“Of course! Were you able to return him to his parents? They must have been so worried.”
Grace let out a sigh. Adele was known for her persistence. “He’s living on the grounds of Our Lady Queen of Martyrs with his aunt. The diocese sponsored some Vietnamese refugees.”
The phone crackled with silence.
“From Vietnam? Well, if that’s not …” Adele paused. “Vietnam—that certainly is long way from here.”
“Yes.” Grace softened her voice. “I’m sorry … I know that country brings up a lot of painful memories for you and your family.”
“Not just my family …” Adele sounded prickly. “There’s a lot of families who lost someone over there.” She paused again. “And what about that man Tom took under his wing? The veteran who lives above your store. You think he’s not going to be upset?”
Grace’s stomach flipped. She’d felt terrible that she’d forgotten to telephone Jack and cancel dinner. He always looked forward to having supper with them on the first Sunday of the month. The children told her how he’d came to the house promptly at 5:00 p.m. but left quickly when he realized something had come up. Of course, Adele still had never made the effort to remember his name.
“I have no idea … but they’d be wrong to be upset. This boy and the others were the people our men believed they were fighting for.They’re not the enemy.…” she answered quickly.She knew so little about the politics behind the war, but truthfully, she’d been sickened every time she picked up the paper or had watched the news. It wasn’t only the images of countless coffins being escorted off airplanes with American flags draped over them that had upset her, but all of it. That photograph of the child running naked in the street, her body on fire. All the torched forests. The pain and devastation were too much.
“Bobby was just a kid.…”
Grace closed her eyes and tried to imagine the young man who she had only seen snapshots of in Tom’s scrapbook. He was tall and lanky with shaggy hair just like Tom and shared a similar mischievous grin.
“I know, Adele. And this little boy is just a child. I’m going to call over there tomorrow and see if there is anything our women’s group can do to help.”
“You are always so good like that, Grace.” Adele had managed to restrain her emotions.
“I don’t know how good I am, Adele … but I was the one who found him. I want to make sure he’s in safe hands.”
Katie came into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a T-shirt and pajama pants.
“Oh, good, you’re off the phone. I wanted to call Annie.”
“Go ahead, I’m done.” Grace took a sponge to the counter.
“Who were you on the phone with?”
“Adele.”
Katie made a face. “Her son, Buddy, has been hanging out with a new boy, Clayton Mavis.… They’re both always shooting spitballs at Annie and me.” She went to the cupboard and pulled out a cookie from the brightly colored packaging and took a bite.
“Well, that’s not right. You want me to call the teacher?”
“No, it’s not that bad. Clayton’s just such a bully … picks on Francis Wilson all the time, calling him names like ‘Blubber’ and ‘Lard-ass’ …”
“Katherine Rose …” Grace said her daughter’s full name to show her disapproval. “No need for that kind of language.”
“I was just stating the facts, Mom.” Katie rolled her eyes and went to pick up the phone.
CHAPTER 11
THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER THE GIRLS HAD GONE OFF TOschool and Tom had left for the store, Grace sat down at the kitchen table and looked up the phone number for Our Lady Queen of Martyrs.
She knew where the old brick complex was located, with its tall iron gates and the statue of the Virgin Mary in the interior courtyard. The women’s group regularly dropped off their collections for clothing drives there, as the Franciscan Sisters in association with the church shipped the donations to needy Catholic communities abroad. Her own children had always found the place scary and intimidating. As much as she and Tom had encouraged their children to appreciate both their religions, it felt like they’d failed them. The girls picked the religion that suited their needs moment by moment. They suddenly became Jewish when Grace asked them if they wanted to attend Mass with her, and they became Catholic when Christmas was around the corner. But for Grace, her relationship to the Church brought up a complex bevy of emotions.
Grace didn’t doubt the Sisters at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs had the best intentions with their sponsorship of the refugees, but navigating a new community in a country so different than your own would not be easy. Grace couldn’t help but think her path had crossed with B?o for a reason. She got up from the table and went to dial the main reception of the motherhouse but then hesitated. It would take far too long to explain what had transpired over the weekend. Minutes later, she was in front of her vanity, putting on her makeup and touching upher hair. Grace then put on a white knit top and light-blue skirt and got into the car.
The long driveway that led up to the large complex immediately threw her back to her days as a student at a Catholic school in Ireland. The severity of the nuns’ behavior created a fear that rushed through her body every time Grace entered the classroom. For years, as a child, she was afraid her fingers would be lashed with a wooden cane for forgetting her homework or for speaking before she was called upon.
So even now, part of her tensed up as she approached the grounds. Despite the somber architecture, the surroundings were alight with color. Flower beds filled with tulips and daffodils were carefully maintained in perfect rows. The cherry trees, some so large they might have been over a hundred years old, created soft pink canopies over Grace’s Pontiac wagon as it slowly inched up the driveway.
Exiting her car, Grace straightened her skirt and checked her lipstick in her silver compact mirror. She couldn’t stop the immediate impulse to make sure she appeared beyond reproach as she walked up the cement steps and into the reception area.
