by Paul Kelly
‘Ego te absolvo, in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti’ Peter anointed Fern. He touched his lips and his eyes with the Holy Oils, but there was no response. He moved to the lower part of the bed and lifted the sheet to anoint his feet, but Fern still remained unmoved and nurse Ritchie came back to the bedside, but Peter turned abruptly to speak to her.
“Can I be alone with him, please?” he pleaded boyishly and she left the scene reluctantly, bowing to Peter’s authority as a clergyman, but she wasn’t at all happy as the priest sat down beside her patient. The screens surrounded them, but the nurse would have liked to have known what secrets were being shared in the confines of that shroud, as her heart beat faster for the one who lay there with the blonde hair and the dark brown eyes. Peter sat down beside Fern; their world made private by the simple hospital screens that had suddenly become a confessional ... and he sat rigidly by the bed, without taking his eyes from Fern’s face for a moment. His thoughts were tormented by fear and by anger and his mind formed illogical conclusions, as his heart beat impatiently for his friend.
“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked His God. “I want to love you but You are making it so difficult for me. My spirit yearns for You, but my heart aches for the love I have for this young man. I cannot deny that love, even for You, Oh Lord, for truth is humility and I am humbled to my depth. Do You crucify everyone who tries to love You? Is that You’re way?” he muttered as he dried his eyes in indignation.
***
Night passed slowly into the wake of dawn and Peter had been at Fern’s bedside in all that time. He had not slept, but had kept vigil over the friend who had so selflessly saved his life.
“I think you should go now, Father.”
The night Sister had made some tea and had passed him a cup. Peter smiled his gratitude and his eyes were weary and tired, if his heart was young and his prayers, full of hope. He looked again at Fern. The Sister heard his first words of blessing but the words that followed were inaudible and for Fern’s ears only and quietly he left the bedside to make his return journey to the presbytery
***
“Father, Father, come back quickly.”
Peter had only just reached the ward door when the Sister called him and he swiftly obeyed her call and was at Fern’s bedside again in a moment. There was a low murmuring sound coming from behind the screens as he approached and he quickly moved into the enclosure. The boy’s eyes were open and a fresh colour had returned to his cheeks. He looked around the bed and then to Peter as his face suddenly became alive and his lips trembled as Peter took the boy’s head in his hands and gazed intently into his eyes. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Fern’s cheek, as he cried with strong emotional tears and rested his head on Fern’s shoulders.
‘Deo Gratias’ ... ‘Thanks be to God’ Shona stood motionless. Peter had not seen her enter the screened area and their eyes met but without comprehension. She looked from the priest to Fern and then back again to the priest, but the nurse requested that the boy should be left alone and the visitors were ushered into a waiting room.
Shona could not understand what she had seen and the scene she had just witnessed darkened her joy for Fern’s recovery. She and Peter sat in silence. Neither of them spoke in the tension that they shared and she looked at Peter with her eyes pleading for an understanding and with an unbelieving mind.
“He saved my life, Shona, what more can I say.” said Peter, but Shona looked away as if she had not heard a word of what the priest had said.
Chapter Thirty Five
PETER SAT MOTIONLESS in the study of the Presbytery; his head in his hands. Miss Harrison had observed that he wanted to be alone and had followed her instincts, but it was time for Peter’s bedtime drink and she quietly placed the cup on the table before him and left the room, moving away from him silently hoping the spell would break and that he would speak to her, but there was no response. She busied herself around the kitchen before she telephoned the hospital for the latest news of Fern.
“Dear, dear,” she groaned “These men in my life will be the death of me.”
The news from the hospital was good and Fern was resting peacefully with the fever having abated. The next few hours were important and he should rest.
***
Miss Harrison entered the study, but the scene was just as she had left it. Peter had not moved and his drink was still on the table untouched.
“Shall I freshen this for you, Father?” she whispered, but Peter still did not move. “Father, it’s getting late; I’ve phoned the hospital and Fern is better and resting peacefully, but they say it is best if he has no visitors for the rest of the day at least…” she said and the boy’s name was enough to rouse Peter to his senses. He looked at Miss Harrison with a puzzled stare and she was distressed at his appearance.
Peter was always well groomed and neat in his dress, but she found him unshaven and dishevelled. His eyes were heavy and he had been crying.
“What is the matter, Father?” she asked softly and she was gravely concerned “Please let me help you, whatever it is that is troubling you?”
The priest looked at his housekeeper unbelieving of what he was hearing and there was a long pensive silence before he spoke.
“No-one can help me, Miss Harrison. I have done something very wrong. I am ashamed but no-one can help me. Pray for me?” He spoke quietly, but Miss Harrison was not the type of lady to abandon any cause light heartedly and this one set her a new challenge.
“Come on, she prompted, “A wash will do you the world of good and then we’ll see what can be done.”
Miss Harrison was resolute in her demands as she helped Peter to the bathroom and then went into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of tea.
***
Peter looked better when he emerged from his ablutions. He had shaved, bathed and looked like his normal self again and Miss Harrison was not beyond thinking how handsome a man he appeared, for all that she was ever mindful that he was a priest of God. They sat down together and drank their tea in silence … Neither spoke for a very long time and the flickering fire made phantom pictures all around the room whilst the cold night outside, gave them a warmth of appreciation as they sat together with their thoughts. Miss Harrison was anxious to help, but with her usual disciplined philosophy, knew it was best to wait until Peter was ready to speak and her patience was soon rewarded.
“I have committed a sin in my heart and I am so deeply regretful that I am unable to repair the damage I have done,” he said as he looked longingly at the housekeeper and his eyes filled with sorrow. She took his hand in hers and they continued to sit quietly as she rubbed his hands gently and with caring attention, and Peter knew how blessed he was to have someone like Miss Harrison as his friend.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, accepting the fact that he may prefer to remain silent. She was never unaware at any time, not for one single moment that he was a priest, a priest of God and a priest forever …
“There is little I can say, Miss Harrison; sometimes words only hinder when you are so uncertain in your mind.”
“Don’t distress yourself, Father, I understand, and if I can help in anyway, you know you have only to ask.”
Peter looked at the woman who sat beside him, seeing a lady he had never seen before. She was not the Miss Harrison who was his housekeeper. The one hundred percent virgin; potential saint and loved by all, but not by ‘someone’ …She did not have ONE special ‘someone’ of her own and he was a little in awe of this new Miss Harrison, if intrigued at his new found mystery and he blinked, as with almost against his own will, he blurted out…
“I am in love with someone.”
The bullet had been fired ... Miss Harrison still held his hand and looked deep into his eyes as she spoke her calming balm.
“Do you think you could ever
love God, if you are incapable of loving one of His creatures?” she asked and she looked suddenly as though she knew all there was to know about humanity. Peter was humbled and she continued to stroke his hand as her eyes consoled.
“Have you ever been in love, Miss Harrison?” he asked boldly, but she looked away from him and scanned the fire hoping to find her answer there. She did not want to answer his question, but she had committed herself to helping him. Her own pain was no less acute and Peter knew the answer from her smile, as her eyes reflected the young woman that she was, when her love was alive.
“He was killed in the great war,” she replied in a soft voice and Peter was relieved to see the humanity that effused from his lady companion, since he saw her in a dimension that he had never seen before. She was his housekeeper and until now, there had been no exchange of heart, but he was glad she had spoken to him and he wanted to tell her more, as she put her finger to his mouth as he began to speak again.
“Hush your mouth,” she said laughingly and with tender eyes. “I understand, Father ... I truly understand ... and how much more will God understand when a simple person like me, can…
Chapter Thirty Six
SHONA WAS RETURNING TO LONDON the next day and she was uncertain whether she should go to see Fern or not. She wanted to know that he was well, but her mind was confused and her heart was heavy as she walked passed the hospital several times before she could resolve to go in. The sense of walking through the corridors was the same as it had been before, but her step was different and she was aware that her visit held a different meaning, but she could not deny the feelings of her heart. She knew, come what may, that she would always love Fern; that she was a prisoner to that same love and that she would never be free.
Fern was awake when she came into the ward and he greeted her warmly.
“I’m glad to see you again, Shona,” he said as she sat down beside him wishing he was there for her alone. Her joy sprung from wanting to be his alone and her love begged for him to be hers alone.
“You are looking better Fern. You scared us all last night ... Don’t do that again, will you?” she joked and Fern blushed. He was sorry to have caused so much trouble and concern but Shona’s memory of the previous night would not allow her to forget.
“I’m going back to London tomorrow, but I shall be back home again in September,” she said, but he did not hear her words as she continued to speak. “When I come back, perhaps we will be able to ...” Shona could find no words to speak of the feelings that she had in her heart and as she leaned down to him, he turned his face from her slightly before he returned to her gaze again and smiled.
“Are you going to do my ear again?” He quizzed and he coughed as he spoke. But she knew her heart to be totally stilled as she pressed her lips to his ear and lingered long as her breath tickled him as it had done before, but this time he did not move away, nor did he laugh.
“Be happy, Shona ... be happy,” he said and she was unable to stem her tears.
“God bless you always, Fern,” she said and she was going to add, ‘my darling’, but the words faded in her throat … however as she left the ward, Shona knew a peace that was not with her before her visit. There was no bitterness in her heart. The sting of jealousy had gone and her step was light. She knew that Fern was the love of her life and that nothing would ever change that. She prayed that he would get well soon and that God would look after him always. Fern tried to sit up in bed after she had left and the nurse came to assist him.
“You’re getting thinner,” she remarked as she took his arm to raise him up in his bed.
“I was never fat,” he replied as he sat with his hands folded in his lap. The ward was quiet and his thoughts were poetic.
“T’was on the mountain that my love was born,
Yet, in the valley was conceived.
In midst of snow, my heart in sadness, torn,
With awe in tenderness received.
The Mighty Author of Eternal love,
Invited that we should rest in He,
Together, hand in hand, we walk my love,
In mingled tears of destiny.”
***
“All right, All right, I’m coming,” Miss Harrison called out as she went to the front door. The postman always rung the bell incessantly if there was something in the post of particular interest to himself . . . and his curiosity was over exuberant that morning, as he handed the letter to the housekeeper and his lingering stance showed her that he was waiting to find out what the letter contained. Miss Harrison thanked him curtly and closed the door, but as she took the letter into the library, she too was rather curious to know its content. It was from the Bishops House.
Peter seemed better but still very quiet when she put the letter on the table by his breakfast and he lifted it slowly having seen the sender’ address on the outside of the envelope and looked at Miss Harrison. She returned his glance and left the room.
***
Reverend and Dear Father Spinelli, it read ... and then Peter only saw the words that conveyed any reality to him at that moment, but fear and apprehension gripped him as he read on…
“You are requested under Holy Obedience, to retire to our Mother College in Rome, for further theological studies…”
He dropped the letter limply to the floor.
“Oh God … How much more do you expect of me. Give me strength. Help me in my weakness. Let me understand your ways.”
Miss Harrison returned with the coffee and if her eyes were low, her curiosity was high and Peter did not speak, as he lifted the letter and handed it to her. She put the coffee on the table and wiped her hands on her apron.
“Requested under Holy Obedience,” she read again, “Rome for further theological studies. Oh! Father, what can I say ... I’m frightened…You have heard of all this trouble in Italy on the wireless, with the Fascist movement out there and this man, Mussolini. There is a strong rumour that the war in Europe will not end soon” she said as she tightened and relaxed the fingers of her left hand repeatedly. “Only last night, on the radio, there was talk of recruiting troops out there. They are determined to go in with Germany” She steadied herself after a few seconds and looked at Peter with grave concern. “Do you have to go Father? Isn’t there any way in which you can stay here? You haven’t been well, have you and there’s your ankle that hasn’t healed yet, has it?”
She listed a variety of excuses as she stammered excitedly, but the priest sat in silence as his eyes stared out at a space before him and he searched in vain for a view of his future.
“I must obey, Miss Harrison, I must obey,” he said and rose from the breakfast table to go upstairs where he made a telephone call …
“Is that Mr. Carswell,” he enquired into the mouthpiece…”Thank you ... I would like to know the latest condition of young Fern. Fernando Zambrano ... I am Father Peter Spinelli and I was with him last night.
I know he has been advised to rest and that visitors are best to stay away for the moment, but is there any improvement, I mean ... further improvement?”
The priest nodded a few times and the voice on the other end of the phone continued to speak. Peter was relieved. The only sad news was that Fern would not be allowed to travel and certainly not abroad for at least another year. He was anxious to visit Fern. Father Roach, a neighbouring Parish priest and the one whom the Bishop had appointed to deputise for Peter during his time in Rome, required to know much more, about St. Mark’s in Bolarne, now that he would be expected to run Peter’s parish as well as his own and the two priests talked for a long time, but Peter was becoming impatient as he looked at the clock on the mantelpiece ... and Father Roach was in no hurry. He was rather a lethargic man who took his time about everything and expected everyone else to follow suit, however, the sagacious and discerning Miss Harrison came to the rescue
.
“You’re wanted at the hospital urgently, Father,” she gasped as if she had just received some news of great importance and looked at Peter knowingly where he excused himself politely to the visiting priest and went to the garage. He was getting used to driving with one lame leg and when eventually he did arrive at the hospital… Fern appeared to be much improved and was sitting up eating grapes.
“Want some?” he asked, passing the tray to the priest and Peter stuck one in his mouth.
“I never got this attention when I was in hospital.” he remarked.
“Hush your mouth,” said Fern.
Peter wanted to talk to Fern about his letter from the Bishop, but he didn’t know how to begin. He did notice however, the wheelchair by the young man’s bed.
“Have you been up at all today?”
Fern screwed up his face and spat a grape skin into a tissue.
“That one was sour... Yes, Peter, I was in the day room for a short while. It is rather nice in there and you don’t feel like a patient so much.”
“Want to go for a drive now?” Peter glanced at the wheelchair as he spoke and Fern was delighted with the suggestion. Peter lifted him carefully from the bed and settled him into the chair. He felt such tenderness and as he tucked a blanket around Fern’s knees and guilt once more plagued his mind, they set off for the day room and settled themselves in a corner, where Peter slowly unfolded the news of his departure to Rome and Fern sat listening intently with despair in his heart.
“Do you want to go to Rome for further studies, Peter?” he asked and Peter laughed in an effort to hide his own unhappiness.
“I want to stay here and be as daft as I always am,” he said and Fern wanted to join him in his forced laughter, but his emotions were arid and he could not enthuse.
