Where To From Here?

by Ursula Paul

  During these weeks Joe and Hugh began making firm plans for the new orphanage building. Hugh noted that every soldier approached had consented to return in a month to begin the erection of the new building. Hugh would be part of that contingent.

  “Now,” Hugh asked hesitantly, “Do we have anything to come back for?”

  Joe smiled. “Oh, Hugh, ye of little faith!” Then added seriously, “Yes. I can barely believe it myself. A couple of our Church agencies will contribute well to the project. And I’ve managed to make a deal with some of the local wholesalers for materials.”

  “So, if the team and I return within the month, you will have everything for us to get started.”

  “Hopefully!”

  “Aren’t you coming home for a couple of weeks?”

  “No, Hugh. I’ve decided to stay and make sure that we’re ready to start on time.”

  A week later, Joe farewelled Hugh and his building crew, along with most of the remaining personnel.

  Chapter Fourteen

  True to their words, Hugh and the building crew returned within the month. All were adamant – the project had to be completed within a few weeks. They had promised their partners.

  While they had been away Joe had spent much of his time at the Orphanage. The Sisters were delighted at the prospect of a new building for the children – sturdy and insulated, with room for each child’s possessions and personal space.

  Yet life at the Orphanage was not completely happy. The joy for some of end of war and return home was tinged with sadness for others, for whom there was no home to go to. Now, with the end of war some weeks past, distraught parents and grandparents sought orphanages for their lost children. Each week one or two of the charges left with their happy guardians.

  It was while Joe was working at the Orphanage that Mary’s grandmother arrived. Joe would always remember the look of absolute love and relief as she spied Mary playing in the yard with a couple of her friends. As the grandmother called, Mary looked up and ran to the tall middle-aged lady. Immediately they were in each other’s arms, laughing and hugging.

  As soon as Mary noticed Joe, she tugged on her grandmother’s hand and pulled her over.

  “Father… my… grandmother,” she slowly and carefully introduced her grandmother.

  She then turned to the tall lady and spoke in their native tongue, the nature of which conversation, Joe had no idea. (He was told later by an interpreter that it was primarily about him.) The grandmother turned to Joe, took both of his hands in hers and bowed. Not knowing how to respond, Joe nodded back.

  As her grandmother packed Mary’s meagre belongings into the car and prepared to leave, Mary ran to Joe with arms outstretched. As he picked her up, she hugged him tightly.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. As quickly as she had run toward him, she jumped from his arms and ran to the car.

  With a wave from grandmother and Mary, responded by Joe and the Sisters, the car sped off. Joe watched until it disappeared into the distance. He knew probably he would never see Mary again. But he also knew he would never forget her. He heard later that both Mary’s parents had been killed. The grandmother, who was quite financially well off, had legally adopted her and, apparently, was very fond of her. Joe also heard later that, on that fateful night when Mary had heard shelling in the distance, she had run from the house and become lost. In spite of her grandmother and servants searching for her, she was by then with the army and never found. She also noted that she liked the new name of Mary – it would remain.

  Yes, he thought, Mary is one of the lucky ones. But we must leave something for those not so lucky.

  With the crew arriving, all hands were on deck to complete the project successfully. Each day saw relatives happily finding and taking home their children from the Orphanage. With numbers now halved, temporary sleeping quarters were set up in part of the dining hall.

  The old sleeping quarters were gutted – with little trouble! – and the new building begun.

  Working all day and half the night, the crew met their time schedule. Sisters and children soon moved into their new quarters.

  On their final night the building crew were entertained by Sisters and children. With help from the community, they were served an enticing meal, after which the children enthralled their guests with songs and national dances.

  Perhaps I’ll return one day, perhaps not, thought Joe. But it’s a time and place that I will never forget.

  With Hugh and the building crew, he joined the flight two days later to return to Australia and to a future he was not sure he could face right then.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Where to now? But Joe knew the answer to that question long before he set foot again in Australia. His bishop had suggested he take off a month to settle in before returning to parish work. Joe had gratefully accepted. First of all, he needed to visit his parents. He knew how worried they had been about his time in Vietnam. He guessed how much they longed for a visit after such a long absence, but he knew also they would never voice their feelings. Their relief and joy almost came through the phone when he called to tell them he was back in the country and on his way up to them.

  “Son, I’ll come down and pick you up!” His father’s voice was breathless.

  “No Dad. Truly. I’ve booked a flight – will see you tomorrow.”

  When the plane landed at the country airport the following day, Joe was not surprised to see the crowd that awaited him. A sea of faces waving from outside the terminal greeted him as he left the plane. Soon, family and friends surrounded him, hugging, shaking hands. Then followed introductions to the latest additions of the family, a son to Len and daughter – and sister to three brothers – to Don.

  “We’ve organized with Fr. Brown for you to baptize this pair next weekend,” Len advised.

  As they drove to the homestead, Joe noticed the dryness of the countryside.

  “Hasn’t been good,” his father noted. “But we’re all surviving. And good rain is forecast.”

  “Always the optimist, Dad,” Joe smiled.

  “Now for the surprise.” Mary was hesitant.

  “Go on,” John encouraged. “The big surprise, Joe,” he added, looking over to his son.

  “Well,” Mary continued, “John and I thought our big home was wasted on just the two of us. So we built a smaller cottage, still on the property, and Len and his family have moved into our old home. Mind you,” she continued, “the move was not without a tear or two. It had been the family home for so long. But your Dad and I are now quite happy in our new little place.”

  “And, as you will see,” John added with a grin, “everything from the old family home that would fit in the new home, has been moved over!”

  “Well, I need my memories,” Mary added with a smile.

  Soon the car stopped in front of a building Joe had never seen before. From the time they turned through the property gates Joe felt the calm of returning to his roots. Now, as he viewed the new building, the feeling softened slightly.

  “This is it!” John announced.

  “Down to three bedrooms now instead of six, and a modern kitchen.” Joe could tell from the inflection in his mother’s voice that the new house had won her over.

  Yes, Joe thought, this has been a good move for the whole family. Once inside, Joe could not restrain a chuckle. “It’s the old place under a new roof,” he laughed.

  “Isn’t it that?” His father laughed with him.

  “Well,” Mary was on the defensive. “Most of this has so many memories. I couldn’t leave any behind.”

  “Of course they needed to come,” Joe answered as he gave his mother a hug.

  After being shown around the whole house, Joe agreed it had been a good move.

  “And,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “it wouldn’t be half as good without the furniture and trappings!” They all laughed.

  Dinner that night was to be in the old family home – now home to Don and his wife
and family. The boys and their wives had left no stone unturned to make this welcome home to Joe as happy and meaningful as possible. How lucky I am! How blessed I’ve been, thought Joe, as he looked around the happy, noisy throng.

  Before the call to the dinner table, Joe had been dragged outside by a handful of nieces and nephews to play cricket. The fight began when both sides demanded Joe on their side, only resolved when Joe announced he would play on both sides. Soon they were called to dinner. It was a noisy meal, an extremely happy meal, and, in spite of all the interruptions in its preparation, a very tasty meal.

  “Guys! – and dolls!” Joe looked around the crowded room. “This is a time and place always to be remembered. Thanks for everything.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Going over to help with the bailing,” John announced after breakfast the next morning.

  “Want some extra help?” Joe asked.

  “Not today, son,” his father replied. “Rest off a bit. And it will give Mum some time with you, without the rest of the mob. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Thanks Dad.”

  “Like another coffee?” his mother asked as his father drove off.

  “Sure would!” Joe answered. “You know, Mum, you make the best coffee in the world.”

  “Turn your Irish off,” she laughed in reply. Then added, “I think we’ll have this out the back – a great view and a good spot at this time of the day.”

  As they settled on the settee in the spot his mother had chosen, Joe exclaimed, “I see what you mean, Mum. This is terrific!”

  The golden plains rolled on for miles until they collided with the purple-blue mountains, far in the distance. The smoothness of the flat, golden carpet was broken periodically by large patches of bottle brush and tall gum trees.

  “What a wonderful spot!” he added.

  “Yes,” she laughed. “It is great, isn’t it? And the funny thing is, we didn’t plan the house for the view – it just turned out that way.”

  The sun moved higher in the sky as they exchanged news of interest to each other – she, of the family and their activities, especially those of the grand-children at home and at school, he, of the lighter times in Vietnam and of the orphanage and its inhabitants.

  Joe was ready to explain more of the latter when his mother turned to him, “Joe, what about you? Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Me!” Joe tried to laugh. “Nothing more to tell Mum. We left after we finished the building.”

  “It’s okay, Joe. I don’t want to pry. I know there is something very wrong. And I’m here if you need me.”

  “Mum, why do you say that? Do I look as though something’s wrong? I’m fine.”

  “No, Joe. You look fine. Don’t worry about your looks. You have masked well. It’s just – well I suppose, perhaps mothers feel things. I don’t want to pry – just – I’m here.”

  For the past few minutes, as his mother talked, Joe could feel his mask cracking, slowly at first, and with each crack, inner bottled feelings beginning to bubble out. He began to rise, but it was too late. He sat down again as he unsuccessfully endeavoured to stem the flow of tears. Her arms went around him as he leaned his head on her shoulders. The grief that had been bottled for so many weeks silently flowed. Occasionally cockatoos and galahs sang their songs as they darted overhead; otherwise, silence.

  Minutes later, he pulled back. “Sorry Mum,” he whispered.

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” She took his hand.

  “Okay, Mum, you won’t be impressed by your youngest son. But here goes…”

  In broken sequences, he told his story.

  “I’m lost, Mum. I don’t know what to do.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Joe, for confiding in me. I wish I could take some of this pain from you.” She stopped for a moment, for a quick inner prayer – please God, help me!

  “Joe, honey,” she continued, “I wish I could say I know how you feel, but I don’t. I wish I had all the answers for you, but I don’t. But there are a couple of things I do know. Firstly, you are over-taxing yourself with guilt and most, if not all, of this guilt is unreal. You broke the man-made law of priestly celibacy. If there was any real guilt in that, you’ve already sought and been granted Church forgiveness.

  “Any guilt you feel regarding Naomi’s actions or well-being is unreal – get rid of it. Any guilt you feel as a priest having the ‘wrong’ sort of feelings is unreal – get rid of it. Feelings are neither right nor wrong – any guilt towards feelings is unreal – get rid of it. As I said, the guilt you are carrying is unreal!

  “Depressed!” she continued. “Of course you’re sad and depressed, even though it’s not obvious. Some people live their whole lives in a depressed state. Others, like you, lock them up inside. Left there too long, they fester and cause unhealthy results. There is help, Joe. For a healthy life, sometimes we have to close the door on the past, hard and all as it is – not bang it shut in anger or sorrow or it will fly open again. No, close the door gently on the past. There may be a window in that door where we can look back on the past and perhaps remember something special there. But the door is closed, the past is behind us, we move forward.”

  She squeezed his hand again. “Sorry Joe. I’ve talked too much.”

  “No, Mum,” he answered quietly. “You have really helped me. You remember Dave who started off in our first year and left at the end of it? We’ve always kept contact, if only at Christmas. He is an up and coming psychologist. He’s booked me in at his clinic for some times next week. Now that you have helped me open that ‘locked door’, for the first time I can see a ray of hope.”

  He took her hands and stroked them gently. “Thank you Mum. You have given me life once again.”

  It was she who now needed to run before more emotions engulfed her.

  “A mother’s call,” she smiled as she rose and turned toward the house. “Dad will be home for lunch soon.” Just as suddenly she turned back. He hugged her as her tears told of the love and care for her son as no words could convey.

  Minutes later, as arm in arm they turned towards the kitchen, John appeared at the back door.

  “Well, some people have a great life,” he laughed. “I’d say you two have been lazing around here, drinking coffee and doing nothing else!”

  “You’ve hit the nail on the head,” Joe covered well. “Mum and I have had a lovely restful morning. Aren’t you jealous, Dad?” he added with a laugh.

  “Sorry, John. We lost track of time. I’ll have your lunch ready soon.” Mary was now in control of her feelings.

  “Don’t be sorry, love,” John interrupted. “It’s great to see you two having quality time together. And there’s no hurry for lunch – I’m finished for the day.”

  The days flew past far too quickly for Joe’s family. For Joe, coming home and enjoying time with his family and extended family, including the many games with his nieces and nephews, would always be a special remembered time in his life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Well Joe, a few grey hairs up top perhaps! But you seem to be weathering life pretty well,” was his greeting from Dr. David Nancarrow.

  “Thanks, Dave. And you’re looking pretty good for your age!” retorted Joe.

  Tall, slim, with olive skin inherited from his Asian mother, David Nancarrow’s handshake was firm.

  “Great to see you Joe. I’ve always wished there could have been some sort of reunion of that first year for all of us. But we seemed to go in different directions. So many of us left that first year – for various reasons.”

  “Great to see you again, Dave. But I’d rather it had been more a social get-together. ”

  “In the future, I hope,” Dave answered. “For now, come in. I’ll get the coffee brewing. Still a coffee man?”

  Joe nodded.

  “Right,” Dave continued. “Fresh scones, here somewhere. I have a very efficient secretary. I told her she could have the morning off, but I needed fresh
scones and cream prepared first.” He laughed. “Yes, she’s an asset.”

  The scones, already creamed, were found, coffee poured and, sitting beside the small table, both men exchanged stories of various members of their previous class.

  Quite unexpectedly, Dave changed subjects.

  “Joe, it would be great if we could spend all morning reminiscing. First – more coffee? Okay. Now… Something is hurting you deeply. Start anywhere you like.”

  Joe had been feeling quite relaxed up to now. He felt his muscles becoming taunt; his head began to swim.

  “Oh!” was his reply.

  “It’s okay, Joe. I know this is hard – harder for some more than others. Just tell me how you feel about anything for starters.”

  How would you know how bloody hard it is, thought Joe to himself. Settle down, Joe. You’re here to get his help. Think!

  Minutes passed. Silence hung heavily in the room.

  Now or never, Joe thought, as he began. At first hesitantly, slowly he found strength of purpose to let out not only his story, but also his fear, his pain, his despair for the future.

  Dave listened intently, now and then asking a pertinent question.

  Hours later, Joe looked at his watch. “Heavens, Dave. Is that the time! Sorry. I’ve over-stayed my time.”

  “It’s fine,” Dave replied. You’re doing well, Joe. And you will come back tomorrow, won’t you?”

  “Well, you didn’t eat me up today, did you?” Joe smiled feebly.

  Joe returned the following day. Once again the coffee was brewing, this time side by side with a plate of freshly made cup cakes. Joe found it easier this day than the day before. He had recounted his story, now he was to deal with feelings and ultimate decisions.

  He returned the third day, gradually becoming aware that the future was up to him.

  Dave had used his expertise to assist him to the obvious – the future was in his hands; the past was that – it would never return; Naomi would never be back.