y the time Charles returned with the local church's pastor, Molly had cleaned and dressed herself and the baby. She sat at the table with Aida, holding Garson closely in her arms. The door swung open with a gust of wind, and the women watched the two men struggle to step inside. 

     Holding his black hat tightly onto his head, the priest followed Charles and quickly shut the door. He looked around the home with a single bedroom off to the side, a simple kitchen, and a sparce eating area. It was his first time in their country dwelling, and he had to cover his nose from the daytime dust that had blown in and settled from outside.

     "Mrs. Molly," he acknowledged Molly, then the same to Aida. 

     "Father O'Brien," Molly replied gently with a modest smile and bow of her head. 

     Her tone was submissive in hopes she could appeal to his mercy. 

     "I see a wee lad there," he said with a kind smile. "How are ye, Mrs. Molly? Up and about so soon after pushin' this one out? Ye've a strong dedicated wife, Charles," he said with a kindhearted chuckle. 

     "I didn't bring ye here fer a visit, Father," Charles snapped. "Look at this!"

     When he tried to take the baby from Molly, she held the blanket closer. 

     "Give him to me, Molly!" he demanded. 

     Father O'Brien stared in shock as Charles grabbed Molly by the hair to make her obey. 

     "Charles!" she cried as he took the baby. 

     "Tell me of this, Father," he said as he shoved the baby toward the priest for a closer look. 

     Father O'Brien adjusted his silver metal framed glasses and looked down as the baby looked toward him. 

     "Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" he exclaimed with a step back. 

     The fearful church leader made the sign-of-the-cross over his forehead, heart, and shoulders with his crucifix, ending it with a kiss to the figure of Jesus on the holy pendant. 

     "I knew it! It's evil, Molly! Do ye see?" Charles yelled. 

     "Father!" Molly shrieked toward the priest. 

     They all watched as Charles dropped the infant onto the table and reached for a nearby knife. 

     "Father! You must do something!" she screamed and tried to stop her husband once again from murdering their son. 

     "Charles, what in Heaven's name are ye doin’?" asked the frightened and bewildered priest. "Ye canna murder yer own child."

     "It's evil, Pastor," Charles replied angrily, his temper clouding his willingness to listen to rational arguments. "What do ye expect of me? Do ye think God Almighty would want this thing livin’ among his flock?"

     "Father O'Brien, please," cried out Molly. She clung to the priest's arm and sobbed. "There must be a way to save my son without killing him. Please, I'll do anything, Father. Please, help me! Help my son!"

     Father O'Brien stared at the crazed expression on Charles. He had been the parish rector for a year and had come to learn of Charles' odd mood swings. This seemed to be more than a sudden bout of rage. The man clearly had some sort of derangement, and as he looked down at the crying infant, he wondered if there would be any saving him.

     "An exorcism," Father O'Brien finally blurted. 

     He silently prayed for forgiveness in suggesting such a thing toward an innocent child. He could see that eye was merely a deformation, but the people in that province and others like it clung to superstitions and fear of demons and devils stronger than their faith in God and angels. He would have to appeal to that superstition if he was going to stop this barbaric man from killing the baby.

     At the suggestion of an exorcism, Charles seemed to calm down. He became willing to listen, and Molly took the opportunity to encourage this change in his demeanor. 

     "Yes, Charles, an exorcism," she spoke softly, easing herself from her confrontational tirade. "It would be a far greater thing to save your son's soul than to banish his life without trying, wouldn't it? As his father, you should want your first-born son to survive and honor his father's name. Can we do as Father O'Brien says, Charles? Please?"

     Everyone stood silent as Charles stared down at the baby. Aida had moved from the table and was cowering against a cupboard as the pastor and Molly stood near Charles in hopes he would listen to reason. 

     Charles threw the knife onto the table and shook his head in disgust. 

     "Save his soul but never call him my son," he muttered. "Do the Lord's bidding and send that demon away. That's the extent of my tolerance or my concern."

     He turned to face Molly and glared down into her terrified eyes. She clasped her hands together tightly in preparation for his abuse, but he only stood over her as he spoke. 

     "Keep him by you and never let him near me," he warned. "Ye'll give me another son or die tryin’. If the next comes out like this one, I'll send ye all to hell along with this worthless priest."

     They watched as he left out once again into the storm, his whereabouts never known when he was in one of his spontaneous rages.  

     Molly quickly held the baby in her arms and soothed his crying as Aida and the priest watched. 

     "I'll do what I can, Molly, dear," Father O'Brien told her in a sorrowful tone. "Ye'll have to do everythin’ I say if ye want that boy to live. Ye know that eye won't heal from a sprinklin’ of holy water and a few bible verses. Ye canna grow what the Lord didna put there in the first place. I'll do what I can to appease yer husband's temper. The rest is up to you. 

     I'm sorry, Mrs. Molly. I wish there was more I could do. Not only for the babe but what yer sufferin’ with that man."

     He gave a slow shake of his head as he sighed deeply in pity.

     She walked him to the door and stopped him before he left. 

     "Father, do you really believe it's an evil eye?" she asked worriedly. 

     He watched as she held her baby close and rocked him in her arms. He smiled down at the boy and gently stroked his thick black hair. 

     "I've seen babies born with all sorts of inflictions," he replied. "I must admit, that eye startled me when it stared right back, but there's nothin’ evil about it. It's only an unfortunate impairment."

     He watched her wipe away her tears and smile in relief. 

     "I know it's tough now and this boy's life willna be easy, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, Molly," he told her to ease her troubled mind. "Do as yer husband says. Keep yer son close and raise him well. Perhaps this eye is God's way of keepin’ his father away so he doesna have influence over his son's upbringin’. It will be up to you to see to it yer child is a better man."

     "Garson, Father," Molly said with a smile. "I want his name to be Garson Gabriel Wade."

     Father O'Brien gave a soft chuckle. "Namin’ him fer an archangel is a good place to start. I'll hold a baptism for Garson tomorrow when the storms clear. That should help with yer husband's fears, as well."

     Molly closed her eyes and breathed easier. "Thank you, Father."

     He smiled and nodded before hurrying out into the rain.