The Skye in June (30 page)

“
The police arrested three boys and one girl. There’s a warrant out for another young man. Oh, oh! Two of the boys are the O’Hara brothers from Eureka Valley. Isn’t the youngest one an altar boy at Holy Savior?” Jimmy inquired to Cathy’s back.

Cathy cracked an egg into the frying pan and shrugged an indifferent answer, knowing quite well that Billy O
’Hara had been an altar boy in their parish before joining his older brother, Mickey, at a Catholic boy’s high school. Recalling the mayhem her own brothers had caused while altar boys in Glasgow, she held her tongue and refrained from telling Jimmy that being an altar boy was not a guarantee that a lad would be good.

“
He was, Daddy. Now he goes to Sacred Heart,” Maggie answered him as she picked up a sausage to nibble.

“
Use your fork, young lady,” Cathy said flipping the egg onto to a plate. “Jimmy, this isn’t a very nice conversation at breakfast, especially right after Mass.”

He continued,
“It says that the oldest O’Hara repeatedly hit Dwayne Smith with a baseball bat while the other brother and another kid knocked Cedric Nottingham to the ground, kicking him unconscious. Sounds like a right dandy name. It says both men that were attacked are residents of Church Street.”

Reading from the paper, he continued,
“Let’s see, it also says, ‘They were taken to San Francisco General Hospital where Mr. Smith remains in a coma. He’s on the critical list. If he dies that’ll be a murder charge. Carmen O’Connell drove the  getaway car. A woman driver. No wonder they didn’t get away.”

In disgust at Jimmy
’s personal views, Cathy tsk-tsked while dodging the flying oil spitting from the sizzling bacon.

Paraphrasing the long article
he said, “O’Hara said that it was an older boy who came up with the idea to ‘bash some queers.’ They drove around drinking beers the older boy bought and when they saw these two men near Dolores Park, they followed them, asking if they were queers. It says Nottingham shouted back, ‘What if we are, you punks.’ Sounds like these men challenged the boys. No wonder they were upset.”

Jimmy flicked the page and pulled it straight. He slurped his tea and continued,
“That’s when an argument ensued. The boys got out of the car with two baseball bats, demanding an apology. When Mr. Nottingham tried to grab a bat, a fight broke out. I’d say them fags…”

“
Please. That word.” Cathy tut-tutted reproachfully as she slid a fried egg onto Mary’s plate alongside three sausages. “Still, it’s a shame those two men were hurt.”

“
They’re homosexuals. That’s a sin against God,” he declared.

“
What’s a homo…” June interrupted him, pushing away her plate with remnants of scrambled eggs.

“
Ho, ho it gets worse,” Jimmy spoke over her. “It says, ‘A warrant has been issued for Douglas (Mad Dog) Dougherty, the man responsible for buying the beer.’ Seems he’s already got a criminal record for violence.”

Annie g
asped loudly when she heard Dave’s brother Douglas––Mad Dog––was involved. He had just gotten out of prison and Dave was trying to help him stay straight, though he had said that Mad Dog had been bad news since they were kids. Dave had suspected more trouble for his brother in the future.

Jimmy peered at Annie over the top of his bifocals and the newspaper.
Her sisters ducked their heads, not wanting to get involved.

“
Please, dear. Let’s not talk anymore about it. It’s upsetting for the girls, especially since they know the O’Hara brothers,” Cathy said, refreshing his tea and laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Now you
girls see why I said to keep away from those hoodlums hanging around that park. I know what them boys are up to,” Jimmy admonished his daughters.

Aye, that
’s for sure. He does know what goes on, Cathy thought, thinking of her husband’s past reputation as a cad with the girls as well as a hotheaded rabble-rouser.

“
Mom, can I wash the dishes later? I need to get some laundry done.” Annie looked pleadingly at her mother.

He droned on,
“Bloody Valley’s becoming a haven for queers and killers and God knows what else.”

A sudden loud jangling from the telephone stationed in the hallway stopped Jimmy
’s rant. Maggie made a mad dash to it. “Hello, MacDonalds’ resident,” she answered sweetly. A second later her toned changed to rudeness. “Oh, you. June, it’s for you.”

“
Can I go, Daddy?” June asked tentatively. The girls weren’t supposed to leave the table at mealtime to talk on the phone.

Cathy answered,
“Yes, go. You look like you’ve had enough.” She sat down next to Jimmy to eat breakfast.

“
Hello,” June said, questionably, uncertain as to who would be calling her.

“
It’s me,” Brian said in his crackling voice, which was changing from the high tone of boyhood to a deeper sound.

She could hear voices behind him. One was shouting loudly and another wailing.

“Guess you can hear Sadie yelling. And the crying one is Jeannie. Two of Sadie’s friends got beat up bad last Friday night,” Brian told her.

“
Is that why Jeannie’s crying?”

“
Nope. It’s ‘cuz Bernice said we gotta move outta here.” Brian waited for June to respond. She didn’t.

“
Did you hear what I said? Move, like far away. She said to San Jose. I don’t even know where that is. Do you? Bernice said we’ll be safer there. Sadie’s pissed about some of Jeannie’s friends getting arrested. She wants to make sure the guys get prosecuted. And stuff like that.”

“
Jeez, that’s not fair. I mean, you guys can’t leave. Why would anybody bother you guys?”

Mary came out of the kitchen and closed the door behind her.
“What’s wrong?” she mouthed.

June cupped the phone.
“Callaghans are moving,” she told her sister. To Brian she said, “Mary says, why?”

“
You know, because Sadie and Bernice are, like, married. You know what I mean.” His voice became lower and she could hardly hear him.

June knew the women were very close and slept in the same room, but so did she and Mary. Although the way Brian said it gave her a new idea about the situation at the Callaghans.

“Brian, you can’t leave me. You’re my best friend. What’ll we do?” June whined pitifully.

“
Can you come down here and bring your tarot cards?” he asked. “Sadie and Bernice really believe in you. They said so. Especially after you had that dream where your angel saved them.”

June thought about the vision she had shared with the Callaghans just last week. It was about Sadie and Bernice. She had clearly seen them walking arm-in-arm along Market Street near Castro Street. Suddenly, they were caught in a brutal downpour. The lights of the 8 Castro Street bus that would take them closer to home slowly drove toward them. As the women moved to flag the bus, several men emerged from the shadow of a building. They charged toward the women with bats raised high. The frightened women ran toward the slow-moving bus, screaming for it to stop. When the bus doors opened, June
’s angel appeared in the doorway. She shot a blinding white light from her fingertips at the gang of men. They fell back and the women jumped on the bus. The last thing June had seen was Sadie’s face peering out of the bus window that was being pelted with heavy raindrops.

When June shared the visio
n, she had warned the women something bad would happen to them if they went out when the weather became rainy. Sadie had laughed and said Bernice’s new hairdo would probably flop. Bernice scolded her for laughing and assured June they would pay attention. Then, on Friday night it started to rain. They agreed that, because the rain was coming down so heavily, they would stay home instead of meeting friends at the Castro Theater. That night, two of their men friends had been beaten walking home from the movies.

“
Sadie’s been calling you Saint June, the Catholic Goddess for odd fellows and social misfits,” Brian said laughing, half-heartedly.

June giggled.

“If you come down and do a reading, maybe they’ll stay in The Valley. You can sneak out, right?” Brian was pleading not asking.

June thought of the two women who had trusted in her psychic abilities. She also considered the importance of her friendship with the Callaghans.
“I’ll be there soon,” she whispered into the phone. 

* * *
* *

Chapter 28

THE DEVIL PASSED THROUGH

1964

T
HE COLD SIDEWALK chilled June and Mary’s bums as they sat on the curb waiting for the 33 Ashbury bus. The day had been pleasantly warm for late March, until the sun dipped behind the trees in Golden Gate Park and the ocean fog spread a chill through the Panhandle and up to Haight Street.

Mary tucked the extra material from her bellbottom pants around her legs to keep the wind from shooting up them. June sat on her large black leather purse that held her schoolbooks. The short skirt of her Catholic school uniform (which, in the opinion of the nuns, was too short) did not protect her shivering white legs from the cold.

No matter how nippy the days could become, the two never let the capricious San Francisco weather discourage their trips to the Haight. It was a fun time there. They met up with the young, hip people moving into the area who were bringing a whole new scene to the city. The mood of the Haight-Ashbury was rebellious with long haired young men playing harmonicas and writing poetry and tough Harley-Davidson motorcyclists cruising the street, some with Hell’s Angels emblazed across the back of their leather jackets. The scene was a much-needed relief from the girls’ restricted life. At home the sisters didn’t talk openly about their jaunts, knowing the problems it would produce.

“
Stop moving,” June said impatiently. Her fingers were getting colder by the minute. She wanted to finish painting a dark-blue crescent moon in the middle of Mary’s forehead. She recently read witches wore the symbol to stimulate clear visions during certain rituals.

The yellow daisies Mary
painted on each of June’s cheeks were only inches from her eyes. She wanted to make them precisely as June had instructed her, including the large brown-gold centers.

Laughingly, Mary said,
“I’d love to hear what St. Pius would say about you now, you evil witch. Too bad it wasn’t her that got thrown out instead of Noel.”

June wanted to lash out and condemn those she deemed culpable in Sister Noel
’s transfer. But fear of exposing her own guilt for her role in the matter kept her silent. She reminisced how things would have been different if only she hadn’t pleaded with Sister Noel to let her class dance around the maypole. If only she hadn’t been so driven by self-righteousness and accused Maggie of vanity. If only she hadn’t been responsible for these things, she’d still have her loving mentor’s guidance. Ironically, in her moody anger, she silently relived the disappointment over and over again. Bile erupted from her stomach as she fought back words so bitter, they scorched her mouth, and her jaw muscles twitched. Still, she said nothing.

“
You know you weren’t to blame. Right, sis?” Mary asked, concerned with the suddenness of her sister’s ashen pallor.

June shrugged hopelessly and then recovered.
“Aye, right you are,” she said in her best Glaswegian burr, wanting to keep things light as Scots will often do in times of adversity.

They fell against each other, laughing and bantering such things as
“Och, the cheek of you!” and “Wee bugger.” The Scottish saying that had Mary rolling in laughter was a request for a kiss. June puckered up her lips and said, “Gie’s a wee kiss, will you no?” They leaned onto each other shoulder-to-shoulder until their laughter ebbed away and quietness settled between them.

A misty pale-gray fog drizzled around them, lightly wetting their faces. June began humming, ever so softly,
“Over the Sea to Skye,” a favorite Scottish song her mother would sing to herself. Slowly, the humming drifted away and she felt as melancholy as the tune. She looked to the skies. There was no angel to be seen.

“
Dig those two,” Mary said, nodding to the young couple bundled in matching Navy pea coats approaching them. Both had the latest hairstyle. They wore long bangs that almost entirely covered their eyes, a style they copied from the popular British group, The Beatles, who had made their American debut on “The Ed Sullivan Show” the previous January. Although dress and skirt hems were growing shorter each month, the girl’s dress was the shortest June had seen yet. Her white lacey leggings on her slender legs ended in stylish ankle boots. Tall and wafer thin with an air of confidence, she strode over to sit next to Mary.

“
What’s happenin’?” the girl greeted her.

“
Whadda ya want to be happenin’?” Mary asked.

“
What’s up with her goodie, goodie Catholic girl uniform?” the girl snorted like a horse, tossing her long iron-straightened blonde hair at June.