Joyfully Yours

by Amy Lamont

  Bringing up the rear, Faith mimicked her mother in her head and pulled a face. Only she wasn’t as discreet as she thought. She looked up to find Father Michael only half a step in front of her looking back over his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

  “I know how you feel. My older brother is the favorite.”

  Faith’s jaw dropped. Apparently the guy was a mind reader. But seriously? He was a priest. Didn’t get much better than that in a mother’s mind. “What the heck does your brother do that you being a priest isn’t good enough?”

  “I know, right?” They lingered in the doorway of the dining room. “I mean growing up it made sense. He had the grades, quarter back of the football team, president of the student council. But when I decided to pledge my life to God, I thought I’d have the favorite son thing locked in. But no. He decided to go to medical school. He’s a surgeon now. He mostly does the Doctors Without Borders thing. You know, heading to third-world countries offering aid to poverty stricken children. Being a priest at a parish in Brooklyn is small potatoes.”

  “Damn.” Faith looked up guiltily as soon as the swear word left her mouth. “I mean, um, I can sympathize.”

  “Totally appropriate response.” They found their seats around the dining room table. “I think a lot worse every time I stop by my mom’s and hear her singing my brother’s praises.”

  Faith looked at him and they shared a smile.

  Double damn! It should be illegal for a priest to look so good. What was that line? Lead me not into temptation…..

  Faith’s mother had made place cards so no one got confused about where to sit. Translation: she didn’t want her parents sitting anywhere near each other.

  One of Faith and her brother’s favorite things in the world was watching their mother’s mortification over their grandparent’s canoodling. Having both passed the big 7-0 a few years ago didn’t stop them from showing their affection. Last Easter her mom had made the mistake of forgoing the place cards and halfway through dinner Grandma and Grandpa Banks had been necking like a couple of sixteen-year-olds in the back of a Chevy. Right in front of Reverend Grey from the First Baptist Church, too. Faith held back a giggle just thinking of it.

  Not taking any chances, Faith’s mother placed herself at the head of the table with her parents across from each other on either side of her. Faith and Frank were next to each other, and Father Michael sat next to Maddie with Faith across from him. The chair with the place setting at the end opposite her mother remained empty.

  Frank and Maddie excused themselves to help their mother in the kitchen and the rest of the family settled at the table.

  “Will Mr. Leary be joining us?” Father Michael gestured to the empty seat.

  “Wouldn’t that be something to see?” Grandpa said.

  Grandma nodded enthusiastically.

  When nothing more was forthcoming, Father Michael raised an eyebrow at Faith.

  “My dad passed away…,” his mouth opened, ostensibly to apologize, and she rushed on, “…sixteen years ago.”

  Father Michael opened his mouth. Closed it again. He looked hard at the place setting at the end of the table, for all intents and purposes ready and waiting for heaping helpings of Thanksgiving dinner, and an adorable furrow appeared between his eyebrows. He looked back at Faith. She just shrugged.

  After her dad was killed in a car accident when Faith was ten, her mother continued to set a place for him at dinner every night, like he was about to walk through the door any minute after a long day at the office. Faith, Frank, and Maddie had long since stopped questioning it.

  Somewhere way down deep, Faith got the warm fuzzies over the idea her mom loved her dad so much, even sixteen years later, she couldn’t let him go. Her mom confided once that at night sometimes, after a particularly rough day—and there were many of those for a suddenly single mother of three young children—she would sit in bed, close her eyes, and pretend to lay her head on Faith’s father’s shoulder as she told him about her day. Even thinking of it gave Faith a squishy feeling in her stomach and made her long for something she didn’t think she’d ever be lucky enough to find.

  “Who’s hungry?” Faith’s mother plunked a steaming bowl of green beans at Faith’s elbow. Faith jumped and raised her gaze, only to meet the eyes of their dinner guest. The soft look and gentle smile he aimed at her caused a flutter in her stomach. Funny how they’d exchanged so few words, but she was left with the sense that he really understood how she felt. Was that a priest thing? Or something unique to Father Michael?

  “Mrs. Leary,” Father Michael said, breaking the spell Faith had fallen under, “can I help with anything?”

  “No, no, you sit. You’re our guest. Frank and Maddie and I have everything under control. You can start serving yourselves.”

  Faith’s mom and siblings covered the table in platters laden with juicy turkey, steaming, buttery mashed potatoes, and what looked in Faith’s estimation to be forty-seven different kinds of vegetables. Her stomach growled, but she couldn’t help but look up with a sly grin.

  “How about me, Mom? Would you like me to help?”

  “No!” Her mom’s voice was just slightly too loud, and she shot Father Michael a quick glance and regulated her volume. “I mean, no thank you, Faith. We have everything under control.”

  Her Grandmother leaned forward and pointed at Father Michael with her fork. “She means she wants all this food to make it to our plates.”

  “Yeesh, you drop a few things….” Faith made a show of lifting her nose in the air and turning her face from her grandmother. But she couldn’t quite stifle a small giggle. Even she had to admit their lack of confidence in her abilities to do anything related to food—from cooking it to serving it—was well founded. The truth was it suited her just fine. She was never asked to step foot in the kitchen, but she still got to partake in all the yummy goodness her mother cooked. Of course, that usually meant she got to cover for her slack after the meal was over. No one seemed to have a problem with her taking care of all the dirty dishes once they’d had their fill.

  “Make sure you get some of Maddie’s stuffing and her green bean casserole, Father. My Maddie is an amazing cook.”

  Of course she was a fabulous cook. Maddie did everything perfectly.

  As they filled their plates and her mother sang the praises of Maddie’s dishes, Faith couldn’t help but notice there were no cranberries on the table.

  Chapter Three

  “My Frank is a doctor.”

  Faith plastered a fake smile on her face even as her stomach rolled at her mother’s words. Not that she wasn’t used to her mother bragging to anyone who’d listen about her son, the doctor. And not that Faith minded. She was pretty darn proud of her brother, too.

  She stabbed her fork into the pile of green beans on her plate and shoveled them into her mouth. She kept her head down but snuck a peek at Father Michael from underneath her lashes. His lips were tipped up politely, his full attention on her mother.

  “You must be very proud,” Father Michael said.

  “Of course, I’m proud of all my children.” Her mother gestured around the table. “Did I tell you Maddie runs a magazine?”

  Faith’s jaw stopped working and she fought against the choked cough that wanted to break free. Spewing green beans across the Thanksgiving table would probably not be a good thing.

  “Mom,” Maddie said, “I don’t run the whole magazine.”

  Faith suppressed an eye roll. Maddie was an editor at a prestigious financial magazine, she’d give her that. But she was far from running the whole shebang. The way Maddie protested, however, made her sound modest. As if that were indeed what she did, but she didn’t want to be caught bragging.

  Faith’s gaze stole once again to Father Michael. Was he buying Maddie’s coy routine? The fact his gaze moved to Faith before he answered told her he might not be. Or was that wishful thin
king? She bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep a grin from breaking free.

  “That sounds interesting.” Father Michael turned back to Maddie. “Would I have heard of the magazine?”

  Leave it to Maddie to turn the answer to a yes or no question into a ten minute diatribe on the merits and perils of working for an award-winning magazine. The good news was that Maddie’s rant kept attention off Faith and what she did for a living.

  Her eyes strayed towards Father Michael once or twice while Maddie spoke. He nodded in the appropriate places and kept the courteous smile pinned to his lips, a look that must serve him well in his profession. But if she wasn’t mistaken, his gaze slid away and over to Faith’s side of the table more than once.

  Maddie finally wound down and Father Michael turned his full attention on Faith. “How about you, Faith? What do you do?”

  A quick look at Maddie told Faith all she needed to know. Maddie’s face scrunched, her nose wrinkled. She obviously didn’t like the way Father Michael turned his attention away from her so quickly. And judging by the narrow-eyed glare Maddie threw her way, she was even less thrilled to have Faith steal her audience. But then a smug smile stole over Maddie’s face. Crap. This could not be good.

  “Yes, Faith, what are you doing for a living this week?” Maddie chuckled and turned to Father Michael. “Faith’s jobs tend to be a little…unconventional.”

  Faith glared at Maddie. Her sister made it sound like Faith worked as a stripper at the seediest club in town. She turned her attention back to Father Michael. “I’m a musician.”

  She wished her own words held more conviction.

  “Faith is still working some teenage rebellion out of her system,” Faith’s mother said. “Music is a wonderful hobby, but not a way to make a living.”

  “I make money playing.” Faith meant to sound indignant, but feared it came out more like the petulant teenager her mother just accused her of being.

  “Please, it’s not like you’re a rock star. You play in a few dive bars and the rest of the time you’re doing odd jobs to try to pay your rent and mooching dinners off of mom.”

  Faith’s jaw went slack. It wasn’t as if Maddie hadn’t ever made a snide comment about what the family liked to refer to as “Faith’s little hobby.” But she’d never been that nasty about it. And never in front of a virtual stranger.

  Heat rushed up her neck and face. It burned so hot the tips of her ears tingled with it. For some reason it was even worse being put in her place in front of this particular stranger.

  “Maddie.” Frank’s tone was sharp, his eyes even sharper.

  “What? I just meant it wasn’t like a real job.”

  Faith said a silent prayer a sinkhole would open beneath her. Normally she’d jump right into the fray and give as good as she got with her sister. But it was kind of hard since lately she’d had her own niggling doubts about the way she’d handled her music.

  She looked across the table, half expecting Father Michael to be perched on the edge of his seat, ready to flee her crazy family the moment the last mouthful of mashed potatoes cleared his plate. But instead he leaned back, his warm gaze trained on her. The smile he aimed at her wasn’t that polite one her sister got. It was wide open and warm and made her breath come a little faster and her nerve endings prickle under her skin.

  She shook her head and firmly pushed those feelings down. Her life was weird enough right now. The last thing she needed was to add a crush on a priest to the mix.

  Father Michael leaned forward. “What kind of music do you play?”

  Her heart stuttered and she stared at him for long seconds. He seemed genuinely interested in her answer. Not just polite. Interested. Obviously, he wasn’t going to be a big help with the crush thing. She may have to avoid her mother’s house until this religion had passed. “My band plays mostly classic rock in the places we’ve performed lately. That seems to be what people want to hear. But we really love playing some modern alternative and some of the original stuff one of the guys writes.”

  “Do you play an instrument?”

  Faith’s embarrassment faded as she dug into her favorite subject, and she wiggled in her seat when Father Michael shared his own love for some of her favorite bands. Warmed to her topic, it took a few minutes to realize a lull had fallen over the rest of the table.

  She looked around. Frank had an eyebrow arched in her direction, her mother had her head tilted to one side with her eyes moving back and forth between Faith and Father Michael, and her grandparents were oblivious, both of them tucking into their dinner while exchanging heated glances over the table.

  Faith’s gaze turned to Maddie. Her sister tapped her fingernails on the tabletop, her fork resting on her plate. Her eyes were narrowed and fixed on Faith. But then, a small smile twisted her lips and she turned to Father Michael.

  “You haven’t told us anything about yourself. I would love to hear more about you.” Maddie’s voice was a tiny bit breathless and she leaned closer to their guest. “Have you always wanted to be a priest?”

  Her sister batted her eyelashes. At a priest. Faith wrinkled her nose and pressed her lips together. What the heck? Father Michael chuckled. “No, most of my life I wanted to be a pitcher for the Mets.”

  Maddie leaned in and laid a hand on his arm. She looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “You were a baseball player?”

  Faith and Frank exchanged looks. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and furrowed her brows.

  “Yes, ma’am. Always planned on playing ball professionally.”

  Maddie snapped back into her chair and Faith’s teeth sank harder into her lip to prevent giggles from escaping. Apparently, Maddie didn’t like being called ma’am by the priest she was flirting with.

  Maddie didn’t stay deterred for long, though. She leaned in close once again. “What made you change your mind?”

  Faith tilted her head and watched Father Michael carefully. What could possibly knock someone so far off their path?

  Father Michael squinted down at his plate a second. “I had scouts coming to watch me play. Then I messed up my knee and that was the end of that.”

  Something in his tone said there was more to the story. Faith slid forward to the edge of her chair. “What made you become a priest?”

  Her quiet words brought Father Michael’s attention back to her. His lips tilted up a little. “The priest at my church helped me through it. Helped me find a new path. It wasn’t an easy one, but it turned out to be the right one for me. Only a few things I miss.”

  His eyes locked on hers and her breath caught in her chest. Even though they’d just met and she barely knew him, she was starting to feel like she’d missed out too.

  Maddie broke the spell. “That’s just fascinating. I would love to hear all about your church.”

  Faith shook her head and sat back hard against her chair. What the heck was going on here?

  A quick glance down the table showed mostly everyone had slowed down on the turkey and stuffing. She never thought she’d be happy to be on cleanup detail, but for the first time in the history of ever, she was thrilled with the excuse to get away from the table. She jumped up and grabbed Frank’s gravy-smeared plate.

  Faith stopped in her tracks when Maddie stood from her own seat and picked up Michael’s plate.

  “Let me get this, Father Michael.” Maddie collected a few more plates and headed to the kitchen.

  Faith blinked and then snatched up a few more plates and platters before double-timing it to the kitchen. She took a quick look over her shoulder to make sure she and her sister were alone. “What are you doing?”

  Maddie perched on a stool at the breakfast bar. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re…you’re flirting with Father Michael.”

  “Oh, that.”

  Her sister’s smile reminded Faith of the Mona Lisa. She scraped bits of green beans and yams off a plate into the trash can, her movements jerky. The fork sc
reeched against the plate and then she plunked it onto the counter with a crash. “Yes, that. What are you thinking?”

  “He’s attractive.”

  “Maddie, you’re supposed to be the good one. Even I know nothing good can come from flirting with a priest. Hello, remember the Thorn Birds?”

  “He’s not that kind of priest. Honestly.”

  Faith could almost see the exasperation dripping from her sister’s words. But she smiled and pulled out one of her own secret weapons. “Honestly, Maddie, you sound more like mom every day.”

  Maddie gasped. Score. But it would take more than a little bit of sibling in-fighting to distract Faith from Maddie’s comment. “What do you mean he’s not that kind of priest?”

  “He’s not a Catholic priest. Those are the ones that give up women. He’s the other kind. Episcopalian.”

  Faith wracked her brain to remember anything about Episcopalians. It had been a while since her mother explored that particular religion. Her mind flipped through scenes of various family dinners when her mother had entertained people from whatever church was holding her interest that season. Episcopalian. Episcopalian.

  Her mind settled on a picture of a short, white-haired man with a kind smile. Her mother had invited him for dinner once, but he hadn’t arrived alone. Faith closed her eyes as she pictured him walking into the living room and being introduced to everyone. And then he’d introduced everyone to his….Wife!

  Episcopalian priests weren’t celibate. They could date and marry. Father Michael. Her Father Michael could date.

  “Father Michael,” Grandma asked around a mouthful of chocolate cream pie, “how come you get time off on Thanksgiving? Shouldn’t you be feeding the homeless at some soup kitchen or something?”

  “Mother, really.”

  Faith shoveled a heaping forkful of pumpkin pie into her mouth to avoid snickering at her mother’s outrage.

  “What?” Her grandmother asked. “Isn’t that what most priests do on Thanksgiving?”

  “She’s right.” Michael poured a hefty dollop of cream in his coffee. “Volunteering on Thanksgiving has become pretty common. Actually that’s why I’m not doing it this year.”