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Publié par | First Edition Design Publishing |
Date de parution | 15 décembre 2014 |
Nombre de lectures | 0 |
EAN13 | 9781622877126 |
Langue | English |
Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.
Extrait
The Gospel Truth – The Vatican Unearthed
William Walker
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
THE GOSPEL TRUTH
The Vatican Unearthed
by
William Walker
First Edition Design Publishing
The Gospel Truth – The Vatican Unearthed
Copyright ©2014 William Walker
ISBN 978-1622-877-11-9 PRINT
ISBN 978-1622-877-12-6 EBOOK
LCCN 2014950986
November 2014
Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com
ALL R I G H T S R E S E R V E D. No p a r t o f t h i s b oo k pub li ca t i o n m a y b e r e p r o du ce d, s t o r e d i n a r e t r i e v a l s y s t e m , o r t r a n s mit t e d i n a ny f o r m o r by a ny m e a ns ─ e l e c t r o n i c , m e c h a n i c a l , p h o t o - c o p y , r ec o r d i n g, or a ny o t h e r ─ e x ce pt b r i e f qu ot a t i o n i n r e v i e w s , w i t h o ut t h e p r i o r p e r mi ss i on o f t h e a u t h o r or publisher .
CHAPTER 1
She wasn’t sure where it came from but her psyche shifted. It consumed every cell in her body and tore at her lungs. It burst from her lips in a shriek of pain, scattering crows, who expressed their annoyance with loud cawing. Shuddering, Kate collapsed against her husband. He’d been expecting this and was amazed she’d hung on for so long.
“We’re going to get through this baby.” He whispered. “All you have to do is breathe, just breathe. I’ll take care of everything.”
His words were reassuring and calmed her. She looked up at his face, strong and comforting and a sense of control returned. She summoned the strength to once again, bring her attention to the small, open grave. The even smaller handmade casket with brass handles was still there. She tried again but couldn’t shake the vision. In the casket at the bottom of the grave, lay the body of her only child, Stephen, barely twelve years old, who had committed suicide by drinking household bleach.
Father Brennan closed the Catholic Bible resting on his outstretched hands and the lone piper played “Amazing Grace.” As the sun sank low on the horizon, the mourners approached the Jessaps to offer their condolences. Passing nods, handshakes, muttered words and uncomfortable hugs all went unnoticed. Their lives would never be the same; something had gone terribly wrong with the life they’d planned. A part of them was gone forever.
Almost too weak to stand, Clive ushered Kate toward the parked cars. They rode out of the old cemetery perched high in the Hollywood Hills, passing the gravedigger, who stood by the wrought iron gates, waiting until everyone departed, before locking up and returning to fill in the grave with the piled up soil.
As the limousine hummed toward Laurel Canyon, Clive wondered where they’d get answers. He knew they’d have to, regardless of what it took. He had to have justice for his son and his wife’s sense of injustice was immeasurable; one of the reasons he’d fallen for her. Her alabaster skin, auburn hair and the freckles highlighting her cheekbones had gotten his attention. Her slender, curvaceous, five foot six frame helped keep it. But her character made him fall.
They met while she was a cub reporter, working for the L.A. Times, covering a human-interest story just after the Iraqi war. Her assignment was to interview Major Clive Jessap to get a picture of what it was like on the ground, so to speak, when no weapons of mass destruction were found. On her first trip to San Diego, she met him, a handsome Marine officer with an infectious smile that would dispel the thickest rain clouds. His assignment was maintaining the official military line on Iraq, “everything had gone as planned.” The fact that they did not find any weapons did not mean that they were not there. Kate was not getting far with her line of questioning. She decided to switch tack.
“Major Jessap, tell me about some of your personal experiences, something my readers can appreciate.”
The Major didn’t skip a beat.
“Be glad to,” he said, “for instance, the unit I was assigned to was behind enemy lines and we were operating without contact with the main attack force. You can imagine it was difficult.”
He hesitated.
“So what happened?” Kate prompted.
“Well, you wouldn’t believe the problems we had, deciding who got to use the last bit of toilet paper. You would think that rank would count, but there are some situations where it just doesn’t.”
Kate had to laugh in spite of herself. The picture the Major painted was too funny. She realized she was facing a charm offensive aimed at conveying misinformation. But they got on well, maybe too well. Without thinking, she agreed to dinner the next night. She questioned committing herself to the long drive again the next day but admitted she couldn’t resist the Major and naively thought that over dinner she’d learn more.
Her hopes remained unrealized as the Major, under soft conversational questioning, discovered how her parents, Edmond and Hannah Brannigan, had sold their smallholdings in Kilkenny, Ireland to try their luck in the land of opportunity. They wanted to give their precocious young daughter a better education, arriving in the U.S. when she was still a teen. She’d already demonstrated a good grasp of literature, with an insatiable curiosity.
Unusual for an Irish Catholic family, they only had two children, Kate and her older brother, Sean, who very early on, immersed himself in his faith, became an altar boy and joined the Gregorian University College in Rome as a seminarian. Even though their lives had gone in very different directions and they communicated sporadically at best, their bond was still strong. It was no surprise to anyone, least of all Kate, when Sean was ordained as a priest.
Impressed with the Major’s listening skills, obvious intellect, and piercing blue eyes, and partly because she hadn’t learned much about Iraq, Kate was reluctant to leave his company as dinner neared its end. She jumped at the proposal of another date and a week later, went back to San Diego.
She couldn’t wait to see him again; she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. This time, the Major had booked a romantic restaurant quietly nestled off El Rosa Street in downtown San Diego. When Kate saw him, she did a double take. He was even more handsome than she remembered. To her surprise, he wasn’t in dress uniform but wore a round-neck black shirt under a black jacket and a neat pair of black slacks.
When he saw her, his face lit up. She had assumed her own charm offensive and was wearing a dark green, figure-hugging Versace dress that left nothing to the imagination, though everything was adequately covered. A pair of purple open-toe Manolo Blanhniks completed the effect, and though she failed to notice, a number of heads turned and followed her elegant walk to the table. After they exchanged genuine compliments, the conversation commenced where it left off a week ago. Kate tried her luck with a pointed question.
“Tell me Clive,” she said, by now they were on first name terms, “off the record, what did you do in Iraq?”
“If I told you,” he said, without skipping a beat and with a broad smile, “I’d have to kill you. But joking aside, and if it’s truly ‘off the record’ and will not leave this room…,” he raised his eyebrows questioningly. Kate was quick to agree.
“Yes of course, cross my heart, hope to die.” She said, completing the promise with the familiar gesture.
“Okay,” he acknowledged, “but you do understand that I’ll have to leave some details out.”
“I’ll be interested in whatever you can tell me. I’d like to know more about you, and about your work.” She quickly added. She inwardly chastised herself, not good, she thought, getting emotionally invested so fast. Clive knew the signs and was not altogether immune to her charms either. He replied enthusiastically. He was aware that he wanted her to like him too.
“I was brought up in a military family, typically moving location every couple of years. Making friends was never easy. My father was a professional soldier all his life, and my mother supported him a hundred percent, even though it meant sacrificing her own career. She was a teacher, and could have easily become a teaching professor, but they were in love and she always put him first.”
“Don’t mean to intrude.” Kate said. “But did you have any siblings?”
“No, it just didn’t work out that way unfortunately; it would have been nice to have had someone to talk to. There were times when I was very lonely.”
Kate’s heart went out to him. She saw his vulnerability; not far below the surface, the cool, decision making, ‘keep it under control’ Major, had a soft spot. The attraction was growing by the minute.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, not at all,” Clive said, “that’s just the way it was. Don’t feel sorry for me. I had a wonderful childhood; wouldn’t change it for the world. It taught me to be resilient, independent, qualities I needed later. As you can probably guess, I followed in my father’s footsteps. He was always a great example to me; it came natural to want to emulate him.”
“Are your parents still alive?” Kate asked. Again, she inwardly reproved herself, wondering if she had been too direct. She needn’t have worried, Clive replied equally directly, without hesitation.
“No, unfortunately my father was killed on duty, and this is one of those times I can’t give any details. My mother didn’t take it well. Soon after, she became ill and doctors couldn’t figure it out. She died eight months later. I believe her heart was broken.” He faltered, making an effort to hold back the emotion. “But that’s all in the past; I was blessed with wonderful parents.”
Kate reached out a hand across the table, Clive didn’t resist.
“So tell me about Iraq.” She said, changing the subject.
Clive took a sip of wine, wondering why this beautiful woman was affecting him so much. This wasn’t