Father Briar and The Angel (21 page)

“
What did this old
blowhard know?” all the college boys asked themselves. But he was,
for once in his sorry and sodden life, he was right. It was not
uncommon for an Alberta Clipper to cause temperatures to drop by
thirty degrees in ten hours. These crazed storms bring with them
shark-like winds, compounding the ferocity of the
temperatures.

Making things even worse
for Brannaskans, the northern, southern and eastern shores of the
Great Lakes, of which Superior graces Minnesota’s borders, often
receive enhanced snowfall from Alberta Clippers during the winter,
due to lake enhancement. The lake-effect snow can add substantially
to the overall snowfall total.

“
Don’t care about “lake
enhancement,” boyos?” Coughlin asked the assembled staff. “Ya
should. It could be the difference between five and fifty inches of
snow, the difference between life and death.

Reginald (never Reggie)
Roggenbucker kept a laminated prayer card in the top left drawer of
his desk. As a scientist, Reginald never wanted to be teased about
his faith, hence the secrecy. It read:

“
O My God, I adore Thee
and I love Thee with all my heart. I thank Thee for having created
me, for having made me a Catholic and for having watched over me
this day. Pardon me for the evil I have done this day; and if I
have done any good, deign to accept it. Watch over me while I take
my rest and deliver me from danger. May Thy grace be always with
me.

Amen.”

On the backside was a
picture of Jesus in a storm, wandering the wilderness, being
stalked somewhere off in the deep woods by a red-eyed wolf with
hornlike ears and spittle drooling from his jaws.

The most common type of
wolf is the gray wolf, or timber wolf. There was nothing common
about this particular wolf, however. Adult grey wolves are 4 to 6
feet long and weigh about 40 to 175 pounds. This wolf was at least
8 feet long and five feet high at the shoulders. Just like its
name, the gray wolf typically has thick gray fur. This one had fur
like steel wool that was thicker than shag carpeting.

Wolf packs have a leader,
known as the alpha male. This wolf was the Alpha of the alpha
males. Each pack guards its territory against intruders and may
even kill other wolves that are not part of their pack and this one
often killed just for the sake of it, the sheer bloodlust. Wolves
are nocturnal and will hunt for food at night and sleep during the
day. This wolf needed neither food nor sleep, for days upon days.
It was machine-like and without emotion or pain.

Packs of wolves don't like
to stay in one place. They are known to travel as far as 12 miles
(20 kilometers) per day. The march this wolf was undertaking
required triple that pace and he ran the distance with a vicious
ease.

Wolves have friends. This
wolf did not. Wolves howl to communicate with other members of the
pack. When this wolf howled, the rest of his pack knew to stay away
for violence was afoot.

Violence was always afoot,
and when Reginald held his picture and recited its prayer, he
always worried for Jesus and prayed he’d escape that
wolf.

Chapter Twenty One: There
is a Commandment About Respecting Your Mother, Right?

Underneath her dozen layers
of winter clothing, Gosha was not a big woman. She ate like a bird
and not just metaphorically, she actually pecked at her food and
swallowed the tiny morsels whole.

Bjorn was always
fascinated. They weren’t from very far away from one another,
originally; Stockholm and Warsaw are only five hundred miles apart.
But Bjorn felt like he was a very American man, deeply assimilated
and accustomed to the ways of the country. He, like most of the
others in town, viewed Gosha as an outsider, a foreigner, an
alien.

Another outsider had swept
into town! This was news worthy of an exclamation point. Julianna’s
mother was there for a visit.

“
She flew into
Minneapolis. Flew! The money these people must have,” he speculated
to the cook.

“
None of your business,
Bjorn,” she reminded him.

“
Flew on Northwest Orient
Airlines,” he said, not quite ready to let it go yet. Bjorn was a
big fan of the Minneapolis-based airline company because of their
effort to help United States Armed Forces during the recently ended
Korean War. At the beginning of the decade, they’d airlifted troops
and equipment over to Korea, in the process expanding their base of
commercial operations in the region, hence the newly added (and not
yet offensive) term “Oriental” to their name.

“
Flew in on a
Stratocruiser. They have an organist on there. Music while you dine
in the sky.” The old café proprietor shook his head with awe and
wonder. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes that the cook found
delightful, in spite of herself.

“
He can be a charming old
rascal,” she admitted, deep in her heart of hearts. “But his
obsession with airplanes is a bit childish.”

Bjorn didn’t think it was
childish, he thought it manly. In his life, he had two big
aspirations, beyond his family and restaurant: he wanted to fly on
a Northwest Orient Airlines Stratocruiser, and he wanted to ride a
camel.

One of those goals seemed
much more attainable than the other, and now here was Julianna’s
mom, fresh off the airplane. Bjorn would have to investigate,
interrogate if necessary, when she came in for
breakfast.

To his endless surprise,
she came in on the arm of Gosha. And that is not a colloquial
expression; she walked in arm-in-arm with the Polish
woman.

This had been a habit of
woman in Warsaw and all across the Old World. They walked holding
one another like that to show solidarity, and often because the
ancient cobblestone streets were slick and dangerous for un-aided
pedestrians.

The sidewalks of Brannaska
were similar, especially in the depths of this winter. So the
matronly women had stepped lightly and together and had made it
into the cafe for breakfast still vertical and unharmed by
falls.

Julianna was in the back,
helping with dishes and frying eggs. Bjorn’s booming voice filled
the kitchen.

“
Your mother is here
Julianna!”

She wiped her soapy hands on
her apron and went out to say hello. When she was Gosha sitting in
the booth next to her mom, she almost fainted.

“Next to her in the booth!
Not across from her, right next to her!” Julianna
marveled.

“We left space in the booth
for you,” her mother said, imperiously waving her into the seat
across from her and her new friend.

“I see you’ve met my
neighbor,” Julianna said with a wry, real smile.

Her mother was staying
Houlihan’s Inn, the only commercial accommodation in town. She’d
insisted on staying there because she “didn’t want to impose or put
you out, Julianna.” The place was run by an Irishman so foul that
even Father Briar, in all his Catholic, Celtic pride, refused to
acknowledge his existence.

“Yes, I met her this morning
when I was out for my constitutional.”

“Ah,” Julianna said. Her
mother was in the habit of taking a long, pre-dawn walk to help her
move her bowels. Along the way, she’d sneak a few drags on a
cigarette, which she found to help the condition. These were
secrets (her irritable intestines and nicotine fixes, not her
walks) that she’d managed to hide from her husband across four
successful decades of marriage. Hide from her husband, but not her
daughter.

“Yes. I was out for an early
stroll and met Gosha, who was out for the same.”

This wasn’t exactly true.
Gosha had been on “humping patrol,” her self-styled mission to
either aid or bust the town’s fornicating couples. She’d been
cruising the streets all night, but her voyeuristic and moralistic
crusade had gone unsuccessful. She’d seen Mrs. Warwidge walking
like an Olympian’s determination and decided to investigate this
person who was, just possibly, the newest stranger in
town.

As the town’s resident
“newest stranger in town,” Gosha didn’t want any fresh arrivals
usurping her position.

“Your mother has been
talking about the priest in her parish back in Seattle,” Gosha
explained, pecking at a yolky forkful of fried egg.

Julianna got a little
queasy, both from looking at the gooey, jiggling egg and from what
other priests they might have been talking about.

As if guided by the
merciless Hand of God, Father Briar came through the
door.

Unable to control her sudden
terror, Julianna cried out “oh God!”

“That isn’t God, it’s just
the priest. Sophisticated girl like you ought to know the
difference by now,” Gosha said and her mother giggled. They were
already sharing private jokes.

Julianna felt as though she
would keel over right then and there. “Just bury me in this booth,”
she thought, “it’s nice and plush and comfortable.”

Little did she know that
somebody else in town had the same peculiar funeral arrangements,
and that Bjorn would have to honor that request before the winter
was out.

“I think those pancakes look
delicious,” Mrs. Warwidge said.

Julianna took this as her
opportunity to extract herself from the dizzying situation, if only
momentarily to do her job.

“Please don’t sit down next
to Gosha and mom,” she silently begged her boyfriend.

So of course he
did.

“Maybe if I tell her we are
out of pancakes, she’ll leave,” Julianna schemed.

“I think we’re out of
pancakes,” she told the table of various and sundry Catholics that
she was related to, hiding from, and having an affair with, in
order of seating.

“Plenty of batter,” Bjorn
boomed, a smart smile on his face. He didn’t know what Julianna was
up to, but whatever her plan was, he was going to enjoy throwing a
monkey wrench into it.

“Pancakes sound delicious,
thanks, Julianna. I’ll have a slice of blueberry pie with that,
too,” Cedric said.

“So, Father Briar,” Gosha
said, “how are you dealing with the winter weather? Keeping warm
somehow, I hope?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.

Pouring the pancakes in the
kitchen, Julianna strained to hear every word of the
conversation.

“Julianna has spoken well of
the Father here and says that he’s an excellent servant of the
Lord,” Angeline Warwidge said.

“I’m sure she has,” Gosha
said, her voice full of malice and portent.

“Your daughter flatters me;
I’m just a humble parish priest.”

“That she does, and that you
are,” Gosha said, with enough sarcasm that both Julianna and her
mom were stung.

“Oh, Cedric, what were you
thinking sitting down with them? How stupid could you be?” Julianna
moaned under her breath. The cakes sizzled on the
griddle.

“You have flown in?” Cedric
asked, trying to change the conversation.

“On a Northwest Orient
Stratocruiser, no less!” Bjorn enthused from across the
restaurant.

“Really? I heard they have
an organist on the plane.”

“Yes, I was able to listen
to music while we dined.”

“Dined forty thousand feet
in the air,” Bjorn said, still amazed.

“Julianna has never been on
an airplane,” her mother said. “Not even in the war. Not even to
come here. She took the train out here, because of her nerves,” her
mother said, trying not to sneer.

“Come on, Cedric, say
something nice about me,” Julianna thought, pouring the next three
round batches of batter.

But the priest was
silent.

“She hasn’t gotten out and
about much here, either. She goes to church, not much else,” Gosha
informed her mother, patting her on the arm with
sympathy.

“Come on Cedric, defend me,”
Julianna muttered. The cook didn’t hear over the frying of the
eggs.

“Some people have a hard
time with the adjustment to moving somewhere new,” he said, his
voice as meek as a lamb.

She wanted to spit in his
pancakes, but didn’t. She plated the stacks silently and, heart in
her gut, went out to serve them. The table fell silent as they ate
and the rest of breakfast passed without incident.

Yet again, pancakes had
saved love. But for how long?

Chapter Twenty Two: Fish
Fry Brings Heat to the Relationship

Cedric and Julianna mingled
amongst the parishioners in the all-purpose church basement,
together, but apart. It was Mrs. Warwidge’s last night in town and
her and her daughter had toured the sites of Brannaska, which
consisted mainly of the two houses of worship.

“
Very nice facilities,”
her mother commented, and then said very little more throughout the
course of the day as they pitched in to help Father
Briar.

The Catholic community had
gathered together to help raise funds to pay the heating bills for
the poorest church members. While firewood was plentiful, if one
was elderly and without family to chop it, it could get expensive.
Furthermore, some houses, especially those in town, heated
themselves on natural gas, which also could be difficult to pay for
on a fixed income.