Robyn Carr - The View From Alameda Island

“Or it seems to,” Tim said. “Keep an eye on that. Still waters...”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Beau said. “Just me and Drew these days. I think Drew has forgotten we have Michael’s graduation in a year...”

“Things will be better by then. What did you tell the counselor?”

“I told her we’ve been separated four times, Pamela has had other relationships during the separations and when we’re together she’s almost always unhappy and we argue too much. She pokes at me until I poke back, so sometimes I leave the house or go in the garage or detail the truck. I told her I don’t want to do that anymore. And of course she asked if we fixed our relationship so it wasn’t like that, was I in? And I said, I’m sorry, not anymore.” He dug out a shovelful of fertilizer. “I’d like to move on so my friends and family aren’t constantly forced to ask me where we are now.”

Tim stopped moving his hoe. “I’m sorry, Beau,” he said.

“Aw, not you, Tim. I don’t see enough of you for you to get on my nerves. That’s a problem, by the way. I’d like to see enough of you for you to get on my nerves.”

Tim grinned. “Basketball game Thursday night.”

“Can I bring a ringer?”

“Absolutely. I haven’t seen Drew in months.”

“I’m in pretty good shape,” Beau said. “You should pray.”

“I’ll think about it, Beauregard,” he said.

When Beau was a kid, a relatively poor kid, Tim’s well-off family moved into town. Tim’s dad was a lawyer. Beau never went to school hungry but there were lots of times he wanted more to eat than there was and he was impressed by the bounty of Tim’s table. Beau had two sisters and a brother, Tim had two brothers and a sister. Tim lived in a five-bedroom house on a big lot with a brick circular driveway. Tim’s mom played a lot of tennis at their club and had a cleaning lady. But, despite the differences, the boys became friends and stayed friends all the way through school.

Beau’s parents were amazed and impressed that he got himself through college in five years with no help from them. Tim, on the other hand, went to Notre Dame. He’d never admitted it to anyone but he’d always aspired to the priesthood. He was spiritual and wanted to help people. Notre Dame honed that aspiration into reality.

Tim’s parents were appalled. Tim, being so damn smart, would have made a good lawyer in his father’s firm, but that didn’t interest him. He studied theology and counseling. And his mother lamented that he wouldn’t be a father. “But yes, I will,” he answered with a smile.

As it was, Beau became a landscape architect, marrying his love of design with his love of growing things. And Tim, after being away for many years, had finally come home to a parish in California not so far from where he grew up. And he was reunited with his closest friends.

When Tim came back it was to find his best friend struggling with a failing marriage. And while Beau was so happy to have Tim close by, he found the good father at odds with his assignment in his new parish. Tim wanted to help the needy, the hungry, the disenfranchised of the world and here in Mill Valley he was tending the wounds of people with plenty of money and access to everything they might ever need by way of health care, private education and luxuries. True, the well-to-do were not without problems, but Beau knew Tim longed for grittier work. He felt he wasn’t as useful as he could be.

They talked for a while about the vegetable garden and fruit trees, laughed a little bit about how Tim’s boss, the bishop, just wanted him to get people back into church. “He wants the confessional bubbling 24/7 and while there are plenty of Catholics in the parish, they’re more like you,” Tim said. “Not too worried about having a priest guide them and intercede with Christ for them. And most gave up on church doctrine a long time ago.”

“Your ego must be bruised,” Beau said with a laugh.

“I’m bored,” Tim admitted. “There isn’t enough challenge.”

“It’s a rich parish. Surely you can find something to do with the money!”

“This isn’t my dream job, Beau. In fact, sometimes I question my calling. Or better to say, sometimes I ask myself if I’ve done all I can do in this—”

Someone was walking through the garden and the men turned to see a lovely woman standing not far from them.

“I’ll be damned,” Beau said. “Lauren!” And he smiled, thrilled to see her.

* * *

Lauren left work a little early. It was a beautiful spring day and she wanted to stop at Divine Redeemer and see how far along the gardens had come. It wasn’t Tuesday, she told herself. There was no harm in it. But inside she knew she wanted to see him. Just to hear him talk about the gardens. Or his boys. She wondered how his life was going. Maybe he would talk a little about his divorce. If she felt comfortable and even a little secure, she’d ask him how they broke it to the kids. Cassie’s graduation was a mere week away. After that event and the celebration, when things had calmed, Lauren was going to stir it all up by telling her daughters her plans.

She was terrified.

The garden was looking so beautiful. In this part of the world, the humid spring brought everything to life in such a rainbow of colors. She sighed deeply. It made her feel calmer just looking at it.

Then she heard the laughter of men. She rounded the corner and there stood Beau and another man. Dear God, they were both hunks. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean. Beau had thick brown hair and the other man, straw-colored. Both had strong, tan arms; both held gardening tools—a hoe and a shovel. She just filled her eyes with them. Must be Beau’s assistant or one of the church maintenance men.

“Lauren!” Beau said, and there was no mistaking the delight in his voice. Her heart soared and she smiled back.

“I never expected to run into you here,” she said. “I wanted to check out the garden. I haven’t been back here in weeks.”

“Lauren, this is my friend, Father Tim. Tim, this is Lauren. We met here one afternoon. I was replacing a few plants and she was enjoying the garden. Then we ran into each other again at a fund-raiser.”

“Nice to meet you,” the priest said. Oh, he was much too handsome to be a priest. She immediately decided a bunch of women probably sought his counsel. Regularly.

“Nice to meet you, too. It’s all looking beautiful. You must have dozens if not hundreds of people spending time here.”

He shrugged. “When there are daytime functions at the church. Sundays, lots of people wander through. A few people come just to see the gardens. Surprisingly few, considering how beautiful it is.” He gazed around thoughtfully, leaning on his hoe. “We need a fountain. Maybe I’ll suggest it to the board. That’ll give them something to discuss for a year and a half.” He chuckled.

“I guess you like to get personally involved,” she said.

“On a day like today, when I have no appointments, it’s a good excuse. You must live around here.”

“Mill Valley. I work in Oakland so this is on my way home. I discovered this garden a long time ago. My grandmother was a master gardener. She’s gone now and so is the garden, I’m afraid.”

“How have you been?” Beau asked.

“Well. And you?”

“Great. I have a kid about to graduate high school. My youngest.”

She loved the way he talked about his stepsons as if they were his very own. “And I have one graduating college in two weeks. My baby.”

“You must have been seven,” Father Tim said with a laugh.

“Very nearly,” she said. “I was quite young when I married and had children. And here they are—grown. My nest has been empty for a while now but with Cassie’s graduation coming up I don’t see them coming home except for visits.” She took a breath. “It’s bittersweet.”