The Mill River Recluse (42 page)

He drove past the outpatient center, wrestling the memory of Mary’s ordeal there out of his mind. After parking outside the visitor’s entrance, he went inside to the information desk. Leroy, he learned, had been transferred out of the intensive care unit two days ago and was now in a private room under police supervision. An officer from the Rutland County Police Department came down to escort him to room 422. Once there, he thanked the officer, knocked softly on the door, and went inside.

Leroy was awake. He turned his head toward the door and glanced up at Father O’Brien with a look of surprise and disgust.

“Well, if it ain’t Father O’Brien, come to tell ol’ Leroy what a bad boy he’s been.”

“Good morning, Leroy,” Father O’Brien said. “I called last night to see if it would be all right to visit you, and they said it’d be fine.” He took a step inside the room. It was strange seeing Leroy in a hospital gown instead of a uniform. Part of his face and the end of his right arm were covered by thick white bandages. “As for why I’m here, well, I don’t intend to scold you. I only wanted to see how you were doing.”

Leroy sneered. “Yeah, I’ll bet. As soon as I woke up, they let the cops in here to question me. Like I’d tell ‘em anything. Then they sent in some head doctor, tryin’ to shrink me or something. I didn’t need that, and I sure don’t need no priest, either.”

“No one sent me here, Leroy,” Father O’Brien said, sitting down in a chair near the bed. “I came here today because I always visit members of my congregation who are in the hospital.”

“I ain’t been to church in years.”

“I know that, but you did attend when you were a little boy. You and your sister used to come, remember? You always sat in the front pew, or as close to the front as you could get.”

Leroy grunted and turned his face away. Father O’Brien thought he saw Leroy’s stubbly chin tremble.

“Has your sister been by to see you?” Father O’Brien asked.

“Yeah,” Leroy said slowly. “Yesterday. But I felt worse after she left.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause once she found out I wasn’t gonna die, she bitched at me for...for what happened. Said she wasn’t surprised, that I’d been a screw-up all my life, and she expected me to end up like this.” Leroy turned his face away again.

Father O’Brien watched him a moment, remembering the little boy with a dirty face and patched-up clothing who used to attend Sunday Mass. Leroy’s childhood had been less than ideal, he knew.

“Well, Leroy,” Father O’Brien said, “under all that anger, your sister loves you, I’m sure. As for what happened to you, I wasn’t at the bakery last Friday evening. I don’t know exactly your involvement in the situation. But I do know that no one is perfect, and the most important thing now is that you’re alive. It seems to me that you’ve been given a second chance to turn your life around.”

“They’re gonna try me for arson and attempted murder, Father. The arraignment’s the day after tomorrow. All I wanted to do was impress Claudia, see. Rescue her. I didn’t mean for nobody to get hurt, or anything bad to happen, but I’ll probably end up in prison. I won’t have any real life after that. My sister was right, that’s probably the best place for me.”

“She was speaking in anger, Leroy. You must remember that.”

“But, Father,” Leroy said through clenched teeth, “she was right. I
am
a screw-up. You don’t understand, Father. All my life, all I ever wanted was to be like everybody else. With a real family and friends and all. Instead, I ain’t never had nothin.’ After what I’ve been through, I deserve to be happy. I tried real hard, Father, but what are you supposed to do when the people you work with hate you? When you send a pretty woman two-dozen roses and she blows you off like dirt? I had to make her understand how I feel about her. I saw her with Kyle, and I couldn’t take it no more. I love her. And now look at me. By the time they let me outta jail, I’ll be an old, scar-faced, one-handed freak.” An angry tear squeezed out of the corner of Leroy’s eye, and he brushed it away with his left hand.

“Leroy, your recovery will be difficult. You have a lot of healing to do, but listen to me. There are things you can do to make it better. Think back to when you were that little boy in the front pew, when you held strong faith in God. Try to remember that faith and find it again. It will help guide you.

“Psalm 34 tells us to ‘depart from evil and do good; seek peace, and pursue it.’ Ask for forgiveness for whatever you’ve done, from God, from those you may have hurt, and try to have faith. It is especially important that you have faith in yourself, Leroy. Whatever the unfortunate circumstances of your upbringing and recent decisions, you made it this far. Think of this as a new beginning, a chance to do good things wherever you may end up after you leave here.

“You must take a hard look at yourself, your actions, and how you treat others. Did you ever stop and ask yourself why people react to you the way they do? Regardless of what you think you deserve, no one is entitled to anything, and you are responsible for your own actions. You cannot force someone to like you or love you, but you can make it difficult for others to dislike you by earning their respect and trust. And to do that, you must respect yourself. Acknowledge your strengths and weaknesses and your mistakes. Decide what you can do to better your life and the lives of others. Make peace with yourself, Leroy, and then pursue it with others.”

Leroy had looked away again, but the young man’s face was slicked with tears. Perhaps he had gotten through to him.

“One other thing,” Father O’Brien said, laying a hand on Leroy’s left arm. “Know that I’ll be here to help you however I can. Think about what I’ve said. Even if you don’t agree with me, if you’d like some company, someone to talk to, call me. I’d be happy to visit you, here or wherever. I won’t judge you, Leroy, because that’s not my job, and any confession you make to me is confidential no matter what.” Leroy sniffed and nodded. Father O’Brien stood up from the chair. “You are in my prayers,” he said to Leroy, and left the hospital room.

As was the case after most hospital visits, Father O’Brien felt emotionally exhausted. He allowed his thoughts to wander as he drove back to Mill River. Once there, his next stop was the Wykowski house. As he approached it, he saw the police department’s new Jeep, with Ron behind the wheel, pull into the driveway long enough for Jean to hop out. Smiling, she shut the door and waved as Ron backed out and continued on toward the police station.

Father O’Brien pulled up in his pickup before Jean went inside. She backtracked down the walk to meet him as he took the small cardboard box from the seat of his truck.

“Hello, Jean,” he said. “I wondered if I might talk to you for a few minutes. I apologize for not calling before coming out here, but I didn’t catch you after the meeting last night, and I’ve been running errands all morning.” He wondered if it might be a bad time. Jean’s face was flushed, and she appeared to be a bit flustered.

Jean smoothed her tousled hair. “Oh, it’s fine, Father. I’m just glad I was here when you stopped by. But come inside, it’s freezing,” she said, turning back toward her front door. “I don’t have to be at work until ten this morning. Once Kyle left to take the kids over to school, Ron wanted to show me the new Jeep,” she said as they entered the house. “His shift’s almost over, so he took me for a quick spin before he had to have it back to the station. Could I take your coat?”

“Thank you, no,” he replied. “I’ll be here only a moment. I’ve got another errand to run after this one.”

She showed him into the living room and snatched up a few of the miniature cars that were strewn on the floor. “I’m sorry it’s kind of a mess in here. Rowen and the boys had a Hotwheels ramp set up in here yesterday. They like to crash the little cars off the coffee table, you know, like it’s a cliff.” She deposited the cars in a little pile on the sofa and sat down next to him. Her cheeks were even more flushed now.

“Goodness, a few toy cars are nothing to worry about,” he told her. “I can only imagine what some kids must get into.”

Jean smiled. “Yes. If they were here, I would’ve made sure they picked them up. But anyway, what brings you by?” Her gaze shifted to the small cardboard box on the coffee table. Father O’Brien followed her line of sight and patted the box.

“This. You’ll remember last night, at the meeting, when I said that a few bequests from Mary’s estate would be handled privately?” Jean nodded. “Well, your care helped Mary so much in the end, and she wanted for you to have what’s in this box.” He pushed it over to her and waited.

Jean reached for the box and then hesitated. “What is it?”

“Look inside. You’ll know what it is, I’m sure.”

The expression on her face when she looked down into the box was a mixture of recognition, guilt, and disbelief. She lifted Mary’s small, dark jewelry box from the cardboard container and set it down. With one finger, she traced a line across the front of it. Father O’Brien sensed her hesitation. Jean took a deep breath and slowly raised the top. Mary’s pearls, cameo, and magnificent diamond ring glowed in the red velvet interior. She gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth.

“She didn’t have much jewelry in that box,” Father O’Brien said, “but what she had was beautiful. She thought that it, and her diamond ring, especially, would bring more happiness to you than it did to her.”

Jean looked sideways at him now, tears dribbling down her cheeks. “It’s not right that I should have this. I don’t deserve this.”

“Mary thought you did, and that’s all that matters now. I’ve found she had a knack for knowing what should and shouldn’t be done, and I trust in her decision completely.”

“Still, I wouldn’t feel right wearing her jewelry,” Jean said. “There was a time not too long ago that I would’ve been thrilled to have what’s in that box. I don’t have much jewelry myself.” Father O’Brien noticed that, as she spoke, she traced her left index finger over a diamond ring on her right hand. “But things are different now. I have all the jewelry I want and I love everything I have.”

“Well, now Mary’s jewelry is yours, too, and what you do with it is up to you. You wouldn’t have to wear it, or even keep it, if you don’t want to. You could sell it and use the money for something your family needs, maybe like a college fund for your boys, or you could put it in a safe deposit box to save as a family heirloom. It’s your decision.” He slowly got to his feet and buttoned his coat.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jean said. She closed the jewelry box and stood up beside him.

Well, I’m sure whatever you decide will be right,” Father O’Brien said. “But I’ll leave you to think about it.”

“All right.”

A loud
miaow
sounded from the floor. Sham the Siamese had appeared and was weaving around his ankles.

“Hello, old friend,” he said, bending down to scratch behind the cat’s ears. “I see you’re as fat and happy as ever.”

“Too many kitty treats,” Jean said, smiling through her tears as she held the door for him. “He might have used up one of his lives in the fire. The vet treated him for smoke inhalation but said he’ll be just fine.” Jean smiled. “Thank you for coming by, Father.”

Once he was back in the cab of his pickup, Father O’Brien took a deep breath. All he had to do now was deal with the large box on the front seat beside him. He started the engine and backed out of the driveway.

He had visualized for weeks this last thing that he was about to do. If Mary could give away everything she owned, he could most certainly part with the objects that caused him so much secret shame. His stomach turned as he drove back into the center of town, past the bakery, heading toward the little brick post office. It would be difficult, yes, but he had no doubt that he would do it. He would do it for Mary.

Daisy Delaine, in her hooded parka, waved to him from the sidewalk as he passed. Her little gray dog strained on a leash out in front of her. Father O’Brien smiled and raised a hand in return. He would have to find her later on to explain that Mary had set up a trust fund to support her for the rest of her life. It still amazed him how people had sought Daisy’s company and conversation the night before, how they had looked at her as if she were a different person--and that was before everyone knew that she was Mary’s daughter. Perhaps now, after everything that had happened, things would be different for Daisy.

The three parking spaces in front of the post office were vacant when he arrived. He pulled into the space nearest the door and went around to the passenger’s side to get the box. He’d had a time getting it from the parish house into the truck. The box weighed probably fifty or sixty pounds. Now he stood with it in his trembling arms, trying to steady himself enough to nudge the door of the pickup closed with an elbow.

Feeling his arms start to give way, he took a step backwards. His heel clipped the curb, just enough to throw him off balance. The shipping box dropped to the snow-covered pavement with a loud
clang
. When he had regained his footing, he looked down at it and gasped.

There were perhaps three-dozen spoons sparkling in the snow.

Father O’Brien stooped down, hoping no one had seen him. The box had landed on its side, but the force of the impact had caused part of the bottom seam to pop open. Despite his careful packing, he hadn’t used enough tape to reinforce it.

He gathered up the spoons as quickly as he could and shoved them back into the box. Several others protruded from the seam, and he pushed those back inside as well. His breath rose in rapid, frozen puffs as he worked. By the time he finished, he was gasping for air, and his fingers were numb from touching the cold metal and the beginnings of hyperventilation. He glanced around. No one had seen the spoons, and now they were once again hidden from view. He needed only to re-tape the box.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket and found it empty.

His roll of mailing tape was back on his desk at the parish house.