The Priest and the Peaches

By Larry Peterson

The Priest and the Peaches
By Larry Peterson

(Based on a true story)
________________________________________________________________________________
Having already lost their mom to leukemia, the Peach kids are officially orphaned when their dad suddenly dies during Christmas season 1965. As the realities of "grown up" world quickly embrace them they have one important thing to do first...have a funeral for 'Pops'. His “viewing” is scheduled to begin New Year’s Eve but first Teddy and his best friend, Scratch, have to find Pop’s wooden leg which was somehow lost at the hospital.
You will be amazed and inspired as these kids confront a life they were not ready for. Teddy, 18, is the oldest and the new “head” of the family. He is determined to do his best to lead his siblings onward. Joanie, 17, is the only girl. Dancer, 14, Beeker, 10 and Joey, 6, are the boys. Teddy’s resolve is quickly shaken when their power is turned off and he also discovers that the rent is three months past due. A severe cold front has gripped the Northeast and Teddy has about $14.00 until payday. Compounding his problems is the overly intrusive and scary neighbor, Beatrice Amon, who quickly lets him know that “those children must be placed into proper homes”.
They find a welcome ally in their parish priest, Father Tim Sullivan. Father Tim, a former Golden-Glove boxer from the “Hell's Kitchen” area of Manhattan, will try his best to guide his parentless, young parishioners into the strange, uncharted and turbulent waters of “grown-up” world. The priest’s first challenge of the New Year has definitely arrived.
Take an extraordinary and unpredictable journey with the five, newly orphaned Peach kids, as they begin their struggle to remain a family while planning their dad's funeral. Based on a true story, this novel can make you smile, laugh and even cry. Journey with the Peach kids as they come to realize that the power of love and faith in God, rooted in them through their dad's constant example of L-Y-N, yields a strength of family that can overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Larry Peterson
• Release date: Mar 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311800442

Larry Peterson

Larry is a Catholic/Christian blogger and posts commentary weekly. His work has appeared in such publications as Zenit from Rome, Aleteia, New Evangelists, Top Catholic Blogs, Big Pulpit, Catholic365.com and others. His first children's picture book, "Slippery Willie's Stupid, Ugly Shoes" was published in 2011. In 2012, his full length novel, "The Priest and the Peaches" was released. His latest novel, "The Demons of Abadon", began being published in Volume form (ebook format) in the fall of 2015. The complete novel (paperback and ebook) will be available in the spring of 2016.Larry belongs to the Catholic Writer’s Guild, The Catholic Writer’s Society, The Knights of Columbus, and the St. Vincent de Paul Society. He has been an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion for over twenty years bringing communion to the homebound and hospitalized.He lives in Pinellas Park, Florida and his kids and six grandchildren all live within three miles of each other. His first wife died of cancer in 2003. He remarried four years later and is now the primary caregiver for his wife, Martha, who has Non-Hodgins Lymphoma since 2011 and came down with Alzheimer's Disease in 2012.The writer says, "God has me where he needs me and I try my best to make Him proud.Larry’s blogsite is http://www.slipperywillie.blogspot.comYou can find more at www.larrypeterson-author.com

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THE PRIEST AND THE PEACHES

LARRY PETERSON

Copyright © 2011 Larry Peterson

Except for the use of short passages for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in whole, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or any information or storage retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

Smashwords Edition 2011

Cover design: Emma Michaels

ISBN: 978-0-9837418-4-8

Tribute Books

PO Box 95

Archbald, Pennsylvania 18403

[phone]

Email: [e-mail]

Website: www.tribute-books.com

Visit the book’s web site at www.ThePriestAndThePeaches.com and email Larry Peterson at [e-mail].

For my sister and brothers

Carolyn, Danny, Bobby (1954-2007) and Johnny

Love always

Remembering

Bob Lindeman and Loretta Peterson

Always in our Hearts

A special thank you to my publisher, Nicole Langan of Tribute Books, for her ever-present support, encouragement and professionalism. You are a class act and I am proud to be associated with you.

Last but not least: To all the many kind and gentle priests who have remained always true to their faith and vocation and have been and continue to be a shining example for so many. God bless you all.

I will raise up for Myself a faithful priest:

he will do what is in My heart and in My mind, says the Lord.

1 Samuel 2:35

CONTENTS

Chapter One: If only I had…

Chapter Two: Before

Chapter Three: Now we're orphans, right?

Chapter Four: How could they lose his leg?

Chapter Five: Back to the hospital

Chapter Six: God likes to laugh too

Chapter Seven: Yimey's New Year's Eve Jamboree

Chapter Eight: The Floating Leg

Chapter Nine: What's a chastity belt?

Chapter Ten: L-Y-N

Chapter Eleven: Father KO's Trumpet Man

Chapter Twelve: I don't have any money

Chapter Thirteen: Pops' grand finale

Chapter Fourteen: The keys are in Pops' leg

Chapter Fifteen: I have five orphans living above me

Chapter Sixteen: Going to see Aunt Vera

Chapter Seventeen: Batman & Robin collapse a ceiling

Chapter Eighteen: Running from the cops

Chapter Nineteen: Father Sullivan visits Beatrice

Chapter Twenty: Beatrice Amon and the Peaches

CHAPTER ONE

"If only I had…"

Yes, doctor. All right.

Joanie hung up the phone. Bronx Hospital? How am I supposed to…I mean…who?

Thoughts were smashing around inside her head. Pops was curled up on the living room floor. He had gone from screaming in pain to sobbing, Please help me. Please do something.

Dancer was kneeling next to Pops, rubbing his father's back. Beeker and Joey were sitting on the sofa absolutely terrified. This was their father and he was crying and begging for help. The situation was backwards. The kids were supposed to be the ones who got scared and cried, not the parent. Joanie, experienced in dealing with family crises, dashed to the front window and looked down at the street. Dave Roth's car was parked in front of the building. Thank God, she yelled. Dave is still home. Dancer! Dancer!

Her brother did not answer. He was too busy rubbing Pops' back. She hurried back to him and grabbed his arm. Listen to me. Dave is still home. Go downstairs and get him before he leaves for work.

We gotta help him, Joanie. We gotta do something.

"Didn't you hear me? We are doing something. Now get down to Dave's before he leaves. Hurry up!"

Dancer snapped to it and was down the stairs as quick as a cat. Dave was just locking his apartment door. The timing could not have been better. A half-hour later, Pops was in the emergency room at Bronx Hospital. Initial diagnosis? He was having an acute attack of pancreatitis brought on by too much alcohol consumption. The pain was so intense that Pops was on the verge of going into shock. He had a fever of 103 degrees caused by an infection and his abdomen was swollen from fluid build-up. Initial treatment? Administer antibiotics, IV fluids and pain medication, then nothing to eat or drink. He would have to stay in the hospital for a few days until the pancreas calmed down. It was too soon to predict anything.

Pops, making a valiant attempt to appear okay, looked at his daughter and said, Joanie, the boys need you at home. Don't worry. I'll be fine. So let Dave bring you back. He has to get to work anyway. I'll talk to you later. Now, give me a hug and kiss and get outta here.

Joanie hugged her dad and kissed his cheek. Pops smiled and said, Hey Dave, thanks for everything. L-Y-N.

Yeah, Yimey, L-Y-N to you too. Take care of yourself.

***

Teddy, who had arrived at the legal drinking age of 18 a few months earlier, stopped at Corcoran's for a beer on the way home from work. After a few, he headed home to discover that Pops was in the hospital.

I know he was kinda moaning last night. I asked him before I left this morning if he would be okay. He said he was all right so I left for work. Never thought he'd wind up in the hospital.

Joanie, crying, said to him, Well by seven thirty, he was curled up on the floor screaming in pain. I was so scared. I swear Teddy, I thought he was going to die right there.

He put his arm around his sister's shoulder. That bad, huh? And all this is from food poisoning?

No, no. Dr. Schwartz said he wasn't sure anymore. He said it might be a case of—oh nuts, I can't remember. Something like pancree…peree…something. Oh, I don't remember. All I know is it was caused by his stupid drinking. It’s not food poisoning, that's for sure.

Drinking—oh man. Dang, I knew he was drinking too much. Hey, Scratch isn't working late again, is he? He could come with me to the hospital.

Yes, he’s working a double shift. Won't be home ‘til after midnight. And stop calling him Scratch. His name is Denis, not Scratch—it's so dumb. It sounds like he's a big itch. I hate it.

Oh c'mon, Joanie. Not that again, especially now. We have more important stuff to worry about. You oughta just get used to it.

Whatever. I don't care. I'll never get used to it. It's dumb. What's with all these crazy names anyway? Beeker? His name is Robert, and Pops started calling him Beeker and no one knows why and now he’s Beeker. And Dancer's name is James and Pops calls him Dancer and even my boyfriend, Denis, he calls Scratch. It's like they’re all cartoon characters. I swear—oh, who cares anyway? I have to go to the bathroom.

Teddy turned and saw his three brothers quietly sitting side by side on the sofa. They were frightened. He went over to them and said, Look guys, everything will be okay. I'm going to go see Pops and give him a big hug from all of you. Don't worry. Everything will be fine.

Dancer said, I want to go with you. I'm 14 and I'm not a baby. He's my father too.

C'mon, Dancer. I know you're not a baby. No one thinks you're a baby. But I need you to hang out here with Beeker and Joey. Just do me a favor and do that, okay?

Dancer said nothing and shrugged. They were all looking at Teddy and none of them believed for a second that everything was going to be fine. They had seen their father doubled over howling and crying in pain. Beeker and Joey had quiet tears in their eyes. They knew this was a very bad thing. Dancer went out into the hallway, reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette he had swiped from Teddy. Striking a match he mumbled, I'm not a little kid.

Teddy cleaned up, wolfed down a bologna sandwich and left to see his father. But first, he made a quick stop at the Celtic Tavern, over on Teller Avenue. Though not on the curriculum, part of his apprenticeship also included the fine art of beer drinking. Knowing he was going to stop for a quick one before going to the hospital was the real reason he did not want Dancer to come with him. Teddy was learning the ways of manhood well.

He had walked away from his high school graduation with a State Regents Scholarship in his pocket. It might just as well have been an old newspaper. He knew he would never use it. Uncle Billy and Pops had convinced him that, for the time being, getting into the Carpenters Union was the smarter way to go. He could always do college later. Plus, Pops was on the ropes and the family needed the money. Even Father Sullivan had told Teddy that considering the family circumstances, it was probably the right thing to do. Father's opinion was the final catalyst needed to erase any doubts in Teddy's mind about his immediate future.

Teddy made it to the hospital around eight thirty, half-schnockered. Arriving at Pops' room, he looked in and saw a doctor examining his father. He stood by the door watching, as the doctor moved the stethoscope around Pop's chest. An IV tree, with several bottles of hanging liquid, had thin tubes extending down connecting to a needle in Pops' hand. Then Teddy noticed a huge bottle sitting on the floor next to the bed. A thin hose snaked from inside Pops' nose down into the bottle. Dripping from the hose into the bottle was brown, green and black gunk. It was disgusting. Teddy's gag reflex kicked in. Immediately, the after taste of bologna and beer was in his throat. His cheeks puffed up and he put his hand over his mouth. He had to look away. He was sure he was going to puke. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Slowly the feeling passed.

He watched as the doctor touched Pops reassuringly on his shoulder. Then the doctor turned and headed to the door. He was a big man, at least 6' 4 and must have weighed close to 275 pounds. He had a round face crowned by a balding head, thin wire rimmed glasses supported by a long nose and a somewhat grungy appearance overall. He instantly intimidated Teddy as he stopped and looked at him. Hello, I'm Dr. Rothstein. I'm the chief resident. Are you here to see Mr. Peach?"

Uh, yeah. I'm his son, Ted. How is he? Is he gonna be okay?

C'mon, Ted, let's step outside for a minute.

Outside the big doctor looked hard at this nervous young man wondering why he was alone and a bit miffed at the smell of beer coming from him. So, Ted, I was not here when your father was brought in this morning. Did your mom bring him in?

Uh, no. She died a few years ago. My sister brought him in.

Dr. Rothstein was a little taken aback. Damn, that stinks. This guy is just a kid. Recovering he said, Oh, I'm sorry. So, it's just you and your sister?

We have three younger brothers too. Hey doc, what does it matter?

I'm sorry, it doesn’t. I was just curious. I expected someone, well…no matter.

Teddy did not respond and they both sort of looked at each other feeling awkward. Then Dr. Rothstein gave Teddy a quick overview of pancreatitis. He explained that excessive drinking had caused serious damage to Pops' pancreas. This caused the pancreas to overproduce digestive enzymes. These enzymes had attacked Pops' organs causing incredible pain and infection. Immediate treatment was to administer antibiotics, IV fluids and pain medication.

There would be no food or drink whatsoever. The pancreas needed to calm down. That was all that could be done. The big bottle with the gunk was fluid being pumped out of Pops' stomach to help with the calming process. Teddy thought, Just like siphoning raw sewage—GROSS.

Dr. Rothstein told Teddy that it would take Pops a few days to recover. I think he'll be okay. His blood pressure and heart rate have lowered. That’s a good sign. If his pressure drops suddenly, it could mean he’s going into shock from the pain. But we’re watching him very closely. The bottom line is this—if he keeps on drinking, it will kill him.

Teddy, quite inexperienced at this type of thing, shook Dr. Rothstein's hand and simply said, Thank you, doctor. He did not really know what to think, never mind what to ask.

He went back to Pops' room and stood just inside the doorway. He did not go in. The bottle of gunk was too much for him to deal with and he did not want to make a fool of himself. He was an 18-year-old kid oozing a know-it-all attitude reinforced by a couple of beers and his talk with the doctor.

Remembering Dr. Rothstein's shaky optimism, he said, Hey Pops, this is pretty serious. The doctor said you gotta stop the drinking, or it could kill you.

Pops said nothing. Besides pain and fear, there was a resolute sadness etched into his face. It frightened Teddy, although he did not understand it. Their eyes locked, blue on blue, father and son, sharing what would turn out to be their final moment together. Teddy thought he noticed a solitary tear drip from Pops' eye and slowly roll down onto the pillow. Still, he remained by the door.

He broke the silence saying, Okay Pops, I gotta get home. See you tomorrow. As he turned and headed to the elevator, Pops raised his hand and held up his thumb and pinky finger, but Teddy did not notice.

Walking away from the hospital, Teddy briefly stopped, turned and looked up at the third floor. He located the window of Pops' room and stared at it. Whispering, I love you, Pops, he began to cry. He knew he should go back but he didn't. That decision would transpose into a lifelong, heartbreaking memory transfixed around the words—if only I had… Sometimes, you just don't get a second chance.

CHAPTER TWO

Before

A few years earlier, the Peach family was no different than most of the other families who lived on Sherman Avenue. It was a typical Bronx neighborhood with people of diverse backgrounds and cultures crammed into apartment buildings doing their best to live their lives and get along with each other. There were some Jewish families and even some Lutherans and Presbyterians, but for the most part, the vast majority were Catholics from various ethnic backgrounds—German, Irish, Polish, Czech, Swedish, Italian. The Petrossian family was even Eastern Rite Armenian Catholic. Yet on Sundays, most families worshipped at St. Ann's Church on Morris Avenue. During the week most of the children attended the parish school.

The majority of the bread winners were hard working, blue collar workers; firemen, cops, construction workers, longshoremen, truckers, bus drivers, railroad workers and so on. Pops was a cab driver and, like most of the men in the neighborhood, had no aversion to downing a drink or two. He would usually stop for a few beers on his way home from work and shoot the breeze with the other guys.

The women usually got to know each other through their children, meeting each other as they pushed their newborns down the street in a carriage or once the little ones started school at St. Ann's. That was the way it was. As for the Peaches, their family linchpin wore out prematurely. Elizabeth Peach, wife and mother, passed away at the ripe old age of 39. Just like that, the Peaches were no longer the same as everyone else. Happy New Year, 1962.

Beeker, who was six at the time, began keeping an eye on the front door. He was sure the next twist of the knob or turn of the key or maybe the sound of footsteps outside would be his Mom. This stuff he was hearing about, something called leukemia, was dumb. He knew that they were wrong and at any moment she would be opening that door. When she did, he would be ready and make sure he was the first one to rush to her. She would bend down, grab him in her arms, and hug him till he couldn’t breathe. He watched and waited, day after day after day, but it was always someone else opening the door. His hope-filled smile slowly turned straight.

Joey, who had just turned two, was the youngest of the five kids. Besides needing to be fed, bathed, have his diaper changed, his runny nose wiped and his bottle filled with milk—he also needed something else. He needed to sit in his Mommy's lap with his head nestled into the crook of her arm while he listened to her sweetly humming Rock-a-Bye Baby. But that part of his very young life was gone forever. Behind his little chest beat a child's heart with a huge ache in it. He was like a lost puppy, weaned from his mother too soon and thrust into a scary new world of fear and loneliness. At two years old, he did not understand, he simply felt.

At that time, the Peach family also included Grandma, Pops' mother-in-law. A no-nonsense German immigrant, she had never liked Pops and ignored him as much as she could—not easy to do in a small apartment. When her daughter died, her grief dragged her to the edges of insanity. She decided that Pops had killed his wife and that he was a murdering good for nothing.

Pops worked at least 10 hours a day, five or six days a week, driving a big yellow Checker cab around New York City. He always came home with fascinating stories about the different passengers he would have. And always, without fail, he would stress how everyone was God's child no matter who they were or where they came from. He had always dreamed of someday getting his own medallion, a metal badge that fastened to the hood of the cab that proved ownership. Every year he said, Maybe next year… But it would never happen, medallions went for about 15 grand. You could buy a house in Jersey for that kind of money. So he drove for the King Cab Corporation and split the fares with them 60/40 with the majority going to King Cab. It was okay. The money he brought home paid the bills and put food on the table.

Mom's passing left Pops devastated. Like a fighter punched with a right hook to the side of the head, he was dazed and on the canvas. He tried to get up and fight back, but he didn’t have it in him. So he threw in the towel and turned command of the household over to Grandma. Pops' thought process was simple. I'm a man. They NEED a woman. Grandma is not only a woman she is their grandmother, too. But I can't be around her. Okay, I have no choice. Oh man, I need a drink. So he headed down the street to Corcoran's Pub and left his five kids with a new general.

The Peach family was cruising along the road of life. Now their engine was sputtering and backfiring. They were rolling along as if they were lost and had two flat tires. Pops was drinking more. He was driving the cab less, and he was getting home later and later. Father Sullivan knew the family well. He had trained Teddy as an altar boy and had worked closely with his mother when she was president of the St. Ann's PTA. Since her death, he had quietly kept tabs on the Peaches. He suggested to Monsignor McNally that it might be a good idea to give Pops some part time custodial work at St. Ann's. Monsignor, wanting to help Pops out as much as he could, quickly agreed. So Pops began working several days a week at the church and school. Driving his cab only two days a week, he was bringing home about half the money that he used to.

Harry, their grocer, offered Teddy some part-time work. After school, he’d arrive at four o’clock and quickly change his clothes, stock shelves, do general clean-up duties and deliver groceries. He’d make it home close to six thirty and then have to tackle homework—and if there was one thing the Marist Brothers at St. Michael's High knew how to do—it was to give homework. On Saturdays, he worked from ten until six. He was worn out, but the money was sorely needed.

Joanie, still in eighth grade at St. Ann's, was quite unprepared to be thrust into the role of probationary mommy. She was busy thinking about Stevie Cunningham who lived up the block. For some reason, he had gone from being a real pain to being VERY cute. The eighth grade dance was coming up. Would he ask her to go? If not, would he at least ask her to dance with him? Was he even going to go? Was she too fat? She knew for sure that her chest was way too small, especially if compared to the overly endowed Diane Carlucci, who all the boys were always staring at, including Stevie.

Yes, things had changed. Stevie Cunningham, and other such foolish things that filled the heads of normal 13-year-old girls, were put on hold. School work, starting high school, evolving boobs, applying lipstick, lamenting over light brown hair that would never cooperate with a comb and brush and other childish concerns—now ran a distant second to the tasks at hand. Only six months earlier, Mom had taken Joanie to Alexander's Department Store and bought her her first bra. Joanie was so proud that she actually made sure that she wore a blouse that would be transparent enough to allow the bra straps to be visible underneath. Full womanhood was around the corner. But Grandma had a different concept of womanhood. So did the nuns at St. Ann's.

The good Sisters at school truly cared and wanted to help. But their daily advice to Joanie on how to take care of her family and what her duties and responsibilities were, overwhelmed her. She did not want to hear how this was God's will or how this was her cross to bear.

She especially did not want to hear how happy her Mom was in heaven. Joanie was happy that Mom was happy, but she would have been happier if Mom was in the kitchen fixing supper or maybe helping her with her hair. My God, Joanie thought, they're even telling me how to change diapers. They're nuns. What could they know about changing diapers? The nuns had no need to be concerned. Joanie had a new guidance counselor and maternal role model at home.

Grandma wasted no time in implementing her new curriculum. Intense instruction in washing clothes, ironing, food shopping at the A&P, dusting, mopping floors, washing windows, bed making and toilet scrubbing filled the training schedule. Grandma's favorite, however, was scrubbing woodwork. She obsessed about this facet of home care. Every week it had to be done.

Grandma did love her granddaughter and probably, because of her own background, thought she was doing the right thing. But she was a bitter, unhappy woman who hated her life. No one ever talked about or even mentioned her husband. It was like he never existed. Her son, Conrad, had been killed at age 20 in World War II during the invasion of Normandy. Now her only other child, Elizabeth, was gone. Grandma was even angry with God