The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  “Quite so, my son, quite so. And did I hear you seeking God’s intervention? Are you troubled, Mr. Callahan?”

  “Maybe ­we’re all troubled, Father. But yes, I was asking God’s help—to speak to me, if He would.”

  “God speaks with us daily, my son, but it’s seldom His voice we hear. He uses those around us, our friends, our teachers, our clergy, even our own conscience. But still we seek His direct intervention, it seems. Perhaps a miracle, as it were. I must admit, I often seek His counsel myself, only to find that I have already received the answer in some other way. A human weakness, I presume, to seek direct intervention—not trusting our own instincts that are often planted there by God.”

  “Our clergy, did you say?” Tom asked.

  “Among others.”

  Tom smiled and reached to shake Father O’Shea’s hand once again.

  “Thank you, Father. You’ve been a great help.”

  “A pleasure, my son. Have a good evening, Mr. Callahan. I think I’ll just sit here with Sister Mary for a few moments ... if I may share her,” he smiled.

  “That’s what Sister Mary was best at, Father, sharing herself. A good night to you.”

  The Callahans

  The Complete Series

  Book Four

  Prelude

  Chapter 1

  Salt Lake City, Utah

  August, 1921

  GOODBYE JUDGE, the Salt Lake Tribune front-page headlines trumpeted. Beneath the headline was a photograph of Judge Gene Harrington Garfield, presiding judge of the Eighth District Court of Appeals, as he sat on the bench of his courtroom. Inside the paper, in the “Local Scene” section, three separate editorials lauded the praises of one of Utah’s longest-serving and most well-respected judicial figures.

  With the paper folded beneath his arm, Tom walked west on South Temple toward Temple Square, wondering what the paper would say if it were it his funeral—or Katrina’s—scheduled for today. What would the public say about her? It seemed that whenever the wife of a prominent public figure died, the article invariably covered more of the husband’s story than hers.

  At about 8:00 a.m., no change having occurred in Katrina’s condition overnight, he had left the hospital and walked home to find Teresa preparing breakfast for herself and Seby, who had arrived only moments earlier. Teresa kissed her father and told him to have a seat at the table. When Tom said that he wasn’t hungry, Teresa and Seby laughed, and Teresa threatened to give him the same lecture that Seby had just given her about the need to eat and keep up her strength. Succumbing to their arguments, Tom relented and sat down to the breakfast table. Despite her attempt at humoring him into eating something, Tom noticed that his daughter occasionally dabbed at her tears while working at the stove. After picking a bit at a couple of fried eggs, Tom excused himself to go upstairs where he got ready for the funeral service by bathing, shaving, and putting on a suit. While he was doing so, Seby and Teresa left for the hospital, agreeing to meet Tom at Temple Square at a quarter to eleven.

  Now, as he approached the south entrance to Temple Square, Tom could see the reason for the change in venue from the ward house. Bishop Smart had been right. Temple Square was awash with people, and the Assembly Hall was quickly filling. He spied Teresa and Seby, standing with David Healy.

  “Good morning, Brother Callahan,” Healy said. “The bishop asked me to meet you and show you to your seats. Sister Garfield specifically asked that your family be seated close to hers.”

  “Dad, Bishop Smart and Brother Healy were already at the hospital when Seby and I arrived this morning,” Teresa added.

  “That’s why your mother calls him the father of the ward,” Tom smiled. “Shall we go in?”

  Considering the number of people packed into their seats, Tom was surprised that the building was nearly silent. The main floor was completely full, except for a few reserved seats near the front, to which David Healy led Tom’s group. Upstairs, above the railing, Tom could see that the balcony was also full.

  The injured Sister Marianne Garfield was seated in a wheelchair in the aisle, at the end of one of the pews. She wore a cast on each of her legs, and her right arm and shoulder were immobilized by a sling. As Tom approached, the tearful woman smiled weakly and extended her left hand to him. She drew Tom close and whispered, “Tom, I’m so sorry about Katrina. I’m praying for her.”

  Tom had intended to say something about Sister Garfield’s loss and injuries, but her expression of concern for him and Katrina caused a sudden flood of emotion in him. Unable to speak, he merely squeezed Sister Garfield’s hand lightly and nodded his head, then moved past her into one of the rows of benches.

  Arriving at the last minute, Tom could feel every eye in the house on him as he, Seby, and Teresa slipped into the pew and quickly took their seats. Flushed and emotional, he glanced at the stand, where church President Heber J. Grant and several members of the Council of the Twelve were seated, including Tom’s longtime friend David O. McKay. Behind the church leaders, fifty or sixty members of the Tabernacle Choir were assembled, occupying a portion of the choir seats—probably, Tom thought, in honor of Sister Garfield, who, along with Katrina, had been a member of the choir for many years. To the right of the choir were seated a dozen or so judges, appearing as a formal delegation, each of the solemn men wearing his judicial robe.

  The casket, draped in an American flag in honor of Judge Garfield’s military service during the Spanish-American War, lay beneath the podium in the front of the building.

  A moment or two after 11:00 o’clock, and without any announcement, the choir members stood, and, following a brief organ introduction, the soprano section began softly singing the opening bars of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.”

  Following that stirring hymn, Bishop Ronald Smart rose to conduct the service, recognizing President Grant, the other leaders of the church, and the official delegation of judges who were in attendance, before announcing the opening prayer.

  The first speaker was the Garfields’ stake president, Ephraim Tarkington. The white-haired man began his address in a solemn tone:

  “Brothers and sisters, death comes to all men, and from our perspective it comes to some far too quickly. But with our understanding of the plan of salvation, we need not fear death. Our friend, Gene Garfield, did not fear death. Because he knew the gospel plan. He knew, as I know, that through the Atonement and through the ordinances of the priesthood, the Savior has provided a way for us to obtain eternal life. If we are true and faithful, though our time here may be cut short, life will have been profitable. Such is the case with our dear friend, Judge Gene Garfield ...”

  Listening to these remarks, Tom thought of Katrina, hovering near death in the hospital. However comforted the Garfields might be by such remarks, the thought of Katrina lying there in a polished wooden casket filled his heart with a feeling of loneliness and despair. He ­couldn’t imagine coping with such a loss, no matter what eternity might hold. He needed her now, not in some distant afterlife.

  Two speakers followed President Tarkington, then after another musical number by the choir, young Jared Garfield, barely twenty-two it appeared, stood at the pulpit to eulogize his father.

  For several minutes the recently returned missionary recalled experiences he and his dad had shared. He smiled, and the congregation laughed, as Jared said that the judge would occasionally purposely keep his family waiting by coming late to dinner. Then, upon entering the dining room, he would announce in his rich baritone voice, “All rise.”

  As the quiet laughter subsided, Jared continued: “Just over three years ago, my father went with me to the train station where I was to depart for my mission to the southern states. As the time came for me to board the train, Dad’s eyes welled up with tears—an unusual thing for him. He said to me, ‘Jared, I have prepared for this day—for my youngest son’s mission—from the time you were born, but until this moment, I had no idea how hard it would be to let you go. I release you now i
nto the hands of your Heavenly Father, in the sure knowledge that He will reunite us when you finish your mission. May God be with you, son.’”

  Jared was smiling through his tears as he continued: “Those words were with me throughout my mission and are firmly etched in my mind for all time, along with all the other important things my father taught me.”

  Looking down at the casket below him, the young man paused for a long moment, and in the silence, muffled sobs could be heard in the congregation. Tom could see Elder McKay nodding his head thoughtfully, and to Tom’s left, Sister Garfield was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.

  Then, taking a deep breath, Jared concluded by saying, “Dad, our roles have now been reversed, and I’ve not had sufficient time to plan for this moment. I had no idea how hard it would be to let you go.”

  He paused for a long moment and drew a deep breath. Exhaling it slowly, he said, “But I release you now, as you once released me, in the sure and certain knowledge that Heavenly Father will bring us together again. Until that great reunion, we will work to be worthy and to care for Mother as she has always supported, loved, and cared for us. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Tom sat silently, a lump in his throat and tears burning his eyes, thinking of his own sons and how they might characterize him if he were in that coffin.

  President Grant made some brief concluding remarks, praising Judge Garfield and quoting from the Doctrine & Covenants: “And it shall come to pass that those that die in me shall not taste of death, for it shall be sweet unto them.”

  As the choir sang “O My Father,” Tom sat listening to the familiar words and melody. Then, in a flash of understanding, it struck him! He, Thomas Callahan, had not yet provided for his family the hope of a heavenly reunion, such as young Jared had described. Bishop Smart and Brother Healy were right! Only he, Tom, could take the next step, and it was not up to God or Katie, or even his children. It was not even God’s responsibility to show him the way, for in this thing all spiritual leaders were in agreement: one has to act on the basis of faith. It was Tom’s responsibility alone. As that reality washed over him, for the first time in all their years together, Tom understood what it was that Katrina had so desperately wanted from him: the certain knowledge that her family was eternal.

  We hear the words from our friends, clergy, and our conscience, Father O’Shea had said. And out of the mouths of children or, as Jared Garfield had so ably demonstrated, out of the mouths of young, returned missionaries, who were so confident of their role in eternity.

  Later, at the Salt Lake City Cemetery, Judge Garfield’s second-eldest son, named Gene after his father, dedicated his father’s grave. Then, as the crowd began to disperse, Tom felt someone take his arm. He turned to see Elder David O. McKay standing next to him. The apostle said, “I was hoping to catch you, Tom. How is Katrina doing?”

  “Hello, D.O.,” Tom said, his voice cracking. “I don’t know exactly how she’s doing. When I left her this morning, she was still unconscious. The doctors say it’s just a matter of waiting to see what happens.”

  Elder McKay rested his hand on Tom’s shoulder and said, “This is a trying time, Tom, but the Lord is mindful of your fears. If there’s anything I can do, you need only ask.”

  “Thank you, D.O. You’ve been a good friend to me.” Looking about, Tom said, “I’m just about to head back to the hospital now, as soon as I can locate Teresa. She seems to have gotten lost in the crowd.”

  “I saw her this morning. She’s a fine young woman. A credit to you and Katrina,” McKay said.

  “She’s a joy. This accident has really knocked her for a loop, though.”

  “Have faith, Tom. I believe the Lord yet has work for Katrina, and for you perhaps,” he smiled.

  “Aye, but if the Lord needs men, D.O., there’s surely a long line in front of me,” Tom said with a smile.

  “Perhaps, but if you’ll turn around, you’ll see the line’s a great deal longer behind you, Brother Callahan.”

  “I don’t know, David. I look at young men like Jared Garfield, who were brought up in the church with both parents teaching and guiding them, and I’m astounded. Did you hear how certain he was, as he spoke of his reunion with his father. How do they come by such assurance?” Tom said, shaking his head.

  “Did you understand and believe what he said, Tom?”

  “My goodness, David, who ­wouldn’t want to believe it? Is there a parent, or child for that matter, who ­wouldn’t take comfort from the thought that they could always be with those they love? I mean it’s just natural that people would want that, ­isn’t it?”

  Elder McKay smiled and patted Tom’s shoulder. “It is natural, ­isn’t it, Tom? ­Wouldn’t any father—even a Heavenly Father—seek such an eternity, united with his children?”

  “The past forty-eight hours have brought the most intensive ...” Tom hesitated, groping for the right word, “ ... most intensive mental and spiritual confusion I think I’ve known, and it actually took young Jared there,” he said, glancing over at the Garfield family as they consoled one another, “to put simplicity to it. It makes sense, D.O., and to think it’s been right in front of my face all the time.”

  “Life changes for us, Tom, and we move with it if we are wise. I watched you during the service. I noticed you reached for your glasses when you tried to read the program.”

  Tom nodded and grinned. “That’s not been a welcome change.”

  “Nor for me, but we accommodate and adjust. Think about these past years in that way. Maybe you’ve needed to put on your spiritual glasses to bring things into focus. Well,” McKay said, reaching to shake Tom’s hand, “this is not the place for a sermon, is it? Give my love to Katrina, Tom, and let her know we have her in our prayers.”

  “She doesn’t know I’m there, D.O.”

  “How do you know that for certain, Tom?”

  Tom thought for a moment, considering the question. “I really don’t, do I?”

  “Maybe she’s just wearing a different set of glasses.”

  “Thank you, David. You have a way about you, and the people around you are always the beneficiaries. The Lord’s hand, I suppose,” he smiled. “Ah, here come Teresa and Seby. We’d best be off for the hospital. Good day, David. My regards to Sister McKay.”

  “Have faith, Tom, and give our love to Katrina.”

  After Judge Garfield’s funeral, it was nearly 4:00 o’clock before Tom made it back to Holy Cross Hospital with Teresa at his side. Seby needed to drive back to his ranch in Draper, but said he would return late that night, or first thing Sunday morning at the latest. Tom told Seby that he was welcome to use the guest room at Valhalla during the crisis, but that he should not put off important business, since Tom and Teresa were there to be with Katrina. Seby politely agreed and said he would return later or in the morning.

  When Tom and Teresa got to Katrina’s room, Doctor Morgan was present and Nurse Hughes was on duty again.

  “Doctor Morgan,” Tom said, “any change?”

  “Actually, yes, Mr. Callahan, although it’s not obvious from Mrs. Callahan’s appearance. I’ve just been reading the chart, and the past two duty nurses ... umm, let’s see,” he said, checking the chart again, “yes, here it is ... about nine this morning it started. Mrs. Callahan groaned, I suppose is the best description of it, a low guttural sound is the way Nurse Hughes described it, ­isn’t that right, Nurse?”

  “Yes, Doctor. I’ve heard it two times since I came on duty at noon today.”

  “What does that mean, Doctor Morgan?” Tom asked. Teresa moved to her mother’s bedside and reached down to hold her hand. She could see no physical indication of any change in Katrina.

  “The most common reason, Mr. Callahan, is that the patient—Mrs. Callahan, I mean—is experiencing pain.”

  “Pain! Can’t you do something?”

  “Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Callahan, truly. While that seems a bad thing at first consideration, certainly to her loved ones, fr
om a medical point of view, it’s quite good. It means she’s beginning to recover her senses. Her brain, as it were, is beginning to work again. If she shows additional signs of regaining consciousness, we can safely provide medi­cation to relieve her discomfort.”

  “Two times, you say?” Tom said, speaking to Nurse Hughes.

  “Indeed, sir,” she smiled in return, giving also a short curtsey. “And two more reported by the earlier shift nurse. It seems she’s coming back to you, sir,” the young nurse smiled.

  Tom smiled back at the young woman and nodded his head, silently mouthing, “Thank you.”

  “Well, I’ve finished my examination,” Doctor Morgan said. “Once again, I’ll be in the hospital this evening. Just call for me if there’s any further change, Nurse.”

  Tom stepped behind Teresa and peered over her shoulder to look at Katrina. Together they contemplated her discolored and swollen face, each searching for any additional signs of consciousness.

  After a moment, Tom said, “Tess, can I talk you into going home for a few hours and getting some food and sleep?”

  “Dad, I want to—”

  “I know you do, Tess. But we still don’t know how long this might take. It would be best if we take turns so that one of us is always here with her in case she wakes up.”

  “I agree, Dad,” Teresa quickly said, turning around and facing her father. “And last night, you forced me to go home, and you stayed here all night, getting no sleep whatsoever. Now, you go home, eat, and get some sleep and come back about midnight. I’ll stay till then.”