31_days | [June 10th] [Perry Mason] Lux Aeterna, 10

Title: Lux Aeterna, scene 10
Day/Theme: June 10th - Golden roof and silver floor
Series: Perry Mason
Character/Pairing: Hamilton Burger, Della Street
Rating: K/G

Takes place shortly after Florence takes over. I thought it would be relaxing to write a nice, quiet, religious/spiritual piece on a Sunday afternoon. Which it was. It also seems to have turned slightly shippery if you squint, which wasn't my intention at all.

By Lucky_Ladybug

Della had to wonder at times if Florence had somehow summoned pieces of another land to this one. Sometimes things seemed mostly the same, but then she or someone else would stumble across something that was utterly amazing and awe-inspiring and didn’t seem like anything that existed in any Earthly culture.

She was with Hamilton when they discovered the most incredible locale she had seen thus far. They were searching for a good place to use as their rebel group’s hideout. Perry and Paul had already left some time before, and Perry had determined that none of them should wander about alone until they had a better idea of how dangerous it would or would not be, so when Hamilton had opted to look Della had requested to go with him. He had consented.

“We aren’t near Florence’s castle, are we?” she asked in concern as he drove through the canyons.

“No; that’s farther over,” said Hamilton.

Della relaxed. “That’s good.”

None of them had been able to get close to the dark castle, but Captain Caldwell of the United States Air Force had flown a plane over the mountains and managed to take some aerial shots. Copies had been given to each member of the rebel forces. Hamilton had been keeping his in his briefcase.

“Mr. Burger . . .” Della gripped her purse as she spoke. “Do you think we really have a chance against her?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Hamilton answered. His fingers on the steering wheel seemed to be clutching it tighter than before.

Della leaned back with a quiet sigh. Things had certainly been different the last few months. Every time they thought it could not possibly get stranger, it managed to. And while none of them liked it, it might very well bother Hamilton the most. He hated that this was something he could not explain, at least not without fully acknowledging that magic was real. And that was something he had never wanted to have to believe. Until a few months ago, his feelings had never been challenged by anything other than Mignon’s quiet questions. While it had been easy to brush those off as opinions and not truth, this was all but impossible.

“May I ask you something?”

Hamilton glanced over in surprise. “Ask away,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ll give you a good answer, but I’ll try my best.”

Della hesitated before plunging in. “I know none of us are happy with what’s going on,” she said. “And some of us are having trouble believing it. But I’ve noticed that it seems to bother you more than any of the rest of us. Why is that?”

Now Hamilton was silent. “You honestly want to know?”

“Yes,” Della told him. “I really do.”

Hamilton was quiet again. “. . . I thought I had at least some idea of how the world worked,” he said at last. “I knew that there were scientific principles that governed its functions and I was just fine with that.

“The thought of magic sounded crazy. It’s so haphazard and unpredictable. And if there wasn’t any limit to what it could do, how would anyone even be safe with it around?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe that God would allow it. There wouldn’t be any order. Mignon argues that with good magic as well as bad, the balance and order is still there. But I don’t see it that way.

“I suppose, if I get right down to it, what bothers me the most is that it upsets everything about my beliefs. If magic is real, I guess I start wondering if God isn’t. Since I can’t picture them co-existing.”

Della was stunned. All this time, she was suddenly realizing, she had never really known anything about Hamilton’s religious views. It had never come up. She had not even been sure if he believed in God. Or perhaps she had assumed he was skeptical of that as he was about paranormal phenomena in general.

“I . . . I see,” she stammered, remembering she needed to say something.

Hamilton half-smirked. “I surprised you, didn’t I.”

“Yes.” Della shook her head. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize you would feel that way about it.”

Hamilton nodded. He was not that surprised. “I’ll tell you what I told Mignon once. I’m not a skeptic because I don’t believe in God. I’m a skeptic because I do.

“And as long as we’re asking questions, I have one for you. Why are you able to accept this easier than most of us? When you were under Vivalene’s spell, you said you accepted the stories Paul and I were telling because they sounded right. But surely the existence of magic can’t seem right to you as it does to Mignon.”

Della mulled over her reply. “No,” she said slowly, “it doesn’t. But it seems to be here anyway. I think . . .” She leaned back, gazing out at the scenery they were passing. “I think there must be a lot we still don’t understand about how the world works. And that if magic is real, there has to be an explanation somewhere. And it isn’t that God isn’t real. My faith in God hasn’t wavered.”

“That’s good.” Hamilton sighed. “I’d like to believe that there’s an explanation too. Maybe deep down I do. But right now, I don’t consciously know what to think.”

“I understand,” Della said, her voice quiet. And she did. But she hoped and prayed that Hamilton’s concerns would not develop into a more serious crisis of faith.

As they rounded another curve something glimmered in the remains of the late sun. “What’s that?” she exclaimed.

Hamilton peered at it. “I don’t know. Hopefully it won’t hurt to check.” He drove ahead, trying to get a better idea of what the mysterious sparkle was. He could see it vaguely through the trees, but not well enough to figure it out.

Then the trees parted and the object was very clear. It was a stained-glass window, depicting an angel in flight. They were approaching what looked like an old and possibly abandoned church.

Della gasped in amazement. “Who could have built this?” she wondered. It was nestled so neatly and strangely in the middle of the canyon. And the white architecture was so beautiful. Something about it glistened in the light, almost as though there was something in the stone material itself just to give that effect.

Hamilton’s jaw dropped. “What’s it doing here, of all places?” He pulled over to the side of the road. There were no other vehicles present at all, nor any other signs that people were around. Maybe it was safe enough to explore. He got out of the car. Having the same idea, Della exited on her side.

As they drew closer it was easier to see that the building was somewhat weathered. The window was cracked and dusty, albeit still beautiful. Vines and some other plants were growing around the structure in various places. One vine was wrapped entirely around one of the thick pillars on either side of the front steps. Another had slipped through the slightly open left door to trail across something inside.

The duo ascended the steps and Hamilton pushed on the door. He blinked when it barely moved. “I can’t tell if this is just ridiculously heavy or if something’s behind it.” He threw all his weight against it, with the same result. A bit annoyed now, he tried the other door. It creaked and groaned on ancient hinges, but it moved. Light flooded the old chapel.

He and Della both stopped and stared for a long moment. The interior was nothing like what they had imagined.

There were very few pews. Whether that was the way it had always been or whether many of the benches had been spirited away by thieves was a mystery. But they were cast in white stone. Some still faced the pulpit, while others were half-turned. One had tipped back, its feet in the air. The vine from outside was sprawled across it, along the floor, and over to the window. If the pews had ever borne soft cushioning, it had likely rotted into oblivion.

Behind the pulpit was the altar, also white. There was no cloth upon it, but there were two candlesticks. They almost looked gold. But surely, Hamilton thought, that was preposterous. Thieves would benefit much more from taking those sticks than they would by trying to cart off the heavy benches. If the candlesticks were gold they wouldn’t still be here.

Della took several steps inside. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed in awe.

Hamilton followed her in but did a double-take at the sight of the floor. It looked silver. “What is this?!” he gasped. “A floor made out of silver? That’s impossible!”

“It has to be something else,” Della said. “Silver would have tarnished by now, but the floor looks so well-preserved. . . .” She trailed off as she crossed to the altar, gazing at the stained-glass image above and behind it. It was a representation of Jesus, that much was clear. But its point of origin was a mystery. In some ways it looked like some of the Celtic art Della had seen in the past. In other ways, however, it bore nuances that she could not identify.

Hamilton glanced behind the door that he had not been able to open. Another pew had fallen there, making itself a very effective blockade.

It was as he was turning to look back to Della when he had the impulse to glance upward instead. The ceiling rose high above them and curved into a dome. A golden dome. He fell back.

“This is too strange,” he exclaimed. “We don’t have things like this here. It must have been built by some eccentric land-owner decades ago.”

Della ran her hand over one of the candlesticks before turning back to face him. “Maybe it’s not from here at all,” she mused.

Hamilton gaped at her. “What are you talking about, Della?! Please don’t tell me you think aliens brought it.”

Della smiled. “No. But it might be from another time and place. Captain Caldwell said that Florence’s castle seemed to be. It had to come from somewhere.”

“The last thing Florence would ever want here is another church,” Hamilton objected. “You know that.”

“She probably didn’t have anything to do with this.” Della passed her hand over the back of one of the pews now. “Maybe it just came along with what she did bring.”

“Why?” Hamilton said in disbelief. “And how?”

Della shook her head. “I’m afraid the how is a mystery to us both, Mr. Burger. But as for why . . .” She looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with a quiet yet firm conviction. “It could be part of your answer.”

Hamilton’s expression said he was still bewildered and did not understand. Della walked over, lightly touching his arm. “Maybe it was brought as a sign,” she said. “A sign that there’s still hope. And that there is a God and He’s watching over us even now.”

Hamilton searched her eyes, his own now flickering with understanding. “. . . I guess you could think of it like that if you want,” he said. “But it’s been abandoned for years. I’m not sure I like the possible message of that.”

“It hasn’t been used in a long time,” Della agreed, “but it could be used again. It’s still beautiful. The gold and silver—if that’s what they are—look new. And that window behind the altar . . .” She nodded to it. “It doesn’t look aged at all.”

Hamilton looked to it. She was right. It was quite a contrast with the dusty window they had passed coming in.

“There’s probably a logical explanation for that,” he said.

“Giving a worried believer some encouragement when he needs it?” Della said, still smiling. “That sounds logical to me.”

Hamilton glanced back to her. He would like to believe that, he had to admit. And the way Della said it so simply made it seem easy.

“I’m not the only worried believer around,” he said.

“But you might be the only one coming down this path,” Della said. “There’s a scripture that says The worth of souls is great in the sight of God. That includes you, Hamilton Burger.”

Hamilton gave her a much longer look, debating, weighing his options. At last he smiled too, softly, genuine. “Thank you.”

“It’s not me you should thank,” Della answered.