South of Heaven, North of Hell and East of Purgatory

Dani Beth


Being a Catholic doesn't mean she practices.

It also doesn't mean she even knows what the whole ordeal of going to
confession is. Since she hadn't stepped foot in a Cathedral since she
was in California, the funeral of Delores Landingham sent a shock through
her.

And back at the office, she didn't mean to snap at Sam.

And at the briefing, telling the President that she needed to hear him
say where the reporter was going to be sitting was an afterthought and
an awful one if she was really caring about what was going on around
her.

But at the briefing, when he told the nation that even though he had
MS and it was a debilitating disease and that he could lose all motor
skills and the such, that he was not going to give up and let down the
people that mattered the most, such as the American people, she almost
threw up.

After that, she felt like going back to her office and typing out her
resignation then.

A hand jolted her back, for the President was done speaking and reporters
were fighting their way through the crowd to talk to her and get the
goods. She ran to find Sam, who had gloriously picked up her coat from
her office and handed it to her. Another afterthought.

She had ducked out of the meetings afterward. The whole shock yet happiness
party that her colleagues were throwing back at the office.

Who knew that the Churches in DC were open twenty-four hours a day?

To be frank, she showed her badge to the janitor and he let her in, a
curious glance on his face that made her smile wanly and then go to the
front pew, the exact place the President had sat earlier that day-yesterday?-and
bowed her head.

Under her coat she produced a rosary that she had plucked from the middle
drawer in her desk and began fingering the beads. It had been her mothers
and before that her grandmothers.

She felt the coolness of it burn her fingers. Closing her eyes, she could
practically feel her grandmother's hands guiding her smaller ones, showing
her the way that she was supposed to go.

The tears dropped freely and she choked back a sob. Sniffling, her mumbling
became louder, stopping the janitor, leaving him to sigh and wanting
to comfort her. A figure in the rain-framed doorway stopped him.

Bringing a finger to his lips, he walked up to the second pew, the one
kiddy-corner to her own, and watched her.

He wasn't even Catholic, so he felt like he was invading someone's personal
space.

He had to come there though, a sixth sense and Toby telling him where
he could find her.

Bringing her head up, she murmured, "I am south of Heaven."

"You are north of Hell."

"And just east of Purgatory."

"But you are inching to the east everyday, Claudia."

The janitor watched with a careful eye as their conversation played out.

"You promised to stay with me."

"I may have to break that promise, Darling, because I'm scared."

"Maybe you just haven't tried hard enough," she whimpered, tilting her
head.

"How can I help you at all if all you do is back up four steps every
time I take two towards you?"

She whipped her head around, put her elbow on the back of the pew and
hissed, "It's not easy for me, all right! I'm the one that has to deal
with the reporters, the Public and everyone else in between when all
you and the other boys get to sit back and have a Scotch and Cigar with
the President while you figure out just what you're going to do with
the trial and the speeches and..."

"Is that what you think we're doing?" He stood and then towered over
her. "You do. I can not believe that you do! We're busting our," he lowered
his voice a notch, "asses and all you can think about is yours."

"That's right," she growled back, standing up. "I am, because all my
life, that's all I've been doing. No one ever said 'Here Claudia, let
me help you out with that problem you have there.'" She shook her head.
"No, it's always been, 'Well, Darlin', you got yourself a mess there,
what are *you* going to do about it?'"

"People have tried, you know." He pointed to his chest. "I'm trying."

"Why?"

He grabbed her arms roughly and stared intently in her eyes, "Because
I love you damn it! And you're to busy running away from everyone and
everything that you can't see that, can you? And you know what you're
running to? A big, red, brick wall!"

She didn't try to get out of his grasp, just stood there. Closing her
eyes, she clenched her fists and then went limp. A clink hit the marble
floor and she gasped.

Her rosary had fallen to the floor, and she stoop down to get it, only
to find him down there with her.

"And, Claudia, I will follow you where ever you go. The depths of Hell,
the highest Heaven, or the coldest Purgatory, I will be at your side."

Little Jeanie: West Towards Salvation

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