The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  He broke into a broad grin, and the assemblage began to laugh even louder. Katrina clapped her hands, looking shyly at Tom who stood quietly, shaking his head in mock disapproval, his face reflecting disdain in response to the Welshman’s slander.

  Father Scanlan slipped into the room during the second selection and quietly moved next to Tom, both men applauding as the group concluded “Mother McCree.” “Might I have a word with you, Tom, before we leave this evening?”

  Tom nodded. “Certainly, Father. I was going to ask you the same.”

  Father Scanlan also nodded, and they both stood quietly as the quartet continued through the program. After the group sang another three or four songs, Captain Masterton once again addressed the audience.

  “Thank you. Thank you for your kind applause. It is my understanding that there is some special significance attached to our final number, for which we will be joined by the beautiful lady who is our gracious hostess at Valhalla. In her performance, I am certain you will agree with my earlier comments about her angelic voice. The Tabernacle Choir is most fortunate to have discovered such a talent. Ladies and gentlemen: Mrs. Thomas Callahan.” He bowed toward Katrina, and stepped back into the quartet as she approached the piano.

  Katrina came forward to the light applause of her guests. “Captain Masterton, thank you so very much for your entertainment tonight, and to you, Sarah, Martha, and John,” she addressed the quartet. “It was so kind of you to come and participate.” Katrina turned to face her audience, just over a dozen people, not counting the musicians behind her.

  “My heart is so full tonight,” she said, struggling to control her rising emotions. “The Lord has blessed Thomas and me with so many close friends—people who have chosen to serve Him and to allow us to participate. To my brother, Anders,” she said, smiling at him as he stood by a few of the guests, “and our dear friend, Sister Mary Theophane—how much we owe you and how blessed are those fortunate soldiers whom you so lovingly nursed back to health.” She took a deep breath, her composure faltering.

  “Three, no, almost four years ago I met a young man on my family’s ocean voyage to America,” she began, looking at Thomas. “I took a liking to him, in spite of his brash attempt to speak to me without introduction, and my father’s warnings,” she laughed. “The evening before our voyage concluded, I was asked by the ship’s first officer to entertain the dinner guests with a few songs. Little did I know that Thomas would be among those present, but my brother, Anders, had invited him to join the family at dinner our last evening at sea. You see, at that time, Thomas was not traveling first class,” she laughed again, as did those in the room.

  “One of the songs I had chosen that evening has become a favorite of ours. I suppose it always will be, won’t it, Thomas?” she asked, smiling at him as he nodded. “And so, tonight, on our first anniversary, and in honor of Thomas’s twenty-third birthday yesterday, and of course, in celebration of the safe return of Anders and Sister Mary, I would once again like to tell Thomas of my love for him and to thank him for the blessings he has brought into my life.”

  She nodded to the piano player who commenced the introduction, and with the quartet providing a muted harmonic background, Katrina began to sing the strains of “Sweet Rosie O’Grady.”

  As Katrina sang, Tom gazed at her fondly, scarcely able to believe his good fortune in having such a beautiful and talented young woman for a wife. He had thought when he first saw her on the dock in Cork that he had never seen such a face. Now, nearly four years later, and after having been married to her for a year, he was even more taken by her appearance. Following the birth of little PJ, her girlish face and figure had given way in a breathtaking manner to those of a woman in the prime of her life. Her eyes, still an arresting green in color, shone with love and contentment, and as she sang the familiar tune, she used those eyes to flirt with her husband. Tom met her gaze, and they exchanged the silent signals they used to communicate with each other in public. He was delighted to have his friends gathered in his honor, but at that moment, he began to wonder how soon he might graciously bid them good night.

  When Katrina finished singing, several of the female guests in the room dabbed at their eyes, moved as much by the open display of adoration as by the beauty of Katrina’s soprano voice. Standing with her arm entwined in Robert’s, Alice Thurston had tears on her cheeks. Captain Masterton stepped forward and put his arm around Katrina’s shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze. Tom observed Masterton’s action and immediately stepped toward his wife, surprising himself by the involuntary jealous reaction to another man handling his wife.

  Seeing Tom emerge from the gathering of people, Masterton whispered to Katrina and then looked back toward the guests. “Perhaps,” he said, “it would only be fitting if we were to hear from Thomas Callahan himself,” he invited. The guests applauded as Tom continued to walk toward Captain Masterton and Katrina.

  Joining Katrina at the head of the ballroom, Tom gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and drew her close with a hug. Then he looked around the room, making eye contact with each of his friends.

  “Father Scanlan,” Tom began, “being just a mortal man myself, of the heaven you preach, I can only surmise. But if it is anything like my current condition on earth,” he smiled, drawing Katrina closer, “then I’d like to be considered a candidate for admission. And as to you, Captain Masterton,” Tom said, intent on maintaining his public decorum, “in spite of the geographical error of your birth, you’ve done well this evening with the Lord’s own music.”

  Captain Masterton accepted the rejoinder and, smiling broadly, applauded Tom’s comments.

  “And lastly,” Tom continued, “not wanting, of course, to correct my wife, at least in public,” he laughed loudly, “I do have one small point from her comments that I must contest. It’s true that when we first met I was traveling steerage with the others, like so many cattle. But since the first moment I laid eyes on ye, Katie, m’darlin’ ... ” he grew silent, taking Katrina’s face in his hands and kissing her lips, “ ... I’ve been traveling first class.”

  Later in the evening, seated upstairs in Tom’s study, Father Scanlan swirled a snifter of brandy and leaned comfortably back into one of Tom’s leather chairs. In a concession to Tom’s business affairs, Katrina had agreed that liquor would be available, but only in Tom’s upstairs study. Rarely would anyone be present in their house who would be offended by the lack of available alcohol downstairs. Katrina’s Mormon standards dictated liquor not be served generally, but, in the sanctity of the upper den, Tom was able to indulge his guests who were so inclined. As for himself, Tom had kept his vow, made in the confines of a cold, drafty railway cattle car on the Kansas prairie, that he would never again imbibe—a promise he had made to God long before he came to know anything of the Mormon’s Word of Wisdom.

  Tom waited for Father Scanlan to speak. Several moments passed while the Father sipped his drink, sitting with his eyes closed and resting his head on the back of the tall chair. As the prelate’s first cousin, once removed, Tom had come to know and to love Father Scanlan. He had also come to appreciate, given the overwhelming size of his diocese, how rare it was for the archbishop to actually find a few moments in which he was able to achieve solitude.

  The prelate had left the ballroom shortly before other guests began to leave. Tom knew he was going upstairs rather than down, and with prearranged approval from Father Scanlan, Tom had asked Sister Mary if she would mind Henry driving her back to Holy Cross Hospital.

  “Tom, it’s a fine home you’ve built here,” the Father said. “I’m quite shocked and must offer my apologies for the leak to the press with regard to your most generous offerings to the hospital. I did so want to respect your anonymity.”

  “I understand, Father. It’s no problem,” Tom said, taking a seat across from the priest. “I’m starting to discover that the newspapers have a nose in everyone’s tent, it seems.”

  “Quite so.” Scanlan pause
d again, took another sip of his brandy, then set the glass down on a teakwood chess table alongside his chair.

  “Tom, surely you’ve noticed Sister Mary’s condition. Her health is appalling. I must move immediately to restore her well-being or we will likely lose our friend, not to mention the best nursing administrator Holy Cross has ever had, or is ever likely to have, for that matter.”

  Tom nodded agreement. “I tried to speak with her while you were downstairs in the library, Father. She’d have none of it.”

  Father Scanlan nodded. “Right. I stayed in the library to check your medical text on malaria. From the signs, that’s what I believe is ailing our dear friend. But she’ll jump right back into her duties and her fourteen-to-sixteen-hour days if no one takes charge of the situation.”

  Father Scanlan rose and moved to stand in front of the unlit fireplace. An oil painting of the River Shannon flowing through the Irish countryside hung prominently above the mantle. He turned back to face Tom.

  “Fortunately, I am in a position to disallow such devotion to duty.”

  “That’s good, Father,” Tom said. “What will you do?”

  “Within an hour after meeting her at the train, I telegraphed Sister Mary’s mother superior at the convent in Indiana. I have requested permission for Sister Mary to return to the cloister and to take a minimum of six months convalescent leave, with no duties assigned.”

  Tom stood and moved to stand beside the priest. “Sister Mary won’t take kindly to that, but God bless you, Father. She is my dearest friend on God’s earth, and anything I can do, you need only ask.”

  “I know, Tom. And so does she,” he smiled. “I should have an answer soon and then I’ll speak with her. Above all, Sister Mary is obedient to her superiors. Until then, let’s keep this between ourselves.”

  “You have my word, Father.”

  Archbishop Scanlan smiled at Tom, and gestured for him to retake his seat. “Please, Tom. Have a seat. There’s one other thing I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Tom resumed his seat and crossed his legs, waiting for Father Scanlan to continue. Sitting back down in his own chair, the priest took a final sip of his brandy and leaned back.

  “Thomas, I well remember our discussion last year shortly after you and Katrina were married. My thoughts about the sanctity of your marriage ... well, you’ll recall I tried to fulfill my responsibility to the church and ...”

  “I recall, Father,” Tom said, apprehensive now about the coming sermon.

  “That decision, although I must say once more, in the eyes of the church ...” He paused again, looking first down and then directly across at Tom.

  “Father, you must see that I have a marriage to protect, regardless of what church we were married in. Good grief, Father Scanlan,” Tom said, leaning forward in his chair and wringing his hands, “didn’t you see that Masterton fellow downstairs? That’s the kind of person Katie wants. She talks about having the priesthood in her home and an eternal marriage. I can’t give her those things,” he said, a tone of despair in his voice.

  “They don’t matter, Tom,” the priest declared.

  “What do you mean they don’t matter? Of course they do.”

  “Not in God’s eyes, Tom,” Father Scanlan said, shaking his head. “Look, Tom, in spite of the respect I have for the Mormons, I must confess that I’ve never understood their preoccupation with marriage in heaven. In keeping with my priestly vows, I’ve never married. Under their system, what’s to become of me? Or of Sister Mary, for that matter?”

  Tom nodded his head. “That’s true isn’t it, Father?” he said.

  “Of course it is. I don’t mean to be unkind, Tom, but since you brought it up, the Lord himself said something on the topic that the Mormons might do well to consider.” The old priest reached into his vest pocket for a small Bible, flipping quickly through the pages.

  “Right here, Tom, in Matthew, the scriptures say that in the resurrection there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. Tom, the Mormon concept of eternal marriage is fallacious.”

  “But Katrina doesn’t see it that way,” Tom pleaded.

  “I respect yours and Katrina’s decisions, Thomas, because you are both adults and responsible for your own actions. I’d be happy to talk with both of you about this issue, but my current concern is even more urgent. Patrick James is what, about six weeks old?”

  “Aye,” Tom replied, quickly standing and holding his hand up, his palm open in a gesture of restraint. “Father, please,” he said, “this is all too much for me. I’ve given Katrina my word. I understand the church’s teachings on this matter and the importance of baptism. My mother explained it to me fully as I grew into manhood and we talked about marriage. I agree with you on the problem our marriage presents in God’s eyes, but, Father, I also have come to understand,” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, and then exhaling deeply, “and even to agree with Katrina’s beliefs concerning young children.

  “Truly, Father, I cannot comprehend that God would do other than embrace these little ones in His arms, even if they die without being baptized. In light of my Catholic beliefs, though, I know I will have to take the judgment upon my own head. Should I be wrong in my desire to honor my promise to Katrina to respect her religion, I pray God He will take the judgment on me, and not on my innocent child. This is difficult, Father,” Tom said, beginning to pace, “and more than likely, it will always be so. I have come to love you, Father Scanlan, and even to think of you as a cousin,” he smiled. “I love Holy Mother church as well, but I’m firm in this commitment and will support Katrina in all that she desires for our children regarding religion.”

  “My son,” the priest said, his voice now stern. “I must warn you. You say you have come to believe in the Mormon concept of baptism. Next, you’ll be embracing the eternal marriage concept. You are on a disastrous path if you seek to balance the two beliefs. As good a people as the Mormons are, they have left their children unprotected in the sight of the Lord. In this area, our beliefs are most definitely not compatible. We are talking about Patrick James’s immortal soul, Thomas. You cannot take such a thing lightly. And you are correct, Thomas, God will hold you responsible as the child’s father.”

  “I gave my word, Father,” Tom said softly. “It’s not so much a belief of faith, as it is an understanding of the logic that a benevolent Lord would not condemn little children to hell.”

  Father Scanlan mulled over Tom’s words for a few moments before answering.

  “Thomas. It is true that we don’t understand all God’s ways, but he has made this matter very clear.” He hesitated, then said in a softer voice, “Tom, as PJ’s father, and a good Catholic, it is your responsibility—”

  “No, Father. I gave my word,” Tom said, shaking his head. “And I intend to honor it.”

  Father Scanlan stood and reached for Tom’s hand. As they shook, the priest said, “My son, you must follow your conscience, I understand that. But you also have a responsibility as father to this child, and to those who will follow. You must lead, Thomas, and determine the future of your family. I will be there to support you and to discuss it with you and Katrina, if and when you so desire.”

  “Thank you, Father. It will not be an easy path, as they grow.”

  “That’s correct, my son. Think on what I’ve said. I’ve learned much here among the Mormons, Tom. As I’ve told you before, they are good people, and they practice what they believe, perhaps better than some of our own Catholic parishioners. But that does not make their doctrine right in the sight of the Lord. Ah ...” he said, raising his hands above his head, “... enough. You are most kind, Thomas. But you understand my concern ...”

  Tom extended his hand once again to Bishop Lawrence Scanlan, recently turned fifty-four, with a thick shock of hair turned fully gray. “And you fulfill them with great dignity, Your Grace. As one of your flock, I confess my weaknesses before you, but beg your indulgence in these matters. Pray for me, Father, tha
t our God will look down on me, and upon my children, and bestow His grace upon us. I tell you this, Father—the day I left home, my mother extracted a promise that I would remain true to the faith. It is my intention to do that, within,” he raised his finger to make a point, “the bounds of my own authority, and not so that I interfere with my wife or the children I promised her could be raised in her belief.”

  “So, then,” Father Scanlan said, “we understand one another.”

  “Aye,” Tom nodded.

  “I’ll notify you the moment I hear from Mother Superior. It’s not pleasant, thinking about spending another six months without Sister Mary, but the alternative is less pleasing.”

  “I support you fully in this decision, Father. Just ask if you need anything.”

  Together they descended the stairs and found Katrina at the front door saying good-bye to Robert and Alice Thurston.

  Father Scanlan took Katrina’s hand and said, “I’ll take my leave now. Katrina, it was a decided pleasure to attend your lovely party this evening. If I might be so bold, I would like you to consider performing for our Christmas pageant this year. I know your schedule with the choir must be demanding, but just give it some thought.”

  “I would be honored, Father Scanlan. Thank you for asking,” Katrina said, taking Tom’s arm.

  “Can I have Henry drive you home, Father?” Tom asked.

  “No, thank you, Tom. I think I’ll take a bit of the night air. It’s quite lovely outside just yet, and soon we’ll have plenty of the white blanket to comfort us.”

  “Indeed. Good night, Father.”

  As Father Scanlan left the doorway, Tom turned a bright smile toward Robert. “What say ye, Mr. Thurston?”

  Robert smiled back. “I think you’re a year older, Mr. Callahan.”

  “Barely, Robert. And a lot younger than you, I might add,” he laughed. “I’m going to take Friday off and settle a few details with Andy. Robert, do you remember that attorney who came to us a few weeks ago? Something about his being on call for contractual needs of the bank?”