The Fifth Stone Page 3

  Michael began his morning by helping Mrs. De. They managed to put a dent in the sorting and packing of all but her necessary items. He barely heard her chattering; his mind was on the mystery at the convent. After lunch with Mrs. De, he made his way over to St. John’s convent.

  “Afternoon, Sister Bernadette…wow, something smells good!”

  “Ah, Michael dear…good old Irish stew with turnips. Sister Clara will be coming down from prayers any minute. I mentioned that you were wondering about our dear Abbey. She would be happy to share a few things with you; a few general questions might make a trip to Ireland more personal.”

  “It’s going to be a while, Sister, but I do intend to make the journey one day.”

  “Come…sit down for some tea. Oh, here she is now!”

  In exchanging greetings, he had an immediate fondness for the sister. He pulled out her chair and shook her gentle hand. All three gathered at the kitchen table.

  “Michael was repairing the ceiling in Sister Abbey’s room. I had told him a little about her beginnings with us. You might be having somethin’ to tell him about County Meath; he may visit there one day.

  He could see why a shy novitiate would feel secure with Clara; her manner was gentle and relaxed. His conversation with Clara drifted from Ireland in general, to County Meath, and proceeded on to Sister Abreanne.

  Michael mentioned, “There’s some mold behind the walls in Sister Abbey’s room. I’ve been doing some work by the ceiling vent. There is some sort of aura in her room; I can’t quite put my feeling into words.”

  “Yes, she was a dear. It’s too bad no relatives were here to take her ashes home to Ireland.”

  Sister Bernadette interjected, “Clara, do you remember that fellow who came by after her death? He said he was a friend of the family, but not much else, I’m afraid.”

  “Yes, I wondered who he was. Sister Abbey never mentioned him.”

  Michael noted the sad look that came over Clara as they spoke.

  “I really don‘t know much about her early life. She never spoke of her childhood; she seemed much more open with the children. We noticed how happy she was, playing with them; it was as though she was attempting to regain the childhood she never had.

  “There was an older woman who visited her once. Abreanne said the woman was visiting from Ireland; they went for a long walk in our garden; it was comforting to know she had some link to her past. The woman gave her a tin of Irish butter biscuits…such a treat! Abbey said she was an acquaintance from her childhood. When Abbey passed away, we were going to locate her, but then we remembered Abbey had mentioned the woman had cancer and had come to say goodbye.”

  “I’m sure Sister Bernadette has already shared most of what I’ve recounted. As far as County Meath, it was the seat of the High Kings prior to Christianity and has many historical sites. It’s well worth visiting. The Newgrange Tombs should not be missed. They date back before the Egyptian pyramids and Stonehenge.”

  Sister Bernadette offered, “Sister is buried in our little cemetery. She loved daffodils. I planted some bulbs around her grave. I feel close to her when I sit in her room for a wee spell. The room has not been touched since she passed—there was no need.”

  Michael finished his tea and thanked the sisters for the chat. Now there was no doubt where the tin had come from. After lunch, he finished up in Abbey’s room. The tin was still there; he would give it another day or two for Sister Clara, or perhaps someone else, to claim it. If the tin was still there in a couple of days, he would remove it. At that point, he would need to decide what to do with it. He would ask Sara for her opinion.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  On the morning of Sara’s party, Michael stopped by the convent. “Hey, Sister Bernadette, I’m going to check to see whether the patch job is dry in Sister Abreanne’s room.”

  As he rounded the corner to Abbey’s room, his heart thumped in anticipation. He closed the door behind him and sat in the modest wooden chair, allowing the calm of the room to embrace him. His eyes stopped at the vent. He rose from the chair, and with conflicted emotions, he positioned the ladder and climbed up to the vent and removed the cover. He groped for the tin. Was it still there? His arm extended the whole way...yes! His fingertips touched the mysterious container. He almost wished it were gone—well, almost. He shook it. It appeared to weigh the same as before. With one swift move, he stuffed it into the bottom of his backpack. In haste, he left the room with the secret cargo. For some inexplicable reason, he was no longer apprehensive; the deed was done.

  “Hey, Sister, I’m finished. I’m happy to report it looks great. By the way, I got Sara a great blue plaid throw for her wheelchair.”

  “Wonderful! Father said he’d be here soon; we’ll be takin’ the parish car.” Sister winked. “This will be fun.”

  Just then, Father Murphy came in.

  “Hi, Father.”

  “Ah, Michael, I’ll grab a wee bite here, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Father huffed and puffed as he sat down. Sister Bernadette placed a bowl of soup and a sandwich in front of him and excused herself to get ready for the party. Much to Michael’s surprise, Father reached out and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Sit closer, lad, it is good to see you.” He perched his glasses on the top of his balding head and looked Michael in the eye. “So, my boy…what’ve you been up to these days?”

  “Not much has changed, Father. I’m living in a hostel and getting a little nervous; if they get overcrowded, they may kick me out. The Sally Anne has been my home for quite a while.”

  Father looked surprised, “Can they do that, son?”

  Michael continued, “Winter brings a bigger demand. You know, Father…I can’t believe these words are coming out of my mouth, but—I may join the Army.” He could not believe what he was saying! He had never mentioned to anyone that he was living at the hostel, let alone that he was considering joining the Army. What had made him confide in Father? His mind was whirling; however, he kept on talking. It was as though he was not in control of his tongue; he was going down a slippery slope…unable to stop.

  Father gasped, “The Army! Go on with you! I don’t believe it.”

  “Neither can I, Father; they’re offering a bonus. God willing, when I get out I will have enough to start some sort of business, and a first and last for an apartment. I just can’t see any other way.”

  Father persisted, “Who knows about this?”

  Michael blurted out, “Just you, sir. I had no idea I was going to say anything today. I guess I have been in a form of denial until this moment. Funny, how things just surface, I didn’t mean to burden you with my dilemma.”

  Father laughed aloud. “For the love of Pete, what a strange thing to say to a priest! When would you enlist?”

  “The sooner, the better. I want to help Mrs. De with the realtors and her packing. If I enlist, it’ll be after her place has sold. I want to be here for her; besides, it’ll give me more time to process this. Thanks for your interest, Father.”

  “To be sure, son. I’ll be happy to help in any way. Let’s get going; our little Sara is waiting for us.”

  Michael changed his mind about Father’s accessibility. Perhaps Father had a sixth sense about when to approach someone; his timing was faultless.

 

  *******

  The ride to Sara’s birthday party had its moments of hilarity. Father and the New York cabbies were like oil and water. Father was a cautious driver; he braked way too soon and way too often. He didn’t get the concept of using turn signals, and his top speed of twenty miles per hour was not in the realm of a New York driver’s comprehension. And of all things, the old car had a stick shift. Michael could hardly keep his face straight. He wanted to slither down in his seat. Some cabbies would honk and shake their fist, but upon seeing Father’s white collar and Sister in her nun’s habit, their closed fist quickly opened and became a wave. Father was none the wiser and would give a cheerful
wave back.

  They stopped to pick up Mrs. De on the way. She got in, and the car choked and hiccupped its way down the street. The 1980 Toyota was now transporting a priest and a nun in the front with Michael and Mrs. De in the back. Michael held on to the cake for dear life as Father released the tired clutch; with a pathetic groan, the gears acquiesced and the car lurched forward.

  With luck, they arrived intact; Father had found the ideal parking spot: a loading zone! Michael was aware that the local foot patrol knew Father’s car. He never received a ticket.

  Danny stood at the entrance of his store, dressed in his Sunday best. “Father, you brought the gang! Thanks for coming, you guys.”

  Michael could see Danny’s pleasure was lacking all subtlety; he was tickled pink.

  Father blew his nose and bellowed, “It’s a pleasure, Danny. I’ve never missed any of Sara’s birthdays. I’m surely not startin’ now.” Father had one of the most unique sounds when he blew his nose. It was downright scary, like a goose honking. If he blew his nose during his service, the parishioners would do their best not to crack up. In an odd way, the levity provided spiritual nourishment.

  “Let’s go up and see the birthday girl. I wanted this to be a surprise, but I knew she’d want to dress up a bit.” Danny winked. “Manny is taking care of the store.” He paused for a moment; it was out of character for Danny to babble on like this. He saw a little moisture in Danny’s eyes. “This means a lot to Sara and me,” Danny said and quickly turned his head away. Michael knew he was uncomfortable showing emotion; today was an exception.

  The group moved up the stairs, bantering back and forth. Michael followed Mrs. De with the cake, and Sister brought up the rear with her sandwich plate.

  As Danny opened the door, he saw Sara sitting in her wheelchair by the window. The sun burnished her auburn hair. Her usual French braids had been replaced with a style more becoming. He could see she had applied makeup, which enhanced her hazel eyes. Danny glowed with pride as the group entered the room. “Baby doll…we’re here!”

  “Sara, you look gorgeous!” exclaimed Mrs. De.

  Sara blushed. “Thanks, Mrs. De…always the flatterer!”

  Danny’s voice cracked with emotion. “Happy birthday, baby!”

  “Mrs. De…you brought my favorite cake!”

  Sara uttered, “Mama and Emilio are up there smiling.”

  Michael was aware that Sara was referring to her mom and brother; this was the first time he had heard Sara call her brother by name.

  Danny moved over to the elaborately set table and removed the foil on the bottle of champagne. “Sit down, everyone…champagne for all!” The Czech crystal emitted rainbow colors as the afternoon sun shone through the window. It was magical; Sara’s expression said it all. He blurted out, “To the prettiest girl in Brooklyn!”

  Michael watched as everyone raised their glasses. Mrs. De placed the cake beside the gleaming silver tea service.

  Danny kicked off the Happy Birthday song as his daughter blew out the candles. “Thank you so much, everyone; you’ve gone to so much trouble.”

  They sat around, consumed with small talk. Father was a lifesaver in this situation. He filled up any void in the tête-à-tête with a quip or two. Time flew by.

  Danny called out, “Time to open your presents!” He handed her the first gift—the one Michael had brought.

  Michael smiled, “Hope you like it, Sara.”

  She donned the hat and provided a big smile while Danny took a picture.

  She moved to the gift from Father Murphy. It was a rosary comprised of pink colored crystals on a gold chain.

  “I’ve been saving it for a few years. It is from the Vatican Gift Shop; I knew I would find the right home for it.”

  “It is truly beautiful; I promise it will not lay idle.”

  Sister Bernadette gave Sara the big box wrapped in pink satin paper.

  “This blanket is so soft, Sister!”

  Mrs. De brought out a small gift from her purse. “When I was packing, I found this locket. Please tuck it away somewhere—a little memento.” The antique locket was hand painted with flowers.

  “This will be a special reminder of you, Mrs. De.”

  Danny announced, “I have one more gift, sweet girl!” He brought out two boxes from his bedroom.

  “Wow, Dad! A laptop and a wireless connection! I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it!”

  As daylight gave way, the little group bade each other goodbye. Michael stayed behind after the others left, and the threesome set out for McGinty’s. After an enjoyable dinner, Michael accompanied them home.

  “See you later, guys,” said Danny. “I’m going down to the store.”

  Michael seated Sara comfortably in her chair, tucked her in with her new blanket, and sat down beside her. He rubbed his palms together, attempting to calm his nerves. “Sara, I would like to tell you a story—actually, it’s more of a predicament. I need your honest opinion; please don’t be swayed by my perspective.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I have a dilemma I would like to share with you. I have stumbled on something I need to handle in an appropriate manner. I know your opinion will be valuable.” He proceeded to tell her some of the details of his discovery, omitting where he had found the tin and who the owner might be. He mentioned the owner of the tin was deceased.

  “Are you asking me if it is right to open it?”

  “Well, first, I’m asking if you are comfortable hearing the more personal details of the story. It does involve people you know.”

  “How mysterious! After hearing the details, may I change my mind about giving an opinion?”

  “I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated either way. Only that you keep our conversation confidential.”

  “This is fascinating to say the least, Michael. Where is the tin now?”

  “It’s in my backpack.” His eyes moved to his bag by the chair.

  “Are you carrying it around with you?”

  “I feel obligated to keep the tin with me until I know its contents.”

  “Well, tell me more! Who on earth could resist such intrigue? Its way too tempting, I may need some time to think about my response.”

  “Sure…there’s no deadline.”

  Michael proceeded to explain the unabridged version of his discovery.

  “I would like to think about this overnight Michael.”

  “Sure, I guess the primary issue is whether to open it or leave it unopened and hand it over to Father Murphy or Sister Bernadette. The weight of the tin and the sound when I shake it—I think it’s her diary, or other papers. If it’s a diary, it’s all about not embarrassing the deceased sister.”

  Sara appeared pensive, “I think your point about Sister Abbey being secretive is valid. There must have been some reason to keep it hidden. Did she have any living relatives?”

  Michael shared the details on Sister Abbey’s childhood and the old woman who gave her the tin. He mentioned the man who showed up after Sister’s death.

  Sara interrupted, “If she didn’t want to share this with the convent, I wonder what her plan was. Maybe she was leaving it up to chance, like a higher power or something.”

  “That thought has crossed my mind. Of course, this is probably nothing, and the intrigue will melt away as soon as the tin is opened.”

  Sara replied, “Still, it’s fun to consider all the possibilities.”

  Michael dug into his backpack and produced the nondescript metal tin. He placed it on the coffee table. He sensed they both were reluctant to open it, but at the same time, dying to know what was inside. There was also the possibility of feeling guilty having pried, uninvited, into this nun’s personal life. The “what ifs” were daunting.

  She sighed, “I can only imagine all the feelings you’ve experienced since you first discovered this dreary-looking thing.”

  He nodded, staring at the box. “Do you want time to t
hink about this?”

  “Good idea. If you wish, I could keep it here until you make a decision.”

  “Sounds good, thanks.”

  “How about tomorrow afternoon, Michael? To be honest, I doubt I’ll suggest anything other than opening it.”

  “I agree. See you tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Michael stopped at Mel’s and played a game of pool with Joey. The mentally challenged young man was pretty much a fixture at the bar. He was a good player, and his demeanor was cheerful and polite. Everyone liked him; he helped with the dishes and the cook gave him dinner most nights. Afterwards, he would have one beer and hang out at the pool table, waiting for someone to join him in a game. Michael let him win the majority of their games, as did other regulars.

  “Joey! You’re a damn good pool player!”

  “Yah? Really? Think so, Michael?”

  “Damn good. I would love to know how you sink those balls when they are at a ninety-degree angle to the pocket.”

  “I’ll show ya!”

  Michael would try the technique, attempting to sink a few. It was an unspoken rule that no one would tease or take advantage of Joey. There was always someone in the regular crowd watching over him.

  When the game was over, Michael walked over to the bar and watched football. Joey sat with him for a few minutes before wandering off. It was tough to figure out if Joey really comprehended the game. He never cheered or commented on the players.

  On the other hand, he was like a savant when it came to horse racing. He remembered each race, including the odds and the order in which they finished. It was not uncommon for him to cite a race from a couple of years ago, quarter pole by quarter pole. Needless to say, it astounded the regulars.

  Michael and Adam were watching the football game in companionable silence. Suddenly, without preface, Michael uttered, “I am about to lay a bomb on you, Adam. I’m thinking of joining the military.”

  The bartender froze for a moment, and then continued polishing his glass; he remained silent.

  Michael joked, “Hello…are you hearing me?”

  Adam stumbled on his words, “Uh huh, but I don’t know what to say."

  “I know it’s a shocker, especially coming from me, a supposed pacifist.”