Flanagan’s Family: Part 1

By Vito Belcastro

Within that building, Michael McGinty, a Catholic priest and a New York City Police chaplain stood stolidly amidst a group of soon to be NYPD Academy graduates. He was holding court, as he liked to call it. Although the actual Academy was located in Queens Borough, for some reason a police official had decided to have the graduation in Manhattan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798823005791

Vito Belcastro

Vito is an author of two published material: FLANAGAN’S FAMILY and FLANAGAN’S FAMILY. You can expect for more series continuation from him as his creative mind doesn't stop him from writing.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

AND SO IT BEGINS

Intermittent shades of dark and light gray formed an intrusive cloud cover, hovering over Midtown on the island of Manhattan. It reached down to the mid-height buildings, allowing the peaks of taller buildings to poke out slightly above its billowing crest.

Occasional flashes of lightning just north of the City heralded an encroaching storm.

While not actually cold it was still a bit breezy.

A reasonably well built, New York City police captain clad in full dress blues, strode hastily towards one of those mid-level buildings as quickly as he could. His eyes were squinting and his brows were drawn down above them.

Why didn’t I bring a raincoat? he asked himself.

As yet, however, no rain was falling.

Within that building, Michael McGinty, a Catholic priest and a New York City police chaplain stood stolidly amidst a group of soon to be NYPD academy graduates. He was holding court, as he liked to call it. Although the actual academy was located in Queens Borough, for some reason a senior police official had decided to have the graduation in Manhattan.

The recruits were animated, asking any number of questions. Those he knew the answers to, he did answer. Those that escaped him he replied, Uh, that’s classified, and for the present, uh, above your pay grade. So far, none of them had caught on to his ruse.

Mike was just a shade beneath six feet tall and around one hundred and ninety pounds. He was healthy for his age, and as strong as anyone could be in his condition. He had recently quit smoking and felt much better, even though occasionally he still craved the cigarettes. He wore a dark suit with a black button less shirt and his clerical collar.

The group separated slightly as a police captain in full uniform walked through them. He was puffing on a cigarette, strictly forbidden by fire laws in this very public building, but no one stopped him, or even seemed to care. His name tag read, Evans, but he looked more Italian than Irish or Anglo-Saxon. His face was narrow which emphasized his Roman-Greco nose. Like McGinty he was husky, but not really fat.

Nicky, McGinty greeted, obviously happy to see him. "Welcome. I guess these are your boys now.

Gentlemen, this is Captain Nick Evans. Some of, if not many of you might be reporting to him in one way or another.

Nick was attached to the office of NYPD Chief of Patrol Dennis Meyer.

Most of the graduates snapped to attention, but not all of them. Captain Evans did not seem to notice. Two of them started coughing as Evans’ smoke encircled their heads.

Oh, sorry, Captain Evans apologized. My wife keeps tellin’ me I gotta give them up. He picked up a half empty, supposedly discarded coffee cup and dropped the still burning stub into the liquid. It made a solid hiss and was then silent. Ya can’t smoke in the open down at One Police Plaza. And they’re a really bad habit that I’m havin’ trouble breakin.

Sergeant Timothy Flynn, who worked for Evans and who had been drinking from that very cup, frowned. Chaplain McGinty could not suppress a smile.

I can sympathize, Nicky; McGinty replied, hoarsely. The bishop was always on my butt about ’em. Uh, no pun intended. One time he caught me down in the basement at Saint Pats. Language like that should not come outta one of Rome’s princes, if ya get my drift?

Nick nodded vigorously, a tear of laughter forming in his eye, which he blotted with his sleeve.

Ya don’t have to tell me. He related between chuckles, I have been on the wrong end of one of his eminence’s tirades, myself. Colorful does not begin to describe it. I thought cops could really curse, but we ain’t got nuthin’ on the clergy.

Grinning broadly, Father McGinty nodded his support. Best thing I ever did, he added, Giving them up. You ain’t getting’ any younger pal. You should chuck the habit too.

Evans nodded knowingly, emphasized by a slight cough. Yer right Mikey. He agreed, "I got no valid argument.

You know as well as I do that it would make Maeve happy. Nick pointed out.

Maeve was Nick’s wife.

I know yer all gonna have a lotta questions over the next few days, Captain Evans announced, but for the moment, it’s time to catch a fresh breath. He chuckled once more and added, Especially after that butt I just threw out. There will be time for questions later. Go find your families and relax.

Then to McGinty, he said, Mike, wanna get some coffee? As McGinty nodded a vigorous yes, one lingering recruit said, Sir, pardon my asking, but you look more Italian than an Evans.

Evans looked at the young man, from face to feet and back again.

The kid was just over six feet tall and looked somewhat muscular beneath his brand new uniform.

Nick wondered if the little shit was trying to curry favor.

Not wishing to put the kid off just before graduation, he said, American government at work, Son. When my granddad came through Ellis Island, they couldn’t pronounce his name so they changed it to Evans.

Italian? the recruit asked, seeming truly interested.

Well, Evans answered, Yes and no.

To the boy’s puzzled expression he explained, "He was Greco Sicilian, but almost pure Greek. The family name was Evanopolis. He was from Syracuse in the old country. Married another Greek, who was actually from the homeland, the first year he was here. They ended up in Astoria, up in Queens. That is one big Greek part of town.

What’s your name, Son? Evans asked.

Uh, Davy, David, Sir, David Keith? If you’ll excuse me now Sir, I have to go meet my family, like, ah, you said, Sir.

Sure, Evans agreed, You go on ahead. Nice meeting you Keith. Here’s hopin’ you have a real future ahead of you.

Something about the kid reminded Nick of someone but he couldn’t figure out whom. He noticed the same recognition in Father Mike’s eyes.

As the new recruit turned to leave, Captain Evans added, And Keith, stay safe out on those streets, eh.

Offhandedly saluting once more, and with a slightly confused half smile, David Keith took his leave.

Evans was chuckling. I love sayin’ that, he revealed, Ever since that TV show.

Captain Evans scratched his head. He was sure he had never met Keith, but something about the new recruit seemed familiar.

Now, Mike McGinty said, rubbing his hands together, About that drink….

Coffee, Mike, Evans reminded him plainly, I said coffee.

Yea, coffee, that’s what I meant, coffee. Coffee’s a drink right? McGinty replied just a little too quickly, with a soft red tinge to his deeply smiling features.

As they exited the building, Mike McGinty glanced to his left and saw David Keith being greeted by a very proud family.

Sonuva….. McGinty began;

But Evans finished the sentence with ….Bitch!

So my eyes ain’t playin’ tricks on me. You see him too.

Eddie Flanagan, Evans intoned, softly, I thought he was in Florida.

Yea, McGinty added, That’s what I heard. Now I remember. He had a daughter, Theresa. She married a Philadelphia cop…uh, Keith, Dominic Keith.

Evans glanced sideways at his friend. He knew that McGinty had studiously kept his priestly vows of celibacy. A chuckle began to rise in his throat, but he stifled it. He looked appreciatively at Theresa, and then settled his sight back on her father.

He remembered that Theresa had been best friends with his wife Maeve all through high school. As far as he knew they still talked on the phone. In fact, he was relatively sure they video-chatted on the computer.

The man they were both staring at was somewhat tall with salt and pepper hair and a slightly receding hairline. His chin jutted sharply with very little slack in his jawline. His height was a bit hard to gauge as he was sitting in a large, self-propelled wheelchair. His face seemed unlined, just a bit smooth for the age McGinty and Evans knew him to be.

Now I remember, Evans recalled, Dominic Keith was up visiting New York with his family back on 9/11. He was killed helpin’ out when Tower One collapsed. Yea, he was killed. Remember, me and you and our wives went to the funeral in Philly. That’s one of the last times we saw Eddie. He retired right after that. Hurt his back at the Trade Center as I recall. You were there. Hey, you carried him out, didn’t you?

Yea, I was still a cop; Jenna was still alive; and you were a sergeant. Mike recalled, sadly.

I’m sorry Buddy. Nick apologized, I didn’t mean to bring up the past.

"Ah, don’t let it bother you Nicky. It is what it is. I miss her dearly, every day, whether anybody mentions her or not. That’s when I hung up the shield.

"I already had almost all the trainin’ for priesthood. I was fortunate that Saint Johns took me back. Nice campus too, in Hillcrest.

I got that special widower dispensation despite having been previously married and here I am.

And a father too. Mike thought silently. His rigid jaw revealed the anger he felt for himself.

Nick noticed, knew why, but said nothing.

I recall the then bishop up at Saint Pats meetin’ with Commissioner Kelly ta get ya this chaplain gig, too. Nick said.

Well, it didn’t hurt that I’d been a cop. McGinty added.

Don’t forget all you did at the Twin Towers, either. Evans chimed in. I’m sure I see Mayor Giuliani’s fingers in that pie.

Yea, McGinty chuckled, Ol’ Rudy was a cop’s mayor, wasn’t he?

As they neared David Keith and his family, David’s grandfather, Eddie Flanagan spotted them. His face brightened and it looked as if he almost tried to rise from his wheelchair. Mike waved as Nick called aloud, Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes. Eddie, you old so and so, how are you?

Flanagan was grinning broadly. Better now, he called out It pains me to say this, but you guys look really good. Whatta they feed you up here?

Nick reached him first. Clapping Eddie on the shoulder, he offered his right hand to shake.

Eddie grabbed it in both of his hands and said, Captain? Whose ass have you been kissin’?

Mike interjected, You know Ed, ya have ta kiss more than one ass to get two bars. Hell, ya damn near have ta kiss a dozen or so, includin’ the mayor’s.

Well, Flanagan replied, with a twinkle in his eye, Ain’t that some colorful language for a priest. Whatta, ya shootin’ fer Mikey, Cardinal?

At that, all three of them laughed. David Keith, off to the side smiled wanly.

Mike spotted Theresa behind her son. She was the same age as, and had been occasional friends with his wife, Jenna. Theresa. He said softly while nodding.

She could see the pain in his eyes. She knew that she must remind him of his long dead wife. Hello Mike, she said, calmly How are you doing?

Not so bad. He answered, How about you?

Well, I do have my moments, both good and bad. I have three great kids, though. They manage to keep me goin’.

Hey, Mike called out, Where’re my manners. He strolled over to Eddie’s wife, who had her arms around her other two grandchildren. They appeared to be in their late teens, a boy and a girl. Mike extended his hand and said, Mrs. Flanagan, excuse me please. It is so very good to see you.

Smiling broadly, Eddie’s wife, Marie lifted both arms from the children and encircled Mike’s neck. Mikey McGinty, a Catholic Priest. Well, isn’t that something. I remember when you and that Evans boy used to hang around listening to Ed’s foolish tales of police work. What ever happened to Nicky anyway? He was Ed’s partner for a while until Ed retired.

While he did not want to correct her, Mike thought silently, No Mrs. Flanagan, I was Ed’s partner.

Mike nodded over toward the police captain hugging her husband. Over there, he chuckled, Nick kissed his way all the way up to captain. Word is he’s aimin’ higher. He thinks President isn’t enough, so he wants to be Governor of New York.

Ed and his family went into a chain pizzeria to have lunch. Mike and Nick went three doors down to a local police hangout for coffee. Mike ordered a creamy donut, as well.

Mikey, Nick warned, That stuff will kill you. Look what its doin’ to me.

Laughing, Mike took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his doughnut.

Hey is this a private conversation? Theresa Keith asked, sliding in beside Nick.

Nah, Mike replied as he set his coffee mug down, Only the donut is private.

Mike noticed just how beautiful Theresa still was. Beautiful, he thought, she’s gorgeous.

He touched the cross hanging from his neck to ward off impure thoughts. It did not work.

Nick immediately noticed how flush his friend became. He also noted that Mike’s hands trembled slightly. A cold? he wondered.

Mike, Theresa answered, feigning shock, Those things will kill you.

That’s what I said. Nick told her.

I spoke to Maeve earlier Nick. She and I are having lunch tomorrow.

Maeve as stated was Nick’s wife.

So, Theresa began, suddenly becoming serious, I’ve been talking to Melly.

My Melly, ah Melanie? Mike asked, seeming somewhat confused, Where, when?

Well, Theresa replied, Mostly on the phone, but in person since we moved back to New York, a couple of months ago.

New York? Mike exclaimed, but it came out more like a question. Where in New York?

Glen Cove. She answered, "We’re renting, but with an option to buy. For now it’s for Davy. He wanted to be a New York cop, and they have that two county rule.

Besides, Mom and Dad just became snowbirds. They hate the summer heat and hurricanes down in Florida so they’ll be moving up here in the warm months.

I had no idea. Mike marveled.

Obviously. Nick added as he lifted his cup to his lips.

You should talk, Mike retorted as a few donut crumbs fell into his lap, You’re the damn detective.

Melly told me of your decision. Theresa continued, Since I lost Dom, and she lost her mom, Jennifer, we sort of confide in each other. You should know that she’s okay with your decision.

Decision, what decision? Nick asked, Do you want me to wait over by the counter Mikey?

No, Mike replied, growing suddenly quite serious, I was gonna tell you today, anyway. You stay too Theresa, since you already know.

He sat there, his donut gone, brushing the crumbs off his pants. Motioning for the waitress, he held up three fingers, meaning two refills and a cup for Theresa.

After the cups were full and steaming, and he had poured a little cream, and two sugars, he began. Though his words were mostly directed to Nick, his eyes flickered back and forth between Nick and Theresa.

I’m leaving the priesthood. He said somberly. I have a bunch of reasons, but there are two main reasons. One is that I can’t seem to abide by all the revelations of child abuse that come out every day, sometimes more than once every few days.

He paused partially to catch his breath and partly to collect his thoughts. When neither member of his audience responded, he continued.

"I realize it’s not just the Church. A great many large organizations regarding kids have the same problem, including other houses of worship, but this is my church.

"The other reason, while connected to the first, is that the Church always seems to be covering it up, while more and more people are coming forth with their horrific stories. The cover-ups only seem to make the Church look worse. That isn’t what GOD is about, not my GOD.

Yet another reason is that I miss a woman’s touch. Jenna’s been gone for a while now and I seem to be getting horny again.

Isn’t there some kind of law the Church is coming up with about that? Nick asked, Where Priests may be able to marry? I read something about it last week.

No Buddy, it’s just a proposal, kind of a brainstorming session at the Vatican. Besides, that isn’t what I signed on for. I just think the Priesthood has run its course. I’ll still be a Catholic, well Christian, anyway. This is what I want…..what I need.

Reaching across the table, Theresa placed her hand over Mike’s. To Nick it appeared to be a gesture of consolation, but to Mike it seemed to be more. She laid a slip of paper before him. That’s my number, Mike. If you need to call, it’s my cell, so I’ll always be able to answer.

She picked up her purse from the seat and wrapped the strap within her hand.

I have to get back to my family, so I guess I’ll see you guys this afternoon.

Then, turning to Nick, as she rose, Theresa said, If we don’t get to talk later, Nicky, give my love to Maeve. Tell her I’ll call her tonight.

Will do. Nick answered, slightly baffled by all that had just transpired.

So, a regular guy, eh? Nick observed after she had left. If NYPD doesn’t keep you on, I have a few connections.

We’ll see, Mike responded, We’ll see.

Those clouds overhead suggested rain, but that morning’s forecast only called for partly cloudy. Nick took his leave and headed for the local precinct for some daily business.

Pulling his black suit jacket more tightly around himself, and bowing forward as a few drops of precipitation made a liar out of the weatherman, Mike headed up the street.

A lifelong hat wearer, from baseball caps as a youth, to the police service hat, Mike pulled his gray fedora down over his eyes. He was supposed to wear a black fedora, but neither Catholic nor police hierarchy ever seemed to notice.

As he walked along, with the staccato of rain upon his hat, he could not help rethinking his resignation decision.

The one thing, however which glared blatantly through his mind was the child molestation. It wasn’t just the molestation itself, but the obvious efforts of so many elements within the church who tried to cover it up.

Damn politics! He snorted.

The new Pope seemed to be confronting it, but still, so many of those cover-up elements remained in place.

Problem number three. He reminded himself, Women!

But, as it turned out, women had just changed to woman. The sweet scent of Theresa’s perfume lingered in his mind. She was still a very beautiful woman. How, he wondered, would David and his siblings react to a former priest wooing their mother?"

The hall that the NYPD had rented for the occasion loomed before him.

Not a moment too soon. He muttered as the rain began to drain from his hat brim. His jacket was quite damp as well. Lucky I have a change, backstage. He told himself.

He saw Dave Keith off to one side, again surrounded by his family. Theresa caught his eye. Even though they were twenty or so feet apart, he smelled her cologne in his mind. She noticed him watching. Her arm moved, slightly, as if she were going to wave, but then fell back to her side. She did smile, however, with her pretty lips and especially with her beautiful eyes. Her smile was a beacon that lit up his life. He wondered if her dominating his thoughts might be a sin, since he still wore the collar.

One of the thoughts that he often rolled about his mind blared before him like a neon advertisement. GOD is neither a king nor an emperor. Those are names thought up by humanity to illustrate his magnificence. HE is THE CREATOR. HE cares not what you call HIM; only that you are good to your fellow humans.

A thought skipped into his mind and it surprised him at how readily his mind accepted it. I doubt GOD even cares if anyone believes in HIM or not. HE only cares that we treat each other as well as we can. Hmph, I hope I’m in heaven when some of the atheists arrive. Boy are they gonna be surprised.

Huh, Mike pondered, Perhaps that too is something I need to work on.

He thought of Nicky’s offer and wondered if maybe he should be doing something other than police work. While being a cop was extremely beneficial for Humanity he felt, maybe there was more that he could do.

His dry jacket was exactly where he had left it. Changing it for the damp one, he placed his wet fedora on the chair beside the wet garment. The brim had flattened out making it look somewhat silly.

Nick showed up ten minutes before the ceremony. A clear plastic wrapper protected his uniform. He had also borrowed a cap protector from the precinct before leaving. Nick did not see Mike sticking out his tongue before taking the podium. Regretfully though, Mike noticed that Theresa had seen everything. Covering her mouth with her hand, she giggled.

Mike introduced Captain Evans and the ceremony began.

Slightly more than one hour later after everything was said and done, he went backstage once more to retrieve his items. The jacket was primarily dry, but his hat was less so. Taking a clear plastic bag from the janitor’s closet, he bundled them together, and placed them in the bag. From a hanger he took the raincoat, which he admonished himself for not having worn earlier. Asshole! he muttered, then chuckled at his own admonition.

Stepping out into the overcast evening, he noted, thankfully that the rain had stopped. His attention was drawn to his left. There, sat Eddie Flanagan, in his wheelchair.

Good show. Eddie congratulated him. Does an old man good to see his grandson honored like that.

David Keith had finished number one in his class, in almost every single category.

We’re having a bit of a celebration back at the house. Eddie informed him. It’s the bungalow across from your mother’s old place. Nick said he would come. I’m hopin’ that you will too."

Thinking of Theresa’s smiling face, he both wanted to go, and yet not go, for the very same reason.

Sure. He replied before he could stop himself, then, Eddie I have my own car. Is there any chance you could ride with me….I mean, what with the wheelchair and all.

Yea, not a problem. Eddie answered, a slight question lingering in his tone. Davy can take the chair in the van. I do have a little mobility.

Once Eddie had been transferred to Mike McGinty’s three year old SUV, Dave slammed the door shut and prepared to push his grandfather’s wheelchair back to the van. Eddie rolled the window down and said, Hey, Kid. We may be a little bit late. I got some things I wanna discuss with the Cardinal here.’ Then turning to Mike, he said, That okay with you Mikey?"

Uh, yea. Mike answered.

After they got started and the car was driving up Third Avenue, Eddie said, You know, she’s interested in you. My uh, daughter, Theresa, she likes you.

Mike nodded nervously, perhaps a bit too quickly. Ah, really? he questioned, but it sounded more like an affirmation.

C’mon Mikey, Eddie returned, Let’s don’t play games. I know you’re leavin’ the priesthood. Quite honestly, it don’t matter to me and Marie. I never knew why you became one in the first place. I guess I always figured you were runnin’ away from Jennie’s death. I know that was real hard on you, especially takin’ care of your daughter like that. You done a real good job with her Mikey.

As always, when the subject of Mike’s fatherhood was brought up, thoughts of self-doubt ranged throughout his consciousness. What kind of man chooses priesthood over his own daughter? he wondered yet again.

Eddie paused, partially to catch his breath and partly to arrange his thoughts.

"Honestly, I ain’t really sure where Theresa’s thoughts lie. She’s a good girl, but Dom’s death really threw her for a loop. Me and Marie tried to be there for her and the kids, but it was pretty rough.

She did it though. She pulled herself together and raised those kids, herself. She’s one hell of a Mom. I couldn’t be more proud."

I gotta be honest with you Ed. Mike replied, I really like her, and it’s for all the things you said, but I’m on shaky ground here. This whole time I was a priest, I’ve been true to my vows.

No women! Ed declared, as much as asked.

No. But again, I gotta be honest. It was as much for Jenna’s memory as it was for the vows.

I believe ya Mikey. Eddie answered, "You were always a pretty honest guy, even as a kid.

Only advice I got is take it slow, even if she don’t wanna. You may not know exactly where you’re comin’ from, but you got a better idea than anybody else, including Theresa. I Know yer vulnerable, but please, at least try not to hurt my girl.

A tear rolled down Mike’s cheek. I won’t. he promised, and hoped dearly that he could keep that promise.

I’m countin’ on ya Buddy. Eddie reiterated, I know you’re a good man. I still got friends in town, and I know better than anyone about all that good work you did down at the Towers. You saved my ass, hell you saved my life. I can’t thank you enough. And I heard plenty o’ good stuff about you since.

Yea, but….. Mike began, but Eddie stopped him with a wave of his hand.

You promised…. Eddie began, a slight scowl wrinkling his brow and upper lip. He then stopped as Mike nodded his agreement.

Mike hoped fervently that Eddie’s trust about Theresa wasn’t misplaced.

They finally arrived at Eddie’s warm weather home. It had a neat, brick front with tendrils of ivy climbing the wall at the corners.

Looks almost the same as when I was a kid. Mike thought, silently.

David came out to help his grandfather into his chair and then wheeled the old man up a ramp attached to the front stoop.

Davy! Mike thought to himself, Well, he’ll have to drop that Y if he wants to get through the next year or two with a minimum of hazing.

Not knowing why, he exchanged his coat for a METS team jacket and tugged off his priest’s collar.

There were some family members that Mike did not know. Nick and a few of Eddie and Marie’s family that Mike did not know were already there. One man of perhaps thirty or more, seemed a little familiar, but Mike could not place him. Everyone was smiling, chatting, and drinking beer or, all three simultaneously. Theresa strolled over and handed her father a beer.

She was clutching a glass of wine, some sort of blush.

We have Sam Adams, Mikey. She offered, Melly told me that’s your favorite. I invited her, but she had a concert or something. Tickets were already paid for.

He nodded, as if he already knew, but he did not.

The fact that Theresa continued to reveal things about him that she already knew made him feel just a little uneasy.

He wondered briefly if she liked to get a little tipsy. Jenna was not a drinker, but occasionally would get a little tipsy. She did not care for the feeling, dizzy and lightheaded, so she kept her drinking to the very minimum. Sometimes she would refuse alcohol even if everyone else but she had imbibed. Her excuse, accompanied by a quiet laugh was an elbow pointed in his direction and a terse, I’m driving. It seemed to work every time.

All of a sudden, thoughts of Jennifer began to swirl about his mind, principle of which, were scenes of her last days. No longer wracked with the terrible pain that had consumed her, she looked almost beatific. The medication was keeping her virtually pain free. Her facial muscles were all relaxed, and a calm half smile adorned her formerly taut and tense mouth. A great deal of her color had drained, but enough remained that she did indeed look a bit like her former self.

Just one week before the doctors had increased her pain medication and reduced the drugs that were fighting the cancer.

She had smoked all of her adult life, and a year after 9/11 the doctors had removed her left lung. Funny, he would think from time to time, Almost everything was now equated, timewise with Nine-Eleven.

Jenna had always been thin, but suddenly she had completely lost her appetite. Mike would urge her to eat, but what she did eat was rarely enough to sustain her. Her doctors bolstered her weak appetite with intravenous injections, but as the cancer returned she faded much faster than he had wished.

He recalled, constantly sitting beside her bed in the hospital. She would moan softly, but without actually waking up.

It’s okay Honey. Don’t worry about Melly and me. We’ll be okay. We can take care of each other. Let it go Honey. Escape from the pain.

Inevitably, waves of guilt would wash over him.

Who the hell do you think you are? he would berate himself for urging her to die.

On one level he wondered if he wasn’t just trying to make it easier for himself. He knew however, between his own sense of loss and poor four year old Melly’s need for her mother, nothing about this was at all easy. Nor would it ever be easy.

The music of the party invaded his thoughts. He blinked and noticed Theresa before him with a Sam Adams in her hand, proffering it to him.

I know where you were Mike. She offered, somberly. "When Dom died, too often I would catch my own reflection, with just that expression in the mirror. Sometimes it was the bathroom mirror, or the hall mirror or even just as I adjusted my rearview in the car. Too often it might be the store window at the Supermarket when we lived near Philly. It stayed with me for a very long time. Actually, it does return, although not quite as often as it used to.

I tried to keep it from the kids, but, again, too often, it was there in their faces too. I have to say, Davy was my rock. He was only eight at the time, but that boy was more a man at eight than a lot of men I’ve known.

Mike took the beer from her and immediately took a swig. Hearing her story placed his own in perspective and he felt both better and worse than moments before.

He raised his bottle in a salute and said, To Dom.

Theresa smiled, a wan smile, but a smile, nonetheless. He raised his bottle once more and said, To Davy. and her smile broadened. The twinkle returned to her eyes.

She took his arm, but he noted immediately that there was nothing intimate in the gesture. It was more like just a hostess and a guest. He was thankful for that, but wondered suspiciously if it wasn’t just a ploy on her part.

You know everyone, don’t you? she asked.

Naw, he answered coarsely, Just the people who were at the ceremony. Theresa escorted him around the room, introducing each person that he said he did not know. Finally reaching the young man that he had spotted from the door, she said, This is my cousin, Teddy Flanagan. He’s a cop out in Nassau County.

Teddy! Mike exclaimed, little Teddy?

Turning back to Teresa, he said, I know Teddy. He lived two blocks over. Turning back to Teddy he said, We were teens and you were like, I don’t know ten or something. You were always hangin’ around with us. Did you see Nicky? He’s over there, in the Captain’s uniform. Just then he saw Nick look up and waved him over.

Teddy playfully cuffed Mike on the shoulder with a loosely held fist.

Mikey! he said, I thought that was you when you came in. The Mets jacket kinda threw me off. I was expectin’ a priest.

As Nick approached, Mike, grinning like an idiot prepared to tell him the news.

Just as Nick drew near he said, Hi Teddy. How you been?

Mike’s face dropped. How did you….. he asked but did not get a chance to finish, as Nick said, I see Teddy all the time. I have to coordinate activities with the Nassau police and Teddy here is a sergeant out there. How are Angela, and little Teddy and Johnny?

Mike cupped his own chin between his right thumb and fingers.

I bet you been waitin’ ever since I got her to pull that on me, haven’t you? Turning to Theresa and Teddy, he said, And I bet you two were in on it weren’t you.

I was. Teddy admitted, holding up his hand as if he’d been summoned at roll call."

I had nothing to do with this. Theresa protested. She held up both hands in supplication, and spilled a few of drops of wine.

Hey, Teddy protested, watch the shirt. I’m cuttin’ you off.

Together the four of them laughed. From across the room, Eddie smiled and winked at his daughter who winked back.

Perhaps Ed had spoken to his daughter before Mike entered the house. Maybe Marie had spoken to her. At any rate, while just a trifle playful during the evening, Theresa had not flirted, whatsoever.

Maybe I’m just being foolish. Mike told himself. Maybe I’m just a rapidly aging guy looking for some spark in my life.

As he drove home, many thoughts were spinning around in his head, but he did not seem to dwell on any one of them for very long. He turned on the radio to see if he could hear the end of the Mets game but was sadly disappointed to learn they had been rained out in Pittsburg.

His ground floor apartment was but fifteen blocks away.

When finally he arrived home, he drank a shot of Bailey’s Irish cream without any ice. It relaxed him slightly, but he still tossed and turned for an hour before finally settling down into a somewhat restless sleep.

The morning came a lot more quickly than he had expected. Of course, the beer from the night before and the Baileys joined together to cause his kidneys and bladder to protest profusely. Alright, alright, he assured them, I’m on my way to the head."

The morning’s necessity resolved he strolled out to the front door.

The Daily News, New York Post and Long Island Newsday newspapers were all stacked neatly on top of the front porch folding chair. He took them in and spread them in a fanlike design upon the table as he turned on the coffee pot. The machine made a whirring sound, protesting its own interrupted sleep.

What do I want? he sang sloppily to the tune of ‘The Street Where You Live.’

Too early for espresso. he said aloud.

How about just plain coffee? With a nod he agreed with himself.

Placing four slices of rye bread in the toaster, he was startled when his doorbell rang. The open door revealed a very chipper and smiling Theresa Flanagan Keith, holding two cups of deli coffee and a brown paper bag.

Her eyes were bright and her smile was broad. A black plastic hair band held her soft auburn tresses back behind her head. A pair of black sunglasses was perched just behind the hair band.

Holding the bag up as she cradled the coffee between her arm and ribcage, she sang cheerily, I got bagels, then, as an afterthought, from Goldsteins.

Somewhat taken aback, but not wishing to be rude, he stepped aside to let her in. Just as the toast popped she was laying the bag and coffee upon the table. Absently, she pointed to the headline on the Post.

Another accident on Queens Boulevard. She observed, That Street really is a dangerous place to cross.

Unsure of what to say, Mike shrugged and asked, Uh, butter or ah, cream cheese?

Grinning, Theresa replied, I got both, one plain and one sesame seed with butter, and one each with cream cheese. Hope you don’t mind,. I got myself a poppy with lox cream cheese. But, if you twist my arm, you can have it.

Wow, he said wryly, You must really care, to offer me your lox.

She suddenly grew serious. A small frown replaced her smile and her brows knitted together, tightly.

Let’s be clear Mikey, she said seriously, "while I am attracted to you, and I do see a possible future for us, the key word there is possible.

I don’t really know what you have in mind, but I promise you, as long as you’re wearing that collar, we will just be friends. That having been said, I am really looking forward to when you are a civilian again.

Theresa’s smile returned and she opened up the two coffees. I wasn’t sure how you took it, so they’re both black. I wouldn’t mind a little cream or milk if you have it.

Uh, two percent, Theresa. Is that okay? was all he could think of to say.

That’s perfect. She replied, Gotta watch the figure you know…..not getting any younger.

He wanted to tell her how attractive she was, and what a perfect figure she had, not just for her age, but any age. Her words of just moments ago however, prevented him from commenting.

He picked up the newspapers, and stacked them to one side of the table then retrieved the milk from the refrigerator. Setting it in front of her he said, Thanks, for ah, breakfast. Goldsteins always hits the spot with me.

They ate their breakfast together, chatting offhandedly, but not really dwelling on any one subject. Mike felt himself being more and more attracted to her and wondered if maybe this had been her plan all along.

At a point, she stood and said, Well, Mikey, I have to go. Kenny gets out of school early today and I’m gonna pick him up and take him up to the Bronx Zoo. Wanna come?

Sorry, Theresa, I can’t. Mike answered.

Can’t or won’t? she teased.

Can’t. Today is the day that the Cardinal tries to talk me out of resigning. I already spoke to the Bishop, three times. I guess they’re bringin’ in the big guns.

CHAPTER 2

A TRANSITION

As it turned out, the Cardinal was not interested in meeting with Father Mike McGinty. The Bishop had convinced the Cardinal that he would be wasting his time. Paying heed to his most trusted assistant, the Cardinal had merely signed the necessary documents, and having asked the Bishop to wish Mike well, went about the rest of his day.

Receiving said documents, Mike thanked his former boss, who also wished Mike well, and added, GOD speed.

One Police Plaza loomed in front of and over Mike as he debated the sanity of going in, within his own head. So absorbed was he that he neither heard nor noticed Nick Evans coming up behind him. Unable to resist a good joke, Nick poked Mike in the ribs, yelling, Tag, you’re it.

When Mike could finally breathe without acute lung pain, he said, You Sonuva bitch! You owe me a freakin’ beer for that one, maybe even two.

Laughing, Nick assured Mike that the look on Mike’s face was worth a case of beer.

C’mon Champ, Nick cajoled him slightly; I’ll walk you in.

One half hour later, Mike walked into the office that Nick shared with the Sergeant named Tim Flynn. Flynn wasn’t there, so Mike asked, Where’s Timmy?

Well, Nick began, as Timmy doesn’t recognize the authority of a police captain, he rarely tells me where he’s going or where he’s been. Nick thought for a moment and added, Or what he’s been up to. At that he nodded sagely.

I do have to hear every Monday, however, a two hour soliloquy on who he banged on that particular weekend. So, how about you? Are you still gainfully employed?

Yea, Mike answered, I am. "Scollay, up in payroll needed a clerk, so they offered me the job. I get a sergeant’s rank, and a lot more money than I got as a chaplain.

Hey, and get this, they grandfathered me in for the Sergeant’s union and full benefits with a 401K. Did you have anything to do with that Nick?

Well, yes and no. Nick answered, drawing out the no.

I spoke to Assistant Chief Dobrinetti. Nick continued, Ya know he also got injured down at 9/11. He thinks you would be a really good addition for the department. I think after a while he may even offer you Precinct Sergeant, but ya didn’t hear that from me. Okay?

As a broad smile leapt upon his face, Mike winked to his friend.

Mike remembered Dobrinetti well. Then either a sergeant or perhaps even a lieutenant, Dobrinetti had also been retrieving survivors from the, at that moment, burning towers. He too had been injured while attempting to save people.

A chuckle escaped Mike’s lips as he remembered carrying Dobrinetti over his shoulder to safety from falling rubble. He wondered if Dobrinetti also remembered. The man who was now an assistant chief had fallen, and injured his head. Mike figured that the chief probably didn’t even know it had been Mike.

So, Mike said, it’s almost five o’clock Nicky. Wanna throw on some civies and go catch a couple o’ drinks over at Johnny Faber’s Bar?

Uh, Nick answered with a completely straight face, that’s Captain Evans, Sergeant. And I must say, I’m somewhat concerned about your powers of perception. You don’t seem to notice that you’re already dressed in civies.

Oh, I’m sorry, captain. How insubordinate of me. Please, Sir, bite me Sir.

Nick threw him a salute, which morphed quickly into a single finger salute.

Point taken, Captain. Mike muttered softly.

After several drinks at Johnny Faber’s and several rounds of small talk which didn’t really amount to anything, Nick said, So, Theresa Keith. You gonna make a run at that?

I’m not sure. Mike confided, with a wan smile, I think I would like to, but there are so many dangling what ifs. She’s certainly attractive enough.

Yea, Nick agreed, she’s a real looker. What’s the problem, Jennifer?"

Mike pondered his answer before offering it.

Maybe. When Theresa brought me the beer when I first got there last night, for some reason, all I could think of was Jenna.

"Figuring it’s you, Mikey, that’s to be expected. I know you, and I know you’re the kind of clergyman that took his vows quite seriously.

Considering how sick Jenna was at the end, I’m guessing you haven’t been with a woman for almost twenty years.

Nineteen, almost twenty. Mike agreed. Even though she was sick, she needed the affection. She needed to know just how attractive she still was. Hell, Nicky, I needed for her to know it too.

Do you think she’ll always be there, pushing you back? Nick asked.

N-no, I don’t, but somehow, someway, I gotta find my own way back. Yes, I did take my vows very seriously. But to tell you the truth, when I first saw Theresa yesterday, little Mike woke up with a vengeance.

Nick chuckled and his chuckle became a full blown guffaw.

Little Mike. He murmured softly, under his breath.

She stopped by this morning with coffee and bagels from Goldsteins. Mike informed his friend.

Really! Nick exclaimed, Anything come of that?

Yea, Mike answered, Yea, I think it did. She made it clear that she would not date a priest, but she also said she was definitely interested in me.

Well, Nicholas surmised, At least the priest thing is out of the way.

Not quite, Mike replied, as he downed another swallow of beer, It just needs a final approval over in the Vatican.

The Pope? Nick asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mike covered his eyes with one hand as he shook his head from side to side and chuckled lightly.

No, probably not even a Cardinal. It’s merely a personnel thing. Maybe a bishop, but more than likely a monsignor. He glanced around the room and said, Just takes a couple of days. I explained that to Theresa, She says she’s cool with it.

Three days later, Theresa Keith got a phone call.

I am now a private citizen. Came Mike McGinty’s voice over the line, And it would be a deep and abiding pleasure if you would agree to allow me to escort you on a date.

After several moments of silence, he panicked and said, Theresa, are you still there?

Her voice came on the line, sounding both whimsical and serious at the same time. Who is this? she demanded, How did you get this number?

As he caught the prank, he said, It was written on the stall of the men’s room in the Governor’s mansion. It was beneath ‘For a good time call…… he let his voice trail off.

Nice catch! she snickered into the phone, then, The Governor told me he erased that. But, Mikey boy, this is my Mom’s phone. I’ll tell her you said that.

Quite resignedly he said, Okay, you win. You win.

I usually do. She replied, and then said, Yes Mike, a resounding yes. One stipulation, though.

I knew it, he whined, I knew it. There’s always a catch. What is it?

He could almost hear the smile in her voice, as she said, Don’t tell me where we’re going. Make it a surprise.

The morning was brisk, but sunny. It was a Wednesday, and Mike had the entire day off. The very, very cool air brought the realization of why Mike had asked Theresa to wear warm clothes. She was quite pleased with herself that she had listened. She always wore sunglasses while driving during the day, even in winter. She shuddered slightly as she thought of the bright glint of sunlight off of snow.

At least there was one very important factor in her favor. When first Mike had suggested warm clothing, she was afraid that he had a motorcycle. Dom had ridden a motorcycle. That one day when they had fallen from the bike while trying to avoid that nut that had blown through a red light was just as vivid a memory as sunlight reflected from snow. Luckily for her, she had landed on Dom, and fortunately, he had merely broken his leg, which surprised the doctors at how quickly it had knitted and healed.

Chuckling, she recalled the look on the face of the bike driver when he found out that Dom was a cop.

The way one memory births another brought thoughts of Dom climbing the stairs at the World Trade Center to help evacuate people. The Trade Center, which, as it turned out, was the site of his death. Placing her hand to the side of her face, Theresa absently stroked her cheek and sighed.

Looking over at Mike, slightly hunched over the wheel of his fully restored Austin Healy Sprite, she smiled sadly. A great many of Mike’s problems had also begun back on 9/11.

She was both thrilled and chagrined that he refused to raise the convertible top, until he stopped at that variety store up in Washington Heights and come out minutes later with a beautiful nylon scarf. It was bright green with a splash of yellow and brown sunflowers across the back and crown. Babushka, My Lady? He had smiled, as he handed it to her. Granted, her auburn tresses were hidden, but she approved heartily of the green-yellow display that was covering her hair, and keeping it neatly in place.

They were on the George Washington Bridge and the air rising from the river below was even colder than the air back in the city. Theresa shuddered slightly and he reached behind her seat to pull a brightly colored blanket, red, brown, blue and yellow, which was decorated with a geometric Native American pattern. Here, he said as he dropped it on her lap, Cover up with this.

What about you, she replied, or are you immune to the elements."

No, not immune, he laughed, heartily, but I know a trick. At that he reached over and turned on the blower, which immediately fanned their legs with warm, almost hot air.

When he had picked her up, she had squealed with delight that he had brought the small sports car instead of a bike. She had intended to feign interest if indeed he did have a bike, but now; quite delightfully, that interest was real. He had walked her all around the sports car, explaining that it was British, and a relative of the MG Midget. The Midget, he explained, was basically the same car, except that it was slightly nicer and had more chrome. He began to explain what chrome was, but she had held up her hand and said, Mike, I’m old enough to know what chrome is., all the while, giggling softly.

Opening the hood, or bonnet, as the British called it, so he informed her, he pointed out the various properties of the somewhat small engine.

He was especially eager to show her, and she, was very surprised to learn that the car’s heater was controlled by a water type spigot, beneath the hood.

You don’t really get much of a choice, he said, The heater is either off or on. The only control on the dashboard is the fan. If you want to either turn the heat on or off, you have to pull over, lift the hood and then turn it on or off with the faucet.

Thinking of all the luxuries in even the lowest priced cars of the present day, Theresa wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.

Riding now however, with the blanket tucked snugly about her legs and torso, and the warm air rising from under the dashboard, she felt very comfortable.

Where’s the SUV? she asked.

"The SUV, he told her, belonged to the Church. This was the only vehicle he owned, But, the bank owned it too.

So, she asked offhandedly, I guess jeans and a blouse were the right choice, eh?

What are you getting at? he asked, an anxious tone creeping into his voice.

Oh, you know! she responded vaguely, while shrugging.

No, I don’t know. He replied, You’re the one that said she didn’t want to know our destination.

Yea, she replied in a sing-song tone, But Lady, option to change her mind, etcetera……. Then she let her voice trail off.

Okay, he said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, We’re goin’ to Paris, but I’m takin’ the long way. We’re drivin’ up to Alaska, across the ice bridge, if it’s winter, and then down through Russia to Europe. How’s that? Are you up for the piercing cold of Siberia?

Wondering just what the penalty might be for disrespecting a former clergy man might be, Theresa gave him the finger. Immediately Mike’s mind located the gutter of his brain and he found himself getting aroused. He was thankful for the tight confines of the Sprite which forced him to keep his legs together. He should have been more concerned, however, as she spotted it immediately. Before she could stop herself, her hand went quickly to his crotch, catching him completely by surprise.

She was also surprised when he neither flinched, nor attempted to push her hand away. Mike was equally amazed at his own behavior, and smiled, graciously.

She then slowly pulled her hand back. She wanted to say something, but did not wish to appear foolish. She smiled, perhaps a bit too broadly and he reciprocated with his own beaming grin.

To take her mind away from her thoughts, and to hide the flush she knew was creeping all over her face, she glanced off to the right. Noting the sign which read, Interstate Route Eighty, West, she guessed that they weren’t going south. With a stifled giggle, she admonished herself for having such a painfully obvious thought.

Speaking up, with a voice that she hoped would not betray her nervousness; Theresa observed, So, West, huh?

For now. He answered, If you like, I’ll warn you before we change direction.

Somewhere between one and two hours later, after driving through a slew of small towns and open farm country, they arrived at their destination. Prepared to not like whatever it might be, Theresa was pleasantly surprised at how much she was attracted to it.

It was a restaurant, named Chatterbox, which was somewhat oval in shape with a square or rectangular section in the rear. As they pulled into the parking lot she was also surprised to see that it appeared to be an old time drive-in type restaurant, similar to Arnold’s in the First year of the TV show, Happy Days. Cars were just beginning to pull into the various spaces.

I bet they have waitresses on roller skates, don’t they? she stated, just slightly awestruck.

Naw, he replied, just a little sadly, I think they once did, but no longer. In fact, it’s closing down after the summer. Too bad, it’s a really great place.

Is the food as good as the ambience?" she asked, perhaps just a little anxiously.

As a matter of fact, he answered, with a big grin, I’d say it’s superb.

Oh, we’ll see. Theresa shot back as he walked around to open her door. As they entered, she marveled at the large variety of auto, motorcycle and celebrity pictures lining the walls of the entry and then on both sides of an open corridor.

Ladies room is that way. he indicated with his thumb to the left. Men’s room is right next to it, and I wouldn’t mind indulging.

Agreeing to meet at that same spot, she was pleasantly surprised when he greeted her just outside the restroom door.

I missed you. He said, with a smile.

Theresa was taken slightly aback by the genuineness in his voice. She could not help grinning.

The corridor led, twelve or so feet to an area filled with plastic and metal car and motorcycle models, a cash register and two young hostesses that appeared to be teenagers.

Beyond she could see the big room that had appeared oval from the exterior. Inside, it seemed slightly more round, with large booths lining the wall, all the way around, to an emergency exit.

Above the booths were a very large variety of fifties and sixties movie posters, along with seventy eight RPM record album covers of everyone from Chuck Berry to the Beatles, the Stones and so very many more.

Wow, she intoned, almost breathlessly, This must have cost a fortune to decorate.

At the center of the room, was a round dais, upon which sat a 1967 Ford Mustang convertible. Theresa grew just a bit wistful as she remembered Dominic’s Mustang Convertible. This one was blue, but, Dom’s had been auburn and also a convertible. She remembered the short argument that they had had when she became pregnant with Davy. She wanted a more conservative car and he argued that the ‘Stang’, as he called it would be just fine. For just this moment, dwelling upon his death, she was wishing that she had let him keep his car. But, as she often did, she had won that argument too.

Theresa felt Mike’s hand upon her upper arm. His squeeze was strong, but quite gentle. Hey, he asked anxiously, Are you okay? You just got a little pale and you look so sad.

Smiling up at him, she nodded slowly and said, Yes. Just a few sad memories connected to that car. She pointed at the Mustang.

Oh, Theresa, he stammered slightly, I’m sorry. If you’d like, we can go somewhere else. There’s a diner just up the road, here.

Her smile returned instantly as she saw his concern. No, Mike, she assured him, I’m okay. Just a little warning though, these emotions do tend to pop up occasionally. I imagine certain things remind you of Jennie, as well.

Yea, he admitted, They do. Not quite as often as they used to, but occasionally.

Because she did not want to overburden him with her own nostalgia, she did not mention the motorcycle that hung from the ceiling, off to the right of the counter area.

The counter itself was divided from the restaurant proper by a smaller booth, over which hung a full size dragster.

A large statue of a smiling hotdog with human features also flanked the small booth. She could see a small diorama beside it as well. It appeared to be a model of the restaurant, surrounded by toy Hotwheels and Matchbox miniature cars.

How often, she asked herself, did Dom play with Davy and Kenny and their toy cars upon the floor. An extremely wistful feeling came over her. Forcing herself to return to the present, Theresa placed the memories in the back of her mind and turned, smiling back to Mike.

Just at that moment, the hostess approached and told them that their table was ready. Grabbing his arm and locking her own within it she said, a bit more sprightly, Hey, let’s go. I want to taste this food you’ve been bragging about.

The hostess showed them to a booth, almost halfway around the room. The booth was so big Theresa nearly felt lost in it and told him so.

Yea, he agreed, with a grin, I think they can fit eight big people in here.’

Maybe six, She corrected him, But certainly a lot more with kids. I have to say, I feel a little guilty taking up so much room.

Laughing, he agreed.

So, she asked while scanning the menu, What’s good?

Oh, no! he retorted, I don’t know you well enough to make your decisions for you.

I didn’t ask you to make my decision, she complained, I only wanted a suggestion.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. Okay, okay, I give up! he protested good naturedly.

Do you like Rueben sandwiches? he asked.

Nodding vigorously, she said, I love Ruebens. When we moved back up to Queens, one of the first things I did was go into Manhattan to the Ruebens restaurant. I love them."

Well, he grinned back at her, Then you’re in for a treat. This place makes a kielbasa Rueben that’ll knock your socks off.

Kielbasa, really? Are you pulling my leg?

Winking, he said, I’m telling the truth, but, now that you mention it, I really would like to pull on your legs, both of them.

Oh, but I’m not wearing any socks. She giggled. But the Reuben is good, huh?

He placed his right thumb and forefinger together, kissed his fingers, and fairly bellowed, Superb!

The food came rather quickly, considering how crowded the restaurant was. True to Mike’s word, Theresa declared the Rueben was superb, as well as the tasty pierogis which he suggested she also order. He had a steak sandwich.

Asking first if she were the type of person who needed