The Mephisto Club

Christmas Eve.
    She walked up the steps, into the building.
    Even at this late hour, the pews were filled with families and sleepy children who’d been roused from their beds for midnight Mass. Maura’s tardy arrival attracted several glances, and as the strains of “Adeste Fidelis” faded, she quickly slipped into the first empty seat she could find, near the back. Almost immediately, she had to rise to her feet again, to stand with the rest of the congregation as the entrance song began. Father Daniel Brophy approached the altar and made the sign of the cross.
    “The grace and peace of God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ be with you,” he said.
    “And also with you,” Maura murmured along with the congregation. Even after all these years away from the church, the responses flowed naturally from her lips, ingrained there by all the Sundays of her childhood. “Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.”
    Although Daniel was unaware of her presence, Maura was focused only on him. On the dark hair, the graceful gestures, the rich baritone voice. Tonight she could watch him without shame, without embarrassment. Tonight it was safe to stare.
    “Bring us eternal joy in the kingdom of Heaven, where he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God forever and ever.”
    Settling back onto the bench, Maura heard muffled coughs and the whimpers of tired children. Candles flickered on the altar in a celebration of light and hope on this winter’s night.
    Daniel began to read. “And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people…’”
    Saint Luke, thought Maura, recognizing the passage. Luke, the physician.
    “‘…and this shall be a sign unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in…’” He paused, his gaze suddenly pausing on Maura. And she thought:
Is it such a surprise to see me here tonight, Daniel?
    He cleared his throat, looked down at his notes, and continued reading. “‘Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’”
    Although he now knew she was seated among his flock, his gaze did not again meet hers. Not during the singing of “Cantate Domino” and “Dies Sanctificatus,” not during the offertory or the liturgy of the Eucharist. As others around her rose to their feet and filed forward to receive Communion, Maura remained in her seat. If you did not believe, it was hypocrisy to partake of the Host, to sip the wine.
    Then what am I doing here?
    Yet she remained through the concluding rites, through the blessing and the dismissal.
    “Go in the peace of Christ.”
    “Thanks be to God,” the parishioners responded.
    The Mass now ended, people began to file out of the church, buttoning coats, pulling on gloves as they shuffled to the exit. Maura, too, stood up and was just stepping into the aisle when she glimpsed Daniel trying to catch her attention, imploring her, silently, not to leave. She sat back down, conscious of the curious gazes of people as they filed past her pew. She knew what they saw, or what they imagined they saw: a lone woman, hungry for a priest’s words of comfort on Christmas Eve.
    Or did they see more?
    She did not return their looks. As the church emptied, she stared straight ahead, stoically focused on the altar. Thinking:
It’s late, and I should go home. I don’t know what good can possibly come of staying.
    “Hello, Maura.”
    She looked up and met Daniel’s gaze. The church was not yet empty. The organist was still packing up her sheet music, and several choir members were still pulling on their coats, yet at that moment Daniel’s attention was so centered on Maura, she might have been the only other person in the room.
    “It’s been a long time since you visited,” he said.
    “I suppose it has been.”
    “Not since August, wasn’t it?”
    So you’ve been keeping track, too.
    He slid onto the bench beside her. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
    “It’s Christmas Eve, after all.”
    “But you don’t believe.”
    “I still enjoy the rituals. The songs.”
    “That’s the only reason you came? To sing a few hymns? Chant a few
Amens
and
Thanks be to Gods
?”
    “I wanted to hear some music. Be around other people.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re all alone tonight.”
    She gave a shrug, a laugh. “You know me, Daniel. I’m not exactly a party animal.”
    “I just thought…I mean, I assumed…”
    “What?”
    “That