Chapter 11 - A Spiritual Light

There was a creak. A footstep. A heel pressed down on a floorboard.

Pulled out of his nightmares, Tim sat bolt upright. He prised his eyelids open. His pupils, fuzzy shadows, pulsed and dilated as he stared into blackness all around.

Another creak. His heart started thumping crazily. A cold sweat beaded his forehead. He focussed. The silhouette of a man standing in the doorway of the cabin swam in the shadows. Who the hell was that? A robber? A psycho? A murderer on the run?

The stranger was so tall that he filled the entire door frame. The whites of his eyes gleamed in the darkness.

Tim stopped breathing as the stranger made a quick movement with his arms and hands; a pair of white hands, pale as the moon, glided through the darkness. They vanished, reappeared, and began to dance around in the shadows.

A match flared up and travelled through the blackness to a petroleum lamp. One hand floating in isolation removed the glass. Another hand put the flame to the wick. And there was light! A light

Tim focussed and saw that the stranger was about fifty. He looked at him with a calm, frank gaze as he took off his brown hat with deep crown and a stiff brim, to reveal thick black hair and a remarkably handsome face with a jet black beard. Most striking were his clear, luminous, warm and sympathetic green eyes.

His movements were relaxed and confident as he started to unbutton his waterproof jacket. A knife hanging from a belt made of rope that was tied around his natural waist gleamed in the lamplight. Underneath his jacket, trousers were tucked into black boots.

"Boy, it's tropical in here," he said, glancing at the stove.
A physically palpable wave of kindness and warmth radiated from his figure and Tim felt himself relax in spite of the fact that he hadn’t a clue who this person was.

"I lit the stove," muttered Tim, forcing himself to smile. "I hope you don't mind. I made myself at home here."

"Lost your way?"

Tim coughed.

"Not exactly. I actually came here to see you."

"You did?"

"You are Cormac O’Hara, aren't you?"

"That's right."

Tim smiled, pleasantly surprised. He'd been expecting a small, wizened-looking man, battered by the elements and prematurely aged. Of course, he would have a sour, mistrustful and bitter expression too! Who wouldn't living up here in the mountains on their own? But Cormac was anything but wizened. He was bursting with vitality. He had the build of a a quarterback. Yes, he could have been the brother of Rob Owen, come to think of it!

“Glad to meet you! I’ve come to see you. I’ve heard you're a holy man,” Tim said, smiling.

"Oh? Who gave him that idea?"

"Ermm. It was Jude Chertoff. He’s a friend of mine and he told me you were a deeply religious man who had chosen to come up here to meditate on God. I sure am hoping it's true ‘cos I need somewhere to stay up here in the mountains for six months."

"Six months?"

"Yes."

"Are you on the run from the law?"

"O, no! Nothing like that. My record is squeaky clean."

Tim said. He blushed.

"So do you want to stay here for six months?"

Tim lowered his eyes, evasively.

"I'm looking for peace of mind," he said.

"The two of us are not going to be able to find much of that here. This place is just too small,” Cormac said, glancing around the cabin as he hung up his coat.

"It is a bit small, isn't it? But with some patience and all that, I'm sure we could manage."

"Patience?" asked Cormac, surprised.

"I guess you have plenty of that? You must have living up here.”

Obviously not impressed, Cormac sat down by the stove and took took off his boots. As he leaned forward, Tim saw his face shine in the light of the lamp. His eyes flashed, pure and clear; they seemed to be filled with an inner fire, with something burning inside him.

Anxious not to annoy Cormac even more than he had, Tim bit his lips. At the same time, he knew he owed him an explanation and couldn’t just say nothing. He shifted uneasily, then coughed to clear his throat.

"I'm a pastor,” he began in a solemn, formal voice. “My church has decided that I need six months in the wilderness. I need to get closer to God."

"All well and good, but why here in my cabin?" Cormac asked, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his green pullover.

"Because I need to go somewhere far away from the temptations of the world, and your cabin sure fits the bill."

"Did you succumb to any one temptation in particular, brother?"

Tim bit his lip. Blood rushed to his cheeks.

"I succumbed to many and so I need to concentrate on God more in general, you know,” he replied, lowering his eyes evasively.

"I don't see why you can't concentrate on God somewhere else."

"My church has insisted I spend six months in these mountains as part of my reformation."

"So? There's plenty of space for you! Why my place?”

"Look, I won't be able to survive out there on my own. That's why this friend, Jude, suggested I stay with you."

"Fraid not," said Cormac, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but what your church says you should do, and whether you do it or not, is no concern of mine."

"You want me to go out there in cold and die! I thought you were supposed to be a holy man, and!"

"I'm trying very hard to be. That's why I came up here so I could be on my own and make some progress. But I really don't feel that holy when I come home and find a blank stranger taking over my home, and telling me that he's planning to stay for six months."

"Okay, I can see your point. But it's life or death for me. I can't survive out there in the mountains on my own, not in winter."

"Look, why don't you go back home? Explain to your church that you can't manage up here. Find another solution."
Tim sighed. Tears welled up in his eyes. His lips quivered.

"I can't go back home. It isn't an option. I have to stay here in these mountains."

"Surely, you can go back home?"

"It's a long story.”

“I have time.”

“Look, can I just stay a couple of days while I figure out my next move? I can't go anywhere tonight."
Cormac looked at Tim, thoughtfully.

"Okay," he said, at last.

Tim grinned, relieved.

"Thanks, I promise, I won't disturb you."

"You won't be able to. I spend a lot of the day in my own meditation cave and I won't be telling you where that is," Cormac said.

"Fair enough. I don't want to get in your way," Tim said, beaming.