Love By its First Name Read online

  Jerry listened. Reflecting on his feelings, he thought that it was a kind of emptiness he felt so often, not sadness, but concluded that Alice was probably right.

  He must have shown something as Alice said, “Now, please don’t get defensive with me. Let me tell you something. When I was young, I felt like I was so ugly and stupid. I was so shy I couldn’t talk to anyone. Then Sy came along and changed my whole life. “When I fell in love with Sy and he told me he loved me, I felt like I was the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world. Father, you are a wonderful person. Do you believe it?”

  Jerry was getting choked up and couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. “I don’t know, Alice. Sometimes I do, I guess.”

  “You should feel it all of the time. A good woman could do that for you. Personally, I think this priestly celibacy business is stupid. Now, should I make a good act of contrition?”

  “No.”

  CHAPTER l6

  Charm is deceitful and beauty empty, the woman who is wise

  is the one to be praised.

  Proverbs 3:30

  On Thanksgiving Day it was not snowing, but snow was blowing across Interstate 70 as Rebecca drove her BMW west toward Paris, Kansas. She drove carefully, not only for safety reasons but also so she would not awaken her passengers, Rene and Denise. She had invited them to join her, both for the company and to give them a break from St. Louis. She had grown fond of both of them since beginning the tutoring in July. Helene thought the trip would be good for them.

  Thanksgiving was turning out to be very different than she had expected. Alice Peterson had invited her and the girls for Thanksgiving with the ‘Peterson clan.’ Now they were heading to Paris to attend Alice’s funeral, as well as the funeral of Marge Woerner’s father. Rebecca thought of her last conversation with the frail and dying woman. Although Alice sounded weak when Rebecca talked to her the week before, she was so happy because Sy had just been baptized that day. “Wasn’t it wonderful of Father Jerry to have Mass right here in our living room and baptize Sy here?” Because Alice felt it to be so wonderful, Rebecca did, too, even though she had no idea why baptism would be such a big deal. She thought that any God who demanded that you have water poured on your head and the “right” words said over you in order to get to heaven (whatever that was) wasn’t worth a second thought.

  “Rebecca, dear, are you still willing to read my little poem at my funeral?”

  “Of course, Alice. And that’s going to be a way off, isn’t it?”

  Alice coughed a few times, then said, “I’m afraid not, dear. I hope I make it to Thanksgiving, but if I don’t, you’ll still be able to come to Paris for the funeral, won’t you?” She coughed again and Rebecca could almost feel it wracking the poor little woman’s body.

  “Yes, Alice, I’ll be there, don’t you worry.” Rebecca had never talked to anyone who was dying before she met Alice and then those she interviewed for her article. The only people she had been close to who had died were Tom and Grace Ripkin, her foster parents, but she hadn’t even known they were dying until afterward. She had a difficult time understanding how Alice could sound almost cheerful over the phone. She had to ask, “Alice, ah, you sound like you’re not afraid of death.”

  “Oh, I am, Rebecca, a little, anyway. But to be honest, it will be a relief to shed this old body—it’s just worn out, you know. Father Jerry and I have been working on the funeral. Lots of people will be there, besides my family. And Rebecca, I’m vain enough to be happy about that. Lots of people have really loved me and that’s all that’s really important in life, don’t you think?”

  Rebecca had wandered off on her own reverie at that point and didn’t hear what Alice said next. Who would come to her own funeral? Oh, the people from the office, of course, but could she say she loved them or they her? Who really loved her? Helene and her daughter. Rene and Denise are beginning to, she thought. She wondered if Jerry, or someone like him, could learn to love her? Even as Rebecca recalled these thoughts while she drove, she began to get teary-eyed just as she had been on the phone. When she had shared the thought with Alice that very few people loved her, Alice scoffed and said, “Rebecca, you are a very lovable person and a loving one, too. I began to love you that first day we met, remember?” Alice’s words meant a lot to her but the feeling of emptiness continued.

  Seeing the sign for the county road to Paris, Rebecca exited the Interstate and, as slowly as possible, stopped. Neither Rene nor Denise awoke. They were only a few miles from the freeway and going about forty miles an hour when she hit a big pothole. “Shit!”

  Rene immediately woke up, looked around, and seeing no houses, cars, nor trees— only blowing snow, hollered, “Oh, my God woman, where’n hell have you taken us? The moon?”

  From the backseat Denise exclaimed, “Rebecca, are we lost?”

  “Relax, girls, we are on a country road headed for Paris.”

  “You’re lying, this can’t be no road to Paris. Besides Paris is across the ocean. What you got us into, lady?” Rene sounded genuinely frightened.

  Rebecca laughed. “Didn’t I tell you that the town where Father Jerry is, is called Paris? Paris, Kansas, and you’ll see it can’t be confused with Paris, France.”

  “How big is this Paris?”

  “About a thousand people, I think.”

  “A thousand! Hell! Mor’n that live in one block in my neighborhood. I bet it’s full of rednecks.

  Denise asked, “What’s a redneck?”

  Rene, sitting shotgun, looked back. “Midget, don’t you know nothin’? A red-neck is a stupid asshole who hates everbody who ain’t white and stupid, especially black people.” She turned to Rebecca. “If someone in this Paris calls me ‘nigger,’ okay if I punch ‘em out?”

  “I’m sure no one will, but if they do, punch away. If Father Jerry is around, he’ll do it for you.”

  “A priest ain’t gonna punch nobody out!”

  “This one would.” Rebecca told them about the scuffle with Kenny Gaffin and his fatal encounter with Ralph Kurtz.

  Rene sat back on the seat. “Hey, I’m liking this Father dude better already.”

  When they drove into Paris about four p.m. and didn’t see a single car or truck moving or even parked on the main drag, Rene said, “I think ever’body dead aroun’ here. Damn, I’d rather be dead, too, than live in a dump like this. Hey, Becky-baby, if anybody does live here, what’re they like?”

  * * *

  Jerry glanced at his watch; it was three fifty five. He wasn’t sure when Rebecca and the girls would arrive, only that it would be mid-afternoon. When she had told him that she was bringing Rene and Denise, he spent some time finding a place for them. He was thinking of the possibilities he had come up with when he heard a car crunching the gravel near the house. Quickly he put on his black windbreaker and went out the front door. Plato followed him. Rebecca, dressed in a white turtleneck and jeans, was already out of the car.

  As he and Plato jumped off the side of the porch, he yelled, “Hi there! How was the trip?” As his left arm was still in a sling, he held out his right hand and arm.

  Rebecca, smiling easily, put her arms around him, saying, “The trip was good.” They hugged for a brief moment. “Father Jerry, you remember me telling you about Rene and Denise?” Both girls were glued to their seats as they starred at Plato. The dog’s tail was wagging furiously.

  “Of course. Thanks for keeping this lovely lady company all the way from St. Louis. Don’t worry about Plato. He’s friendly, he won’t bite you but he’ll probably sniff you.” Denise gingerly stepped to the ground and put a tentative hand on Plato’s head. Rene stayed put until she was convinced that Denise wouldn’t get eaten, then she got out of the car.

  Jerry gave Denise a sideways hug, then turned to Rene. “May I give you a hug, too?”

  Rene shrugged and looked around. “Ain’t never hugged a honkie dude before.”

  “Well, I’ve never hugged a beautiful young blac
k woman before.” He held out his right arm. “Let’s both have a first.” Rene raised her left arm slightly and he put his arm under hers and pulled her close for a moment. He stepped back. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Rene smiled a little.

  “Welcome to beautiful Paris, and to my castle. Come on in and get warm.” Jerry led the way and held open the door for them. He took their jackets and hung them up near the door. He offered refreshments. Rebecca declined but Rene and Denise asked for Pepsi. After serving the drinks, Jerry asked Rebecca to go into the office with him.

  Just as he was about to close the door, Rene called out, “No smoochin’ in there, you two!” Both girls giggled.

  Jerry motioned to a chair and sat down. “How is Angela and Julie?”

  Rebecca smiled coyly. “What, no smoochin’? Just get right down to business, huh?”

  “Rebecca, please don’t tease me. I’m having enough trouble these days.”

  “I’m sorry ... uh ... hmmm, maybe I’m not teasing.”

  “Rebecca!” He realized that he was sounding too harsh and reminded himself to lighten up.

  “Okay, about Julie and Angela. The first thing Julie asked me was if they’d have to go back to Aberdeen. She doesn’t want to go back there. And Angela still seems really ill. I talked to the doctor and she thinks it’s a combination of things: depression, post-traumatic stress, and even some physical problems she hasn’t figured out yet. She’s in no condition to live on her own so, at the moment, the plan is for them to continue to stay at St. Claire’s. Kurtz didn’t leave a will but he had some life insurance. I’ve got an attorney friend looking into all this for them.”

  “Thanks, Rebecca. Sorry I snapped at you a minute ago. It’s been a rough two weeks. I don’t sleep well with this shoulder.” Jerry told Rebecca that he had made arrangements for Rene and Denise to stay with the Gaffin family. “Even though Marge has a house full with her sister and her family, she really would like for you to stay with her. She needs an ally.”

  “An ally? What’s happening?”

  Jerry relaxed back in the chair and put his fingers under his chin. “It’s been a rough week for Marge. Last Friday, the doctor visited her father and said that there was just no way the old man could last much longer. As you know, he had not been fully conscious for some time. He developed a horrible cough and was in a great deal of pain. They couldn’t increase the dosage of pain medication. Anyway, Marge called her sister and brother in Aberdeen to tell them that their father had only a short time to live. They came up on Saturday and Marge told them there was no hope. The doctor said he could hospitalize him in Whelan but it wouldn’t help, only add to the medical expenses.”

  Jerry put his hand down and grimaced. “The sister, Mary, who visited her father only three or four times a year, insisted they take him to the hospital immediately. Marge, who has power of attorney, refused, and they spent the rest of the day and Sunday morning arguing.”

  Jeanne asked, “What about the brother?”

  “A complete wimp. He didn’t want to take sides. Anyway, Marge asked me to come out to the house on Sunday to see if I could talk sense to Mary. Mary is the one who’s supposed to be the ‘good Catholic’ who follows all the rules. Marge thought she might listen to a priest. The Church’s position is that we are not obliged to continue extraordinary measures to keep a body alive. The doctor had suggested that the merciful thing to do would be to take the old man off the intravenous tube and the ventilator.”

  Rebecca leaned forward. “So what happened?”

  “It took me about two hours to convince Mary that it would not be sinful to let her father die. I had a hard time containing my anger. Here she lets Marge give up her job in Chicago and take care of him for nearly two years, seldom visits, and then calls Marge ‘heartless.’ So Mary finally gives in, reluctantly and resentfully. The brother, Robert, sits there like a lump. So Robert and Mary went back to Aberdeen and got their kids, they are all over at Marge’s now. Marge is feeling like the odd man out. She needs an ally.”

  A loud blast of Beethoven came from the other room. Rebecca jumped up just as the volume was turned down. “I think my girls are getting restless. What do we do for dinner?”

  “Sy Peterson wants us all to come over to his place for Thanksgiving dinner. The whole family’s there. I think they are waiting for us.”

  “Thanksgiving dinner the day before the funeral?”

  “Alice asked Sy to promise to have a festive dinner, even if she died before. So he’s doing it, for Alice, and the family of course.”

  “And the girls are welcome?”

  “Definitely!”

  * * *

  On Friday morning, Rebecca sat between Rene and Marge in the fourth pew of St. Patrick’s newly remodeled church. In front of them were three rows filled with members of the Peterson family. The church, as Alice predicted, was full, standing room only. Both Rebecca and Marge wore black suits. Rene had borrowed Jerry’s black windbreaker and wore it over black jeans. Rebecca looked across the aisle at Denise. She was holding the sheriff’s oldest daughter’s four-year old retarded daughter, Karen, on her lap. Both smiled back at her.

  Both Rene and Denise had enjoyed the large Peterson family dinner. Any fears Rebecca had had about Rene’s acceptance vanished when she saw, within a few minutes, that the color of Rene’s skin did not make any difference to any of them. Alice’s grand-daughter, the one who had asked for prayers for her grandmother at the youth Mass, seemed to go out of her way to spend time with Rene and to make her comfortable. Both girls were warmly welcomed by Joe and Kenny Gaffin. Joe’s wife, Sharon, was visiting their oldest son in Kansas City over the weekend. Joe’s granddaughter, Karen, immediately took to Denise for some unknown reason. Two wounded and helpless children perhaps? Similarly, Rene and Kenny had hit it off and were already talking basketball before Rebecca and Jerry left.

  Rebecca went back to the church for the customary rosary for the deceased. It was another first for her and she was surprised that the church was more than half full for this brief ceremony. She didn’t pretend to understand the significance of all these people saying, “Hail Mary, full of grace...” over and over again. But there was something very solemn and sacred about it all. She surprised herself by crying.

  After the rosary, Jerry informed the congregation that there would be a final viewing of “our beloved Alice.” The mortician, Rebecca guessed, opened the casket and nearly everyone present filed past, paused briefly, seemingly in prayer, and many making the Catholic sign of the cross. She was the last one before the family to approach the casket. Tears were running down her cheeks even before she saw Alice’s emaciated but serene and, to Rebecca, beatific countenance. She paused, felt her knees weakening, and unable to keep from sobbing, resisted an urge to turn and run away. Standing very straight for a moment, she did something she was sure she would never have done even a few weeks before. She bent over and kissed Alice on the forehead and whispered, “Thank you.”

  After the service, she spent more than an hour talking with Jerry. They spent some time discussing Angela and Julie Kurtz and then the relationship between Sy and Alice Peterson. He explained that although Kathy was present for Sy’s baptism, she could not be at the Thanksgiving dinner because of her mother’s illness. Rebecca was a bit ashamed that she felt more than a bit disappointed when Jerry added that Kathy would be at the funeral. She slept very little that evening because she spent nearly the entire night talking with Marge. She had to admit she didn’t care much for Marge’s siblings.

  Rebecca looked at the paper in her hand and wondered if she would be able to compose herself enough, when her turn came, to read Alice’s note and poem. Jerry, wearing a similar snow white chasuble and brightly colored stole he had worn at the youth Mass, closed the Bible and began the eulogy: “We have all gathered here this morning to celebrate the final journey of our friend and loved one, Alice Peterson. I use the word ‘celebrate’ deliberately for that is what Alice wants us to do, cele
brate her life and our lives with her. I will keep my words brief, as Alice has asked a few others to say, read, or sing some words for you.”

  “Often I told Alice that she was my spiritual director. She would chuckle that delightful little chuckle of hers and say, ‘Get on with you.’ But I truly meant it. She was and is one of the most spiritual people I have ever had the good fortune to know. In this morning’s scripture, which Alice picked out, we heard that ‘No one has ever seen God, but as long as we love one another, God will live in us and his love will be complete in us.’ Alice lived in God and God in her; she knew how to love. Sy and Alice Peterson were the first people I met when I came to Paris only a few months ago. The minute I saw the beautiful glow in Alice’s eyes that day, I felt I was in the presence of love.” He paused, looked down at the coffin in front of the altar and then out over the crowd. He made eye contact with Rebecca and seemed to be speaking only to her, as he said, “and in the presence of God. She has taught me more in only a few short months about the meaning of Jesus’ message than all the years of schooling I’ve had.”

  “Alice never preached or pretended to teach, she just shared her wisdom and wonder of life and of the world. She was just herself and that was such a gift. I asked Sy if I might share an incident that, to me, was an expression of the deepest and most passionate love I’ve ever encountered.” Jerry choked up before going on. “One day I was a bit early for my visit with Alice. I knocked on the door and I thought I heard Sy say, ‘Come in.’ But what he had really said was: ‘Just a minute.’ Anyway, I opened the door and there was Sy gently and lovingly giving Alice a sponge bath while she lay on the hospital bed in their living room. I said, ‘Pardon me.’ and started to back out when Alice said, ‘Don’t be an old prude, Father Jerry, come in and sit down. It won’t embarrass me but it’ll embarrass you, but that’ll be good for you. You priests stay too far away from real life, you know.’” A subdued laugh coursed through the congregation. “She’s right, of course. I was embarrassed but I stayed. My presence made Sy a little nervous, I think.”