Bless Us Father (3 page)

She’d gotten over her fear of using the bathroom in the rectory, so decided she needed a little break. She wasn’t gone long, and when she returned, she noticed an icy cold bottle of Coca Cola at her desk. It had been placed on a piece of note paper. The note read, “Thought you might be thirsty by now. ‘A’.”

Who on earth was ‘A’? She didn’t know Mrs. Hunter’s first name. Maybe it started with an A. She took a sip of the coke and

discovered she was very thirsty, so drained the bottle quickly before going back to her studies.

“Dinner is ready, Mary Margaret. Father O’Malley is eating in his room tonight. I hate for Father Antonio to eat alone, would you like to join him instead of being in here by yourself?” Mrs. Hunter asked.

“I...guess so.” Mary Margaret said, not really sure she wanted to eat in the priest’s dining room. What would she talk about? “Oh, and thanks for the coke.”

“What coke?” Mrs. Hunter asked.

“There was a coke on the desk. I thought you put it there.”

“It was probably Father Antonio. He keeps cold cokes in the Frigidaire.”

“Oh, yes. It probably was.” Mary Margaret suddenly realized who ‘A’ was and wondered why he would bother bringing her a coke.

He sat at the table in the dining room, his clerical collar open at the neck. He was already munching on salad and garlic bread and gestured for Mary Margaret to sit across from him in Father O’Malley’s usual spot.

Father Antonio wiped his mouth with his napkin. “What a pleasant surprise. I detest eating alone. I promise I won’t keep you from your studies long.”

“That’s okay. I’m finished.”

Mary Margaret sat in Father O’Malley’s chair and spread her napkin out on her lap, all the while trying to think of something to talk to Father about.

“Is Father ill?” she asked, serving herself some salad from the bowl on the table.

“He’s just a bit under the weather tonight. Nothing serious,” Father Antonio said. “He’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

“Good. I like Father O’Malley. I’ve known him since I was a little girl and started school here in the first grade. He used to come out on the playground and give us kids candy. Sister would get really mad at him, but he didn’t care, he’d give it to us anyway.”

Father Antonio was smiling at her, his eyes sparkling. “Do you miss going to school here now that you’re a young lady?”

For some reason she was feeling much more comfortable. He was easier to talk to than she’d expected. “Sort of. Most of my friends are going to St. Mary’s, where I go. That is, my girlfriends. I do miss the boys that I grew up with, though.”

“Oh, so St. Mary’s is a girl’s school?”

“Yeah. All girls. It gets a little boring sometimes.”

Mrs. Hunter brought in a steaming bowl of spaghetti and meat sauce, along with a platter of meatballs, and placed them on the table. “I’m leaving for a bit. I’ve got to go home and feed my husband and then I’ll come back and do the dishes.”

“I can do the dishes for you, Mrs. Hunter. I don’t mind. I do them all the time at home,” Mary Margaret volunteered.

Mrs. Hunter paused for a moment, then said, “You really wouldn’t mind? It would be nice if I could be home with Mr. Hunter one evening. He won’t know how to act.”

“I’m happy to do them for you.” She looked to Father Antonio for confirmation.

“That sounds like a good idea, Betty. You go on ahead and go home and do your wifely duties. I’ll make sure and lock up after Mary Margaret’s mother picks her up.”

“Well...okay then. Can you find containers to put the leftovers in, Mary Margaret?”

“Yes, I know how to put food away and clean up the kitchen. You’ll be surprised at how clean it is tomorrow when you come back to work.”

“Goodnight, then. I’ll see you in the morning, Father Antonio,” she said, taking off her apron.

“Now, where were we?” Father Antonio asked, once Mrs. Hunter was gone.

“I’m not sure. I think we were talking about my school.” Mary Margaret took a bite of a meatball and sauce, dribbling a bit down her chin. She blushed as she wiped the sauce away with her napkin.

“Yes, you were saying it was an all girl’s school, and you missed the boys you went to school with here,” he said, taking a sip from a glass of red wine. “Do you have a boyfriend, Mary Margaret?”

She shook her head no. “I’m not allowed to date until I’m a junior in high school. That’s the family rule.”

“That’s a good rule. You should only date in groups until you’re out of high school. Those young men aren’t to be trusted.”

Mary Margaret laughed. “That’s what Father O’Malley tells me all the time. He tells me to keep away from those evil boys.”

“And he knows what he’s talking about,” Father Antonio said, taking a big drink of wine this time. “We’ll both have to keep you under our wing so you won’t be wrongly influenced.”

The evil of the world is made possible by nothing but the sanction you give it.

-Ayn Rand-

CHAPTER THREE

“Don’t make any plans for Friday evening,” Mrs. Riley said as she folded towels on the coffee table.

Mary Margaret was watching
The Andy Griffith Show
and didn’t answer her mother. Barney Fife had gotten himself into another jam and she wanted to find out how he would get out of it.

“Young lady, I am talking to you.”

“I’m watching TV. Can you wait for a commercial...please?”

“You are going to be on restriction if you don’t watch your smart mouth.”

“So what? My life is one big restriction! What do I do? I go to school, go to the rectory to work, then sit here and watch television. I don’t have much of a life.”

“You are becoming such an ungrateful, sinful young lady.”

“I wish,” she muttered under her breath

“I heard that. What do you mean by that remark?”

“Nothing. I don’t mean anything. What about Friday evening?” Mary Margaret asked, changing the subject.

“Don’t make any plans.”

“As if I ever have any.”

“There you go again with your smart mouth. I’m going to talk with Father Antonio about your attitude when he comes for dinner Friday.”

“Father Antonio is coming here?” Mary Margaret felt her heart lurch in her chest. Why was he coming to her home for dinner? How did this happen?

“Yes, I realized he’s new to California and probably doesn’t know many people, so I talked with your father, and we decided to ask him to dinner. I expect you to be here.”

“Of course I’ll be here. Father Antonio is very nice. I think you’ll like him.”

Mrs. Riley leaned towards her and almost whispered, “I hear he’s quite handsome and looks like Elvis. Is that true?”

“MOM! I can’t believe you. He’s a priest! How would I know if he’s handsome?”

Mary Margaret couldn’t believe how guilty she felt about this little white lie. But why was her mom interested? She had her own husband. Dad wouldn’t like this at all.

#

“Oh my gosh, he’s coming for dinner. What am I going to wear?” Mary Margaret said pulling Linda into a corner by the lockers where she hoped no one would overhear.

Linda looked puzzled. “Who’s coming to dinner?”

“Father Antonio, that’s who. My mom wants to meet him. She heard he looks like Elvis.”

“What does your dad think about that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. That’s not the point anyway. What should I wear and how shall I do my hair?”

“What does it matter? He’s coming to meet parishioners. He’s not going to care how you look.” Linda put a hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder and leaned a bit closer. “Besides, you’re not supposed to try and attract a priest’s attention. It’s sinful.”

“I just want to look nice, that’s all. He’s the only priest that’s ever been over for dinner, except Father O’Malley of course, but he hardly counts.”

“Why? Because he’s old?”

Mary Margaret brushed her hair away from her face, wishing she could put the barrettes in to keep it neat. “No, but he’s been around forever and seems more like a relative.”

“Okay, if you’re sure you aren’t trying to attract his attention, then I’ll tell you.”

“Go on, spill.”

“You should wear the new dyed to match skirt and sweater you bought. The blue color makes your eyes even bluer and you look older than fifteen in it, kind of more sophisticated...”

“Really?”

“Definitely. You look cool, and at least seventeen.”

Mary Margaret smiled and blushed a bit. “What about my hair? Should I wear it down or up?”

“Up, for sure. Remember the French roll we practiced? Wear it in a French roll.”

“Good idea. I can do that really well now. My mom even likes it that way. Too bad I won’t be able to put any makeup on.”

“Just pinch your cheeks and bite your lips like they did in the old days. Remember Scarlett in
Gone With the Wind?
”

“That will have to do, I guess. Mom threatens me with restriction more and more, and if she caught me with lipstick on that would put her over the top.”

Linda’s eyes widened. “Speaking of restriction, we’re late and here comes Sister Elizabeth with a really cranky look on her face. We’d better get to class.”

Off they went in opposite directions to class. Sister Elizabeth followed Linda, walking as fast as possible in her long habit. She hiked the skirt up a bit so she could move her oxford clad feet quicker. Linda picked up the pace and soon the two were almost running across campus.

Mary Margaret couldn’t help laughing as she watched the scene. Too bad she didn’t have a movie camera.

#

“You look lovely, Mary Margaret,” Sean Riley said. “You’re turning into a young woman, I’m afraid. I’ll have to beat the boys off with a stick all too soon.”

Ellen Riley frowned at her husband. “There better not be any boys around for a couple more years. You know the rules as well as I do.”

“Oh, there may be rules, but they’ll be around. You watch and see.”

Mary Margaret smiled to herself.

“Please finish setting the table, Mary Margaret. Dinner is almost ready and Father will be here soon.”

“Okay, Mom. I’m almost finished. Why aren’t we using the good china?”

Mrs. Riley frowned. “These are our everyday dishes. I want Father to feel comfortable and at home.”

“Why? We can’t afford to feed another priest all the time,” Mr. Riley said, winking at Mary Margaret. “I hope this one doesn’t drink Irish whiskey.”

“He drinks red wine,” Mary Margaret offered. “I saw him when he was eating dinner at the rectory one night.”

“Ah, that’s good. I’ve a special bottle of Buena Vista Cabernet Sauvignon I’ve been saving for just such an occasion.”

Mr. Riley put down the newspaper he was reading and looked questioningly at his wife.

“Don’t look at me like that, Sean. I told you I’d let you drink it if there was a special occasion. There hasn’t been one until tonight.”

Mr. Riley turned to Mary Margaret. “And just what is so special about this priest?”

“He’s from another country and doesn’t have family here. He’s probably lonely.”

“Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph! I hope he speaks English.”

“His English is perfectly good, Dad. You can hardly hear a Spanish accent at all.”

“Do you know what country he’s from?” Mrs. Riley asked.

“Yes, he’s from Colombia,” said Mary Margaret as she put her mother’s special Anchor Hocking green iced tea glasses on the table.

“It’s just a shame I didn’t know that earlier. I don’t know much about Colombia, and I could have looked it up in the Encyclopedia Britannica.”

Mary Margaret glanced at the clock. It was two minutes until six. He was due to arrive at six. She had a butterfly sensation in the pit of her stomach, and thought she’d better make a bathroom run before he arrived.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t dawdle like you always do. Father Antonio will be arriving any minute.”

Mary Margaret rushed up the stairs to the bathroom furthest away, just in case he arrived while she was inside. She finished, washed and dried her hands, and checked her appearance in the mirror. Pinching her cheeks hurt, but she did it anyway, then bit her lips until they were nice and pink. She opened the bathroom door and heard the front doorbell ring just as she started back down the stairs. Her father was opening the front door when she stepped on the last step.

“You must be Father Antonio. I’m Sean Riley,” he said, extending his hand. “Please come in.”

Mrs. Riley appeared, and stepped in front of Mary Margaret. “Good evening, Father. We’re so glad you could join us. Please come into the living room where we can chat.”

Mary Margaret finally managed to squeeze past her mother and father. “Hi, Father.”

He barely glanced at her. “Oh, hello Mary Margaret.”