Bless Us Father (8 page)

Mary Margaret put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Danny. I really like you. Maybe things will change.”

“If you really like me, then why don’t we get together on our own sometime? You could tell your parents you were going out with your friends, and then we could meet somewhere, like at the bowling alley or movies.”

Just then, Mary Margaret felt someone come up close behind her. She noticed Danny was no longer smiling and the blood had drained from his face. She turned to look over her shoulder, and found herself staring at Father Antonio’s chest. She looked up and saw that he was staring at Danny, his dark eyes flashing and his jaw muscles tightened tensely.

“And just who is this young man?” he asked Mary Margaret.

She swallowed hard. “This is Danny Ellis. He’s my neighbor. We went to kindergarten together.”

“What kind of a young man would suggest that you lie to your parents and deliberately disobey their wishes?”

She looked at the ground, afraid to answer. If she gave Father the answer he was looking for it would hurt Danny’s feelings. If she didn’t, Father would be angry with her.

“Never mind, Mary Margaret. We both know what kind of a young man he is,” he said, pushing her gently aside and stepping close to Danny. “I suggest you leave right now, Mr. Ellis, and that you don’t bother her again.”

Mary Margaret watched as Danny first backed away, then almost ran to his friends who were ready to bolt, too. Sadness washed over her as she realized Danny would never again talk to her. She smiled nervously at Father Antonio, but his dark brooding eyes were still fixed on Danny.

He in a few minutes ravished this fair creature, or at least would have ravished her, if she had not, by a timely coincidence prevented him.

-Henry Fielding-

CHAPTER EIGHT

Mary Margaret finished the last of her homework and put her books away. She still had an hour before her mother would arrive to pick her up, and the telephone hadn’t rung in quite awhile. Mrs. Hunter had left for the evening and both of the priests were out visiting sick parishioners. She knew she shouldn’t go upstairs to the priest’s private quarters, but she couldn’t resist the urge to take a quick look around. She’d promised the girls at school that she would let them know what kinds of things priests kept in their private rooms, and this was her chance. And, she really wanted to see if Father Antonio had pictures of friends and family in his room.

Before going upstairs, she checked the front door to make sure it was locked, then went around to the back door of the rectory to see if either of the priest’s cars were pulling in. They weren’t, so she shut and locked the back door as well and ran up the stairs.

The room right at the top of the stairs was furnished with a twin bed, dresser, and a desk and chair. A crucifix on the wall above the head of the bed was the only adornment other than a mirror over the dresser. Deciding this room was obviously not occupied, she moved on. Across the hall and down a bit was another bedroom identical to the previous one. She passed a bathroom and found another bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was open, so she went in. This room had to be Father O’Malley’s. A map of Ireland was on one wall, and an Irish Blessing on the next. The requisite crucifix was at the head of his bed as well. On Father O’Malley’s dresser was a bottle of Jameson whiskey along with his favorite Waterford crystal tumbler. Also on the dresser was a large bag of individually wrapped miniature chocolate bars. Mary Margaret smiled to herself as she backed out of his room, remembering the many chocolate bars he’d passed out over the years to the grade school children.

The door across the hall from Father O’Malley’s room was closed. It was the only room she hadn’t checked, so it had to be Father Antonio’s. Her pulse quickened as she placed her hand on the knob to open the door. She turned it cautiously and was disappointed to find the room looked just like the first two. Again, the only adornment on the walls was the crucifix and the mirror above the dresser. A Bible was on the desk, along with a Rosary made from brown seeds.

Then she noticed a box on the floor under the bed. It was a locked wooden box, and the key was still in the lock. She picked it up and placed it on the desk. Before turning the key, Mary Margaret walked to the door and out into the hallway. She listened for a moment, and decided the house was still empty. She went back and sat in the chair, her heart now racing. She turned the key and opened the lid to the box.

She didn’t know what she’d expected to find, but the only items in the box were photographs. She picked them up and started going through them. They’d been taken at the festival a few weeks ago, and it didn’t take long for Mary Margaret to realize the pictures were all of her. There were many of her working in the booth, handing stuffed animals out to kids, tidying up, and giving instructions to the other workers. There were also a couple of pictures of her wearing the tight black capris and blue and black peasant blouse. She hadn’t realized the pants were so tight until seeing a picture of herself.

An uneasy feeling washed over her and she hurriedly placed the pictures back in the box, closed the lid, and put it back on the floor where she’d found it.

Suddenly, she heard the back door to the rectory open. Tiptoeing out into the hallway, she stopped every few steps to listen. Her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest. She had to get back downstairs before getting caught, but how? And who’d come in?

When she got to the top of the stairway, she heard someone call out her name. It was Father Antonio. His voice close enough that she knew he was almost to the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m up here, Father Antonio.” She started down the stairs and said, “I’ll be right down.”

He met her on the bottom. “What are you doing up there?”

What was she going to tell him? He’d be so angry if he knew she was snooping, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him being angry at her. He was the only authority figure that had ever noticed her. She couldn’t let him down.

Suddenly she hit on an idea. She grabbed his arm and feigned terror. “I am so glad you’re home. I heard noises and I got really scared, so I ran upstairs to hide. I’ve been hiding in the first room for awhile now. I didn’t think a burglar would come upstairs to look,” she said, forcing her voice to tremble.

Father Antonio put his arms around her and drew her close. “There, there, Mary Margaret. You’re safe now. I’m here to protect you.”

“I was so, so scared. I’ve never been so frightened before, but those noises were just too much. What could it have been, I wonder?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling his mouth and nose against the top of her head. “The doors are all locked and there’s no one outside. Maybe it was an animal. I saw raccoons running across the parking lot the other night.”

“I’ll bet that’s what it was,” she said, relieved that her little lie was believed.

Father Antonio pulled her tighter against him and began stroking her hair. “Your hair smells so nice, and it’s so soft.”

Mary Margaret began to feel uneasy. His hug seemed to be changing from comforting to something else. Her father and uncles had never hugged this tightly. This was a whole body hug. Father Antonio was pressing his lower body against her and was moving back and forth slightly. He was much taller than she and her head was resting on his chest. Something hard was beginning to press into her upper abdomen.

“You’re so special, my little assistant. I knew it the day I arrived and first met you. I just knew we were going to work well together.”

She pushed away a bit, but he just pulled her closer. He bent his head down and touched his lips to her ear. He moved his mouth a bit lower and parted his lips and pressed them to her neck.

She could feel the moisture and warmth of his mouth on her neck, and the warm air from his nostrils was tickling her ear. The sensations were almost pleasant, and although she knew she should pull away, she just couldn’t.

A car horn blared outside the rectory.

“That’s my mom, Father Antonio. I’ve got to go,” she said, relief flooding over her.

His shoulders slumped and he exhaled loudly. He still held her tightly against him, but the hard lump against her stomach was gone.

“Yes, Mary Margaret. You do have to go,” he said, releasing her finally. “I hope you’re not frightened anymore.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, and she wasn’t. Confused maybe? But not frightened. “I’ll see you Sunday at Mass, okay?”

“Yes, dear. And Mary Margaret, it probably isn’t a good idea to tell your parents about getting frightened tonight. Let’s just keep it between us.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything to them, Father.”

“I’m just concerned that they wouldn’t want you working here anymore if they thought you were afraid to be alone. No other reason.”

“Like I said, I’m not going to tell them.”

“Good girl.”

The horn honked again.

“I’d better go.”

Father Antonio ran his hand through his hair nervously. “Goodnight, Mary Margaret.”

“Goodnight, Father,” she said, turning away from him.

She could feel him watching her as she went to the office for her belongings, then came back down the hall to go out the back door of the rectory.

“What took you so long?” her mom asked as Mary Margaret got in the car. “I’ve been sitting out here for several minutes. What were you doing?”

“I didn’t know you were here. I just heard the horn honk,” Mary Margaret lied. “I was still doing my homework.”

“Were the priests home tonight?”

Mary Margaret arranged her books on the floor at her feet. “Father Antonio just got home, I think. I guess he was the one that came in. His car is parked right there,” she said, pointing to his little green Ford Falcon.

“How do you like Father Antonio?” her mother asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s okay for a priest, I guess.”

“Well, I think he’s a handsome man,” Mrs. Riley said. “I wonder how he happened to go into the priesthood.”

Mary Margaret turned sharply and looked at her mother who had a mysterious smile on her face. What was her mother thinking? She had her own husband. Father Antonio was definitely off limits.

“I can’t believe you’re talking about a priest being handsome. And what do you mean why did he go into the priesthood? Isn’t it a calling?”

Mrs. Riley leaned towards Mary Margaret and smiled girlishly. “Yes, it’s a calling, but what a waste! He’s so handsome he could be a movie star.”

“Oh, Mom. I can’t believe you. This is disgusting!”

“Call it what you will, Mary Margaret. I guess you’re just too young to understand what I’m talking about.”

Mary Margaret turned away and looked back out the window; her thoughts returning to the hug Father Antonio had given her just a short time ago. Maybe she was too young. She didn’t understand why his hug felt so different, and she didn’t understand the warm feeling she’d gotten in her stomach when he was hugging her. Actually, the warm feeling wasn’t only in her stomach--and she didn’t understand that, either.

You must learn if you are a Christian, you will without a doubt experience all kinds of opposition and evil inclinations in the flesh. For when you have faith, there will be a hundred more evil thoughts and a hundred more temptations than before.

-Martin Luther-

CHAPTER NINE

“My, you look lovely this morning,” Mr. Riley said, smiling approvingly. “You’re all dressed up for Mass.”

Mary Margaret smiled back at her father. “This is my latest purchase with the money from my job.”

She was wearing a straight brown knee-length wool skirt, and a peach colored long-sleeved angora sweater with a cowl collar. They were both the newest fashion, and she felt very grown up wearing them. She even had on a pair of heels. Granted, they were only one inch, but they were heels all the same.

Mrs. Riley came out of the kitchen, still wearing her apron from breakfast duties. “Another new outfit? I don’t suppose you’ve put aside any of the money you’ve earned.”

“I’ve been saving a lot, Mother. I make sure I put away half of my money before I spend any.”

Realizing she still had her apron on, Mrs. Riley untied it and went back to the kitchen to put it away.

“I’m proud of you,” Mr. Riley said. “You’ve become so responsible and grown up.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Mary Margaret said, blushing a bit at the compliment.

Mrs. Riley returned without her apron. She’d put a jacket on and was shaking the wrinkles out of a black lace veil she wore during Mass.

Mary Margaret checked her purse to make sure her white prayer cap was in its plastic pouch. It was round and her mother said it looked like a doily perched on top of her head, but Margaret didn’t care. This was what all the girls were wearing now.

“All set?” Mr. Riley asked. “We don’t want to be late for Mass.”

“We’ve plenty of time,” Mrs. Riley said. “Mary Margaret was actually ready before me for once. She’s really improved on her dawdling.”