Stay Sweet(17)
“The property it’s on could sell for a pretty penny to one of those housing developers.”
Mrs. Otis takes her place at the piano and begins to play. Amelia flips through one of the hymnals simply for something to look at. She never, ever sings.
After two somber songs, the doors at the back of the church open and everyone stands up. Amelia gets nervous that there won’t be anyone to wheel in the casket, except there is no casket. Only an urn, which Father Caraway, despite being ninety-something years old, carries up the aisle himself. For that, Amelia feels both relieved and sad.
Father’s head is completely bald except for his eyebrows, which are white and bristly like two caterpillars. He positions himself behind the lectern, then with a shaking hand, pulls a pair of smudged reading glasses out from the folds of his robe and anchors them on the pink bulb of his nose.
“Ice Cream So Sweet, You Won’t Miss Your Sweetheart.” Father looks up and smiles tenderly. “I’m sure you’re familiar with Meade Creamery’s original slogan.” The entire church nods. “A similar adage might be When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemonade. Or Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining. This is how Molly Meade lived her life.”
Amelia’s attention begins to drift. Father comes to the stand once a month in the summertime, in his black clerical shirt and white tab collar, black pants, and a fraying Panama hat that looks about as old as he does. Father’s regular order is a single scoop of chocolate with hot fudge and a cherry, which he tries to pay for with a handful of change. The girls never take his money, but he’ll put however many quarters he’s brought in their tip jar.
Father lifts his head, removes his glasses, and slides them into the folds of his robe. After a chest-rattling cough, he says, “I happened to be with Molly Meade the night she became engaged to a fellow named Wayne Lumsden.”
At this, Amelia leans forward in the pew, elbows on her knees. She knows well the tragic story of Molly and Wayne, or, more specifically, the ending. But nothing about happier times. When it all began.
“I was a newly ordained priest around the time of the war when I arrived at this parish.” Father dabs his forehead. “There was no time to get comfortable, no chance for me to ease into things. Not when every week, another family was sending their boys off, boys only a few years younger than myself.”
Father went on. “It was customary in those days for the priest to visit the family, bless a final meal before they departed, and lead a prayer asking for the boy’s safety. As you can imagine, this was generally not a festive occasion. There would be so much wonderful food, prepared with love, that nobody felt like eating.
“I shared two meals with the Meade family in a year, one for each of Molly’s brothers—Patrick and Liam. The third time I was asked was the following fall, because a fellow named Wayne Lumsden was shipping out at the end of September. Wayne didn’t have much in the way of family. When he passed through Sand Lake looking for work, the Meades essentially took him in and gave him a job at their dairy, which speaks to the sort of generous, kind Irish Catholic family they were.”
Amelia realizes this must be the reason why over the years she’s heard plenty of anecdotes about Molly Meade and never much about Wayne Lumsden. He wasn’t actually from Sand Lake.
“Now, the good Lord sprinkled Molly and Wayne with the same stardust he must use to make movie stars.” Father’s face spreads into a smile. “And to the surprise of no one in town, they fell deeply in love.”
There are a few polite chuckles.
“I’d heard countless sad stories of men at war, of people lost and hurt and killed. In a way, this seemed almost sadder. That these two youngsters, in the prime of their lives and very much devoted to each other, were about to be ripped apart.” He takes a sip of water. “When Mrs. Meade brought out a chocolate cake, I was trying to come up with an acceptable excuse to pass on having a slice. But then Wayne pulled a diamond ring out of his pocket and asked Molly for her hand in marriage. Molly said yes immediately. And a melancholy night became one of celebration.”
Amelia can see it playing in her head like a movie: Young Molly, her handsome boyfriend down on one knee, maybe even in his uniform. Her laughing and crying. Him sliding the ring onto her finger, shaking her father’s hand.
At this, her mouth drops open. The photo hanging in the stand—of Molly and Wayne, her hand outstretched, fall foliage around them—was likely taken that day. Amelia takes a tissue from her purse and dabs her eyes.
“Now, Wayne, as you know, never made it home from the war, may God rest his soul. But God did not forsake His lovely child, Molly. Instead, the Lord bestowed on her the gift of making ice cream, which comforted her through this profound loss. He works in mysterious ways, and this, I promise you, is one of them. Despite her own suffering, Molly continued to do His work, bringing joy into the lives of countless others for all these years. And for that reason, I have faith that—”
The church doors open suddenly and three people hurry up the aisle, a man and a college-age boy, both in tailored navy suits, and a woman in a black dress and a chunky strand of pearls. Amelia has never seen them before.
Father Caraway clears his throat to refocus the churchgoers and gestures at the sky as he resumes. “I have faith that, because of her service, the Lord has rewarded Molly by reuniting her with her true love Wayne, up in heaven.”