“We bid on his eBay auction, and we buy him. And once he’s ours, we use all means at our disposal to keep him alive.”
“Sister, I’m fairly certain the Holy See would not look kindly on nuns buying and selling human lives with church money. That went out with the Inquisition.” His smile suggested that she would see the wisdom of his words and that this meeting would end. Cardinal Trippe, a good and decent man, was not prepared for the depth of Sister Benedict’s resolve or for her growing obsession with Jared Stone.
“Not buying and selling, Your Eminence. Buying and cherishing. There are any number of Catholic hospitals in the Northwest. Surely a man of your influence could persuade one to take this man as a patient.”
“I see,” Cardinal Trippe said, sounding as if he did not see. “And how does keeping this one man alive benefit our Church?”
“Because, Your Grace, all human life is precious. We honor the Lord with every soul we save in this world and prepare for the next.”
The Cardinal nodded as he fished an almond out of a small bowl on his desk and chewed it slowly, carefully. Sister Benedict sensed that she had piqued his interest and decided to go for broke.
“And because, Your Eminence, saving this man, keeping him alive, will be a news story to end all news stories. The press will camp out in this man’s hospital room for months, perhaps even years. All the world will look to our province, to your province, as a shining example of true divinity.” The Sister knew it was a bit of a Hail Mary, a term she had once thought blasphemous but now understood. She hoped that she was interpreting the whiteness of the Cardinal’s teeth correctly, and that an appeal to his vanity would be the deciding factor.
“Tell me, Sister, have you ever used eBay before?” the Cardinal asked, sitting back in his chair. He was swiveling it slightly from left to right, making the Sister feel as if she and the entire room were in motion.
“No, Your Grace.”
“I have. My mother is a big Frank Sinatra fan, and I was able to find an original pressing of his 1955 album In the Wee Small Hours. Not my cup of tea, but Mother loves it. I got it for fifteen dollars, including shipping. A bargain. It’s really a remarkable use of technology.”
The Sister had not counted on this, on the Cardinal sharing her fascination with technology, and it made her light up. “Yes, Your Grace, I couldn’t agree more. And now it will afford us an opportunity to do the good work of the Church. If we can win the bid—”
Cardinal Trippe held up a hand, indicating the Sister should stop. “I’m sorry, Sister, we cannot, as I’m sure you will understand, actually appropriate the money to bid on a human life.” She started to protest, but the Cardinal cut her off again. “I understand what you’re trying to do, and it is laudable. The circumstances really do afford us a chance to demonstrate our commitment to life, to all life. But we cannot spend so many of our resources to save a single life when that money can help so many others.” The Sister was crestfallen, her mind racing for a way to sway the Cardinal, when he continued. “However, there is a much smaller sacrifice we can make that can perhaps stop this troubled young man—what was his name?”
“Jared Stone, Your Eminence.”
“To stop Mr. Stone from going through with his ill-guided attempt to sell himself, while also accomplishing your goal of shedding light on the sanctity of life.”
“A smaller sacrifice?”
“Yes, Sister, a much smaller sacrifice. You will sacrifice your good standing on eBay.” The Sister looked perplexed, so the Cardinal leaned forward to explain his idea.
Seven hours later, Sister Benedict Joan bid on Jared Stone’s life. The $1,000,000 was exactly enough to meet the reserve and to make the Sister and her Mother Church the leading bidder.
***
Deirdre Stone liked her house. She liked it a lot.
She liked the garden she and her daughters had planted under the bay windows in the front yard, with roses, hydrangea, and a holly bush; she liked the pale green color she and Jared had painted the living room walls when they first moved in; she liked the way that color had aged and matured with the house, with their relationship; and she liked the worn, comfortable couch that was her spot late at night to unwind from the day, after the girls went to bed and Jared had fallen asleep in his office.
On this night, Deirdre spent what felt like an uncountable number of hours curled up on that couch, crying.
After she watched Jared retreat to his office, stumbling up the stairs following the onslaught of media, she slammed the front door shut and collapsed on the sofa. Megan ran upstairs, no doubt telling Jackie everything that had happened. The girls stayed up there, never calling out for her, never asking about dinner.