An Unholy Mission (23 page)

There was nothing to say when she finished speaking. Each of them knew they had just been told the absolute truth about what they were taking on as clergy and future clergy. A profound silence settled over the chaplains at the table, and they simply sat with it, letting it embrace them, each pondering the power and verity of what he or she had just witnessed.

It was Sister Patrick who finally spoke.  “I think we all have a lot to think about. I’m going to let you go early so you can get home before the driving gets too bad. I don’t think any of you noticed, but it’s been snowing for the last hour.”

Outside in the hallway Jenny Abelard caught up with Olympia and asked if she could possibly give her a ride back to the shelter.

“I usually take the bus, but I got lucky with some food donations from the cafeteria, and I can’t carry it all.”

Without hesitation Olympia changed direction and followed Jenny down to the cafeteria kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, loaded to the eyeballs with several bags and two large boxes, the two of them staggered through the garage to Olympia’s car.

“I’ll just need to give Frederick a call and let him know I’m going to be late. If I don’t, he’s going worry about me driving alone in the snow. It’s not like I haven’t been doing this kind of thing for thirty-plus years or anything, but it is new having someone who cares. I guess I’m still getting used to it.”

“I’m happy for you,” said Jenny. “He sounds like one of the good ones. Hey, if you want, you could stay on for supper. That way, any snow that does fall will have melted off the main roads by the time you leave—and you could meet some of my women. I’ve told them about you.”

Olympia chuckled. “I hope you haven’t told them too much.”

“Nah, I just told them you’re someone I work with at the hospital, and you helped me out big-time when I needed it. These people are very loyal. If they know that you’ve done me a favor, they’ll do anything for you, and I mean anything.”

Before getting into the car Jenny paused and lit a cigarette, taking great care to blow the smoke away from them. Olympia didn’t know quite how to respond. She really liked Jenny, but she was unprepared for such a declaration of trust. But the more she thought about it, the better it felt.

“Thanks, Jenny. It’s always good to have people you can call on when you need it, and staying on for supper sounds great.”

The snow was coming down fairly steadily, but it was the big, wet, sloppy kind that would soon turn to rain. The weather forecasters on the TV that morning had been unsure which way it would go, and at the moment it was a little bit of both. This meant the roads were wet, and traffic was slow, but the driving wasn’t all that bad. By the time they reached the shelter and parked, it had pretty much gone over to a dismal, intermittent rain.

Because of the weather the dining room was already filled to capacity with a second dinner sitting waiting in a communal living room. The smell of wet clothing, overlaid with the scent of boiling potatoes, reminded Olympia of cooking supper for her boys on winter evenings. She peeked through the door and saw various sizes, ages and shades of women clustered around a tinny-sounding television set. Some were talking to one another, and others were simply staring in the direction of the noise. One woman was huddled in a corner, guarding an array of plastic grocery bags piled around her feet, and another was rocking back and forth and picking at the frayed cuff of her jacket.

Jenny stopped in the doorway and yelled over the general din, greeting them all and telling them she’d brought her friend, Olympia Brown, to join them for supper. This was greeted by a general murmur of greetings before they collectively turned back to the color and noise spewing out of the corner of the room.

Jenny turned to Olympia and smacked herself on the forehead.

“Oh, crap. I just remembered that you’re a vegetarian. Lemme see what I can come up with.  Monday is always meatloaf and mashed potatoes, but we always have some kind of salad. Maybe I can find some cheese.”

Olympia placed a still, cold hand on Jenny’s arm. “Don’t worry about it; I’m fine with potatoes and salad. A little cheese would be lovely but only if there’s extra. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it later. Um-m-m, what did you say was for dessert?”

Jenny laughed and showed her where to put her coat and warned her to hang on to her purse before leading her off to the steamy kitchen. Later, as Olympia was preparing to leave for Brookfield after dinner, Jenny asked if she could beg another favor.

“Seeing it’s you, sure.”

Jenny scuffled her feet before speaking. She found asking for things difficult, and Olympia knew it.

“Um, I was wondering if maybe you could come in and help out with the Christmas Eve service we do here?  I mean, they don’t give us too much holiday training in the big house, and I sure as hell didn’t get any when I was a kid, unless you include selling off my
Boston Globe
Santa Christmas presents to buy dope.”

She shifted from one foot to the other. “If you can’t, it’s okay ’cause I know you got family and everything, but I just thought I’d ask. No harm in that, right?”

By now she looked acutely uncomfortable. Her face was a mottled shade of pink with embarrassment and discomfort.

“As it turns out, I’m not preaching anywhere this Christmas. My kids are planning to be with their father on Christmas Eve, and because of my work at the hospital, I really hadn’t planned very much at home. So the answer is yes, and I think it would be lovely to do something worthwhile on a holiday that is so often stretched way beyond its true meaning.”

Jenny coughed a couple of times, blamed the smoking, and then playfully punched Olympia on the shoulder.

“You’re the balls … uh, I mean…”

“Well, not exactly,” laughed Olympia, “but I get the picture. Give me a time, and then we can work out the specifics of what you want later on.”

“Christmas Eve, any time from four on,” said Jenny. “For some reason that’s always when it’s the worst in here.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.  Say, I’ve got another idea. Do you want to ask Timothea to join us?”

“She’s the right color,” said Jenny, “and that’s not me bein’ prejudiced or anything either. It’s just that we got a lot of black ladies in here and too many white women tellin’ them what to do. I think Timothea would be great.”

“That’s why I suggested it. Why don’t we ask her first thing tomorrow?”

“Um, will you ask her?”

Olympia smiled and shook her head. “Nope, kiddo, this one’s all yours.”

As Jenny had predicted, the driving when she left was not difficult, and Olympia made it home in a little over her usual time. When she came through the door, Frederick and Jim were finishing off the remains of a Chinese take-out. At their feet the cat was finishing the last of his own portion of shrimp fried rice, and over on the kitchen counter, she could see the red light blinking on the telephone answering machine.

“Somebody missed a call?” she asked, pulling off her jacket and shaking the raindrops out of her scarf.

“We were in the middle of our supper,” said Frederick. “and I didn’t want to talk with my mouth full. Besides, any calls to this number are going to be for you. I think you’d better listen to it, though. It was your daughter. She wants you to call her. Something about Christmas, I think. I couldn’t quite make it out. The baby was crying.”

Olympia still couldn’t think about her daughter without a surge of emotion. It was different now that they’d finally reconnected, but that connection was still so tenuous. The two of them were still feeling their way through the newness of it, and neither had a reliable roadmap.

Olympia hung her jacket on the peg next to the kitchen door. “I’ll make the call in the bedroom. That way I won’t bother you.”She didn’t see the knowing smile that passed between Jim and Frederick, her two men, but she would have loved it, had she done so.

When she returned Frederick and Jim were putting the last of the paper plates into the trash, and Jim was making noises about who wanted coffee and who wanted tea.

“I’d better have tea. Otherwise, I’ll be up until the wee hours,” said Olympia.

“What did your daughter want? Is everything all right?” asked Frederick.

“I think so. She wants to bring the baby and spend part of Christmas here with me—with us, really—but she doesn’t want to hurt her mother. It was a tough conversation. You can imagine how much I want to have her here. I just told Jenny Abelard that I’d come into the women’s shelter on Christmas Eve and help out there, so that eliminates Christmas Eve. There’s no way in hell I’d go back on my word to Jenny.” Olympia paused and chewed on her lower lip.

“She could come on Christmas day, couldn’t she?” said Jim.

“No, she’s spending Christmas Day with her adoptive parents.”

“What’s wrong, then?” asked Frederick.

“Maybe nothing.”

“What exactly did she say?”

“That’s just it. She’s conflicted, too. She wants to come spend time with me and get to know me, and at the same time she doesn’t want to hurt her adoptive parents.”

“I have a thought,” said Frederick.

“Leave the country and go to Greenland?” quipped Olympia.

“Funny you should ask. Actually, my dear, I suggest we leave Christmas exactly the way it is, and the guest list exactly the way it is, just us and the boys. I suggest that you invite your daughter and granddaughter for the day after Christmas and ask the boys if they’d like to come back again and join us. That way, the boys have a choice, Laura gets to spend Christmas the way she always has, and with an Englishman in the family now, we can begin a new tradition of our own starting with this coming Boxing Day, December twenty-sixth.”

“Brilliant,” said Jim.

“Who’s a clever boy, then?”

By then, almost giddy with relief, Olympia dropped onto the nearest chair. “That’s perfect. Frederick, you are an absolute saint.”

“Not even close,” said the Englishman, twirling an imaginary moustache and winking in her direction.

Luther Stuart managed to convince himself he was feeling stronger. The time he had taken off to rest over the long holiday weekend had benefitted him. He needed to remember to pace himself if he was going to complete his mission. After all, God could only do so much. The rest was up to him. That was the agreement.

Twenty-Two

With only a week left before Christmas, weather forecasters were predicting three to five inches of snow along the coast and more inland. Olympia was delighted. A moderate snowfall that would be pretty, but not too inconvenient, would be most welcome and the perfect touch for the holidays. There was, they said, little question regarding the approaching storm. It was all a question of the amount of snow and where it would fall. The TV weather people were hedging their collective bets by saying that it could change to rain if the wind shifted. Amounts would vary according to location, and everybody should take proper precautions just in case.

So much for accuracy, Olympia mused, but this is New England, after all.

Olympia always felt like a little kid when snow was on the way. She had never outgrown her love of snowstorms, and to this day she harbored the gleeful hope of an unexpected day off if the storm was big enough. One could only wish.

Because she had promised one of the patients a visit that day, Olympia decided to leave the car at home, skip the morning commute, and arrive in time for the afternoon meeting. Then, depending on the state of the storm and the roadways, she would see to her pastoral rounds after that. Sister Patrick had said more than once that how they arranged their hours was really their own concern as long as they let the supervising nurses know when to expect them. 

The snow was still coming down at a pretty good clip when Sister Patrick dismissed them, so Olympia didn’t think twice about using the underground passageway to get over to Women and Infants. Besides, it was closer to the bus stop when it was time to go home, but first she needed to grab something to eat.

The hospital cafeteria was an entirely different place in the late afternoon. Mostly they did a breakfast and lunch trade, so by dinner time the tables were virtually empty with only a limited selection of packaged items set out on the counter. The catering staff kept a sandwich and beverage service going throughout the night for the late crew and tired, hungry family members. Those who were there sat closer and spoke in lower voices. Gone was the boisterous chatter and clatter of dishes of the daytime diners. Maybe it was the snowstorm outside, but Olympia thought it was even quieter and emptier than usual. She looked over the array of sandwiches and microwaveable offerings and finally selected a roasted vegetable roll-up, a cup of orange spice tea, and a giant white chocolate macadamia nut cookie. She was carrying it all to the same table she often shared with Timothea when she heard someone calling her name. When she turned in the direction of the voice, she saw Luther Stuart walking toward her, still wearing his big silver cross and his hospital chaplain ID tag.

“Luther! What are you doing here? You’re still wearing your chaplain badge. I thought you’d withdrawn from the program.”

With only the slightest hesitation, he said that his landlady was a patient upstairs. He had promised to come in and see her but decided to wait until the roads were better. When he saw Olympia glance at his ID tag, he added, “Since I still have my ID badge, I decided to wear it so I could get in after visiting hours.”

“I guess that makes sense. Come and sit down with me. I’m going to have a bite to eat before I head over to Women and Infants. Like you, I came in late because of the storm.”

Luther Stuart followed her to the table and sat down across from her while Olympia arranged her food items on the table between them.

“Aren’t you going to have anything to eat?  Here, have some of mine. I don’t need it all.” She had started to hand over part of her sandwich when he held up his hands and shook his head.

“Still the generous woman you always were, Olympia. I guess some things never change, do they?  Thanks, but no thanks. I ate before I left.”