Stoney Beck

by Jean Houghton-Beatty

  The bishop told him that even though most of St. Mary’s parishioners wanted Father Woodleigh to remain as their priest, he himself had something else in mind. He had decided for Charles’s own sake, as well as for the sake of his girls and the church, he was recommending that Father Woodleigh be moved to a church at the southern tip of Cornwall. “Seems a long way, I know,” he said, “but I think you’ll come to realize this is a fair proposition. The church I have in mind is near St. Ives, and I don’t think I have to tell you how beautiful it is down there. In fact, I’m a Cornish boy myself, grew up not far from St. Ives. You aren’t known there and if the question comes up, especially when the girls come to visit, which I hope and pray they will, people will be discreet enough not to question.” He rubbed his hands and nodded as if to himself. “All in all, I think it’s the best solution.”

  He got to his feet. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

  Charles smiled. “I don’t think I am. I think it’s a wonderful idea, a perfect solution.”

  “Ah, I’m so glad. Now how’d it be if I get us a cup of coffee. There’s a snack bar of sorts on the floor below. You take it black?”

  “Yes, but let me go with you,” Charles said. “The exercise will be good.”

  “You can lean on me,” the bishop said. “We’ll take the lift.”

  Jenny had bought Sarah a pale pink sweater with black skirt, black panty hose, and black suede sandals. Her hair had been washed that morning and Jenny clipped it with one of Lottie’s barrettes, the pink one to match her sweater.

  Sarah handed her the earrings. “Can you put these in for me, and can I have some of your lipstick? Will you put it on?”

  Jenny inserted the earrings, and pulled out her pale lipstick. “OK,” she said, “do like this with your lips.”

  Ever the diplomat, Andy came armed with two huge boxes of chocolates, one for Sarah’s nurses and the other for those taking care of the priest. He told Jenny he’d get himself a cup of coffee in the cafeteria and join them in about ten minutes in their father’s room. While Sarah said her goodbyes to everyone on her floor, Jenny bounded up the stairs. Back now in the room he’d had before, the priest sat by the window, his head down while he scribbled on a yellow legal pad propped on his knees.

  She knocked softly on the open door, then walked toward him. “Writing your sermon?”

  “This is the second one I’ve written today. Being a patient instead of a priest coming to visit, has given me more compassion and insight into situations I could only imagine before.” He tapped his temple with his fingers. “There are at least ten more sermons up here waiting to be written. Being in a new church, I want to make a good impression.”

  She pulled a chair up close to his. “After all you’ve gone through, it just doesn’t seem fair that you have to move all the way to Cornwall. You won’t know a soul down there.”

  He reached for her hand. “Meeting new people has never been a problem with me, Jenny, and Cornwall really isn’t that far. This isn’t the end for us, you know. It’s just the beginning. Cornwall is one of England’s loveliest counties. Wait’ll you see it, and St. Ives is a little bit of heaven. You’ll fall in love with it as much as you have with the Lakes.”

  Jenny studied his face. “You really mean that don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m not being thrown to the lions, Jenny. St. Peter’s is a very beautiful church. Vincent brought six or seven pictures that I’ll show you later. He and I, well, we’ve become friends since I first told him of my two beautiful daughters. He wants me to stay at St. Mary’s at least another month, until I get my strength back. Father Doyle will assist me. I’m not leaving in disgrace. Most priests move on sooner or later.”

  “I know. I just want you to be happy.” She glanced down at his note book. “These sermons. Are we in any of them? Sarah and me?”

  “You’re all over them, although sometimes only I will know. You’ll probably both drift in and out of my sermons as long as I’m a priest. I won’t be hammering it home, but you’ll be there.”

  She edged her chair closer, then as gently as she could, told him about the fire and Biddy’s death. “I still can’t believe it,” she said. “The Social Services wanted her out. We all did. But not like this.”

  Her father set his pad and ball point pen on the window sill, then got to his feet. “I’m very, very sorry.” He thrust his hands in the pockets of his paisley robe, as he paced, head down across the room. “Does Sarah know?”

  “Not yet. Do you think we should wait a bit?”

  Charles stood near the window and folded his arms. Jenny was giving him a chance to make fatherly decisions. “Feel her out on the way home. See how she reacts. You’ll know what to do.”

  “I guess so,” Jenny said. “She’ll probably take it like she does everything else. Right on the shoulder. One good thing, the house is insured to the hilt and Dr. Thorne says it’ll look good as new after the workmen get through. Sarah told me ages ago she doesn’t want to live there any more, thinks it’s too big. And it is. She said she’s got her pictures to remind her of the good days with her parents.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “Andy wants us to stay with him. His house is big. We talked about this way back when Sarah first went on dialysis.”

  Her father put his glasses back on. “Andy came to see me one afternoon, when he knew you’d gone shopping. We talked about you. He’s a good man, Jenny.”

  Jenny leaned forward. “What did he say? Can you tell me?”

  “Oh, I think it’ll be better coming from him. But sitting there, listening to him, I couldn’t help but be struck by the coincidence. You know, both of us being English, and both falling in love with American women.”

  “I’ve thought of that too,” she said. “He’s really been there for me. For us. I honestly don’t know what I’d have done without him. He’s downstairs now getting a cup of coffee, wanted to give us some time alone.”

  “Ada and Walter came yesterday,” her father said. “Walter’s talked Ada into selling Malone’s. Said it’ll be too much for her once they’re married. It’s going on the market soon. Sarah knows this. She talks about the shop a lot, said she wished it was hers.”

  Jenny whacked the arm of the chair. “Of course. Malone’s.” She got to her feet, and kissed his cheek. “What would we ever do without you.”

  His raised his hand and touched his face where she’d placed the kiss. “What did I do?”

  Jenny laughed. “As if you didn’t know. It’s the answer to everything. Sarah’s going to jump at this, and I think I know someone who’ll jump at the chance to live there with her.”

  When Sarah came into the room, Jenny let their father tell Sarah the good news about Malone’s while Jenny went into the hall to call Ada. Right there over the phone, the deal was struck. As she put the receiver back in its cradle, she patted it, and looked down the hospital hallway. She waved at the old lady shuffling along, then smiled at Nurse Ramirez, the one she liked so much. Hospitals weren’t so bad after all. Miracles were performed inside these walls.

  When Andy arrived and they told him the news about Malone’s, they talked about making renovations to the living quarters over the shop. All it needed was a kitchen upstairs as well as another bathroom to make it a self-contained flat. The kitchen and bathroom downstairs could use some fixing up too. And yes, they’d get in touch with Lottie, ask her over for tea, discuss things.

  “Oh man,” Sarah said in her best Jenny voice when they told her. “Oh man.”

  Charles watched from his window as Andy eased the car to the door while Jenny helped Sarah out of the obligatory wheelchair. They both stood beside the car and looked up at his window. Jenny waved and Sarah blew kisses, then while Andy placed Sarah’s suitcase in the boot, Jenny fussed over her as she helped her into the car. Tears filled Charles’s eyes. What had he done to deserve all this happiness at this time of his life? After the blue car disappeared in the throng of traffic
, he closed his door and reached for his rosary, then got down on his knees beside his bed.

  Sarah sat in the back while Andy drove a steady forty-five, chatting softly to Jenny in the seat beside him. He was careful, said he was watching out for pot holes or bumps that might jar Sarah’s incision. She leaned back in the seat and ran her hand across her abdomen to feel her father’s sacred kidney. The pains in her legs were gone at last and except for a spell of sleepiness in the afternoon, she felt better than she had in a long time.

  People came to visit at Andy’s. Walter came with Ada, and Dr. Thorne came with his wife, Gladys, who’d at last returned from Provence. When it was quiet, with all the visitors gone, and even Andy in his garage, Jenny told her that Biddy had died in the fire at Glen Ellen.

  Jenny sat beside her on the sofa. “Biddy was real sick, Sarah,” she said. “Her mind was all mixed up.”

  “I know,” Sarah said, as she measured Jenny’s long fingers against her own.

  “Those days are behind you now. Try to think only about the good days when you were happy with your folks. And don’t worry, we won’t go near the place until it’s restored.”

  “You mean they can mend it?”

  “Uh, huh. Thanks to Molly Duggan’s insomnia, the fire crew got there fast. The house is insured to the hilt. We’ll get someone to cut down the tree, then maybe hire a gardener. After we get rid of all those weeds and get the grass mowed, it should look real nice.”

  “What about my cuckoo clock? And my photos. I’ve got hundreds. Have I lost them?”

  “Your room was untouched,” Jenny said. “The kitchen was filled with smoke and your poor old cuckoo took a beating. He’s black as the ace of spades and doesn’t pop out any more. But Andy says he can fix it. You know how good he is with clocks.”

  ***

  Not many people attended Biddy’s funeral. Her body was cremated and Molly Duggan said the ashes were to be scattered over the hills. She told Jenny she’d wanted to flush them down the loo but if she did, wouldn’t she forever be afraid to sit on it? Finally, her son promised to take them to the very north of the Lakes and not to breathe a word to anyone where he’d scattered them.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The bell over Malone’s door jingled as Andy pushed it open. He stood in the doorway, Pete at his side with a brand new psychedelic Frisbee in his mouth.

  Hammering and banging were going on upstairs as well as at the back of the shop. Sarah sat on a chair by the cards, sorting through a new box, giggling as she read some of them before adding them to the rack. Lottie, who had moved into the shop a week ago, sat behind the counter, half-frames perched on the end of her nose, ledger open in front of her, a calculator beside it. One of the girls chatted up Spud Murphy whose pie van was parked outside, while the other sliced bacon for Nigel from the Bookworm.

  For Andy it was now or never. Just that morning Jenny had surprised him when she’d said she and Sarah would move into the shop at the end of the week. Even though they had stayed at his house for over a month, he could count on one hand the minutes he’d spent alone with Jenny. She and Sarah had separate bedrooms, with the bathroom between them. Sarah though had insisted on leaving the doors open. He finally said as much to Sarah just yesterday, who rolled her eyes and said if he’d wanted to cuddle Jenny, he should have said something sooner. She could take a hint. It was while Jenny was in the shower, Sarah told him of the surprise she had for her sister.

  Jenny appeared from behind the cake mixes and biscuits and joined Andy at the door. She bent down and held her face against Pete’s. “How’s it goin’ boy? You been behaving yourself?”

  Pete’s answer was a low ecstatic rumble from the back of his throat.

  She straightened up and smiled at Andy. “Aren’t you coming in? We’ve got the kettle on.”

  Sarah’s loud whisper from the card rack reached them. “Andy, for cryin’ out loud,” she said in her new American accent.

  Jenny looked from him to Sarah and back again. “Am I missing something?”

  “It’s nothing,” Andy said, giving Sarah one of those don’t-you-dare-let-the-cat-out-of-the-bag looks.

  “Can you get away?” he said to Jenny. “For a drive up into the hills?”

  “Sure. Just give me a minute to change my shoes.”

  They walked for miles along one of the footpaths which were everywhere in the Lake District, Pete racing on ahead, then waiting for them to catch up. The highest peaks were now covered in snow and the slopes were shades of grey blending into purple. From the meadows came the familiar bleating of sheep, coats grown thick and woolly ready for the coming winter. As usual, Andy had brought his binoculars and as they sat on his rubber backed blanket, they took turns watching a pair of peregrine falcons dart about while Pete chased after rabbits. When one dived down a hole, he stuck his nose in, his behind high in the air.

  Jenny told Andy the rabbits in North Carolina didn’t dig tunnels, but just froze and hoped for the best.

  Andy lay on the grass while she stretched beside him, her face turned to his. “American rabbits aren’t educated like the English ones,” he said as he traced her jaw line with a piece of grass. “Our rabbits have warrens and little rooms and things under the ground where almost nothing can get them.”

  “So safe,” Jenny said. “What a neat life, out of harm’s way.”

  “Well, most of the time,” Andy said. “Except for the ferret. He can wriggle down there but the rabbits always have more than one way out.”

  Jenny shuddered.

  “What is it? Are you cold?”

  “Some. Hope the weather picks up for Uncle Tim and Mary Louise. Can you believe it, Andy? After all that’s happened, Uncle Tim coming here on his honeymoon, staying in the cottage?”

  She looked up at the mountains, at the early snow on the highest peaks. It was the middle of October, time for the leaves in North Carolina to be turning red and gold, bringing tourists from all over flocking to the Smokies and the Blue Ridge. Those Indian Summer days in the South were hard to beat. Cool nights and soft golden days, so welcome after the stifling summer heat and so different from this wild, cold scene. Yet there was something exhilarating about this place that sharpened the senses, something about facing into the wind that cleared the brain and lifted the spirit.

  “What are you going to do now, Jenny?” Andy asked. “That CIA look has gone from your face at last. You’ve found all your answers. Sarah’s got the shop, your father’s happier than he’s ever been in his life, and there’re already a couple of people interested in buying Glen Ellen.”

  “You mean am I staying here or going back to North Carolina?”

  He put a hand over her mouth as if scared of her answer. “Not now,” he said as he stood up, reached for her hand, and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go to my house. Sarah’s left something for you, a thank you she said.”

  At his front door, he made her cover her eyes with her hands then with an arm across her shoulders, he led her into the living room. “OK, you can open them now.”

  Propped up on the couch was the winter scene of Stoney Beck that had hung in the corridor at Craighead Hospital. Jenny ran her hand along the frame. “Oh man, Fred Fitzgerald’s painting. How did Sarah get the hospital to part with it?”

  “They only have a print. This is the original. Sarah said you liked it so she got it out of storage. She wants you to have it.”

  Jenny looked from him to Pete, who’d placed his Frisbee on the floor, cocked his head to one side, his face as expectant as Andy’s. These two were obviously in cahoots.

  “What’s wrong, Andy? You look so serious.”

  “I am serious. I’ve given you more rain checks than you can stuff in your pocket but you still haven’t given me a straight answer. Please, Jenny, I have to know. Are you going back home to Charlotte or are you going to marry me and stay here?”

  She placed her hands on either side of his face. “I’ve been dropping hints all morning and i
f you hadn’t said something, I would have. I thought you knew, that it showed. Yes, I’m going back to Charlotte. One day. But not without you. I’d like Sarah and Dad to come too. I want you all to see North Carolina. It’s a beautiful place, Andy, and I guess I’ll always love it. It’s where my roots are. Still, when you get right down to it, it’s people that count, and outside of Uncle Tim, all my family’s here. This is my home now.”

  “You mean—”

  “She means she wants you to kiss her,” Sarah said suddenly appearing in the hall. “Kiss her, Andy. Go on and kiss her.”

  Andy laughed. “Well, OK, but only to please you.”

  His face grew serious as he opened his arms and Jenny walked into them

  After the kiss Jenny held on tight, almost afraid to let go in case somehow he would disappear. But Andy only laughed and with one arm still around her, he held out his other to encompass Sarah.

  Later, when they’d untangled themselves, Jenny ran her hand along the gilt carved frame, studied the painting of the little village in the grip of a white Christmas, then turned to Andy and studied the landscape of his face.

  “How about grabbing one end of this,” she said to him. “Let’s see how it looks over the mantle.”

  END