The Voyage of Father Gibbons with Sister M. Magda

By J.T. Evergreen

After decades of searching to find his niche in life, Mathew Gibbons became a priest of the Catholic Church and immediately found himself at the scene of a murder in the tower of the church he was assigned to. To make matters worse, the murderer confessed the murder to him in the confessional which put additional pressure on Matt to expose the murderer without breaking the seal of the confessional

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.T. Evergreen
• Release date: Jul 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463705926

J.T. Evergreen

OCCUPATION - Retired from the grind. Reflecting on successes, failures, and regrets. Exploring new aspects of self, writing that book which will get me an Oscar, staying out of trouble - well, small amounts of trouble are ok. Bringing joy into people's lives with random acts of kindness - the ones who aren't expecting it are the best. Cheering up check-out clerks at WalMart.ABOUT ME - Alone in blessed singleness. Wicked sense of humor, enjoy my own company, glad I'm not young any longer. I do miss the intimacy of being in love. A good catch . . . at least I think so. Enjoy the possibilities of every moment, an imagination that won't quite, a master weaver - give away everything I make, excellent portrait painter, a national treasure - though no one agrees with me, a good listener, intuitive, a good conversationalist, avoid boredom and boring people at all costs - that's a career all by itself.INTERESTS - Intelligent conversation: hard to come by these days, metaphysics, mysticism, my pups - Charlie, Max, and Bailey, seeing the funny side of life, going to Macy's at Christmas time - kicking Santa and punching an Elf. If I had a singing voice, which I don't, I would sing all of the time, wherever I was - even in WalMart. Wouldn't that be enchanting? When I receive the Oscar for the book I'm writing, I will have some baritone sing On A Clear Day, and I will lip sync his voice. It will wow the audience.PUBLICATIONS – Short Stories to celebrate the NEW YEAR - 23 delightful short stories; Alone at the Beach 25 short stories to keep you company, Home Alone, 8 Great Stories to keep you company, Born in the Twilight, Injun Summer, This’nThat, Short Stories for a Summer’s Day. Holiday Short Stories, With All My Love, Father Frederick Monahan, Shangri la, Stepping Stones to God, I’m Gay Mother – Get Over it, The Olde Book Shoppe, Naked Before God, The Italian Call Boy, The Silence of Healing, Death of a Pope, The Best Short Stories Ever, and My Love Affair with Father Tomas McTavish, working on a new character, Father Gibbon with Sister Mary Magda in TheAdventure of Father Gibbon with Sister M. Magda - it's about murder. I get choked up when I re-read some of my sentimental stories. I’m told that’s a sign of being a good writer.LOVES - Color and lots of it, strawberry jam, hiking up Yosemite Falls, Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, sourdough bread, only made in San Francisco. Hearst Castle, Big Sur, sea air, Adams peanut butter, chocolate milk, rainy days, canaries singing, chocolate chip cookies my mother made, Greek yogurt with honey - oh, yum. Laughter. I make it a point of doing this many times a day.HATES - Stupidity, insensitivity, bad table manners - come on, how difficult is it to hold a fork properly - it's not a shovel for God's sake. Snow, ice, slush, freeway traffic, lima beans - what was God thinking, sleepless nights, people who are late, texting - it's a cop-out, tobacco, alcohol, red meat,FAVORITE BOOKS - The Spiritual Journey of Joel S. Goldsmith, How to Win Friends and Influence People - I collect this book and give them to people I hate - there's a waiting list.FAVORITE MUSIC – Let's Talk Dirty to the Animals – Gilda Radner - funny lady;; Joplin’s Peachrine, Ahmad Jamal - Country Tour - the absolute best jazz - never tire of it. Someone Waits for You – Carly Simons, Helen Kane singing Button Up Your Overcoat and I Want to Be Bad – I relate to the lyrics. And the Tenor who sang Springtime for Hitler in the Zero Mostel version of The Producers. No one seems to know who he is. What a voice.FAVORITE FILMS – The Celluloid Closet, Witness for the Prosecution, It Could Happen to You, Maltese Falcon, Inherit the Wind, 12 Angry Men, Harold and Maude, Murder on the Orient Express, Hope and Glory, Sorry Wrong Number, Speed, Practical Magic, Apollo 13, Where the Red Fern Grows, The original Producers - touch me, hold me - Estelle was terrific, and Zero - what can I say.FAVORITE TV SHOWS - I don't watch TV any more, but when I did . . . 2-1/2 men - when it was good. Everybody loves Raymond - some great writers; best sight gagsFAVORITE QUOTES – The poetry in writing is the illusion it creates: by me. Lord Chesterfield: “Sex: the pleasure is momentary, the position ridiculous, and the expense damnable.” The saddest words of tongue or pen are these - It might have been - indeed they are. If you want to make a success out of old age, you better start now: my mother when I was 15. On a clear day, you really can see forever - you just have to look. I may be rancid butter, but I'm on your side of the bread. Inherit the Wind.FAMILY – A father who was emotionally absent, a mother who provided all the necessities of life and nothing more. An older brother who is a classic socio-psychopath and made my childhood a misery. I hide from everything just to survive. My right of passage came when I was 18 and joined the Naval Air Reserves. In boot camp I hide in the back row the first day, and guess whose name they called to be the Company Commander – me. But it was the best thing that could have happened and I bless that moment. I had to lead those 50 plus men and boys for 90 days. The night of graduation we drilled in front of the audience and it was perfect. The guys carried me from the hangar in triumph. I came out of the shadows that summer and never went back. I'm a louse when it comes to cleaning house, too many other more enjoyable things to do.“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a Line,Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”Omar Khayyam

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The Voyage of Father Gibbons with Sister M. Magda

Copyright 2019 J.T. Evergreen

Published by J.T. Evergreen

at Smashwords

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Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Khris Lawrentz for his tireless proofreading.

The Voyage of Father Gibbons with Sister M. Magda

CHAPTER ONE

As told by Christopher Gibbons

My brother, Matthew, and I are identical twins. We were born ten minutes apart. Except for the birthmark under Matt’s left arm, no one can tell us apart. Well, that’s not entirely true. Mom could tell us apart – most of the time. No, some of the time. Dad, on the other hand, did not have patience with our tomfoolery so, we had a secret sign for him so he’d know. I’d touch my left earlobe and Matt would touch his right. Sometimes that even confused dear old Dad. Once, he suggested we have our names tattooed on our arms. Mother almost passed out when she heard that. If nothing else, Dad had a sense of humor that carried us through some tough times.

We took advantage of our identicalness in every way possible. In high school, we would exchange shirts mid-day which added to the confusion of our friends and teachers. It was fun and we had a great time together.

I knew Matt better than anyone in the world. You love your parents for their love and caring. But the love for a twin is entirely different. There is something mystical and selfless about it. I often thought of the day when we would depart this world. Would we depart together? I couldn’t imagine being left behind. It was unimaginable to me. But that was off in the future. For the present, I knew something was wrong the minute he walked in the door. Matt?

What?

Nothing. His tone told me to go no further. I could hear him in the kitchen slamming cabinet doors, rummaging around in the fridge. I’d seen him like this before. Was it over or just beginning? This time I wasn’t so sure. I moved quietly into my room and lay on the bed reading. Twenty minutes later he came in and flung himself on the bed next to me. He lay on his stomach facing away from me but close enough to where I could smell his scent. He said nothing, he just let out a great sigh. I maneuvered one leg close enough to barely touch him. He rolled over and made hard contact with me. Neither one of us said a word – it wasn’t necessary. A few minutes later he got up and left the apartment. He was obviously restless but wasn’t ready to talk about it. All I could do was embrace him in my heart and wait.

Our years in college began to show a divergence. He majored in science and girls, I had a tough time holding my own in economics and the arts. He was fascinated with World War II and Anne Bancroft. I began writing stories and articles for the