The Second Coming

children’s toy trains but good-sized Pennsylvania diesels, an L & N steam locomotive, a Southern Pacific freight, a Twentieth Century Limited, crossed trestles, ran through tunnels, stopped at stations, switched onto sidings, off-loaded bales of cotton, took on soybean oil. Bars came down at crossings. Bells donged. A mechanical darky on a mule doffed his cap. Lonesome whistles blew. Half a dozen men, old men, operated control panels, switches, water towers, roundhouse turnarounds. Most of the men wore railroader’s caps.
    â€œTalk about a nostalgia trip,” whispered Jack Curl.
    â€œYes,” he said and for some reason thought about Allison standing in the sunlight.
    â€œHighball it, Shorty!” cried Jack Curl to a man wearing a railroader’s cap but with a false note in his voice and Shorty did not reply. “Shorty was president of First National of Georgia,” whispered Jack. “You see that guy on the roundhouse? That’s Orin Henderson of Henderson Textiles. They’re great guys. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
    â€œLater.” He looked at his watch. What was Allie doing? It was four-thirty. The sunlight was yellow. Was she going down into herself? Was the dog worrying about her?
    â€œWho knows, Will, you might take up railroading. You could do worse,” said Jack Curl, his eyes not quite coming round to him.
    â€œNo thanks.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI’m taking up senior golf.”
    â€œAll right !” said Jack.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou remember Father Weatherbee, also a known train nut. You’ll be in his hands while I’m gone. And damn good hands they are, better than Allstate. Father spent fifty years in the Philippines.”
    Father Weatherbee was the ancient emaciated priest whose clerical collar and lower eyelid drooped. One eye had a white rim and spun like a wheel. Smiling, he took Barrett’s hand in both of his, two dry hot whispering banyan leaves. He shrugged at Jack Curl. Will Barrett saw something in his eyes.
    â€œFather was an old highballer from Raleigh before he took to persecuting the saints,” said Jack, absently socking fist into palm. “He used to ride the old Seaboard Air Line and never got over it. Right, Father?”
    Father Weatherbee said something.
    â€œWhat’s that, Father?” asked Will Barrett, leaning toward him.
    â€œFather Weatherbee has two unusual interests,” said Jack Curl, looking at his wristwatch. “Oh my, I’ve got to see Leslie before—” He took Will Barrett’s hand as if he meant to say goodbye. In the handshake he felt himself being steered closer to the old priest. “Father here believes in two things in this world. One is the Seaboard Air Line Railroad and the other is Apostolic Succession. Right, Padre? Frankly, it sounds more like the ancestor worship of his Mindanao tribesmen, but I don’t argue with him. After all, I also get along with Leslie, who has no use for any priests, let alone a succession of priests. So what? You pays your money and you takes your choice.”
    â€œApostolic Succession?” said Will Barrett, looking from one to the other.
    â€œA laying on of hands which goes back to the Apostles,” said Jack Curl, smiling and nodding at the highballers.
    â€œIt occurred,” said Father Weatherbee in a dry hoarse voice. When he spoke, a red bleb formed at the corner of his mouth like a bubble-gum bubble.
    â€œThere you go,” said Jack Curl.
    Father Weatherbee said something.
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Will Barrett, cocking his good ear.
    â€œI said he reminds me of a kumongakvaikvai,” said Father Weatherbee, nodding at Jack and blowing out a bleb.
    â€œWhat’s a kumongakvaikvai?”
    â€œIt’s the dung bird of southern Mindanao. It follows herds of Kumonga cattle and eats dung like your cattle egret. Characteristically the bird perches on the backs of the beasts and utters its cry kvai kvai." And Father Weatherbee uttered a sound which could only have been the cry of the bird.
    â€œHa ha,” laughed Jack Curl, giving Will Barrett the elbow. “I told you they’re all characters up here.”
    4
    â€œWhat do you think of these great John Kennedy rockers?” Jack Curl called out on the front porch. “You know I slipped a disc last year and instead of surgery I rocked. I mean really rocked. Do you know you can get a workout in one of