“Because Our Lord has placed each of us on this Earth for a reason, David. Only He knows when we have fulfilled our mission and are ready to go to Him.”
“What about babies who die?” David challenged. “What istheirmission?”
For a moment, Joseph averted his eyes. “I know the death of an infant is hard to accept. But God’s ways are not our ways. Someday, we will understand. For now, we must trust that He will make all things beautiful in their time.”
The day after Sophie’s funeral, Tessa felt her baby quicken. Never before had she carried a child so long. Soon Joseph’s father heard its heartbeat through his stethoscope. Everything seemednormal.They still prayed fervently.
CHAPTER 39
There is no experience of a physician more trying than cases of flooding. … In a moment [they] change a scene of rejoicing and happiness into one fraught with danger and filled with horror.
— Augustus Gardner, “A Treatise on Uterine Hemorrhage in all its forms” (1855)
“When I first told David I was with child,” Tessa had confided to Joseph, “he was terrified. It was as if I’d told him I was dying.” Yet in the wake of Sophie’s passing, the boy grew closer to his foster-mother. Joseph’s father had confined Tessa to her bed in these final months of pregnancy—he was worried about pains in her abdomen. When Joseph visited, he usually found his nephew seated at Tessa’s bedside, reading to her from Cooper or Irving, even Austen. If she slept during the day, David would bring his schoolwork into the room and watch over her so that Hannah could attend to other duties.
When Joseph praised his nephew’s attentiveness, the boy answered simply: “She needs me.” Even at eleven, David must understand that Edward was poor company. (Joseph had heard Tessa’s husband reading Dickens to her once. Edwardmight as well have been reciting the plantation’s account books.) Hélène would have liked to sit with her friend every day; but she needed rest herself. And Tessa’s mother was an ocean away.
Joseph visited as often as he could. Since Tessa could no longer come to the cathedral, Father Baker gave Joseph permission to celebrate Mass in her home. David assisted him. His Latin was as good as Joseph’s. He thought it a pity that his nephew did not wish to serve at the altar in a more formal capacity.
If Edward was out, Joseph would play Tessa’s piano afterwards, so the music would drift up the spiral stairs to her bedchamber. Mostly Schumann, Chopin, and Liszt; but as they entered Advent, Joseph played French carols as well. These were the baby’s favorite, Tessa said.
David would help by turning the pages and occasionally joining in the singing. Usually his nephew was so timid, Joseph doubted Tessa could hear him at all. But when they sang “Un flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle,” the boy cried out “Ah! Que la Mère est belle!” with such enthusiasm, Tessa’s laughter left no doubt that she’d heard.
The mother certainlywasbeautiful. Tessa was still in mourning for Sophie; she was bedridden; and the greatest trial of her life loomed closer every day. Yet Joseph always found Tessa smiling. More than three years had passed since the dark day she’d cut off her hair. Her plait fell nearly to her waist now, looking golden against the black of her dressing gown.
Following one of his little concerts, Tessa whispered to Joseph: “Don’t tell your father, but your medicine is better even than his.”
Joseph chuckled.
“’Tis right, that Priests are called ‘Physicians of the Soul.’ But to me, you are far more, Father.” Tessa dropped her eyes to her tray. She picked up a spoon and stirred her tea rather vigorously. “In ancient Ireland, a trusted Priest was called a ‘soul-friend.’ ’Tis a lovely expression, don’t you think?”
Joseph nodded.Soul-friend, he repeated in his head.Soul-friend.This relationship does not involve bodies at all.Yet his palm longed to feel the child stirring inside her; his ears ached for one more word fromher lips; even his nose yearned to bury itself in her neck and inhale her perspiration and her new perfume. It was gardenia, exotic and beloved at once. He’d thought the pull strong before, but the sight of Tessaincreasingdid something else to him entirely—her gravity was becoming inescapable.
Even that thought proved his wickedness. Tessa was not Potiphar’s wife; she did not seek to entrap him. Her tenderness toward him was that of a sister for a brother—nothing more. Tessa was as innocent as the babe she carried. This unholy desire was his alone.
Tessa’s pains begannot on Christmas Eve but on the morning of Epiphany. Joseph wished he could install himself on a prie-Dieu in the Stratfords’ parlor immediately, so that he could entreat God every moment for her safety and that of her child. But as a Priest, his time was not his own.
Now more than ever before, Joseph’s work overwhelmed him. Technically, he remained a curate, but Father Baker had authorized him to perform most of the duties of a pastor, while Father Baker performed most of the duties of a Bishop—without the dignity, authority, or grace of that title. Nearly a year after Bishop England’s death, their diocese remained widowed. Archbishop Eccleston had barred Father Baker’s appointment to the episcopate, and no one else had been found yet. Perhaps it was Father Baker’s relative youth impeding his advancement (he was thirty-six), his delicate health (the curse of malaria), or the rumor that he and Bishop England?—
Calumny. Joseph refused to believe it.
Moreover, Epiphany was a holy day of obligation. They celebrated not only the Magi recognizing the Christ Child but also Christ’s Baptism and His first miracle. During the High Mass, Joseph announced all the moveable feasts for the coming year. Afterward, he hurried through the parish, blessing as many homes as he could.
Since Tessa was confined to her bedchamber, David and Edward provided the responses in their house. The boy did sosolemnly, Tessa’s husband reluctantly. Joseph concluded the prayers in the entry hall:
“O Lord, bless this home, that in it there may behealth, chastity, self-conquest, humility, goodness, mildness, obedience to Thy commandments, and thanksgiving to God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”
Then Joseph blessed each room. As he approached Tessa’s bedchamber, Joseph heard her moaning and his father noting the spacing of her contractions. The door was ajar, but Joseph peered cautiously inside. Propped against a mound of pillows, Tessa was decently covered by her dressing gown and the sheets. Hélène sat beside her, holding her friend’s hand.
“It’s perfectly safe,” Joseph’s father assured them as he pulled the door wider. “She’ll be in the first stage of labor for hours yet.”
Tessa greeted Joseph, Edward, and David with a valiant smile. Even in pain, she was radiant.
Joseph sprinkled Epiphany water and swung his thurible, filling the bedchamber with the fragrance of myrrh. “Lord, bless this room where we both rest and labor”—he glanced at Tessa and returned her smile—“and let us dwell here together in peace.”
Before he proceeded to the next room, Tessa called in a wavering voice: “You’ll come back, Father? After Vespers?”
Joseph nodded. “I promise.”
