“In the meantime, son, you owe Tessa an apology and an explanation—at the least. Think what this is like forher—what she endures every day in that house, living with that petty tyrant, under the thumb of that atrocious father-in-law. Sneered at by the ladies of Charleston who think her beneath them. Separated forever from her parents. Trying to be a mother to someone else’s adolescent—yournephew. Tessa is drowning, and she needs something to cling to.”
Joseph looked away. “She has Clare now.”
“That is like saying: ‘Tessa has arms! Why should she need legs?’”
This made Joseph start thinking about Tessa’s legs. He’d never seen them, of course, but he’d seen enough to imagine?—
“You look terrible, by the way. Doesn’t Mrs. O’Brien feed you anymore?”
Joseph turned back to the drawer of vestments without answering. “I will be happy to baptize Clare as soon as she can be brought to the cathedral.”
His father sighed. “We’ll bring her tomorrow.”
Tessa’s little daughterstared up at him in trepidation. Joseph smiled at Clare and tried to treat her like the thousand other babies he’d baptized, but this was impossible.
Tessa was still confined to her bed, as were most mothers at their child’s Baptism. Hélène gave the responses, and Liam held their goddaughter. Beside them stood Joseph’s father, David, and Edward.
Joseph instructed Clare: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, thy whole soul, and thy whole mind…” A fitting admonishment for himself. Gently, he blew thrice into the little face.
Tessa’s daughter blinked at him but did not turn away. Since the cold spell was lingering and they were outside, she probably appreciated the warmth of his breath.
Joseph exorcised the salt Thomas held for him, then placed a tiny piece of it into the girl’s mouth. “Clare, receive the salt of wisdom…” Tessa’s daughter bunched up her face and whimpered. She did not seem to like the taste of wisdom. Few children did.
Joseph placed his hand on the girl’s head and blessed her. Finally he draped the end of his violet stole over Clare and led everyone into the cathedral. All the while, he read from the Ritual.
When their little procession stopped, Joseph exorcised the girl: “I expel thee, every unclean spirit… Depart from this handwork of God, Clare…” Joseph touched the pad of his thumb to his tongue and transferred his saliva to each of Clare’s ears, then her tiny nostrils. “Be thou opened unto the odor of sweetness… Clare, dost thou renounce Satan?”
Hélène replied for her goddaughter: “I do renounce him.”
The little girl began struggling against her godfather’s chest. Liam soothed her.
“And all his allurements?”
“I do renounce them.”
Next Joseph dipped his thumb into holy oil and anointed Clare’s breast and back. She kept fussing and looking around as if her mother might be hiding nearby. It was a challenge to wipe away the oil.
Joseph exchanged his violet stole for a white one. At the baptismal font, he continued Clare’s interrogation. After Hélène answered each question properly on her goddaughter’s behalf, Joseph poured holy water over the girl’s head three times in the form of a cross. “Clare,ego te baptízo…” He said all the words; but only God heard the rest of them, because they were drowned out by the girl’s wails. Joseph had held the silver ladle in his hand for a few moments in an attempt to warm the water, but there was ice around the edges of the font. Joseph completed the Sacrament as best he could while the indignant voice of Tessa’s daughter bounced off the walls.
At last, he presented Hélène with a lit candle and admonished Clare: “Safeguard thy Baptism by a blameless life…”
Liam replaced his goddaughter’s frilly cap and promised her: “You’ll see your mother again in a few minutes,a pheata.” He handed the girl to her father. Edward held his daughter at arm’s length as though she were something dirty. Clare screamed louder than ever.
Hélène lingered with Joseph while he inscribed Clare’s name, her sponsors’ names, her parents’ names, and his name into the baptismal register. His sister’s eyes remained on the candle. “Tessa said that last autumn, you promised to graft one of her camellias. The one that isn’t blooming?”
Joseph sighed. He’d forgotten. He dipped his pen nib into the inkwell, which he’d stored in his pocket to keep it from freezing. “I suppose I did.”
“Shouldn’t you do that before it gets any warmer?”
Joseph wished she’d let him concentrate. He might spell something wrong.
“Or the two won’t unite properly?”
“Yes,” Joseph answered irritably. He’d left an inkblot in the middle of Edward’s name.
“So you’ll come?”
“Yes!”
