If such a thing was possible,moreblood rushed to Joseph’s face. There was none left to go anywhere else.
Joseph heard Papa closing books. “Or, if you can’t imagine yourself doing such a thing, that’s perfectly natural too. Just come to me when you’ve changed your mind. Will you do that, Joseph?”
He nodded. At the edge of his vision, he watched Papa stack the last volume. Joseph felt both relief and disappointment.
Papa’s hands lingered on the book, but he seemed to have forgotten its contents. “I know I’m gone more than I’m here…”
Jealousy stabbed Joseph in the stomach. When Papawashome, Joseph wished he wouldn’t spend so much time talking to their slaves. But Joseph understood why Papa often left early and returned late. “Your patients need you. I know that.” Joseph looked up. “Your work is important.”
“Youare important too, Joseph.” Papa held his eyes till Joseph believed him.
The mantle clock chimed then. Papa raised his eyebrows. “Tempus fugit, indeed. If you’re sure you don’t want to ask anything, I need to pay a call on a botanist friend. I promised your mother I would find out why there are black spots on the leaves of her roses.”
“May I come with you?”
Papa seemed to hesitate. “My friend’s garden is up on the Neck. It will be a long, hot trip.”
“I don’t mind.” Joseph did have a question to ask.
Papa glanced toward the parlor. He looked worried. “I suppose your mother and sisters are still over at the Grands’.”
Right now, the thought of being in the same room with a woman—any woman—was terrifying. But Joseph didn’t want Mama to fret. “Should I tell them I’m going with you?”
“No—don’t.” The response was surprisingly quick and sharp, more like a prohibition. Papa tried to soften it: “Henry can tell them when they come back.”
Papa brought his medical satchel—he took it everywhere, whatever his plans—and they retrieved their hats from the hall. Henry had already harnessed their old mare to the chaise.
“Thank you, Henry!” Papa called with a wave as the black man closed the gate behind them.
When they’d turned onto Coming Street, Joseph asked: “Papa, did you ever serve at Mass?”
“No…”
“Yesterday, Father McEncroe spoke to our class—about how we might think we have nothing to give to Our Lord, because we’re only boys, but wedo: we can assist His Priests. Father McEncroe said we should ask our parents first. I haven’t talked to Mama yet, but I know she’ll say yes.”
“Of course she will,” Papa answered without taking his eyes from the mare.
“M-May I, Papa?”
“I was hoping you were going to ask me something aboutwomen,” he murmured. “You’re already in the choir. Why do you want to be an altar server too?”
Joseph stared at Papa.Because God made me, and you, and everything—because Hediedfor me—and I’ve done so little to thank Him!Because Holy Communion will help me fight my wickedness!He was deciding what to say aloud when Papa interrupted his thoughts:
“Oh, Joseph—I’m so sorry.”
He followed Papa’s eyes. They had passed outside the city and were approaching the Lines. The walls were empty now, but Josephlooked away quickly. He would see those twenty-two hanging men until the day he died.
“I came this way without even thinking…” Papa urged their mare past the ruins.
“It’s all right,” Joseph murmured, even though lying was a sin.
“Hélène told me how you comforted her that day. I have never been prouder of you, Joseph. Your mind is exceptional—everyone tells you that. We should also tell you how impressive your heart is.”
“You were prouder about my comforting Hélène than you were at my Confirmation?”
Papa sighed. “If you want to be a server, you have my blessing. But there are more important things than saints and Sacraments, Joseph.”
If lightning struck them right now, would Papa go to Hell?
