The Rose and the Serpent

In another . . . photo, [Jude and Cory] were riding horseback, the rising sun silhouetting them with its backlit golden hue. The morning mist rose like Arabesque incense from the Allegheny River. . . . Their hands embraced as love cascaded from Jude with a force equal to that of the dawning sun whose light stampeded across a galaxy and, feeling compelled to dazzle with a grand finale, spangled amber ore through dappled woodland trees, glistening like gossamer gold. (from Chapter 6) The rolling hills of western Pennsylvania are among the finest of America’s scenic treasures. Undulating vales softly unfold their rolling, emerald domes—lush velvety verdure that sweep and glide to distant escarpments. Their pilgrimage complete, they bow in obeisance to the serene majesty of the horizon’s Tiffany blue temple sky.
(from Chapter 14)
[Jude] stepped onto the porch [after Bible study] and paused briefly before speaking, feeling that the entire reconciliation hung on this initial conversation. What a heavy freight this small train of words was destined to carry! He fortified his will. . . . “Can we walk for a while up in the cemetery . . . ?”
“I can walk. . . .” “How are you feeling? Grandma told me about your car wreck.”
“I’m fine. . . .” Thank you for asking.” Again, no emotion.
They paused beside the side of the church and looked toward the cemetery before starting their walk up the knoll. The choir members had already assembled at the front of the church and were singing the refrain of “More like the Master”. . . . Even in that nervous moment, Jude caught the ironic relevance of the lines.
Take thou my heart, I would be thine alone;
Take thou my heart and make it all thine own;
“Take thou my heart”—the exact words he wanted to say to God about his spiritual heart and . . . to Cory about his emotional heart. Take thou my heart. Will she? There’s the rub!
As they ambled up the cemetery lane, Jude nervously bit his lip and kicked a pebble on the path. “I don’t know where to begin, Cory.”
“How about the beginning?” Her coldly logical response, though gentle, unnerved him even more.
“Which one? There are so many.” He sought a common ground between them. . . . “Remember the opening lines of Dante’s Inferno which we used to read on summer evenings? ‘Midway through life’s journey I found myself in a dark road, the right road lost.’ No other words describe so accurately my feelings. . . . I’m on the wrong road, Cory. I’m lost and frightened in a dark wood.”
She stopped walking and looked at him in disbelief. “How can you say that? On the verge of getting your PhD not much past your mid-twenties, you look like you’re perking right along to me. What makes you say so emphatically that you’re on the wrong road?”
“Because you’re not on it.”
“Whose fault is that?”
Touche, he thought to himself. (from Chapter 14)
“May I offer my opinion?” She looked at him directly, but her eyes were somehow more mellow. “You weren’t just immersing yourself in education these past years. You engaged yourself in rainbow-riding across the loftiest mountain peaks of your rarefied dreams. And me? I was stuck. . . . Everything has been gray, lifeless, and sterile, and it still is. That’s a confession, Jude—a right-from-the-center-of-the-heart confession.” “Everything doesn’t have to remain lifeless and sterile. You can be freed. We can be freed from this death-like world which haunts us like a Poe horror story. . . .”
“How, Mr. Houdini Escape Artist? How can I escape my death-world trance?” (from Chapter 15) But where to start? The fragility of their renewed acquaintance was painfully obvious to both. Even with their great love for each other, they knew another misstep . . . was a distinct possibility. The razor-thin ledge at the top of the canyon between them was difficult for even the best of mountain climbers. For novices with damaged emotions, smashed dreams, and shredded hearts, it was a tightrope walk across Niagara Falls. (from Chapter 16)
“Yes, I know it’s sick, but self-laceration doesn’t turn off like a light switch. . . .” Cory felt comfortable enough to plummet to the depths. “Duke’s compassion filled the gap at a time when I was emotionally vulnerable. Silence on your end ate away at my heart like leprosy and, in the end, destroyed the final vestiges of my self-confidence.” She drew closer to him and again fidgeted with his collar. “Jude, let me be perfectly honest with you. I intend no abuse here, nor am I trying to put more nails in my own coffin. I love you too much for that.”
She stopped again as she summoned strength to speak the difficult truth. The setting sun filtered through the clouds on the distant horizon, amber speckles of gold that fairy-dusted her blond hair. “You need to know the whole truth. Those long empty days even destroyed my will to live. There I said it. The worst part’s over. It can only get better from here. . . . Maybe.”
“Cory, forgive me. I ask again, will you ever be able to forgive me?”
“I already did. I told you that. . . . But your sweet words don’t fill the crater in my heart. They don’t re-wire the emotional circuitry in my brain. They don’t expunge the pain of my five-year suicide note. See my point? And here’s the real death knell. Our forgiving each other doesn’t remove Duke Manningham from our lives.” (from Chapter 18) Duke stood with his legs spread . . . his hands clenched into fists. Even under his sweatshirt, Jude could see his massive chest. Duke’s lips, tightly pursed together, matched his angry eyes—three jagged slits chiseled in granite. (from Chapter 25)