Love By its First Name Page 17

  “Yes, er, maybe.” He felt shaky. Was it fear? Shame? He wasn’t sure. He’d have to wait to see if he could talk about it. He sniffed. “Do I smell coffee?”

  “Yes, I’ll get you some.” Rebecca got up and headed for the kitchen.

  He quickly got off the sofa and pulled on his jeans and shirt. He nearly knocked the cups out of Rebecca’s hands when he got to the door. “Oops, sorry. Let’s sit in the kitchen, okay?”

  The table was round with a clear glass top and white legs. Rebecca sat down and scooted a chair out with her foot. Jerry sat down and put the cup to his lips. The coffee was very hot. He sipped it, watching Rebecca over the rim, attempting to distract himself from looking at her legs under the table. The robe was open enough that one leg was visible a few inches above the knee.

  Her deep brown eyes looked at him expectantly. “Well, about the dream? What can’t you do?”

  Jerry fiddled with the cup. “It’s a bit embarrassing.”

  “For you or me?”

  “Probably me. Promise you won’t laugh.”

  Before he was finished describing the dream, Rebecca had her hand over her mouth, attempting to stifle her laughter. When he finished, she did laugh. She was trying not to make too much noise.

  “So, what’s so funny? You promised not to laugh.”

  “I—I—I couldn’t help it.” She continued to smile, chuckle, and stifle more laughter. “It’s hilarious.”

  Jerry could feel a surprisingly intense anger arise in him. “What’s so hilarious about it?”

  Rebecca finally got back in control of herself. Her eyes sparkled and she was grinning ear to ear. “What couldn’t you do? Climb in bed with the woman? Or celebrate Mass?”

  “It’s just a dream, damnit.” He knew better, but didn’t want to say so.

  “Oh, no, it isn’t! I think it’s very serious, seriously symbolic. And it must have been very emotional. You sounded like you were in pain when you said, ‘No, I can’t!’”‘

  “So it probably means that I’m afraid of sex or that if I have sex with someone, I can’t celebrate Mass. So what’s so funny about that?”

  “Put that way, it isn’t funny. In fact, I find it terrible that your out-of-date church puts you in such a bind. But when you were telling it, I could picture you in the church, not knowing whether or not to take off your pants.” She chuckled and picked up her coffee. Her eyes were smiling in a knowing sort of way as she peered over the cup at him. After a lengthy silence, she put down the cup. “Want to take a jog this morning?”

  He did. He thought it might help him get over the dream and stupid anger.

  * * *

  Jerry looked at the handwritten map Rebecca had given him. Julie climbed into the back of the car and Angela gingerly got into the front. He pulled his dusty Pontiac onto the street. “Well, how did you two sleep?”

  Angela did not look at him but said, “Alright, I guess.”

  Julie was in a more up-beat mood. “Super. I really like Rebecca. Father Jerry, is she your girlfriend?”

  “Now, Julie, you know better than that. Priest’s don’t have girlfriends.” Angela looked genuinely shocked.

  “Well, she looks at him like he was her boyfriend. Doesn’t she, Father Jerry?”

  Julie responded.

  “I don’t know. She’s a friend and she’s a girl. Does that make her my girlfriend?”

  “You know what I mean! You want to marry her?”

  “Julie, now you just quit pestering Father like this. You know priests can’t marry.”

  “Yeah, and I think it’s dumb.”

  Jerry chuckled.

  St. Clair’s Home was a large, white, turn-of-the-previous century house in a working-class neighborhood. There was no sign or any other indication that it was anything other than a family dwelling. Jerry pulled into the driveway and noticed it led to the back of the house. There was parking for eight cars. He pulled into one of the two remaining spaces. He opened the door for Angela. Julie climbed down from her perch atop all their belongings. They walked around to the front door.

  Rebecca told him to look for an attractive redheaded woman in her early thirties. That would be Helene. Just such a woman was waiting at the top of the porch stairs wearing jeans and a turquoise sweatshirt. “I’m Helene Walker, Rebecca’s friend, and you must be Father Haloran.” Looking at his companions, she added. “and you must be Angela and Julie.” She shook each of their hands. “Welcome to St. Louis. Come in.” She held the door and ushered Angela and Julie through. Jerry motioned for her to go ahead of him. “You arrived at the right time. The doctor comes to the home every Tuesday morning. He is seeing someone right now but he’ll be available soon. Sister Claire will be arriving shortly, we’ll wait in here.” She led the way to a small parlor.

  Jerry wanted to talk to Julie alone before he left. When he mentioned this to Helene, she suggested that she show Angela around and leave him and Julie in the parlor. Jerry moved to a chair close to her. “The reason I want to talk to you, Julie, is, well, when you and your mom arrived in Paris on Sunday night, she told me what had happened and why you left Aberdeen.” Julie met his eyes and then looked at the floor. “Did Ralph Kurtz rape you, Julie?” He asked this as softly and gently as he could.

  Julie continued looking at the floor. “No, but he was going to. I hate him. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I hope he burns in hell.”

  “Was that the first time he tried to do something like that?” She remained silent. “Julie, you don’t have to tell me. If it helps, we can treat this like confession, so you will know I can never tell anyone what you tell me.”

  The silence continued for some time and when Julie looked up at him, tears were running down her cheeks. Jerry was sure he detected some kind of accusation in her eyes as she looked at him. Her voice was soft, but angry as she said, “Yes, it was the first time for me.” She hesitated. “But I know he was raping my sister.” He must have looked surprised as Julie went on, “That’s the reason she killed herself. You know she killed herself, don’t you, Father?”

  “I believe she did. What makes you so sure?”

  Julie looked away and then back again. “I heard noises in the middle of the night. They came from Melanie’s room. Her room is next to mine. I think the bastard made her pregnant. She killed herself because she didn’t know what to do. I hate Ralph Kurtz. I suppose that’s a sin. I don’t care—I hate him.”

  “I can understand that and I believe God can, too. Julie, did Melanie say anything about all this before she died?”

  “On Saturday she cried a lot. In the afternoon she said she was going to go over to the church.” Again, Julie gave him that accusing look. “Did she talk to you then?”

  Jerry’s stomach tied up in knots. “If she did, she did it in confession. I didn’t talk to her any place else.”

  “And if she did talk to you in confession, you couldn’t tell me, huh?”

  “No I couldn’t.”

  “What difference would it make? She’s dead.”

  “It’s still the seal of confession.” Jerry looked at the floor and felt ashamed that he had told Rebecca part of the story. There was nothing he could do to ease the child’s pain about her sister but he would do everything he could to make sure she never had to see Ralph Kurtz again. He looked up at her tear-streaked face. “Julie, they have a counselor here. You have been through a lot. I hope you will talk to her when you get a chance. Will you?”

  “Will it do any good?” She looked sad and lost.

  Jerry took one of her hands in both of his. “She can’t erase what has happened to you, but talking about it with someone who understands often helps. I hope your mom will see her, too.”

  “Mom’s worried because we don’t have any money.”

  “I gave her a little and the home here will help you with your basic needs.” Jerry had gotten three hundred dollars from his own account that morning.

  “Will I ever have to see him again?”

&nbs
p; “No, you will not.” Jerry hoped he sounded more certain than he felt.

  “He said he’d kill us if we called the police or tried anything.” Julie shivered. “He’ll try to find us.”

  “I know. That’s why I brought you so far away. These shelters are used to this kind of thing.”

  “Will we see you again, Father Jerry?”

  “Yes. I’ll come visit as often as I can.”

  Julie smiled for the first time since he had sat down. “You’ll come back so you can see Rebecca, right?”

  “I’ll come back to see you and if it works out, it would be nice to visit with Rebecca, of course.”

  “I think you’re in love with her.” Why in the world would she say something like that?

  Jerry wondered. He decided to ignore it. “You write to me, or call collect, and let me know how things are going. And if there is anything I can do for you, and I mean anything. Okay?”

  “Okay. And, Father, thank you for helping us.”

  They both stood up and Jerry gave her a hug. “Julie, you’re a truly wonderful person, don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  Jerry met Sister Claire, a diminutive woman, who exuded kindness and understanding. He shared as much as he could with her about Angela, Julie, and Ralph Kurtz. It took him nearly an hour to tell her the story. He left feeling that maybe it was more than Rebecca and Helene who had led him to St. Louis with Angela and Julie.

  Helene and Jerry sat in the foyer of a rustic seafood and steak restaurant somewhere near downtown St. Louis. The walls were covered with weathered boards from an old barn. Rusty farm tools and implements were mounted around the place. After they had unpacked his car and settled Angela and Julie at the shelter, Helene had given him a tour of her ‘home’ for girls. They were waiting for Rebecca.

  Dressed in a rose-colored suit and white blouse, Rebecca looked rushed as she came through the door. She spotted them and headed their way. “I thought you guys would have had a couple of beers by now. Sorry I’m late.” She gave Helene a hug and reached out a hand to Jerry. “How do you like this place, Jerry? Remind you of your prairie?”

  “A little. I looked at the menu. Hamburgers are six ninety-five. Mabel’s are two dollars.”

  “It probably took a lot of money to transport all this barn wood from Kansas.”

  After they were seated, Helene said, “Rebecca, I’m impressed with your friend here.”

  She then turned to Jerry. “Well, Jerry ... okay if I call you ‘Jerry’?” He nodded. “Good. It looks like you and I have had a positive effect on Rebecca. Because of your friend, Alice, she is doing an article on the dying. Have you seen the draft?” Jerry shook his head, ‘no.’ “It’s great, at least to my untrained eye.”

  Rebecca interrupted her. “How is Alice, Jerry? I talked to her on the phone last week and she said she was fine, but she sounded weak. I’m afraid I wore her out a bit. My interview with her was the best I had, even though it was over the phone.”

  “She told me you called. She enjoyed talking to you. I believe that she is getting weaker.” Jerry hesitated a moment and then added, “We spent a couple hours last week picking out readings for her funeral.” Both Rebecca and Helene looked a bit shocked. He didn’t have to ask why. “There was one particular piece that she wrote.” He looked at Rebecca. “She asked if you would read it at her funeral.” Jerry didn’t add that Alice also said that Rebecca would probably like an excuse to visit him. He asked her why and she just muttered something about a woman knows. “I told her I would ask you.”

  “Tell her yes. Better yet, I’ll call her and tell her it would be a privilege—and tell her that I hope it will be years from now. Did you bring a copy of her piece?”

  “No, but I’ll send you a copy.” Again, he turned to Helene. “Helene, you had more to say about Rebecca’s inspiration.”

  “Yes, I do. She is also doing a piece on at-risk teens. And, of course, you can guess who will be the two central figures.”

  “Rene and Denise.”

  “Those two will probably censor half of what I’ve written. I promised them I’d show it to them before I turned it in.”

  As they were leaving the restaurant, Helene hugged Jerry and whispered, “Be nice to my best friend. Don’t break her heart.”

  Her words jolted him. “Break her heart?” A chill ran down his spine. What in the world would cause her to say something like that? What had Rebecca said?

  He followed Rebecca back to her townhouse. She changed into slacks, blouse, and sweater before showing him around St. Louis. They managed to go to the top of the Gateway Arch and spend an hour at the arboretum before it closed. He enjoyed the time with Rebecca, but he could feel a certain tension between them. Often he would glance her way and catch her studying him. Jerry was a little apprehensive that someone he knew would see them together. He and Wayne had once attended the theater in Kansas City and found themselves seated next to a couple who were parishioners from Aberdeen. He and Rebecca would probably appear as a couple. He shivered slightly at the thought. Rebecca asked him if he was cold. Rather than try to explain, he said, “A little.”

  They decided that they would go back to Rebecca’s condo and eat the leftover lasagna for dinner rather than go to a restaurant. He had two glasses of scotch before dinner and a glass of wine with dinner. Rebecca did not drink scotch but had a glass of wine.

  * * *

  After they finished the dishes, Rebecca poured brandy into glasses and they moved to the living room. She was pleased that Jerry felt comfortable enough to take off his shoes. She had to resist the temptation to move to his end of the couch and snuggle up in his arms. “Well Jerry, what do you do in the evenings when you’re home?”

  “Two or three evenings a week I visit with parishioners. I watch television a little. More often than not, I read and listen to music. What about you?”

  “About the same, I guess, no parishioners though. Do you enjoy living alone?”

  “I miss Wayne a lot. We always had something to talk about.”

  Rebecca curled her feet under her. “How’s Wayne doing? Do you see him much?”

  “We get together every other Wednesday. Okay if I put my feet on the coffee table?” It had plastic legs and frame with a heavy glass top. Rebecca nodded and he put his stockinged feet up. He went on to tell her that Wayne enjoyed the smaller parish and the people there. Sometimes they would meet in Aberdeen to play golf or racquetball.

  “Has he been to Paris?”

  “Once. He said, and I quote, ‘Jer, ol’ buddy, you’ve sure got yourself exiled. God, what a hellhole.’ No golf or racquetball in Paris. So I do a little more driving.”

  “Give him my love, next time you see him. What would you like to do tomorrow?”

  “Oh, anything you’d like to do.” He sounded nervous.

  Rebecca looked up at him and smiled mischievously. “Anything?”

  He turned red for a moment then laughed self-consciously. “Well, not anything.”

  “It’s too bad you couldn’t stay for the weekend. My birthday is Saturday and Helene is having a party for me.”

  “Well, happy birthday. Which birthday is it? Sorry, I guess one shouldn’t ask a woman such a question, huh?

  “I don’t mind. It’s my thirty-third. Tomorrow we could take a riverboat cruise on the Mississippi. How would that be?”

  “You know, when I came through St. Louis on my way to Chicago, I often saw those boats and thought it would be interesting to go on one.” He held up his empty brandy snifter. “Mind if I get a refill?”

  Rebecca noticed he staggered a bit as he headed for the kitchen. What was it Marge said about his drinking? Something about she was worried about it when he first came to Paris. The large glass was filled almost to the top with brandy, she noticed, and made a mental note to make an attempt to get it away from him before he finished it. “So let’s take the cruise, okay? Oh, by the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you all day. I like the shirt and pants on
you, blue brings out the color in your eyes.”

  “Thanks. A friend of mine gave them to me.” He slurred his words.

  “She has good taste.” Rebecca studied Jerry’s face. He still looked serious and somewhat nervous. She had enjoyed the afternoon with him but didn’t feel connected as she had in Paris. Was it she or something in him? “Jerry, you, uh, seem distant somehow. I felt it this afternoon, too. Are you sorry you brought Angela and Julie to St. Louis?”

  Jerry looked at the floor and then into her eyes. “No. I’m very glad that I brought them here. Sister Claire is wonderful. I hope you’ll get a chance to meet her. She’s just the person to look after Angela and Julie. I was wondering if you would be willing to stop by and see them sometime.”

  “I was thinking of doing that. Julie looks like Melanie in that picture.”

  Jerry looked sad when he said, “Yes.” He didn’t say another word but only drank or, more accurately, gulped more brandy.

  “Jerry, why are you so uncomfortable? Is it me? Is it the article?” She hoped he hadn’t drunk too much to talk coherently.

  “No, it’s not you or anything you’ve done or said. It’s me. I’m just uncomfortable, uh, being with you.” He took another gulp of brandy and looked at his feet. His speech was slurred as he said, “You know Rebecca, I haven’t spent this much time with a woman, other than a family member, uh, ever.” He smiled somewhat sheepishly and added, “I’ve never stayed in an apartment with a ... uh...”

  Rebecca laughed and finished his sentence, “Woman. Are you afraid of me?”

  “Uh… no, just uncomfortable, I guess.” He finished the brandy. He slowly turned his head towards her. His eyes seemed blurry—out of focus. “I think I drank too much. I’m feeling sick.” He staggered to his feet and headed for the bathroom.

  CHAPTER 12

  Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God... There are many rooms in my

  Father’s house .… I am going to prepare a place for you.

  Gospel of John l4:l-2