The Extraordinary Life of Sam Hell(110)

I lay my head back against the pillows. Blue and Douglas entered and immediately jumped onto the bed, tails wagging. My eyes were again drawn to that top drawer. This time I stood and crossed the room. On the dresser was the Bible Sister Beatrice had given me as an eighth-grade graduation present, and wedged in the mirror was the card of Saint Christopher and the Irish blessing that our pastor, Father Brogan, gave me the night he expelled David Bateman.

I opened the top drawer. The beads were well-worn and misshapen; the gold crucifix and the links between the beads had lost their luster. I held my mother’s rosary in the palm of my hand, staring at it, debating with myself, realizing I’d never won a debate with my mother in my entire life, and I knew I wouldn’t now, either.

I pinched the cross between my thumb and index finger and began as she had taught me when I had been just a little boy. “I believe in God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth . . .”

In between each prayer, I asked God not to take Mickie from me. I asked my mother to intercede, to ask the Blessed Mother to bring Mickie home to me.

Have faith, Samuel.

I started the second decade, then the third. I was having trouble breathing, getting the words out, but I would not give in. I plunged from one bead to the next, thinking again of my mother and begging her to intercede, bargaining with her.

“I won’t question God’s will again,” I said. “Mickie is all I’ll ever want or need. I’ll take up your mantle, your devotion. I’ll offer my pain up for some poor soul in purgatory. I’ll return to church. Just please, Mom, please don’t let him take Mickie from me. Whatever second thoughts she might be having, whatever it is she thinks makes her not good enough, please let her see how much I love her.”

I don’t know how many stanzas I completed before fatigue became so great I could not keep my eyes open.

I awoke, fully dressed, to the bells in the tower of Our Lady of Mercy ringing out and sun streaming through my bedroom window. Blue and Douglas, curled on the bed, sat up. I could not immediately recall the last time I’d heard the bells. And then that moment came to me. I had been in Dr. Fukomara’s office, about to have a vasectomy. But I had imagined those bells, hadn’t I?

I wondered if I could be imagining them again and quickly went downstairs, pulled open the front door, and stepped out onto the porch. Blue and Douglas remained at my feet. It was not my imagination. The bells rang as loud and true as Ernie had rung those bells in the sixth grade at the all-school Mass. Standing on the porch, I realized something else. I no longer felt anxious about Mickie. I felt the same comforting warmth and peace come over me as I had felt in Lourdes when it seemed to be radiating from my chest. I had been unable to define the feeling until that moment, and then it became very clear to me. It felt like my mother’s loving embrace. It felt like it felt when she wrapped her arms around me when I was a boy in need of comfort.

Spirito Santo, the Italian man had knowingly whispered. Spirito Santo.

Douglas and Blue began to bark. Mickie had trained them not to leave the porch, and so they remained on the top step, barking, tails whipping the air, collars rattling. I looked down the street but did not see anyone out walking their dog or an approaching car. “What is it?” I said.

Blue looked up at me, but Douglas’s gaze remained on the street. When I looked again, the taxi appeared over the slight rise in the road, slowing as it neared and then turning in to the driveway. Blue and Douglas were ecstatic, whimpering and whining, tails whipping at high speed. The back door of the cab opened.

And Mickie Kennedy stepped out.





15

Mickie looked up at me and smiled, but it had a sad, “I’m sorry” look to it. The dogs leaped and jumped all around me but did not leave the porch until I stepped down. They bolted to her. She’d started to cry, apologizing even before I reached her. “I got your messages. I’m sorry, Sam. I know I worried you.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I didn’t have any service.”

“I spoke to you Tuesday.”

“I left.”

“Where? Where did you go?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise, the best surprise. I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t see all your calls until we landed. I know what you were thinking, Sam. I know you’d thought I’d left.”

I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except that Mickie was there in my arms. I kissed her and hugged her tight.

After a while she said, “Let’s go inside.”

I paid the cab driver and carried Mickie’s bag inside, dropping it in the entry at the foot of the staircase. Mickie sat at the kitchen table. After we caught our breath, she said, “We never did finish the conversation the night before I left.”

“It’s okay,” I said.

“No, it’s not. Not if we’re going to marry.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded.

“I can’t have children, Sam. It happened when I was younger. I had to have a hysterectomy. I didn’t want to marry you and not be able to give you children. You deserve children. You’re a good man and will make a wonderful father.”

“I don’t care about that,” I said. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I told your mother. I should have told you. But you know how hard it can be when years go by and you don’t say anything? For so many years, when you were away, I rationalized that we would never be together and so it didn’t matter. But now . . . I should have, Sam. I should have told you.”