The Unfinished Gift (5 page)

Finally, a clear path opened. He picked it up gently, glad to find it was sturdy and well made. He noticed the bottom was unfinished, the legs blending into a block of wood. Who could have taken an ordinary block of wood and turned it into such a thing of wonder?

He held it at arms’ length and instantly decided that he had never wanted anything so much as this wooden soldier. The look on its face was so fierce, so intense; he could feel the soldier’s courage, see the bravery etched in every line. Patrick had seen newsreels about World War I and wondered what it must be like to face such danger, bombs going off to the left and right, machine guns rattling all around you. Yet still you run out of the trench to face it all. In the films you could never see the soldiers’ faces.

But now he could.

And it was the most remarkable thing he had ever seen.

Eight

After securing the boy in the attic, Collins spent some time in the bathroom, taking a bit longer than usual. He thought about staying upstairs even longer, maybe ten minutes more. If the priest stayed, Collins could just say the box had been difficult to find. Or Father O’Malley might get antsy and have to leave. Then came an image of Ida, like a fierce look from heaven for treating a holy man so poorly. He washed his hands and headed back down the stairs.

For the next fifteen minutes, the father asked a lot of questions about Shawn. How could Collins tell the father he hadn’t talked to Shawn since before the boy was born? What new avalanche of words might that rain down upon him? As he talked, Collins drifted back to the last conversation he’d had with Shawn.

It, too, had been about issues of faith. Shawn was even sitting in the same seat as Father O’Malley. Shawn had been trying to persuade Collins into considering how much more God had in mind for his life, what real faith in God looked like. Went on talking about how Elizabeth had helped him understand so much more about the gospel. Imagine the nerve, a son talking like that to his father.

“Dad,” Shawn pleaded, “please just listen to what I’m trying to say, just for once.” Then came this look of frustration, or was it disgust. “Who am I kidding? You’ve never listened to me, have you? It’s always been about me doing things your way. Well, it won’t happen this time, it can’t happen. The stakes are too high.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Collins shot back. “Always doing things my way,” he repeated. “As I recall, you’re not following me into the shop every day, even though this whole business could be yours in a few years. Got your way on that. Joined this new Army Air Force instead of the infantry like every other Collins who’s ever fought for his country. Got your way on that. And now you’ve up and married a woman who’s not even Irish and talks about religion all the time, totally against my wishes. So, maybe you can help me see how it’s always got to be about my way.”

Shawn stood up, a full four inches taller than his father, and paced in front of the coffee table. When he spoke again, he seemed a little more in control. “Okay, Dad, you’re right. I did get my way on those things. But you’re missing the point. I’m not a child. I shouldn’t have to fight for my way on things like that anymore. Each of those decisions was mine to make, not yours. Did you make it easy for me to make any of those choices? Did you even try to understand a single one? No, you did everything in your power to shut me down before you even heard me out.”

Collins didn’t reply.

“You seem to think every time I disagree with you, I do so out of spite,” Shawn said.

“I say black, you say white,” said the elder Collins. “I say up, you say down.”

“That’s not the way it is.”

“It’s exactly the way it is,” Collins shouted. “At least for the last two years. Ever since you met—”

“It is not. Look . . . I have to live my own life, whether you allow me to or not. I’m grateful for all the times you were there to guide me when I needed you, but I’m not that little boy anymore. I don’t know why you can’t see that. God help me if I ever treat my own son this way.”

“God help you see how bullheaded and stubborn you’ve become. And how foolish.”

“I’m bullheaded? I’m stubborn?” Shawn let out a long, frustrated sigh.

“That’s right. In my day, a man did what he was told, respected his father. Sacrificed if he had to. Gave up what he wanted for what was right.”

“And did you like that arrangement?”

“It’s not a question of did I like it. It’s a question of duty and respect. Things you know little of.”

“As I recall, all I ever heard is you complaining about how miserable you had it growing up with Grandpop. Is that how it works in this family? You have a miserable childhood, a tyrannical father whom you despise, stay under his control until you’re liberated by his death, then it’s your duty to pass the same thing on to your children? If that’s the Collins legacy, it dies here with me. I will never treat my son that way.”

“Why, you ungrateful little—” Collins shouted, rising to his feet. “How dare you talk to me in my house that way. How dare you talk about your grandfather that way. Get out.” His whole arm pointed toward the front door.

“Is that really what you want?”

“It’s what I demand,” Collins said, still shouting. “Unless you’re prepared to take back everything you’ve just said.”

“How can I, Dad? I can say I’m not trying to hurt you. I can say I’m not doing these things out of spite. But if you can’t let me start making my own choices without trying to manipulate me with guilt, we’re not going to have much of a future.”

“Then so be it,” said Collins. He walked to the door and yanked it open. Shawn followed a few steps behind. “That woman has bewitched you, Shawn. She’s taken you away from us—”

“Bewitched me?” Shawn stood right over him. “Elizabeth is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And she’s not taken me away—you’re the one putting me out. If you’d stop trying to run my life, we could get along fine. I came over here trying to share some things I’ve learned about the Christian faith, things I never understood before. I’m not telling you how to live your life. When you told me you didn’t want to hear any more, what did I do? I backed off. Does that mean I don’t feel strongly about my views? I’ve never felt more strongly about anything in my life, but I backed off. You know why? I was showing you respect. And that’s all I’m asking from you in return. Just a little respect.”

“What do you mean, telling me what you learned about the Christian faith?” Collins was still yelling even though Shawn’s face was but inches from his own. “So you’re a Christian now, is that it? And what does that make your mother and me?”

“Dad, did you hear a thing I said?”

“So now you’re saying we’re not Christians? I can’t believe—”

“Dad, stop. It’s not what I meant. There’s a difference, that’s all, between what I grew up learning and what I know now.”

“I’ll say there’s a difference. You grew up learning respect, and now all you know about is being selfish and willful.” Collins held the door open wider and stood out of Shawn’s way.

“So that’s it, then.”

Collins motioned with his head for Shawn to leave.

Standing in the vestibule, Shawn turned and said, “Don’t expect me to come back here begging to get in your good graces. It’s not going to happen.”

Collins slammed the door shut, rattling the glass panes.

He and Shawn hadn’t spoken two words since that moment, and that had suited Collins just fine. Ida had given him some trouble at first, but she was a good woman, knew her place in such matters.

The only other contact was a brief phone call to Ida when Shawn’s wife got pregnant. But Collins stood his ground. The baby changed nothing. Three years later, Ida took ill. When the doctor confirmed their worst fears, Collins reluctantly agreed to allow Shawn to visit his mother as long as he gave fair warning before coming so Collins could exit the hospital first.

On her deathbed, Ida had made him promise he would reconcile with Shawn and Elizabeth. The power of the moment had been too strong to resist. Collins agreed, taking some comfort that he had never said anything about how or when. There had been no contact in the four years that followed.

Not until the boy had arrived the other day.

“Ian, does that upset you?” The words barely penetrated, more like raindrops on a tin roof. “Ian? Ian, are you listening?”

Collins finally focused on the mouth, then the face of Father O’Malley. Fear suddenly gripped him. If he didn’t act fast, the father would be tempted to repeat the lecture Collins had just been spared. “No, no. I hear you.”

“But did I upset you?”

“No, of course not. Why?”

“Your face has been growing steadily more sour the more I go on.”

“It’s just my breakfast turning over, Father. I’m fine. That’s all very interesting, what you were saying. But you know, I probably ought to go check on the boy, and I’m sure you’ve got a busy day ahead of you.” He stood up, hoping to strengthen the hint.

It worked. Father O’Malley stood with him and began walking toward the door. Collins quickly stepped ahead and lifted his black overcoat from the hook. “Thank you for the coffee, Ian. A treat to have real sugar for a change.” He turned, allowing Collins to help him on with his coat.

“Now, Ian. You think hard about what I said in our little talk. The boy’s been through a terrible ordeal. He needs normalcy and routine right now. I know you can’t change all your ways in a matter of days, or replace a mother’s love, but I’m just asking you . . . see what you can do to lighten his load. Would you do that for me, now? When Shawn gets home, maybe we can all sit down and figure something out together.”

What an agonizing thought; Collins couldn’t even allow an image of it to form in his head. “I’ll let you know, Father.” He opened the front door.

“I’ll be off then, Ian. The Lord bless you and keep you. My, what a frosty morn.”

Collins quickly closed the door. As he walked the cups and saucers back to the kitchen, he tried to ward off any sense of guilt about whether he had just lied to a priest. It wasn’t lying in the true sense of the word, he decided. It was pretending to pay attention. And the fact that he didn’t tell the father about the feud between him and Shawn wasn’t a lie, either. Not telling someone a thing is not the same as telling them something that is untrue.

What’s a few more weeks in purgatory? he thought. A small price to pay, considering. After rinsing the cups, he decided he better go check on the boy. He’d had plenty of time to do what he’d been told.

Collins dried his hands and braced himself for a fresh onslaught of Christmas cheer.

Nine

Patrick had set the wooden soldier aside as he worked his way through the box of decorations. He positioned it under the window so he could see it plainly at all times. By contrast the luster of the Christmas box had already faded. In about twenty minutes, he gathered a sufficient pile of decorations, made sure he could replace them in their assigned locations, then walked over to the wooden soldier and picked it up.

He couldn’t just leave him here now that he’d discovered him. His grandfather would never allow him back up here to play. As he sat on an old cane chair, he stroked the soldier’s helmet and thought through a plan. He remembered his friend Billy saying people only put things in attics they don’t care about anymore. But they do care a little, otherwise they’d have thrown them out. This soldier must have been lying here for years, totally forgotten. It was caked in dust, like everything else up here. Maybe it was like Billy said, almost ready for the trash but not quite. Maybe his grandfather would let Patrick borrow it. He would promise not to hurt it. He wouldn’t even play with it, just set it on his dresser next to the picture of his parents.

Then maybe if he was really good, his grandfather would let him take it home when his father came to pick him up. Patrick smiled at that thought; his father would love this soldier.

He got up and carefully weaved his way back toward the stairs, cradling the soldier in his right arm. He’d come back for the decorations later. Barely halfway down the stairs, he heard footsteps coming up from the ground floor. He froze. Quick, he thought, back up the stairs and put the soldier back, right where you found it. No, don’t do that. Stick to the plan; it’s a good plan. It might work. This soldier wouldn’t give up and run away.

Patrick took two more steps forward. The door opened. “Oh, hi. I was just coming down to—”

“Well, Father O’Malley is finally gone. Hey, what is that you’ve got there?”

“This? I found it up there, over by the—”

“Who said you could touch that?”

“Well, no one. I—”

“Give me that.”

His grandfather lunged toward him. Patrick fell back on the stairs. His grandfather snatched the wooden soldier from Patrick and stormed past him back up the stairs.

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t taking it. I was just coming down to ask your permission.”

“Don’t ever touch this again. You hear me?”

He was already in the attic, his voice trailing off. Patrick wanted to run down the stairs and straight out the front door and never look back.

“Can’t leave you alone for one hour,” he heard his grandfather say, followed by what sounded like two swear words. “No respect at all. Guess I know where you got that from.”

What should he do? Patrick hated this place. Why had Miss Townsend brought him here? Couldn’t anyone else take care of him until they found his father? He’d rather live in an orphanage than here. He ran down the stairs, then across the hallway to his room. Once inside, he closed the door and jumped on the bed, bursting into tears, but cried into the pillow as quietly as he could.