Chapter 14
California, 2002
He stood halfway down the path that led to the manor house at Bethzatha. For a long while—or maybe it just seemed like a long while—he looked at the semicircular drive, lined with impatiens and whatever staffers could be spared from the inn for the brief ceremony. They flanked the steps of the porch on which Señor sat like a Persian emperor with Paris to his left and Belle at his right.
Jade sighed deeply and started down the simple gravel path rimmed with small, gray rectangular stones that might as well have been his Via Dolorosa. Along the way, he paused to shake the hands or accept the spontaneous hugs of those who rushed up to greet him, detecting in their faces something beyond the mix of compassion and apprehension he had expected: It was the terrible
