath. Ethan winked and waved his hand in front of his nose. He pulled out a pack of gum from his pants pocket. Want some?

Hannah playfully slapped him on his arm. Whatever!

Okay, who’s next? Ethan asked the crowd then turned directly to Hannah’s sister. Mary Magdalene. What do you say?

Mary’s eyes widened. What? Um, no.

What do you mean ‘no’? You don’t want to be overshadowed by your big sis here, do you? Ethan placed his arm around Hannah.

Hannah shook her head. You’re a jerk, Coop.

No, in this case, I really don’t mind. Mary said it innocently, but some of Ethan’s friends took it as an insult and oohed.

Haven’t you heard, Cooper? Hannah interjected. Mary’s going to be a nun.

I’m not going to be a nun, Mary contested. I’m going to be consecrated. There’s a difference.

Yeah, right, I forgot you’re going to be a forever virgin Ethan said with a mocking laugh, fixing his gaze on the younger Credence sister.

Don’t do it, Mary, a friend of Ethan’s called out. It would be a crime against humanity for someone so hot to become a consecrated virgin.

Mary allowed a smile at the weird compliment.

Oh, come on Mary, Hannah said, "you’re not having sex. It’s just a widdle kiss."

Mary glared at her sister. Yes, but I’m saving myself for someone much greater.

Ethan blinked repetitively in astonishment and left his open hand in the air, punctuating his wonderment. Someone greater, huh? He tried to look impressed. Who could be greater than me?

Just then, a cheer was heard from the foyer. A guest of honor had entered the Credence home.

2

Christopher Austin the Third! the excited host of the ball announced, extending his right hand for a welcome handshake.

Benji Credence, how goes it? the deep, velvety voice of the newcomer asked rhetorically.

The two made a distinctly odd pair. Christopher Austin III was a tall Michelangelo sculpture of a man with a full head of tightly cropped blond hair and angular facial features. He was, as a local newspaper had dubbed him, a cross between James Bond and a life-sized Ken doll. If the bloggers didn’t refer to him as Houston’s JFK, Jr., they made it clear he was the most desirable bachelor in Houston, if not the entire South. His crisp grin and warm gaze disarmed everyone with whom he came into contact, and his natural and genuine interest in other people made him as popular as he was attractive.

On the other hand, Benjamin Credence, a stout, mustachioed businessman and senatorial candidate with ears too small for his balding head, was not much for the eyes. If one were to guess which of the two had a future in politics, it would clearly be Christopher, not the actual candidate. Mr. Credence was gregarious enough to suit his campaign, but to many, Christopher looked downright presidential.

But Mary Credence wasn’t considering Christopher’s looks as she made her way into the foyer with her sister. Mary had heard stories of the most eligible bachelor capitalizing on his appeal to the extent of debauchery. A local blogger had surveyed the litany of women he had dated and concluded that he was destined to end up like his wealthy, womanizing father.

Ah, Christopher Austin the Third, Hannah said, smiling coyly as she and her sister positioned themselves at the end of the foyer. Such a repulsive beast. I mean, can’t he tell that that one hair is out of place?

More sarcasm, Mary thought, then said aloud, I don’t know, he looks pretty attractive to me.

Hannah turned to her sister. Don’t even think about it, Mare.

Think about what?

Going after him.

Mary widened her eyes. Hannah, I’m not going to go after him. I’m going to be consecrated!

Hannah crinkled her nose and peered at her younger sister. So, what does that mean exactly?

I’ve told you, Hannah! I’ve promised to dedicate myself to God and no one else.

What, do you think guys like that or something?

Mary laughed. It’s not about guys, Hannah. She still doesn’t get it.

You do realize he’s, like, ten years older than you, don’t you? Hannah demanded.

Mary pouted her lips before responding. Yeah, good thing I’m not going after him then. After a brief thought, she added, You’re only a few years older than me anyway. What’s the difference?

"The difference is that he isn’t ten years older than me. Hannah shook her head subtly and adjusted her form-fitting black dress. Besides, he’s not going to go for such a tease. He can have any girl he wants."

Mary huffed. She thought about the perfectly composed masculine creature standing just a few feet from her—square jaw, broad shoulders, and sleeves that extended a perfect half-inch beyond his expertly tailored Italian wool suit cuffs. He is rich and cute, but who would ever want to be with such a womanizer? She was grateful that she didn’t have to worry about such things. I’m sure any girl would be interested. I’m not, Mary said peacefully, drawing her hand to her Saint Joan of Arc medal.

Whatever, they’re coming over. Act like I just said something hilarious! Hannah turned to Mary with exaggerated interest and grasped her arm.

Benjamin Credence angled himself around and guided Christopher to stand directly in front of Hannah. Mary sighed as her father introduced the guest of honor to Hannah, who shook his hand confidently and thanked him for coming.

And I believe you’ve met my youngest, Mary, Benjamin said almost as a question.

Christopher took a moment to let the sight of Mary soak in. No, I have not had the pleasure.

He gently extended his hand toward Mary, who smiled warmly but almost regretfully. She wasn’t going to shake his hand—who knows where it had been? In a fluid motion, she bent her legs, brought her hands down, and lifted the seams of her dress outward in an elegant curtsy. Hannah huffed at Mary for her obnoxious maneuver.

A curtsy? Christopher asked through a smile. I haven’t seen class like that since . . . well, I’ve never seen class like that.

Mary rose and looked confidently in Christopher’s eyes. That may be a function of the company you keep, Christopher Austin the Third.

Christopher raised his eyebrows in amusement. Touché, miss. After a second he added, Perhaps Christopher Austin the Third should be keeping more company with the likes of the Credences?

Perhaps he should, Mary said, playfully mocking Christopher’s third person reference.

Benjamin Credence turned his attention back to his oldest daughter. Now, Hannah here is on break from Georgetown. She’s working on a double major in business and public policy.

Christopher slowly pulled his eyes away from Mary and nodded at Hannah. Following in your father’s footsteps, I see?

Oh, I don’t know. He’s got really big feet, Hannah said with a giggle.

And what are you studying? Christopher asked, returning his attention to Mary.

I haven’t started college yet. I may not go.

Christopher straightened his spine. Oh? Why not?

I believe it’s a bit overrated. All I hear about going away to school is just drunken depravity. That doesn’t really appeal to me like it does most people, she said, turning her head and staring down Christopher.

Hannah interjected, I assure you, Christopher, she doesn’t hear this stuff from me.

Oh, I assure you, Christopher repeated with a grin then turned back to Mary. You know, beautiful young ladies who are interested in something more than drunken depravity are fairly rare these days.

Mr. Credence fidgeted in place. While he had wanted Christopher to notice his eldest daughter, it appeared that he was focusing on his youngest. Well, I’m sure you kids will get a chance to talk later, but before I forget, Mr. Credence said, nudging Christopher away from his daughters, let me introduce you to the Rodriguezes.

Christopher nodded and waved. It was a pleasure meeting you both, he said to both girls, keeping his eyes locked on Mary.

Likewise, Hannah said while Mary just smiled.

Christopher kept his gaze on Mary as long as was socially acceptable before turning to Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez with a grin. Ah, Mr. Rodriguez, good to finally meet you!

You’re such a tease, Hannah whispered in Mary’s ear before turning on her heel and stomping back to the kitchen, but Mary slowly drifted away from her father and Christopher. She let the lighthearted and jovial ambiance consume her as everyone sipped exotic cocktails and exchanged witty stories about politics, celebrity gossip, and the unusually warm April weather. Mary floated around the party, perused the banquet table full of delicious appetizers, and was finally approached by an elderly couple who were friends of the Credence family.

Meanwhile, Christopher Austin III was being paraded around the room so that Mr. Credence could show off his famous guest to the others. After being introduced to one unimpressed-looking middle-aged gentleman wearing military regalia, Christopher stole a glimpse of the beautiful figure across the room speaking to the elderly couple. He watched Mary laugh as she nursed a single glass of bubbly liquid. His heart jumped when she turned her gaze toward him and caught him staring at her. She brought her glass down from her lips and smiled at him. They locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity as a fire built in Christopher’s breast. No words were necessary to communicate an irresistible and equally unacceptable magnetism between the two, separated by twenty feet and ten years.

Only seventeen! the military retiree beside Christopher proclaimed, ripping him away from his reverie.

Christopher turned to the man. Excuse me?

Just seventeen grand for my new bike. It was a steal, coughed the graying man.

Seventeen sounds like the right number to me, Christopher said, referring more to his situation than his neighbor’s.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, Benjamin Credence said, retracting from the circle. Christopher nodded and looked back to Mary, who was engaged with the elderly couple again. A moment later, ringing was heard from behind Christopher. The entire room slowly quieted down and turned its collective attention toward Benjamin Credence standing at the end of the great hall.

He held his jacket lapel with his right hand and raised a glass of bubbling champagne with his left as he projected his voice. I’d like to take a moment to thank each and every one of you for taking time out of your busy holiday schedule to celebrate with me and my family during this joyous occasion. On behalf of my beautiful daughters, Hannah and Mary, and, of course, my indefatigable wife, Madeleine, who threw this little soiree together, welcome! Claps were heard throughout the house. I know that because of you, my good friends and colleagues, this year will be remarkable in many different ways. Here’s to it ending in Washington so that we can restore a sense of morality to this great country!

Applause filled the air, and the cheerful man nodded and smiled to his guests.

In a moment, we’ll be commencing our annual Texas folk dance, and I hope that you will join in. Right now, I’d like to raise a glass to a very happy Easter and a beginning of great things!

Brightly dressed guests cheered, glasses clanked throughout the great hall, and a string quartet stationed in the corner of the room began a lively old time reel named Durang’s Hornpipe, which instantly lifted the mood and got several sparkling ladies bouncing in their places. The crowd quickly formed two lines that ran along the length of the hall for the customary dance—women in one facing the men in the other.

Christopher unwittingly found himself in the middle of the men’s row. Hannah Credence, who had returned to the great room for her father’s announcement, positioned herself directly across from Christopher and beamed a sultry look at him, causing him to raise an eyebrow. He quickly spotted Mary as she skipped toward the line and slipped between Hannah and a gray-haired lady, lining up to dance with Christopher’s neighbor.

Mary eyed the gentleman with whom she would be dancing, then turned her gaze toward Christopher again and again creating a rush of adrenaline in Christopher’s chest. The alluring image of Mary had a potent physiological effect on Christopher. Photons emanating from the warm chandelier lights reflected off of Mary’s visage and entered Christopher’s eyes, where they were translated into neural patterns behind his retina. Those neural patterns sped instantly to his brain, which lit up like an electrical storm. Simply the sight of the flawless beauty stimulated regions in Christopher’s limbic system and triggered a flood of testosterone, norepinephrine, and dopamine, a rush that gave Christopher the actual sensation of his heart expanding and a joyful feeling throughout his body. My God, she’s gorgeous, he thought.

Hannah! a thundering voice from the other end of the hall pronounced.

Hannah looked to her left to see her father waving his arm at her.

Be my partner! he cheerfully commanded.

Hannah looked hesitantly at Christopher then turned to Mary, shrugging. I guess I’m Daddy’s favorite tonight!

Mary laughed off the contrived competitiveness, and Hannah shuffled to the end of the line across from her father.

Mary took her sister’s place and smiled at her new partner, Christopher, as the musicians abruptly ended one song and started anew. The men bowed and the women curtsied, then both rows, loosely aligned, stepped toward the other and backed away. Unfamiliar with the dance, Christopher eyed his counterparts and imitated their moves. He raised his right hand as the rows of dancers moved in again, and Mary placed her hand on his as they glided in a ring around each other.

Christopher had recently read that strangers who were asked to stare into each other’s eyes for just two minutes inevitably ended up experiencing intense feelings of passionate affection for each other. It didn’t matter how attractive or unknown the other person was, just that they were staring at each other. As Christopher maintained his gaze into Mary’s eyes while they floated around each other, he was convinced of this phenomenon.

After a number of revolutions and do-si-dos, Mr. Credence and Hannah bounced down the separated rows of dancers with the smiling and laughing participants clapping along to the