Where To From Here?

by Ursula Paul

  “Take it easy all of you. No need to hurry back, Dad. You and Mum ought to have a bit of a break.” Their second son, Len, voiced the message for all his brothers. Len and brother Don and wives had settled on the property some years ago and were gradually taking over the running of the property as their father began to plan his retirement. The eldest son, Bill, a pharmacist in Coonabarabran, his wife and children had arrived early to join the family for the special breakfast and farewell to his youngest brother.

  For all this was a moment in time. For Joe especially, this was an experience he had never anticipated. During his years at boarding school this was home. During his years in the seminary this was home. But now he was stepping into a new world, a new life.

  His thoughts were interrupted by big brother Bill. “You know Joe, we’re all proud of you. And you know too – or we hope you do – that there will always be a spot for you here – that as long as you want it, this will always be home for you.” He finished by giving Joe a brotherly hug.

  “Thanks Bill.” Joe fought back tears.

  “Well, we’d better hit the road!” With John’s announcement Joe was surrounded once more with brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces and nephews.

  The day was warm and cloudless. The car sailed along the straight sea of bitumen. After a stop over at Dubbo for lunch, they were on their way again, this time with Joe at the wheel.

  They reached Bathurst in time for Joe to collect the Mazda his father had ordered for him. Then on to the motel they had booked for the night.

  Joe’s appointment with the bishop was mid-morning the next day. After breakfast John and Mary decided to return home. “As long as you have a car and don’t need us,” Mary added.

  “You know they’ll manage at home without you,” Joe smiled. Then added seriously, “This could be a good time for a couple of days in the mountains – just a short drive from here. Time out for you both.”

  “No Joe. Perhaps another time. We’ve decided to head back now.”

  Joe hugged them both. What great people! What wonderful parents!

  Chapter Two

  At the appointed time Joe arrived at the bishop’s house.

  “Bishop Neil is on a call at the moment. He won’t be long,” Joe was advised by his secretary.

  Shortly after he was shown into the bishop’s office where he received a warm welcome.

  “Glad to see you again Joe. Good trip? Ready to join us?”

  Morning tea was already on the table. Over refreshments, current news was briefly discussed.

  “Well, I suppose you’d like to talk over future placements,” Bishop Neil eventually stated.

  “Yes,” Joe replied nervously.

  “Look Joe, don’t be worried. I’m not a tyrant. I have plans for you. But discussion first – to see what you think.”

  “Thanks Bishop.”

  “Actually,” Bishop proceeded to explain. “A week ago my offer – or suggestion – to you would have been different. We are in the throes of setting up the CYMS here in Bathurst. Oh – you know to what I’m referring?”

  “Yes Bishop. Catholic Young Men’s Society.”

  “Yes – great. Well, with your sporting expertise and,” he added with a smile, “your spiritual leadership, you are the obvious choice as chaplain.”

  “Thank you Bishop.” Immediately the idea appealed to Joe.

  “But,” continued the bishop, “we have a slight problem. The parents of Bruce, our curate in Blayney, were involved in a very serious car accident. They have survived but will need extensive rehabilitation. Bruce has asked for six months leave to help them through this traumatic time. Of course I didn’t hesitate. Ordinarily the parish priest would carry on, on his own. Our parish priest there has taken for granted he will remain there until he retires in two or three years time. And,” he added with a smile, “that is a boat I do not wish to rock!”

  “Now the problem is, this gentleman – a great old man but very set in his ways – suffers from severe arthritis to the point that he can’t walk without technical assistance. His car is set up so that he can legally drive. He can still fulfil the duties he sees as his as a parish priest. But he does need assistance. And that’s where you come in. Would you ‘fill in’ at Blayney for the next six months? Of course I’ll give you time to think about it. And please don’t feel pressured.” He paused, then added, “At this stage, do you have any questions?”

  “Everything is new to me, Bishop. So in whatever you suggest I would be feeling my way. Yes – just one question. If I go to Blayney, who will be inducted as the CYMS chaplain?”

  “Sorry Joe. I forgot to mention. You are certainly the ‘man’ for that job. Formation of the new CYMS club will be put on hold for six months. Actually, we’ll need that time to make sure we set it up without hitches and without leading to future problems. This is just a fill-in for six months. Bruce will probably return by then. But, if he needs more time to help his parents, we’ll organize someone else for Blayney. We want you back in Bathurst in six months. That is, of course, if you agree. But, Joe, take a day or two to think it over. Sorry I can’t give you more time.”

  “It’s fine Bishop. No worries. No need for more time. Being part of the new CYMS is an exciting thought and quite a surprise. But – Blayney for six months is fine. I’m ready to roll!”

  “Thanks Joe. This is a great help. Our old patriarch, Steven, is quite a character. Has his own views on running a parish. But he’s okay.”

  “Sounds interesting,” laughed Joe. “When do you want me in Blayney?”

  “As soon as possible,” smiled the bishop. “But take a few days around here if you like.”

  “It’s okay thanks Bishop. I might as well bite the bullet today!”

  “Thanks, Joe, for helping us out. One less problem to solve! We’ll see you back in Bathurst in six months. In the meantime I’ll keep you posted on how the formation of our CYMS club here is going.”

  Chapter Three

  Joe’s first knock was unanswered. Perhaps no one is home, he thought. But I’ll try again.

  A faint noise from inside answered his second knock. The door opened slowly. To Joe’s surprise he was looking down on an elderly man in a wheelchair.

  “Come in!” The invitation was brief but welcoming. “I presume you’re Joseph. I’m Steven.”

  Joe warmly squeezed the out-stretched hand. “Glad to meet you Steven. Yes, I’m Joe.”

  “Joe, is it! Okay. Well Joe, we’ll start in the kitchen.”

  Over morning tea Joe was briefed on what his duties would be. “I know you’re going to fill in for Bruce for six months. We’ll keep times of Mass and Sacraments as usual. But we can rearrange meetings if needed.”

  “It’s okay Steven,” Joe interrupted. “Keep things going as before – all fine with me.”

  Steven smiled. “Oh to be young again and have your energy and enthusiasm! On a personal note,” he continued, “I would need you to remain in the presbytery on Wednesday nights. I know I’m old-fashioned and I don’t apologise for it!” He continued seriously, “But I think it necessary for a priest to be available at the presbytery at all times for a sick call or for any emergency. On Wednesday nights I meet up with a group of olduns, all retired – dinner at one of their homes – all married men, except, of course, me. Afterwards we play cards and discuss world events.”

  “Sounds great,” Joe ventured.

  “Well,” answered Steven, now smiling, “It’s a night out with friends. Can be quite noisy if we get onto a subject on which we have differing views! On the whole, I enjoy it.”

  “Of course I’ll fill in ‘whenever’. I can be here other nights too.”

  “No, just Wednesday nights. We do have meetings some other nights. But they are always here at the presbytery. Now, if you’re ready, I’ll show you around.”

  Joe was amazed at how easily Steven managed his wheelchair. He was also fairly sure that the bishop was unaware of the extent of Steven’s immobility. Yet,
from what he could see, with the help of his wheelchair, Steven was still an active priest.

  The house was old and rambling but modified for the needs of a wheelchair driver.

  Overall, Joe’s first reaction to the house was ‘old but comfortable.’

  “Let me know any time you need to be driven somewhere,” Joe offered.

  “Thanks Joe. But unless something unforeseen happens, I can get around okay. My car is set up so that I can drive lawfully. I can still walk with sticks rather than crutches. You’ll see how the Church is set up so that I can say Mass with just an odd step to mount. Parishioners are very good – there’s always someone to help me up that ‘odd’ step.”

  As he settled into the first week of parish life, Joe was amazed at the way the older man moved around and completed any task he set himself – in spite of his physical disability.

  On the third morning Joe accepted Steven’s invitation to join him in concelebrating a school Mass after which they joined the teachers at school for lunch.

  “Happens quite often after a school Mass,” Steven relayed to Joe with a smile. “But I think these teachers want to sum you up.”

  It was a pleasant meal, but a rather disrupted one as most of the teachers were in and out on playground duty. While Steven was in serious conversation with the principal, Joe decided to view the playground games. He had barely stepped outside when he was spotted by Sally, one of the young teachers. “Fr. Joe, come and join us!”

  He was soon in the middle of a game of touch footie. Sally confided to him later that he was ‘an answer to prayer’ as she endeavoured to organize the game between Years 3 and 4 boys. Once Joe took charge of Year 4’s leaving Sally with Year 3’s, order returned.

  The game, although short with the bell going to signal the end of recess, was fast and noisy.

  Most of the students dallied, even after the second bell, to pepper Joe with questions as to when he would play again.

  Sally expressed her gratitude. “Gee, Father, you saved my bacon! I usually have the girls group – so much easier. Those boys have so much energy! Naomi usually takes them and she’s good with them. But she had to go to an inservice course today. Thanks again!” as she ran to her class.

  Chapter Four

  Weeks passed so quickly. Joe had to admit to himself that his initial disappointment (known only to himself) on coming to Blayney rather than straight to Bathurst, had turned into a happy acceptance. Life was full, but so far devoid of any problems or worries. He had to marvel at Steven’s will to move regardless of any obstacle in his way. Joe had learned very early that offers of help or in any way endeavouring to assist, could cause a storm. Joe understood; he also knew that Steven would ask for help if he really needed it. How would I be in such a situation, Joe sometimes wondered. Now, young, healthy and very athletic, Joe could only guess.

  With his happy, out-going nature, Joe was immediately accepted by, not only the Blayney parishioners, but also by those in the country areas where he occasionally celebrated Mass.

  Hospital visitation was a new experience, but he soon conquered any fears of inadequacy.

  In his Mass each day he felt blessed and happy. Yet, deep down, he knew in the years ahead there would be crosses – how heavy he did not want to imagine. But he also believed that with help there would be rising from each cross. After each Calvary there will be a Resurrection, he often reminded himself.

  Lunch once a week at the school gave Joe the opportunity to get to know the teachers and to mingle with the students out of class time.

  It was in the second week that Sally ran up to him, pulling along her friend Naomi.

  “Father Joe, this is Naomi.”

  “I have to thank you, Father Joe for helping Sally out with my boys last week.”

  “A real pleasure,” Joe smiled.

  He looked quickly at this new acquaintance – auburn hair, dark purple eyes. Her appearance would have been stunning, he thought, had it not been for a vivid scar that ran down the length of her left cheek. He was to learn soon after that both Naomi’s parents had been killed in an horrendous car smash, of which they were innocent victims. Naomi had been pulled out alive but with severe injuries. Now the scar was the only reminder of what she had suffered. She was an only child and had been reared by her mother’s sister.

  As the weeks turned to months Joe began to think that he could stay here indefinitely. But he had heard the quote recently that life wasn’t meant to be easy!

  Not long after he was faced with a situation, abhorrent and foreign to him. Steven broached the subject one morning after breakfast.

  “Joe, I do have a job for you. I’d do it myself, but…” He patted his legs.

  “Sure!” answered Joe.

  “Our second class teacher is worried about one of the girls in her class – a bright little thing. But now barely talks. Seems sad – but could be the teacher’s imagination. She has called at the home but no one answers the door. The father drops her off in the mornings and she catches the bus home. The mother is a very shy person and never comes to the school. The teacher caught up with the father one morning as he was dropping his child to school and expressed her concern. He just laughed – said she’s a quiet kid. But the teacher is worried. So, Joe, could you call on the home and see if you can meet the mother and find out if all’s well or if there is something to worry about.”

  “Sure,” answered Joe. “As soon as I finish at the hospital this morning, I’ll pop over.”

  Joe’s knocking on the door proved as unsuccessful as the teacher’s. Silence only answered his knocks. He could see how the young lady could go no further. A garage joined one side of the house while, on the other side, a high locked gate barred entrance.

  Although slightly difficult, Joe decided if he climbed part of the way he could jump over.

  He made it on the first attempt and followed the path to the back of the house.

  A thin little lady, taking clothes off the line, looked up in shock as Joe turned the corner.

  “Sorry to startle you! I’m Father Joe. Just calling on parishioners.”

  Not only shock remained on the lady’s face. Dark discolouring on her cheek and around her eye was very obvious. As she dropped her hands from the line, Joe also noted the dark discolouring on her arm.

  “Sorry, Father. I didn’t expect visitors!” Then she added quickly, “I had a fall!”

  “Heavens!” Joe exclaimed. “You’ve made a mess of yourself. What does the doctor think?”

  “No need for a doctor,” she quickly replied. “I’m okay.”

  Joe had never seen a battered wife before and was quite shocked.

  “I’m okay, Father. Truly. No need for fuss. Just a fall. I’ll get over it.”

  Where to from here? Joe mused, still quite shocked.

  “You’d better go, Father. My husband will be home for lunch soon. He doesn’t like visitors.”

  I bet he doesn’t, thought Joe. Then, to himself, bite the bullet!

  “Mary – it’s okay I call you that?” She nodded.

  “Mary, it’s obvious that someone has been treating you as a punching bag. I can guess just who. You don’t have to take this. You’re a special person. No one has the right to do this to you!”

  “But it was my fault, Father. I burned the sausages.”

  The usually placid Joe could feel deep anger slowly rising. “Mary, we all make mistakes. No one – and I mean no one – has the right to do this to you.”

  “Please Father go! It’s all right. Greg didn’t mean it. Please go – he’ll be home soon.”

  “Mary, please. You don’t have to take this. Your husband is a sick bastard – excuse me! – but he is. He needs help. And what about that beautiful daughter of yours?”

  “She’s okay Father. He likes her. He wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “That’s for now, Mary. But no one can guarantee the future. If you want to guarantee your daughter’s future, you must leave this man.”

&nbs
p; She started to cry. “I can’t Father. He said if I ever try to leave him he’ll kill me and Jody too! I can’t! I can’t!” His arm went around her as she began to sob.

  “Please Mary, for you and Jody.”

  “Thanks Father. But he said he’s sorry. He won’t do it any more.”

  “But how long has it gone on? Mary, let me help you.”

  “No, Father. You can help by leaving now.”

  “Mary, you are worth more than this. You are a special person. And you have a beautiful daughter. I’ll go now. But please call me at any time.”

  “You’d better come through the house,” she smiled wanly. “Otherwise you’ll have to jump the fence again.”

  They were on their way through the house when they heard the front door opening. Mary froze.

  “Leave this to me,” Joe whispered. Then, in an inner prayer, “God help me.”

  Surprise, then anger registered on the face of the short man walking through the door, opening and closing his fists.

  Joe extended his hand. “Hello. I’m Father Joe. Calling on the homes in the area. Couldn’t make anyone hear so came round the back. Your wife was just letting me out.”

  Anger on the face of Greg Huntly eased as he took the extended hand.

  “This fall has caused some serious damage,” Joe added. “She really needs to see a doctor.”

  “She’ll be okay,” Greg answered. “She’s strong.”

  “Perhaps. But I still think she needs a doctor.”

  “No need, Father. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “Father Steven will be worried about one of his parishioners having such a fall. So, I’ll be back in a day or two.”

  With that, Joe left. Back at the presbytery he sought advice from Steven.

  “Not much that we can do, unless Mary leaves or makes a complaint,” Steven advised.

  “But what about the little girl?” Joe asked.