Бетти Смит - Maggie-Now

The steamship companies dumped all races, all creeds onto Ellis Island. Many of the immigrants went out to the Middle West and the West and a few went South. But many of them settled in Brooklyn: first because they wanted to be among Lands7na7777 who were already there, and second because they didn't have the means to go any farther.

Whenever a few people of one sect got together, they built a church forthwith. There was a place of worship on nearly every block. There were temples or synagogues, twin-spired stone churches, modest wooden churches, a mosaic-domed church, a religious meeting place in a vacant store with a whitewashed cross on the window, a gathering in a hall over a beer saloon. For a while, a few people gathered in a tent set up on a vacant lot to worship in their own shouting way and to roll on the sawdusted ground in their religious ecstasy. And there were wandering evangelists who stood on street confers angrily shouting out The Message.

Brooklyn was truly the city of churches.

There were so many races; so many creeds and sects all huddled together in an area not more than a mile square.

The people [81 1

called each other names: Mick, Heinie, Guinea, Hunky, Polack, Wop, Sheeny, Squarehead, Bohunk, Chink and Greaseball. They called the few Indians, who they believed were really gypsies, riggers.

Mary was of great help to Father Flynn. During her years of teaching public school, she'd had pupils of many nationalities and faiths. She had a general knowledge of the habits, temperaments and customs of various races and religions through her contact with her pupils. Father Flynn drew on her knowledge. He was grateful to her for it. It made his parish work somewhat simpler.

Although Mary loved her home and loved her husband, she wasn't happy in her marriage. She was unhappy because Patrick did not love her. He was considerate toward her as considerate as a person of his cynical nature could be but he simply did not love her and she knew he never would. Withdrawn and sad after her father's disgrace and death, and lonesome after her mother had moved to Boston, she turned more and more to her church, where she always found comfort.

She went to Mass each morning and lit a candle daily to the Virgin Mary and prayed for a child.

~ CHAP7~ER THIRTEEN ~ MARY and Patrick had been married nearly three and a half years when she gave birth to a daughter. She had a very hard time. It was a dry birth and she was in agonising labor for two days. Her doctor told her not to have any more children. He told her that she wasn't built for childbearing.

His warning meant nothing to Mary at that time. She was so quietly and intensely happy. Father Flynn came to the nursing home to bless the baby and to pray for the mother's speedy recovery. He gave her a small medal of the Holy Child to pin to her baby's shirt. She said: "I have something all of my own, Father. A child to love and to care for. . a child who will grow to love me."

[82] Patsy suggested that Mary name the child after her mother. "That's nice of you, Patrick, but I don't want to call her Molly even if it is a nickname for Mary."

"Mary, then," he said. "There is no grander name."

"No."

"Me mother's name was Lizzie," he said tentatively.

"Elizabeth's a good name."

"Patrick, I'd like to name her after the one who sort of brought us together."

"Biddy?" he asked horrified.

"Oh, no!" She smiled. "After that girl you liked so. .

you know, Margaret Rose? It's such a pretty name. And I'm so happy that I have a baby now that I want to give her the name as a present to you, sort of."

She saw his eyes flicker when she mentioned the name.

She didn't know whether it was from surprise, pleasure, anger or memories.

"You will please yourself," he said brusquely.

"We'll have to get godparents," she said. "I don't know anyone and my few relatives are all in Boston…."

"I know the very ones," he said. "Like your old man used to say, I know somebody what owes me a favor."

He had decided to ask Big Red. Why? Who knows.

Perhaps he thought Big Red would write Maggie Rose and tell her Patsy had named his first child after her and she'd be pleased and sad and know that he still thought of her even though she had married another after all her promises. Maybe, as he had told Mary. Big Red owed him something. And maybe it was because Patsy didn't have a friend in all the world that he could ask.

He prepared for his visit to Big Red's house by going to C011fession. He had made a vow: Might he drop dead if he ever set foot in that house again. He was sure God hadn't taken that seriously but why take a chance on dropping dead?

Father Flynn wasn't too easy on him. First, he gave hint penance for the sin itself; then more penance for waiting over three years to confess it. More penance for never coming to Mass except on Easter and Christmas. Added on was penance for over three years of routine sinning.

Finally Father Flynn doubled the whole thing because he didn't like Patsy's arrogant attitude when 1 ''i', 1

he, Father Flynn, told him that under no circumstance must he miss Mass, weekly confession and communion again. Patsy spent two hours on his knees doing the penance.

He took communion next morning and, feeling brave and pure, he set out for East New York. Lottie and Tim were very glad to see him and, to Patsy's relief, no mention was made of their quarrel. Lottie wept with joy.

"This is the first time anybody ever asked me to be godmother. I can hardly wait."

" 'Tis a great honor," said Big Red, "the asking me to be godfather and the naming of the little one after me baby sister."

(Baby sister, as proved by a picture Big Red had lately received from Ireland, had grown plump and matronly looking. The three small children clustered about her looked plump and matronly, too. But to Big Red she would always be Baby Sister.)

Father Flynn christened the child. Lottie gave the baby the traditional christening gift: a little locket with a chip diamond in the middle of a little gold heart.

"Diamonds is for April," said Lottie.

"She looks just like me baby sister looked when she was born," said Big Red. Then he blushed. "That was the wrong thing to say," he apologised.

"Oh, no," said Mary. "I'm pleased. I heard that your sister is very beautiful."

"That she is."

"The baby don't fool; like nobody," said Patsy coldly.

"Just like her own sweet self," said Lottie tactfully.

"That's right," said Big Red, ill at ease. "Well, sweetheart," he said to his wife, "I guess we gotta make a break."

"He always calls me sweetheart," said Lottie to Mary.

"That's nice," said l\lary. "And won't you come again to see us and the baby?"

"I'd love to," said Lottie.

"Sure," agreed Big Red.

"Come often," urged Mary.

The three looked to Patsy to second the invitation. Patsy stood mute.

"Well, like I said," said Big Red uncomfortably, "we got to go."

t841 After they'd left, Mary said: "You never thanked him, Patrick."

"Why should I? He owes me. I don't owe him. He owes me the way he can never make up to me for what he did to me."

"Remember that," she said a little bitterly, "the next time you go to confession three years from now."

He felt a pang because it was the first time she'd ever spoken unkindly to him. He knew that she loved him. He had never responded to her love, nor even acknowledged it. But he liked to have it around in escrows, as it were.