Jan Karon - In the Company of Others

‘God loves us whether we deserve it or not. He’s loving you right now as you release your sorrow to me.’

‘I can’t believe that.’

‘There’s something my husband often quotes: Love is an endless act of forgiveness. Over and over again, we need forgiveness from others, just as we need to forgive others-over and over again.’

A long silence.

‘Confession makes us clean again, Bella-it reconciles us to God. Forgiveness does the same. And God will forgive you, Bella, just as everyone here will forgive you. All you have to do is ask. I promise.’

‘I knew I was doin’ wrong and hurting others yet I did it anyway, an’ sometimes I felt really smug over bein’ cruel. I can’t ask God to forgive that.’

‘I’ll ask him for you, then.’

There was a stillness in the room, then his wife praying. He crossed himself and prayed, also. Where two or more are gathered together.

‘What I came up to say is your husband needs to call Dooley Barlowe. I spoke with Dooley on th’ phone, he said he liked th’ funny way I talk an’ I told him he has a funny way of speakin’ himself.’

Cynthia laughed.

‘An’ so I came up to give you the message, and when I opened th’ door, I couldn’t hold it in any longer, it came pourin’ out.’

‘I’ve just read something about seeing a nasty thing fixed back to a good thing. You will see this fixed back, Bella.’

‘I don’t want to see Paddy sent away for what he had no part in. He can be a dreadful man, Paddy, but he’s always been kind to me. He took me fishin’ many times when I was little, an’ always liked my music.’

‘When will you tell your family?’

‘I mustn’t say anything ’til dinner is over. We’ll be slammed tonight with eighteen on us, an’ it must be very special. I wish you didn’t have to go to Jack Kennedy’s.’

‘We’ll be back.’

‘His meatloaf is gross, his chops are cremated. ’

‘I’ll remember that.’

‘If you could be with me when I tell them…’

‘Of course. Yes. I’ll be with you.’

‘Even your husband, who seems to settle Liam down.’

‘We’ll do it. I’m proud of you, Bella. You’re living up to your name.’

‘I couldn’t go on like I was goin’.’

‘You’re growing up.’

He heard the door close and went into the room and put his arms around his wife. They held each other, wordless, looking beyond the window to the lough, as Fintan and Caitlin had done when they saw the rainbow.

‘Hey, Dad.’

‘Hey, buddy.’

‘Thanks for callin’ back. I wanted to tell you I’m not done.’

‘Great. Terrific!’

The kitchen crew going hammer and tong.

‘Bet you’re done, though. You’ve been gone a long time for a guy who doesn’t like to travel.’

‘Right. But I’m not done, either. We’ll be a few days yet, I’ll let you know.’

‘She apologized.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘Said she was sorry she called me a rich puke of shallow character.’

Classic Lace Turner. Self-educated largely through the services of a rural bookmobile, now an honor student at the University of Virginia. Impeccable grammar, colorful way of putting things.

‘Are you a rich puke of shallow character?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Trust me, she doesn’t think so, either. How about you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you apologize?’

‘For what?’

‘Come on. Whatever you said or did to make her punch you.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘May I ask what it was all about?’

‘I wasn’t going to tell you, because it makes you crazy. But since you’re asking-we had a date, I was late.’

A cloud of steam over the stove top; Bella hoicking a roast from the oven.

‘How late?’

‘There was this friend who came by, I never get to see him-’

‘How late?’

‘An hour.’

‘First time?’

‘I wish. I’ve been late a lot, and she hates it; I mean, really hates it. But hey, Dad, love is three-sixty-five, twenty-four/seven. Why get upset about a few minutes?’

They’d had the Punctuality Talk many times over. It was a thorn. ‘That sounds good, but…’

‘But what?’

‘Love shows up on time.’

The dreaded phone silence.

‘Well, look, son, they’re busy here. Know that we love you. Catch you later, gotta go.’

That was Dooley’s sign-off protocol-he’d never used it before. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

He was thinking of Evelyn Conor as he went upstairs. He felt he should be there, but Feeney had sent him home. ‘You have a date with your wife,’ Feeney said. ‘Best to keep it.’ Anyway, off to Tobernalt and Innisfree tomorrow and no chance to visit Catharmore. This wasn’t feeling right.

Jack Kennedy’s was loud, crowded, upbeat. They sat at the bar.

‘You’re plenty beautiful,’ he said.

‘Thanks. I love it when you talk like that.’

‘Proud of you.’

‘Proud of you back. Bella says skip the meatloaf.’

‘What’ll it be, Missus Kav’na? I hope you’re not a teetotaler like th’ rev’rend here.’

‘Ah, no,’ she said, ‘not a’tall. I’ll have th’ poteen, if you’d be so kind.’

Jack Kennedy amused. ‘Th’ poteen, is it? An’ which kind would it be?’

‘Which kind do you have, Mr. Kennedy?’

‘I can pour you th’ fightin’ kind, th’ lovin’ kind, or th’ cryin’ kind.’

‘I’ll take th’ cryin’ kind, for we’re leavin’ soon an’ I’ll be sad t’ go.’

Jack marveling.

‘Just kidding,’ said Cynthia. ‘Make it a ginger ale, straight up.’

Laughter all around.

‘I can’t take her anywhere,’ he said.

She sipped her drink.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.

‘How bad could the meatloaf be, Timothy? Because now I’m hungry for meatloaf.’

The Vauxhall crunched onto the Broughadoon gravel at nine-thirty. Laughter floated out to them.

‘Merriment,’ she said. ‘’t is a lovely sound.’

‘We’ll be having our own merriment soon enough.’ At fall break, four boys, mostly grown, each a dazzle to their adoring younger sister. Picnics in Baxter Park. Grilling in the back yard. And Barnabas looking for a handout. Oh, yes.

‘Let’s sit on the bench,’ she said. ‘It’s been ages.’

‘Good. But let’s go through the lodge. Too much gravel to navigate.’

Pud raced out, tail wagging. No shoe. Maybe he should get serious and help the little guy find his shoe. He leaned down, gave Pud a scratch.

‘Did you take his shoe again?’

‘I did not,’ she said. ‘Scout’s honor.’

‘Rev’rend! Missus!’ William by the fire in his blue jacket, a pocket handkerchief, a tie they hadn’t seen.

‘It’s Mr. Yeats himself!’ said Cynthia.

‘You’re slaggin’ me, now.’

‘Not a bit. You look wonderful.’

William’s cheeks coloring, eyes bright. ‘Thank ye, thank ye. Sit down an’ take a load off your foot, Missus. Y’r Pud was at th’ door since ye went out, not lookin’ left or right.’

They sat on the sofa. He patted the vacant cushion; Pud leaped onto it.

‘So, William, how about a checkers game tomorrow evening?’

‘Will do. Seamus is stayin’ close to home for a little. I’ll try to go easy on ye.’

‘Very kind of you.’

‘Are ye goin’ up Catharmore tomorrow?’

‘Not tomorrow. We’re off to Tobernalt.’

‘It’s good ye’re seein’ th’ sights now. Did Jack Kennedy treat ye right?’

‘He did.’

‘When ye do go up, might I come along?’

‘Now, William.’

‘Takes th’ Gards a while to make it over to us, we’d be well away by then.’