Tender Mercies

By Rita M. Reali

Pregnant and ostracized, 16-year-old Dani seeks out her long-ago religion teacher for help. She never expected his reaction.

Gary Sheldon's former students could always turn to him with any problem. His wife, Michaela, has been supportive of his involvement in their lives thus far; but when two teens divulge si

• Language: English
• Publisher: Little Elm Press
• Release date: Jun 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9780996680097

Rita M. Reali

Rita M. Reali is a professional copywriter, proofreader and editor. A writer ever since she could hold a pencil, she is a national award-winning journalist, an award-winning visual artist, photographer and parody songwriter. This onetime radio announcer, who was admittedly "bitten by the radio bug" at an early age, weaves elements of the broadcast world and its assorted quirky personalities into her novels. A native and longtime resident of Connecticut, Rita now lives in Middle Tennessee with her husband... and the soon-to-be-fulfilled promise of a big dog and a lapful of cats. Diagnosis: Love is her debut novel.

Book preview

Tender

Mercies

by

Rita M. Reali

little_elm_press

Little Elm Press

This is a work of fiction. Any fictional characters’ similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is wildly coincidental. Real sites used in this book may include features that have been deliberately fictionalized.

Copyright 2022, Rita M. Reali.

Cover by Al Esper Graphic Design.

Author photo by J. Addeo, November 1991.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, whether currently in existence or which may exist in the future – without the expressed written permission of the publisher.

For information regarding permission, contact Little Elm Press: [e-mail].

Contact the author via email: [e-mail]. Like Rita M. Reali, Author on Facebook for news about upcoming events and book releases. And be sure to join our Facebook fan group, The Sheldon Family Saga, to connect with other readers (and the author).

Reali, Rita M.

Tender Mercies

ISBNs:

Paperback:      978-0-9966800-8-0

Ebook:            978-0-9966800-9-7

Printed in the U.S.A.

First American edition, June 2022

Acknowledgments

Huge thanks to my thought-provoking, compassionate and eagle-eyed editor, Elisa Krochmalnyckyj, for her expertise and insight during the final editing process, encouragement along the way and allowances for my literary quirks.

Thanks, too, to my adopted sister, Monica Hackett, for her periodic Get to work and write something exhortations.

Thanks to Christina M. Eder of GuestStarCoaching.com, for her persistent joyfulness and enthusiasm for my deeply flawed characters – and her unflagging confidence in their ability to prevail (and her utter delight when they do so).

Copious thanks to:

– My husband, Frank, who after nearly thirty years still has not made good on this threat to put me out in the garage to fuss over my fictional characters.

– My ace team of alpha and beta readers: Gloria Casale, Tim Claflin, Joe Clarizio, Leah DiVenere, Leslie DiVenere, Kim Dwelley, Dee Lynk, Patti Pensanti and Joanne Reilly. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without your insights and feedback!

– The Write Away! writers group at the Art Circle Public Library in Crossville, for their support and encouragement along the way.

And endless thanks to you, my dear reader, for being the reason I wrote this in the first place.

Dedications

For Frank and Gloria Casale

Whenever I think of the concept of Tender Mercies, Frank and Gloria’s faces immediately come to mind. Their kindness and generosity shines through in everything they do. They live their faith. They embody Christ’s love. They speak Christ’s love – every day – without saying a word. And they radiate Christ’s love. What more can I say? I love you guys!

For Dee Lynk (fellow award-winning author)

Your steadfast friendship has been a light in my world. I value your warmth, kindness, wisdom and humor. When you offer feedback, whether to new or veteran writers, it’s always well thought out and delivered in a spirit of helpful gentleness. You consistently bring out the best in those around you – and you make folks want to be their optimal selves. Your input and contributions to Tender Mercies have been invaluable! Thank you, Dee, for being a voice of encouragement during the writing and revision process (amid countless lunches and laugh fests), and for touching my life with your joyous faith-filled presence, continual support and the generous gift of yourself. I love you, my friend!

Author’s Note

This book deals with a variety of adult situations, including domestic abuse, incest and death. If you suspect someone you care about may be involved in an abusive situation or relationship, please urge them to seek help. Contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-SAFE. The hotline is staffed around the clock If you’re in an abusive relationship, seek help. To find local resources, dial 211 and an operator will help you. If 211 services are not supported where you live, visit www.211.org for assistance.

Tender

Mercies

Chapter 1

(8:35 a.m., August 21, 1995 – Monday)

Gary finished his last swallow of coffee, then stood and leaned to kiss his wife. It’s getting late. I’d better go. Breakfast was great. Thanks, honey.

Michaela followed him to the front door. She rested a hand on his back. Glad you finally got your appetite back. When d’you think you’ll be home?

His brow furrowed as he considered this. Probably not ’til eight thirty. Maybe even nine. Got two days of work to catch up on. He drew her into a hug. As he held her close, Gary rasped his newly bearded cheek back and forth against her face.

At first, Micki giggled. Then, squirming to get away, she pushed him back. Gary… stop that!

He held on to her for several seconds as she continued trying to wriggle free. Then he let go of her, staring in innocent wonder as she pulled loose. What? A ghost of a smile played about his lips.

"You know what!"

"Know what? he protested. I was hugging my favorite wife."

You were doing no such thing, she accused, trying to look fierce and repress laughter at the same time.

"I was hugging my least-favorite wife?"

Scowling, Michaela thumped at his chest with a loosely curled fist. You were tickling me!

Gary’s eyes widened in incredulity. I was not! I was just being affectionate.

You were tickling me, she insisted.

He folded his arms. You always claim not to be ticklish. So which is it? You can’t have it both ways. And if one or the other is true, why were you pushing me away? He broke into a broad grin.

She gestured toward his face. You were tickling me with that mangy excuse for a beard!

"Is that so? As I recall, you wanted me to grow this ‘mangy excuse for a beard’ in the first place, he reminded Micki, drawing her back into his arms for a proper hug. You thought it’d look sexy. ‘Hot,’ if I recall your precise wording. So don’t start complaining about it now."

He’d begun growing it last week, after he came home sick from work Wednesday morning. After four days of not feeling well enough to get out of bed for more than quick trips to the bathroom, Gary had the makings of a decent beard. Michaela, who’d never seen him with more than two days’ stubble, urged him to let it grow in.

Now she tensed in his arms, expecting another whisker-y onslaught. But none came. Still, she turned her face away, just in case, so his cheek rested against the back of her head. She felt more than heard her foiled husband’s throaty laughter.

Okay, you, Gary said at last, drawing back from her a bit. I gotta run. Have a good day. I love you. And yes, I’ll stop at the store and pick up more pastina.

As she tipped her head up for a kiss, he gave her behind a fond pat.

When he got to the station, it seemed everyone had something to say about Gary’s new look.

Hey, it’s Grizzly Adams! the morning man exclaimed from the corridor leading to the main lobby.

Not even close, the sales manager replied with a good-natured chuckle. It’d take him six years to come close to looking like Grizzly Adams.

"You’re right, Charlie. Your mustache looks more like Grizzly Adams’ than Spike’s does," Ken agreed.

Wow! Good thing this is radio, Pete commented with a grin when he saw the music director. What happened to you?

Oh, don’t listen to them, Gary, Brenda reassured him, giving a dismissive wave in the program director’s direction. I think it looks nice on you.

It really does, Barb Dwyer concurred. It makes you look distinguished. And you know those dorks are only teasing you out of jealousy. They can’t stand to see a guy who looks better than they do with facial hair.

Is that what it is? Gary asked.

Look, I think he’s blushing, Brenda teased, only it’s so hard to tell with that new crop of face fur.

Hearing the commotion from the lobby, midday jock Steffi Kinkead poked her head out from the DJ prep area. Hey, would you guys keep it down? Some of us are trying to work in here, she teased.

When Gary turned around, she let out a feigned gasp, then gave an approving nod that set her perky ponytail bobbing. Wow – that’s really a good look for you.

Thanks, he replied guardedly. He and Steffi had always had an adversarial relationship, so he hadn’t expected any sort of complimentary words.

Yeah, it covers more of your face.

I should’ve expected that. Smirking, Gary shook his head. Guess I walked right into that. Thanks so much, Stef. I knew I could count on you.

She shrugged. Didn’t want to disappoint you on your first day back.

Well, I appreciate that, he replied coolly. Then he looked around at the others. Okay, you guys have had your fun. Now, if you’re done mocking me, may I please get to work?

One by one the others drifted back to the broadcast studio, the prep area, news room or sales bullpen. Pete returned to his office and Brenda to her desk in the reception area.

In his mail slot Gary found last week’s paycheck and a stack of production orders. It seemed the sales staff had been working overtime. After stuffing the envelope with his check into his back pocket, he flipped through the work orders. Most of them were for car dealerships or furniture stores, with copy for their upcoming Labor Day specials. And a few back-to-school sales thrown in for variety.

Heading to the production rooms, he found them both vacant – with no one signed up to use them until early afternoon. He scribbled Spike across the time slots from 9:30 ’til 12:30 in Studio 2 and retrieved his headphones from his office.

Two hours later, he emerged from production with all his commercials recorded. He returned the copy sheets to the sales secretaries, then headed toward the broadcast studio to file the stack of newly recorded spots in the carousel beside the control board.

Steffi looked up from perusing the morning newspaper. Hi, Gar’. Sorry ’bout before. I was just kinda playing with you. You feeling better?

Now on guard against an ambush, he asked, Why? Does the sight of me still make you sick?

She looked hurt. I’m serious, Gary. Are you feeling better?

Unusual that Steffi was being civil. He offered a slight smile. Yeah. I am. Thanks for asking. He finished filing the commercials and headed back to his office, where a pile of work awaited him.

Just before one, starting to feel hungry, Gary grabbed his keys and headed toward the lobby.

Gotta run some errands, he told Brenda. Be back in an hour. Little guy’s out of pastina. Need anything while I’m at the market?

We could use some half and half. And if you’re going by the bank, can you bring back samples? Tens and twenties would be perfect.

Gary grinned. I’ll see what I can do.

On his way back in, he stopped at Brenda’s desk. All they had today was fifties and hundreds. I would’ve gotten you some, but you specifically asked for tens and twenties. Sorry.

Brenda grinned and handed Gary his messages.

Taking them, he headed down the hall. In the on-air studio, he set a paper bag on the countertop in front of Steffi.

What’s this? she asked.

Ham and cheese on whole wheat and a Coke. Thought you might be hungry.

Thanks. She looked and sounded surprised at the unexpected generosity. What do I owe you?

Gary shrugged. A little decency now and then and we’ll call it even.

Chapter 2

(8:15 a.m., September 16 – Saturday)

It was the first day of religious-education classes at St. John of the Cross Parish in Middlebury. Class wouldn’t start ’til 9, but Gary liked to have everything in order well before the children arrived. This year’s class list showed fifteen students. He recognized several of the kids’ surnames – he’d taught many of their elder siblings in prior years.

This would be his fourteenth year teaching first-grade CCD. He’d accepted the role upon joining the parish in 1982, at the behest of the director of religious education; he agreed to commit to one year after the intended first-grade teacher backed out at the last moment. Only eighteen at the time, Gary had been terrified at the prospect of teaching children. As it turned out, he loved the volunteer role so much he stayed on, year after year. Last year, he’d even taught a first-year confirmation class. His students and their parents loved him. He always made himself available to address parents’ concerns, either before or after class – or after Mass on Sundays. The kids grew to know Gary as an adult they could always trust and confide in. Over the years, many turned to him for advice and comfort when they faced difficult situations in their lives.

Michaela understood the role he fulfilled for his students and, for the most part, she remained supportive. But on occasion, she let Gary know when she felt he was too wrapped up in his students’ lives.

He could hardly blame her. He knew he was guilty of sometimes putting his past CCD students’ concerns ahead of his own family’s. Before he left this morning, he promised Micki he’d make more of an effort this year to keep his interactions with his former students to a minimum.

He’d already printed out thirty copies of The Rules – two for each child. One copy was for them to carry; the other was to hang on the refrigerator at home. Loosely paralleling the Ten Commandments, they were the ten rules of conduct he expected of his students, both in and out of class. They included such directives as Obey your mom and dad, Be happy with what you have, No lying and No bad words. After removing the stack of photocopies from a large envelope and laying them on his desk, Gary wrote the list on the blackboard. Then, wiping his chalk-dusted hands against his jeans, he made his way toward the staid rows of child-sized furniture and moved the armless wooden chairs against the back wall.

At the start of his first class in ’82, he realized after sitting at desks in school all week, the kids would probably feel more comfortable sitting on the rug. Besides, at six-foot-two, he’d have towered over them – and he didn’t want to seem imposing or frightening. So, since that first week, Gary always taught his classes seated on the floor, with the kids gathered around him. Granted, it was a lot easier to sit on the floor at eighteen than at thirty-one, but he felt it was important for him to be at the children’s eye level instead of standing – or even sitting – and looking down at them. And now, with three kids of his own, he realized what a difference it made.

Having finished his classroom preparations, Gary settled into the teacher’s desk chair and pulled his treasured rosary from his pocket. After making the sign of the cross, he touched its sterling crucifix to his lips as he began to pray.

The black-onyx rosary had belonged to his grandfather, Edward P. Sheldon – a gift from Josie, his bride, on their wedding day in April 1932. As had been Grandpa’s custom, the old man was walking the beach, praying the rosary, when he died.

Upon completing the Joyful Mysteries, Gary still had ten minutes before the first students were due. Pocketing the rosary beads, he opened the door of his classroom and stepped into the corridor. A few other classroom doors stood open. He stopped in to visit briefly with the second- and fourth-grade teachers. Relationships were important to Gary, and he liked to maintain contact with his fellow teachers.

Chapter 3

(October 21, 1995 – Saturday)

It was already after 11. If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late. Again. And he still had to stop at the grocery store for more pastina. Since he started on solid food in mid August, ten-month-old Michael was devouring that stuff like crazy!

Just as he pulled the door shut, Gary heard a hesitant female voice calling his name.

Looking up, he found Jessica Posner, a second-year confirmation student, approaching. He tried to sound more casual than alarmed. Jess… what brings you here? This was no chance encounter. Confirmation class was Monday night. She had come here this morning specifically to see him.

Can I talk to you? Her voice sounded little-girlish.

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, Gary fumbled for the classroom keys. Yeah. C’mon, let’s go inside. What’s up? he asked over his shoulder as he unlocked the door.

I don’t wanna be confirmed.

The statement caught Gary off guard. Especially coming from Jessica. And certainly given the defiant manner in which she delivered it: hands on hips, lower lip thrust out in a pout.

He tried not to let his astonishment show. Jess was one of the most poised, delightful and faith-filled students he’d ever taught. Why’s that, Jess? Micki was waiting, but this didn’t sound like it could keep. Gary steered the girl inside.

I don’t believe in God.

What? That declaration hit him harder than her first. Again he tried not to show the shock that tore through him like bullets. Gary pulled up two first-graders’ chairs.

Tears welling in her eyes, Jess drooped into one of them.

Gary sat in the other. Tell me why you say that. He leaned forward to listen, elbows resting on knees that jutted upward, well above the low wooden seat.

She shrugged. I just don’t believe in Him anymore.

He wanted to grab her by the shoulders, give her a shake and shout, Are you out of your mind, girl? How could you say something like that?! But he didn’t.

He wouldn’t.

And Jessica knew that. Which was why she could come to Gary with a faith crisis. It was why any kid who’d been through his CCD or confirmation class could go to Gary with any problem. He listened. He cared. He understood.

And he usually managed to come up with the words they needed to hear. His voice was as gentle as the hand that reached for hers. You don’t believe in Him?

No. The word was accompanied by a pout and a sniffle.

Well, He believes in you.

Now the tears threatened to spill over. She turned away. No He doesn’t.

Jessica. Why do you think that?

"Because I prayed for my mother to get better and He ignored me. He’s making her die!"

Oh, God, help! Please don’t let me say the wrong thing. Not now. This is way too important. Jessica, honey – he held her hand – "I know it may seem like God’s ignoring you. But believe me: He’s not. He always hears when we pray."

"Then why’s my mom dying? the teen demanded, her face scrunching up. She made no move to wipe away her tears. God expects us to be all, ‘Oh, You’re so wonderful and terrific and we worship You for being so great’ – and even when we do play along with His stupid games, He still lets awful shit happen – she gesticulated with both hands – all the time! And it isn’t fair!"

Gary looked down. I’m so sorry, Jess. I had no idea your mom was… He gave a feeble shrug.

Dying, she snapped. "You can say the word, Gary! Dying."

He nodded. Dying, he acknowledged in a whisper. I had no idea she was dying. I’m sorry. I can see why you’re angry. He fell silent for a moment, praying to the Holy Spirit for words to help Jess find her way back to her faith. I know this isn’t easy to understand, honey, but when awful things happen, we have to rely on our faith in God to carry us through… and realize that there’s a reason for it.

The girl gave a defiant toss of her head, sending her hair flying. "Yeah? And what might that be?"

He shook his head. "I’m sorry, Jess. I honestly don’t know. But our faith calls us to believe that God does know." He felt helpless giving that reply, but he didn’t have any other answer.

But why does she have to die? she lashed out. "And why now? I need her!"

I know you do, sweetie. I know you need her. I’m sorry this is so painful. And I’m sorry I don’t have better answers for you. We’re just human, you and me. There’s no way we can figure out what God’s thinking. But I’m sure He’s got reasons, Jess. Reasons we couldn’t possibly imagine.

But it’s not fair!

No. It isn’t. Gary shook his head. "He never promised life would be fair… or easy. But what He does promise is, if we turn to Him, He’ll walk with us in our suffering… and He’ll share our pain and our sorrow. If you turn to Him, Jessica, you’ll realize how much He really does care."

Well, if He cares so much, then why’s he making her die?

Sweetie, listen. I know it’s hard to understand. And I know it sounds like I’m just spouting crap here, but death is part of life. No matter how hard we try, no one leaves this world alive. Even Christ had to die before He could live again. We just have to trust that God knows what He’s doing… and He’s got everything under control.

Gary had a sudden recollection of a day on the beach with Michaela four years earlier. While watching the sunset, his wife saw the green flash for the first