James Patterson - Woman of God

“They were wrong. But you were right. The new pontiff is a Frenchman. A progressive. Bishop Jean-Claude Renault is now Pope John XXIV.

“And you’re going to love this,” Zach went on. “In Pope John’s first public speech to the world, he made a big announcement. He said, ‘I’ve long been aware of certain inequities.’ He was quite sincere.”

“Zach! What inequities?”

“He said he was inspired by Pope Gregory-and by a woman priest from America. You, Brigid. He said your name.”

Zach looked proud and a little choked up.

He pushed on, saying, “The pope believes that the Catholic Church should allow-no, he said ‘welcome.’…He said the Roman Catholic Church should welcome woman priests.”

“Nooo.”

“Yes. And Pope John believes that priests should be allowed to marry. That God would be glad for this. It would be très bon. ”

“You’re not making this up?”

“I’ll send you the link to his speech. Okay, Brigid? Happy?”

“Very happy. It is sooo très bon. ”

I must have fallen asleep.

When I opened my eyes, Gilly was sleeping under my good arm. I said, “Gillian. Gilly, are you awake?”

She cuddled in closer and made little kissing sounds. When I opened my eyes again, Gilly was gone. Dr. Douglass looked into my eyes, wrote on my chart. “How do you feel, Doctor?”

“Chest pain.”

“Your ribs?”

“ Yesss. Will I be able to use my arm?”

I thought I heard him say, “Yes. You’re doing fine.”

IT WAS morning when I came out of a drugged sleep again.

There were more cards and flowers in the room. The balloons were touching the ceiling, and the nurse who had changed my dressings said, “You’re healing well, Doctor. Your little girl said to say that she loves you to pieces.”

“Oh, thank you.”

She said, “I’ll be back to read you your cards in a little while,” and she drew back the curtain.

Zach was wearing different clothes, and he was back in the chair in front of the window. He had a box in his hands.

“I brought you a little something,” he said.

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

“Actually, yes, I should have. I’ll open it, okay? Stay right where you are.”

“Hah. Okay.”

Zach ripped through paper and cardboard and pulled out a thick sheaf of paper. He said, “This is the manuscript. You can go over this and mark it up to your heart’s content.”

He held it at an angle so that I could read the title page: Woman of God.

The words under the title were By Brigid Fitzgerald Aubrey, as told to Zachary Graham.

There was a slight shimmer in the air. I was no longer in pain, but I was surely in a hospital bed, looking at a manuscript for a book about my life. It had started with a boy telling me about his beloved grandmother, Joya, who had been murdered in South Sudan.

I thanked Zach. I lifted my hands and wiggled my fingers toward him. I said, “Hug, please, Zach. Gentle one.”

He leaned over me, bracing his arms on the side rails. I hugged him. I remembered sitting behind him on a red scooter in Rome, my arms around his waist, and our talks about this book while sitting on the rectory doorstep. Now, he was here, bringing this tremendous gift, hugging me gently with tears in his eyes.

I said, “Zach, Thank you so much.”

“No,” he said, releasing me from the hug, grinning like crazy. “Thank you. You really know how to give a book a good ending,” he said, waving his hand to take in the bed, the flowers, the vital-signs monitors, the photo on the side table of Pope Gregory embracing Gilly and me.

He sat back down and asked, “So, what’s next for you, Brigid? When you get out of here?”

I twiddled the edge of my quilt, drawing out the silence as flecks of gold wafted upward in the sunlight behind my dearest friend.

I thought about my first tour in South Sudan, twenty years ago. Those of us who had fought to be assigned to the hard duty at Kind Hands admitted to ourselves and each other that we were all running away from something. We just hadn’t known what it was.

Well, I had known. I had been running from my father and the void left by my mother’s death, and I wanted to practice good medicine for people who had nothing. Kind Hands had been more than a job. The work had called upon the best in me. It had been so fulfilling that even after nearly dying, I had gone back.

Since my first days in South Sudan, my life had taken so many unexpected, unpredictable turns. I thought of those beautiful and wrenching years in Berlin with Karl and the too-short time we’d had with Tre. I had looked for meaning in the Holy Land and, afterward, met my extraordinary James, who had brought love into my life again and Gilly into the world.

I had become a woman of the cloth and opened myself to the Lord. I was washed over with gratitude for that and was in awe at the sheer magnificence of God.

When I had asked God what to do, I had heard, You know.

And, at last, I did know.

I wanted to heal people as a doctor and serve God in His house. Both-body and soul.

I turned my head so that I could look at Zach and said, “I’m going back to Africa.”

“Wow, really?”

A soft breeze blew tears from the corners of my eyes. Red Sox fans cheered over a radio in the O.R., and a generator kept the lights on. Patients waited, and I knew what I was meant to do.

I was already halfway there.

Our thanks to these good friends who shared their time and expertise with us in the writing of this book: Dr. Humphrey Germaniuk, Coroner and Medical Examiner, Trumbull County, Ohio; Chuck Hanni, IAAI-Certified Fire Investigator, Youngstown, Ohio; Thomas D. Kirsch, MD, MPH, Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine; and Christopher J. Finley, MD, FACEP, PeaceHealth Southwest Medical Center. Thanks also to top attorneys, Philip R. Hoffman and Steven Rabinowitz of Pryor Cashman, NYC, for their wise legal counsel. Our great appreciation to the home team, John Duffy and Lynn Colomello for their many contributions, to Mary Jordan for managing all the moving parts, and a big round of applause to our amazing researcher, Ingrid Taylar, West Coast, USA.

JAMES PATTERSON has created more enduring fictional characters than any other novelist writing today. He is the author of the Alex Cross novels, the most popular detective series of the past twenty-five years. His other bestselling novels feature the Women’s Murder Club, Michael Bennett, Private, and NYPD Red. Since his first novel won the Edgar Award in 1977, James Patterson’s books have sold more than 300 million copies.

James Patterson has also written numerous #1 bestsellers for young readers, including the Maximum Ride, Witch & Wizard, Middle School, and Treasure Hunter series. In total, these books have spent more than 330 weeks on national bestseller lists. In 2010, James Patterson was named Author of the Year at the Children’s Choice Book Awards.

His lifelong passion for books and reading led James Patterson to create the innovative website ReadKiddoRead.com, giving adults an invaluable tool to find the books that get kids reading for life. He writes full time and lives in Florida with his family.

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MAXINE PAETRO is the author of three novels and two works of nonfiction as well as more than twenty bestsellers coauthored with James Patterson. These include The Women’s Murder Club, Confessions, Private, and other series and stand-alone books. Paetro and her husband, John, live in New York.