The Promise of Home (24 page)

Michael glanced down at his grandmother's left hand. She'd stopped wearing her plain gold wedding band a few months after his grandfather's death and now wore no jewelry at all. Still, in all the time he'd spent with her, he'd never seen her wear the ring she'd just described.

“Once we were married, we bought our own farm and moved here. After a few years and a few babies, the ring was too small to fit on my finger. I kept it in a little cloth pouch in my bureau. I figured someday, when we had the money, I could have it resized.

“Things got pretty tight for Grandpa and me for a while. We had a good herd going when our cows started getting sick. About half of them died, and the ones who survived weren't producing enough milk to cover all our orders.”

“What made them sick?”

“Bad feed, as best we could tell. We'd just had a new supply delivered, but once we took the cows off that feed and started them on a different batch, the ones that were alive recovered. Nearly wiped us out. Our milk production was down to a third of what it normally was, and we knew it'd be that way for at least a few years, until we could rebuild the herd. Your grandfather didn't want to, but he accepted help from his parents to make the payments on the farm until we were back up and running. It was the only time he ever took a dime from them. We had to feed a mess of growing boys, though, and replace the cows we'd lost. Even back then, cows and heifers weren't cheap.

“Your grandfather was feeling low about it, I could tell. He was proud of having his own farm, independent from his parents, and then to need them to step in…I hated to see him so discouraged. Weeks went by without any sort of light in his eyes, and I finally decided that I'd do what I could to help the situation. So, as much as I loved it, I sold the garnet ring he'd given me, and I used the money to buy three female calves. Gave them to him for his birthday. They were real young, and they had to grow up and have calves of their own before they'd produce milk, but they were ours, bought and paid for with our own money. I wanted to show him that we really were in it together, for better or worse.”

His grandmother paused again, this time to transfer a pile of cubed meat to a large bowl. “I had to tell your grandfather where I'd gotten the money for the calves, of course, and I was honest with him. He was angry in the beginning, but eventually, he came to understand my way of thinking.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked.

“I told your grandpa that keeping a material thing, even one with sentimental value, was downright dumb if you could sell or trade it for something your family needed. I did what should have been done. A ring in a drawer, especially one that was too small for me to wear anymore, wasn't doing anyone any good. Besides, it had already served its main purpose, which was to help your grandpa show me how much he loved me, not that I needed a ring to understand that. Better to use it to invest in our family and help build our future.”

“So that's why you sold the watch so quickly.”

“Yes and no. Yes, it had value that we could trade for money. But it was nothing like the ring. It had no sentimental value. All it did was remind me of that monster, the night he came in and threatened your mother, and I bloody well would've gotten rid of it one way or another because of that. Although I might not have sold it at the loan office if I'd known it was stolen.”

Michael shuddered. He didn't want to allow the hobo into his thoughts in any way. “Grandma, I don't understand…what was the one thing that you really wanted?”

She sighed as she reached for the next chunk of meat. “I'm ashamed to admit it, but since your grandpa passed, I've wished I could see that ring again, maybe slip it onto my finger for just a moment. I suppose I was more attached to it than I cared to admit. I don't regret selling it for the calf money, mind you. I would do it again if I were in the same situation. But when I think about how loving your grandpa was…” Her voice wavered, and a bit of color rose into her wrinkled cheeks. “He always made me feel as beautiful as that ring. It would be nice to be able to see it one last time.”

O
n an afternoon two weeks after her last fitting with Pauline, Claudia stood in her closet at home, admiring her finished wedding gown. It was perfect, a sleek silk dress with just enough decoration to accent its elegance. She especially loved the bodice, which Pauline had taken in and adorned with tiny sequins and pearls, and the delicate, detachable lace train. Her shoes were tucked neatly in their box on the floor beneath the long plastic sheath covering the gown. All that remained to complete her wedding attire was a headpiece and veil, which Pauline was creating for her.

“Claudia?”

She heard Kyle's voice calling out, and she quickly shut her closet door and hurried out into the living room. “Hey. I didn't hear you come in,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. He was wearing his uniform. “Are you on your way home?”

“Yeah, just thought I'd swing by and see if you might want to have dinner with Ro and me.”

“Sure! I don't have any plans. I was actually just looking at my gown.”

“Oh, you picked it up already? How did it turn out?”

“It's
perfect
,” she said, clasping her hands together. “Pauline is amazing. She turned the Internet cheapie into the dress of my dreams.”

“Wow. Maybe I should go take a look,” Kyle said as he made to walk past her to the bedroom.

Claudia stepped in front of him and pressed her hands up against his torso. “Oh, no, mister. You're
not
seeing it until I come down the aisle.”

“But you've made me so curious,” Kyle said, grabbing her hands. “And since the dress is in your
bedroom
…”

“It's technically in my closet,” Claudia said. “Besides, the bedroom is off-limits, remember? That was your idea, after all.”

Kyle sighed. “I know, I know. I'm kind of regretting it now, especially since we have a few minutes alone, and there's the added bonus of being able to sneak a peek at your gown.” He pulled her in for a kiss, which she didn't resist. And when he maneuvered her up against the kitchen table, she seriously considered throwing their no-sex-until-the-wedding plan out the window.

It was almost as if Kyle was reading her mind. “Maybe we should cheat a little,” he said. “The bedroom is off-limits, but we don't have to go in there.”

“Tempting,” Claudia gasped, “but isn't Rowen expecting you home? If you didn't tell her you'd be late, she might get worried.” As much as she wanted to take Kyle back to her bedroom and have her way with him, she was hell-bent on toeing the line on their agreement. She didn't want him to think she was a pushover or incapable of following through on something that was difficult…
extremely
difficult. With her resolve reinforced, she gently pushed him away.

“Oh, all right,” he said, but his tone was good-natured. “We'll see if you're still holding out after another week or two.”

“Don't worry,” Claudia said. She tilted her head and gave him a provocative smile. “You have no idea what I'm capable of. Besides, it's already November. Our wedding will be here before you know it.”

“I suppose,” Kyle said. “Oh! Speaking of November…” He took another step backward and took a deep breath. “I talked to my brother today. He and Misty and my parents want to spend Thanksgiving with us.”

“Oh.” Although she had no desire to spend more time with Misty, Claudia genuinely liked Kevin, and Kyle's parents were absolutely lovely, the kind of in-laws she had always hoped for. “Well, that'd be okay, I guess. As long as I don't get stuck spending a lot of time with Misty one-on-one.”

“That's unlikely, with all of us together,” Kyle said, “but there's one more thing. They want to have Thanksgiving here.”

“Here? In Mill River?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if they didn't all stay with you, there's not nearly enough room for that many people to have dinner in your apartment.”

“I know. That's why I kind of suggested that they'd be more comfortable staying in Rutland…and that we could have the dinner here, at your place.” Kyle was talking fast, no doubt in response to the shell-shocked look on her face. “I mean, it'll be our place soon, and my parents wanted to see where we'd be living after the wedding.”

“I've never prepared a big Thanksgiving dinner all by myself.”

“I'm sure Mom would happily help out with the cooking. She's a whiz in the kitchen. I could help, too, with some of the simpler things.”

Claudia took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Now was not a time to get worked up. She truly enjoyed spending time with Kyle's brother and parents, who would probably be as excited as she about the upcoming wedding. Misty was a disaster, but being surrounded by the rest of Kyle's family might put a damper on her obnoxiousness. Although Claudia had never hosted a huge Thanksgiving meal, she was a competent cook, and with careful planning and some recipes and pointers from her own mother, there was no reason she shouldn't be able to handle it.

“Okay. Let's tell them it's a go.”

“Seriously?” The relief on Kyle's face was plain. “Thank God. I was worried you'd freak out about it.”

“Nope, not worth freaking out over. With a little luck, it'll be the first of many Thanksgivings we all have together, so why not think of it as a special occasion and make the best of it?”

“I love you,” Kyle said, grabbing her up in a bear hug and nuzzling her face. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet,” she said. “I've still got to roast a turkey without burning it up and resist the urge to shove Misty in the oven along with it. But I'll manage somehow.”

“I know,” Kyle said. “Hey, can I use your restroom?”

“You still feel the need to ask?” She laughed. “It's basically
our
bathroom now. Just don't go into the bedroom. I don't want you anywhere near my closet.”

“Scout's honor,” Kyle said. He left his keys and phone on the counter and left the room.

As she waited for him to return, Claudia leaned back against the sink. She was starting to think about what she would fix for Thanksgiving when a text message popped up on Kyle's phone. She had never given a second thought as to what was on Kyle's phone or who called or messaged him, but when she glanced down at the screen, she was surprised to see that the text included a photo of a familiar blond woman with a note below it:

Can't wait to see you again at Thanksgiving! xoxo Misty

In the parish house, Father O'Brien had just started to think about what he could prepare for supper when someone knocked at the door. He wasn't expecting any visitors, but it was common for people in town to drop by with no notice. When he opened the door, though, he was surprised to see a middle-aged man wearing a white collar on his stoop.

“Father Grimaldi!”

“Hello, Michael,” the younger priest said.

“My goodness, Leo, it's been a long time. Come in, come in!” He led his visitor into the living room and motioned for him to sit. “I'm curious about what brings you by. You're quite a ways from home.”

“I know. I hope you'll excuse my coming without calling first,” Father Grimaldi said. “I was on my way back to Burlington from a conference and thought I'd take a short detour, since it would save me a trip next week.”

“Next week?” Father O'Brien asked. “You were planning on coming down to see me?”

“Well, to be honest, I wasn't, but the vice chancellor asked me to.”

Father O'Brien picked up a grim undertone in his colleague's voice and realized that this was not a social visit. Father Grimaldi had long served as part of the administrative board of the diocese of Burlington, and to have been asked by the vice chancellor to come to Mill River meant that the matter he wished to discuss was serious.

“I'm guessing this is about the article,” Father O'Brien said, taking a seat in his recliner, and Father Grimaldi nodded.

The interview he had granted to
America
magazine had appeared in the current issue. A complimentary copy, containing the story and a full-color photo of him sitting in his office, had arrived in his mailbox. As he'd expected, it had prompted the usual media flurry, with the
Mill River Gazette
and the
Rutland Herald
calling to inquire about doing stories of their own. What he hadn't expected was for the media in Burlington to pick up the story, or for the diocese to react negatively to his interview, because neither of those things had happened in the past.

“There is some concern,” Father Grimaldi began. “First, over the fact that your tenure here has been allowed for so long. Lots of priests would love to serve their communities for longer than they're permitted before being moved or asked to retire. The article made highly visible the facts that you've never had to start from scratch and that you've been exempted from the mandatory retirement age. Can you see how that might cause some hard feelings?”

“I suppose, although I would argue that the duration of my service here has been far more challenging than many people would believe—more difficult in many ways than moving among other parishes might have been. As for the retirement age, it's common knowledge that there's a shortage of priests and of men entering the seminary. Why is it a bad thing for me to continue to serve, even at my age, since I'm perfectly capable of doing so?”

Father Grimaldi looked carefully at him. “It may be that they…the administration…is wondering whether you are, in fact, still capable.”

“Ah, I see.” Father O'Brien gave a chuckle and then leaned forward with a hint of a smirk. “They sent you down here to see whether I still have all my marbles, hmm? Be honest, Leo.”

The younger priest gave a heavy sigh. “I won't lie to you, Michael, but you should know I won't lie to the administration, either. You're obviously fine, at least for now, and I'll tell them that. But you have to realize that there will come a time when your position will get to be too much for you. Look, despite the attention called to your unique situation in the
America
article, the administration doesn't want or intend to remove you.”

Father O'Brien squinted at his colleague. “But?”

“But…the board thinks it would be a good idea to assign a young priest to Mill River to work with you. To learn from you. To get to know the congregation and the other people in the community. You could show this new priest the ropes, so to speak, and when the time comes, and I pray it wouldn't happen for a good long while, he would be ready to take over for you.”

Hearing Father Grimaldi's proposition nearly moved Father O'Brien to tears. At a loss for words, he swallowed hard and blinked several times.

“Think of it as something that will help the people here,” Father Grimaldi continued. “If there were another priest here, someone the people knew and trusted, it would be a much easier transition for them when…”

Father O'Brien nodded. He hated to think about leaving his people and his town, but it was even worse to imagine them arriving at St. John's to hear Mass said by a stranger. “I don't have a choice in the matter, do I, Leo?”

“No.” The younger priest's low reply was barely audible to Father O'Brien, even with his hearing aids. “At least, not with respect to someone else being assigned to help out down here. You won't be forced into retirement, though, not so long as you're physically and mentally capable of serving. You'll be the pastor, and you can keep or delegate responsibilities as you see fit. They wanted me to emphasize that. You're somewhat of a marvel to the administration and to the bishop. I think they're convinced that the good Lord Himself has wanted you here all these years, and they're not about to interfere with that now. They just want to make sure there's a transition plan in place.”

“When?”

“The administration was thinking early in the New Year.”

Father O'Brien closed his eyes. The faces of the people in the pews at St. John's, of his neighbors, of the other wonderful people in town, of children he had seen grow up and have children and grandchildren of their own, began to parade through his mind. How many weddings had he performed? How many funeral Masses had he said? How many confessions had he heard? How many people had he counseled, embraced, and prayed with or for? Hundreds, maybe thousands. In this one little place for nearly his entire adult life, he had been enmeshed in their humanity, doing the best he could to help the best way he knew how. If he couldn't continue to do that, there would be nothing left for him to do.

Through the swirl of faces dancing across his eyelids, one became clearer and larger than all the others. It had been several weeks since Mary's face had appeared to him so vividly in his mind's eye. Usually, he remembered her quiet voice and her distinctive appearance best when he was experiencing strong emotion of some kind, and this time was no exception. Her expression was calm and soothing. She gave a barely perceptible nod, the kind of reassuring gesture she might have offered him during one of their long conversations. It was as if she were telling him that things were fine and would be fine. He didn't have to worry.

“All right,” Father O'Brien said. He opened his eyes and nodded at the younger priest. “All right.”

On Monday morning, Karen awoke suddenly five minutes before her alarm clock was due to go off. She sat up in bed and smiled. She'd slept soundly for the first time in many nights, and Ben hadn't needed to wake her in time to get ready for work or to say goodbye before he left for school. She chose not to think about the fact that her thirteen-year-old son routinely got himself up and out of the house without her involvement, or what that meant with respect to the quality of her parenting.