The Mercy and Justice Mysteries, Books 4-6: The Father Tom/Mercy and Justice Mysteries Boxsets, #6

By J. R. Mathis and Susan Mathis

Enjoy These Contemporary Small Town Mysteries Featuring A Unique Sleuthing Couple.

 

This is a collection of books 4-6 in The Mercy and Justice Mysteries. This series is a sequel to The Father Tom Mysteries that began with The Penitent Priest and includes the same cast of characters. It features Father Tom Greer and his wife Chief of Police Helen Parr Greer, a sleuthing couple committed to the pursuit of justice tempered with mercy while solving mysteries old and new.

 

The Cardinal's Conscience (Book 4):  When the body of Gwen Tolson's mother is found near Anna's house, a fifty year old secret may hold the key to finding her killer.

 

The Conned Cougar (Book 5): Father Tom and Helen travel to Bellamy, Florida, when Tom's mother Nola is accused of murdering her twenty-four year old lover, Trevor. While trying to find the real killer and clear his mother's name, Tom and Helen discover that the dead man had a lot of secrets--and those secrets each had a motive for murder. Along the way, Helen comes face to face with a woman from Tom's past, and Tom once again has to face the demons from his childhood.

The Sorrowful Son (Book 6): Abraham Asher drops dead of an apparent heart attack at the end of the Myerton Softball League's All-Star Game. When Helen receives evidence he was poisoned, she begins to hunt for a killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mercy and Justice Mysteries
• Release date: Aug 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223888567

J. R. Mathis

Susan Mathis was born in and grew up in an extremely small town in Alachua County, Florida where her family has lived for more than 100 years. When Susan was still very young, James (J.R) Mathis was born in a somewhat bigger small town about 100 miles south of where she lived. Within a decade, James' small town would become part of Orlando, the biggest tourist destination in the United States. He was not amused. That is how, while Susan was running barefoot, swimming in lakes full of alligators and feeding chickens, James was sitting in his bedroom reading books faster than his father could bring them home from the library. Were James and Susan to write their love story, it would definitely be an enemies-to-lovers trope. They met in the library where he was working. He found her demands for books that he had to pull and bring to her so unreasonable that he actually turned her into the head librarian. She in turn was so anxious to drive him away that when some friends secretly set them up she laid out an entire speech about how miserable her life was (she is typically very upbeat). Little did she suspect that he had a passionate attraction to misery and they were married just over a year later. Fast forward 26 years, three children, four grandchildren and 20 years of James working for the Federal government. He was diagnosed with a highly treatable but still very scary form of cancer. As so often happens, this brush with mortality inspired him to do something he’d always wanted to do, write a novel. After the publication of the second Father Tom Mystery, Susan joined him as coauthor. As far as the Mathises are concerned, writing together is the most fun a couple can have sitting at a computer.

Book preview

One: Tom

Terry Davis stands before Cardinal Knowland, his hands folded, looking up with expectation as he awaits a question from His Eminence.

What is the name of your patron saint? he asks the young man quietly.

With the wounds his own father inflicted on him less than a year ago still healing, the young man says firmly, Michael.

There are a number of Saint Michaels in the Church’s canon, but I know who he means. He and I talked about it during our meeting a couple of weeks ago.

Saint Michael the Archangel, the defender.

We talked of Saint Michael’s role in defending those in both spiritual and physical danger and he, for obvious reasons, found that appealing. He also shared with me his interest in joining the military when he is an adult. I recognized Steve Austin’s influence as he talked about protecting others and how much he is looking forward to joining Junior ROTC in high school.

What does your mother think of this? I asked him, suspecting the answer.

Oh, you know moms, Father Tom, he said with the voice of the young when they see their wisdom as the only wisdom. She’s afraid I’ll get hurt, afraid I’ll be sent away for years and years and she won’t see me. But Steve understands. He gets it.

He paused for a moment. He texted me a couple of weeks ago, right after Nichole’s first communion, he says brightly. He’s going to be out of town for a few weeks, but when he gets back, he says we’ll get together and talk more about everything.

I think back to this conversation as the Cardinal solemnly intones, Michael, be sealed with the Gift of the Holy Spirit, as he makes the Sign of the Cross on Terry’s forehead.

Terry responds, Amen.

The Cardinal then lightly slaps him on the cheek, an ancient reminder that the Christian life is not always easy. But Terry already knows this more than most people twice his age.

Throughout this ancient rite, what I learned this morning weighs on me. I wonder how much longer this young man has before he learns what violence has stolen yet again from his young life.

Terry is the last young person confirmed today. The Mass ends about a half an hour later and, after the Cardinal and I pose for photos with those confirmed and their families, we finally make our way downstairs to the reception.

As soon as we come through the door of the basement, Helen walks over with bottles of cold water and hugs for both of us.

Thank you, Helen, His Eminence says, holding up his bottle of water. Much appreciated.

It’s the least I can do, she says. Now, I’m under strict orders from Anna to escort you to your table so you can rest for a few moments.

Looking at the crowd, I say, I’m not sure how possible that’s going to be.

We follow Helen to one of the round tables near the front of the room. Along the way, we are stopped by people wanting to shake the Cardinal’s  hand, get a photo with him, tell him how much they appreciate him coming, or give him their own take on some major church issue of the day.

When we finally get to our table, Anna appears with two plates of food. Here you go Tom, Walt–Your Eminence, she says, a slight blush appearing in her cheeks as it often does when she almost calls him by his first name.

Given their special relationship, I’m surprised it doesn’t happen more often.

Thank you, Anna, Knowland says, a grateful smile on his face. I only had time for coffee and a danish before I left Baltimore this morning.

That is not a proper breakfast, she says, especially not when you have such a full day.

Well, it’s not like I have someone to look after me like Tom does, he says with a laugh.

The laugh dies on his lips when he notices what I do. A look of pain passes briefly across Anna’s face. Well, she says with a forced smile, I need to make sure everyone in the kitchen is doing what they should be doing.

She turns on her heels and walks away. Helen says, I’ll check in, too, and then get a plate then and join you. Please don’t wait for me.

Helen leaves the Cardinal and me alone at the table. We make small talk, discussing how the confirmations went and the progress on the learning center.

I spoke to Reverend Mother in Nashville a couple of days ago, Knowland says as he cuts into the sliced ham on his plate.

How is Sister Maria? I ask.

According to Reverend Mother, she’s doing well, he says. Anxious to return here, though I understand she’s still working on the center remotely.

Yes, she and I video conference a couple of times a week. It’s keeping things moving forward, but it’s not the same as having her here.

It should only be another three weeks or so, he says. Are you going forward with registrations?

I nod. A week from yesterday. All the teachers have pulled together to put on the rescheduled events.

He hesitates before saying, I trust the Center has been restored after the . . . incident.

Thankfully, yes, I say. One of the younger members of the parish, Nate Rodriguez, has his own crime scene cleaning business. He did the work for free. You’d never know anyone was shot in the main classroom.

I say this with an unseemly degree of enthusiasm, prompting a disapproving look from His Eminence.

Helen finally joins us, having completed whatever task Anna had assigned to her. She’s just sat down when Terry Davis runs up with his mother Bridget in tow.

Cardinal Knowland, Terry says breathlessly, I wanted you to meet my mom.

Bridget looks positively frightened as Knowland stands up and shakes her hand. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Davis, he says with a slight bow and a smile on his face.

Oh, no, Your Eminence, she says with a nervous smile. The pleasure is all mine.

He knows the pope, mom, did you know that? Terry says with a grin.

Yes, I did, Terry, Bridget says. Now, let’s leave the Cardinal alone so he can eat with Father Tom and Miss Helen.

Oh! Yeah! Terry looks at the Cardinal’s expansive belly, then at him. I bet you get hungry a lot.

Bridget looks horrified as Knowland lets loose with a boisterous laugh. He claps Terry on the shoulder and says, Well, I guess you could say that.

Come on, Terry, Bridget says, taking the boy by the arm, let’s find your brother and sister.

She scurries away with her son, probably to admonish him, and Knowland sits back down. Well, he says, the food was delicious as always. How about some dessert, hmm, Tom?

I look at Helen. Go ahead, she says. Bring me something?

Of course, I say.

Knowland and I walk over to the dessert table, where Anna’s standing looking at–well, frankly, not much.

It looks like someone beat us to it, Knowland says.

Give me just a minute, you two, Anna says pleasantly. Gwen is coming from The Muffin Man with some fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls

My, Anna, I ask, what have we done to deserve this?

We have so many Confirmandi and families that I underestimated the numbers and had to call Nick with a plea for more desserts. Thankfully, he just had a couple of pans coming out of the oven.

The side door to the basement squeeks open and we turn towards the noise. Oh, here’s Gwen now. Can you bring them over here, please? Anna asks, waving to Gwen Tolson, Nick’s popular young assistant and Helen’s budding protégé.

Gwen makes her way through the crowd, attracting followers like the Pied Piper as people are drawn to the cinnamon sugar smell of what she’s carrying. Gwen, I say. Thanks so much for making an extra trip. Why don’t you stay for a few minutes and have something to eat.

Father Tom, she says with a smile, I was up at 3 this morning, baking most of these treats. The last thing I want to do is taste any of them. I will take a bottle of water, please.

I’ll get you one, Anna says, bustling off to the kitchen. Father Tom, help the Cardinal get some dessert.

Oh, where are my manners, I say, turning back to His Eminence. Cardinal Knowland, this is Gwen Tolson, a delightful young woman and one of Helen’s favorite people.

My words seem to startle him out of some brief reverie as he says politely, Miss Tolson, I am delighted to meet you. Chief Greer has always been an excellent judge of character and I’m sure this holds true in your case, too.

He shakes her hand warmly as Anna gets back with the water and hands it to Gwen, who says, Thanks for this. I hate to drink and run but I’ve got to get back and get more rolls in the oven for the rest of the day. She smiles happily and heads for the door.

As Gwen leaves, the Cardinal takes his cinnamon roll and heads back toward our table. Bill Brandt has joined Helen, and they are engaged in an intense discussion about something. I’m following His Eminence when Martin and Mae Maycord rush over to me.

Welcome back, you two, I say, embracing Mae and shaking Martin’s hand. How was Rome?

Amazing, Mae says. We had an audience with the Holy Father, where we wore our wedding clothes and he blessed our marriage. We saw the Sistine Chapel, the Vatican Museums, and went down into the Catacombs. When we flew back, Martin got us seats in first class and we actually had our own private bedroom because Martin said–

She stops suddenly and turns an amusing shade of red. I quickly ask, What is His Holiness like in person?

Honestly, he was shorter than I expected, Martin says, obviously covering for his embarrassed bride. But very gracious. I don’t speak Italian but they have translators on hand and his talk was very inspiring.

I’m so glad you two had a good time. I am about to say more when the people standing around us part like the Red Sea. A very excited Gladys Finkelstein rolls up, nearly taking Martin out at the knees. She stops just before knocking Mae over and reaches up to hug her friend.

I’m so glad you’re back, she says in her remarkably chipmunk-like voice. I want to know everything about your trip and what it's like to be married.

And I want to get caught up on your wedding plans, Mae says. I’m not going to start seeing patients again for another week or two so we need to get together soon.

What about tomorrow for lunch? Gladys asks.

Mae glances at Martin. Go ahead, he says, I ought to at least check in at the hospital.

Great, Gladys says, not waiting for Mae to answer. Now, I need to see all your pictures.

Mae laughs and says, That could take a while. Let’s go sit down and whatever you don’t see today, I can show you tomorrow.

As they move off toward a now empty table, Martin looks at me and says, Well Tom, since I seem to be facing the horrible specter of eating alone for the first time since my marriage, why don’t you let me take you to Spacolli’s. I know it's your day off, but. . .

Helen’s working, so that will be fine.

We settle on a time and Martin drifts off to find his wife. I realize most people are beginning to leave and decide to find the Archbishop. Much to my surprise, he’s outside smoking a cigar with Bill.

When he sees me coming up, he says jovially, Take Helen and go home, Tom. I know you’re worn out. I’m getting ready to leave myself. Everything went off perfectly and we can debrief later.

I hesitate, not wanting to offend my superior but he adds with more force, That’s an order, Father. We’ll talk later in the week.

I decide to take him at his word, and fifteen minutes later, Helen and I are back in the Rectory with our now bare feet propped on the coffee table and cold beers in our hands.

Two: Helen

Well, how did you think everything went? Tom asks me as we enjoy this little break from all the craziness of the day.

I take a long drink of my beer. As best as I can tell, I say, everything seemed to go off without a hitch. The food from the Ladies was delicious as usual.

Didn’t you help with it this time? Tom says with a teasing tone.

Well, yes. That’s why I can comment.

He takes a drink of his beer and says with a smile, I’m glad the Ladies of Charity asked you to help.

Oh, Tom, it was nothing special. I am a member, after all, and this is one of the few Sundays I was certain I wouldn’t have to be called out. I knew you’d have your hands full with Cardinal Knowland, so I was glad to help.

Well, there seemed to be no problems with the food.

I shrug. Just the desserts. I heard Anna say something about having to order more treats from Nick, but I don’t think anyone noticed. Everyone seemed to be properly reverent during Mass and appropriately joyful afterward. What did you think?

Everything seemed fine to me, too.

He takes another swig from his bottle and stares off into space. I doubt anyone but me noticed, but Tom’s been distracted all day. I first noticed it when he came back from saying 8 a.m. Mass. He was unusually quiet over breakfast, giving one-word answers to my questions and a couple of times appearing not to have heard what I said.

I thought it was just nerves over the confirmations and having the Cardinal here, so I decided to let it go. But from the look on his face, I know it wasn’t that.

My darling husband is burdened with something. It may not be something he can share with me, but I have to ask.

I put my now-empty beer bottle on the well-worn coffee table and turn to face him. Tom, you’ve been distracted all day. I noticed it at breakfast, and I noticed it during Mass. I thought it had something to do with the confirmations, but now I have to ask, what’s bothering you?

When he doesn’t immediately shake his head and say he can’t tell me–which, considering what he must hear in the confessional or in the confines of his office, I’ve gotten used to–I know something’s wrong. Instead, he places his bottle on the table next to mine, turns to me, and takes my hand in his.

Helen, he says gravely, what I am about to tell you is confidential. It cannot leave this room. As far as I know, you will be one of only a handful of people in Myerton who know about this.

All right, I say quietly. I’m doing my best to remain calm, but inside I’m afraid of what he’s going to tell me. Is it about his health? Is something wrong? Did he have a doctor's appointment I didn’t know about? I haven’t told him this, but since the incident at the school, I’ve had a couple of nightmares about something happening to him.

Both times, I tried to save him. And failed.

You know that Steve Austin left town a couple of weeks ago? I nod and he continues, He was traveling to an unknown location doing something he couldn’t tell me about.

I breathe an inward sigh of relief. It’s not about Tom. With Steve’s military background, it was some place dangerous doing something equally dangerous. Given what’s going on in the world right now, we can probably guess where he went.

Possibly, Tom says. He pauses for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. What you don’t know is that when he met with me before he left, Steve told me he’d named me the executor of his estate.

This was the same day you baptized him?

He nods. Really, it was the result of our meeting. He spoke in such grave terms that I felt I had to talk to him about the state of his soul. He–well, let’s just say he’s been giving it a lot of thought over the last few months.

I’m searching for the right words for the question I want to ask, but Tom beats me by saying, He also named me his emergency contact. Which is why, this morning as I was preparing for the 8 a.m. Mass, I got a call.

I gasp, my hand flying to my throat. What is it, Tom? I whisper. Is . . . is he–

No, he’s still alive, thank the Lord, Tom says. The person I spoke to said he’d been badly injured in a military operation. He’d been treated in the field and was on his way to a hospital in Germany. His associate said he’d call with more information when Steve is ready to be transported back to the States.

I lay my head on Tom’s shoulder and process what he’s just said. Finally I ask, Does Bridget know?

No, she does not, Tom sighs. I called and let Gary know what was going on. But before he left, Steve made it very clear that Bridget was to be told only if . . .

I know they'd stopped seeing each other before he left, but not to tell her seems cruel to me.

Cruel or not, Helen, it’s the way things have to be.

Don’t try to lecture me on that, Thomas Jude Greer, I say with more vehemence than I mean. I guarantee I can match you story for story about times when I had to keep a cruel secret.

I turn as I say this and now see the hurt and suffering in his eyes. I forget sometimes that my job, as tough as it is, affords me certain luxuries that he never has.

I can take my badge and my gun off at the end of the day, but he never gets to put away caring for the souls of those around him.

I’m sorry, honey, I say, hugging him. I was out of line. I just feel so sorry for any woman being kept in the dark, even if it is a problem of her own making.

He pulls me close again and says, It's all right, Helen. This mess makes me angry, too. And frustrated, because there’s nothing I can do about it but pray.

Well, you know what Father Wayne always tells me. Praying is sometimes the only thing you can do. But it is always the best thing you can do.

We stay on the couch all snuggled up together for a few minutes and then I decide to change the subject. Martin and Mae look happy, I say, hoping it will cheer him up.

They do, he says with a slight smile. Which reminds me, Gladys and Mae are going to lunch tomorrow so Martin has invited me to go to Spacolli’s with him.

Wait, I say with mock horror, he invited you to the nicest restaurant this side of Baltimore and he didn’t invite me?

Well, you know, little lady, Tom says in a voice that he probably thinks sounds like John Wayne but actually sounds more like Yosemite Sam, we menfolk need to get away sometimes to talk about things that you womenfolk wouldn’t understand.

And you're going to do this over shrimp ceviche and a hazelnut tart.

Yeah, unless the quiche of the day looks particularly good.

Got it, I say, smiling. I’m actually glad you two are going out. You’ve been working too hard lately.  A break will do you good.

And I am happy to bring you one of those good sandwiches that Nick is selling at The Muffin Man now.

I kiss him playfully and say, In that case, we’re even then. You know, he says he’s going to invent a sandwich and name it after me.

I didn’t know that. What’s going to be on it?

If Nina has her way, probably crab and mustard, I say, rolling my eyes and shaking my head.

I take it she’s still not happy about being on desk duty? Tom asks.

No, she is not. But I think she’s far enough along now that even she can appreciate the good sense of it. I offered to let her be a school crossing guard, but she said that she’d rather quit. And that’s the last thing I want her to do.

So, she is coming back after her maternity leave?

As far as I know. But I have a surprise up my sleeve to sweeten the pot. At least I hope it will.

Oh really, Tom asks, obviously intrigued. What is it?

You’ll find out when everyone else does, I grin."

Three: Tom

I have to admit, riding with Dr. Martin Maycord in his Jaguar convertible with the top down is not the worst way to spend a Monday afternoon.

Lunch at a fancy restaurant, where he insists on ordering us the best items on the menu, from appetizers to desserts, makes the day even better.

We’ve just finished our salads when Martin says with a big grin, Tom, the main reason I invited you to lunch today is to explain why we got that first class room on the flight home from Rome.

Martin, I say with a laugh, not only is that none of my business, but if it were, considering you two were on your honeymoon, it wouldn’t take me long to figure out why.

He grows serious and leans forward. Well, see, Tom, that’s the thing, he says quietly, almost conspiratorially. It wasn’t just for that reason. I reserved it because I wanted Mae to have a comfortable place to sleep on the way back.

Oh?

Martin gets the biggest grin I’ve ever seen him have. We found out a week before we left Rome that she’s pregnant.

I smile and laugh at the same time as I say, Congratulations. Then, remembering some of our conversations before they married, I say more seriously, Martin, I know this wasn’t part of your plan. You made it very clear that you wanted to wait a while before starting your family. So I have to ask, how do you feel about this?

He pauses for a moment, then says with an even wider grin, Actually, Tom, truth be told, I’m pretty damn thrilled.

So what changed?

He grows serious again and says, I don’t want to embarrass you, Tom. You know I’ve been with quite a few other women in my past. But nothing–and I mean nothing–I had ever experienced was like that first night with Mae. I woke up the next morning with her cuddled up next to me, and all I wanted to do was wrap my body around her and make a perfect nest for her to sleep in. So that’s what I did. She stirred for a moment but then fell back asleep, so I just lay there, watching her and thinking.

He pauses for a moment as the waiter comes with our entrees. After a little while, something struck me, he continues. If making love with her was this good, how much better would making a baby be? Now, I want to be clear. I’m not about to jump on some kind of ‘the more kids, the better’ bandwagon. But we’re young, we have plenty of resources, and I know that’s what she wants. So I thought, ‘Why fight it? Why not do what we want when we want and let God sort it out.’ So, that’s what I told her when she woke up. And here we are.

I have rarely seen such pure joy in one man’s face. So when’s she due?

Well, when we told her family yesterday, Doris insisted on getting out this app she has on her phone–you know she’s a midwife–and she and Mae spent five minutes discussing some of the most intimate details of our honeymoon. I just sat there, equal parts astonished and embarrassed,  while Alan acted like it was all part of the normal landscape of their lives. Finally, they determined January 10th of the coming year.

So, not long after Epiphany. That’ll be nice.

Yes, it will. But enough about all this baby talk. I hear you had a bit of excitement while we were gone. Tell me about that.

I spend the rest of the meal regaling Martin with my saga of being held hostage at the Myer Mansion and how Sister Maria is back at the Mother House for at least another couple of weeks. But it won’t delay the opening of the Learning Center, will it? he asks with concern.

No, not at all. Sister is still teleworking on things from Nashville and Bridget Davis has been doing a lot of the leg work here.

And Steve?

I pause at this, wanting to choose my words carefully. Steve is out of the country, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back.

As I say this, I remember that Martin did a tour as a field surgeon in Afghanistan and am not surprised when I see him nod his head knowingly.

We’ve finished dessert when Martin says, Well, Tom, I should probably make my way over to the hospital. I want to read the EMT’s report on you.

On me? I ask with surprise.

Uh-huh, he says with a wry smile. Before I left I told all the EMTs that, should they encounter you in an emergency situation, they were to write a full report on your condition. I assume they did that, considering you faced death once again.

This time it was not of my own doing.

Well, be that as it may, Martin says. By the way, how have you been feeling?

I’m about to mention the pains I’m getting in my stomach when I haven’t eaten and the indigestion that I’m treating with antacids. Instead, I say, Fine. Just fine.

Martin eyes me with skepticism. It’s been a while since I’ve checked you out, he says. I’ll have my secretary call to set up an appointment for sometime next week.

Really, Martin, I say, you–

He puts his hand up to stop me. Now, Tom, he says, do you want me to tell Helen you’re resisting a check-up?

My open mouth disappears, and I shake my head. No, no, I say. I’ll adjust my schedule for next week.

He claps me on the shoulder. Good man, he says with a smile.

We are heading toward the door and I say, If you don’t mind, can you just drop me off at The Muffin Man? I promised to take Helen a sandwich for lunch, and then I’ll walk home from the station.

Sounds good to me, Martin says pleasantly. It's a beautiful day for a walk. I almost wish I could go with you.

***

Hi, Gwen, I say as I walk into The Muffin Man. Thanks again for making that special run over to the church yesterday.

It was no problem, Father, Gwen Tolson says with a smile. I enjoyed seeing everyone. But what can I get for you today?

I need a good sandwich for Helen. What do you think of the Reuben?

It's really good, and we just got in some fresh corned beef today.

Perfect. Give that to me with a bag of chips.

I take a seat in the corner as Gwen goes back to make my sandwich. A woman I don’t recognize walks in. Her clothes are tight in a few places and wrinkled in others. Her hair looks like it could use a good wash, but her makeup is done to the hilt.

If you’re wondering, yes, being married, especially to a female police chief, has made me a lot more observant.

She strides straight to the counter and begins to ring the bell for service enthusiastically while calling out, We need some service out here! People are going hungry!

She’s cackling at what I guess she thinks of as a joke when Gwen comes dashing through the kitchen door. As soon as she does, the woman throws open her arms and yells, Surprise, baby girl! Guess who's come to see you?

Hi, Mom, Gwen says less than enthusiastically.

Gwen’s mom puts her hands on her hips and with an offended tone says, Well, that’s a fine way to greet your Mama when I’ve been on a bus all night to get here.

Gwen sighs as she says, Why were you on a bus, Mom? I thought you were going to use the money I loaned you to buy a car?

And I was, baby girl, swear to God, she says, raising her hand as if taking an oath on court. But would you believe that right after I got that check from you, I lost my job. It was that old biddy Carol’s fault. She ratted me out to the manager for smoking in the bathroom, just like I was the only one who’d ever done that. Well, anyway, without a job, I couldn’t pay my bills, so that’s where that money went.

So I missed a semester of school for nothing? Gwen says, more with resignation than anger.

Not for nothing, honey, unless you think keeping your Mama from having to live on the streets is nothing. But listen, I’ve got a new project. That’s what I’m here for, and if it pays off, you and I’ll both have all the money we’ll need.

OK, Mom, sure, whatever, Gwen says. But meanwhile, I need to get back to work. Can we talk later? I get off at 4 p.m.

Sure, honey, that’ll be fine. I’ll just take a little walk through town and meet you back here then.

Fine, Mom. I’ll see you then, Gwen says, going back to finish Helen’s sandwich.

Gwen’s mom turns to leave. When she notices me sitting in the corner, she gives me a look of disdain, then walks out of the bakery.

I don’t really think much of her attitude towards me. The sins of my fellow priests have soured many on men of the cloth. It’s hardly the first time someone’s seen me with my collar and given me a dirty look.

A few minutes later, Gwen returns to the counter with my sandwich, but doesn’t make eye contact. She says nothing as I pay her, and she only responds with a perfunctory, Thank you. I start to leave, but change my mind.

There’s no one in the bakery this time of the afternoon so I say quietly, Gwen, there’s no need to feel embarrassed in front of me. I guarantee you, I’ve seen worse family disagreements. Heck, I’ve been part of worse.

She manages a weak smile, even as she begins to tear up. Well, yeah, Father, but you’re a priest married to a cop. Living with it is a lot different.

As I know from personal experience, I say quietly. My sister was a drug addict who was murdered while working in human trafficking, and my 70-year-old mother is currently engaged to a 20-something-year-old stripper. I experienced plenty of family dysfunction long before I ever met Helen or became a priest.

It's just so frustrating, Father, she says through gritted teeth, slamming her palm down on the counter for emphasis. I mean, I know what the Bible says about honoring your parents, but sometimes I just get so tired of cleaning up her messes. That’s the reason I wasn’t in school last term and I’m only taking one class now. I gave her money for a car so she could make some extra money driving people around and delivering food. I guess you heard how that turned out.

I did, and you’re frustrated because it is frustrating. I pause for a moment, then ask, What about your Dad?

What about him? she says with a shrug. I never knew who he was, and I’m not sure Mom did, either.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks and sighs. "Look, Father, the only reason I’m where I am today is because of my grandparents. Mom always talks about how badly they treated her and how they never loved or supported anything she ever wanted to do. Maybe that’s true. But I’ve seen photo albums full of happy family photos of when she was young. Pictures of her in Girl Scout and sports uniforms, at dance recitals, the whole nine yards. They have framed photos of her all over their house to this day, even after she’s lied to them and stolen from them repeatedly.

"And they did everything they could for me. They took me to museums and the zoo and spent every moment they could with me. They made sure I got to school on time when she couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed, made me good meals when she only wanted me to eat junk food, and bought me books–oh, so many books. And they loved me, right up to the day Mom snatched me up and we ran off with the first of a series of boyfriends. Every time she’d break up with someone, she’d call Nana and Papa and they’d come get us. They’d get me cleaned up and we’d stay with them for a while until Mom got another wild hair up her ass–sorry, Father–and then we’d be off again.

"The last time she did that was when I was fourteen. I had just started high school. I came home with a stack of new textbooks and so much enthusiasm for the coming year. But Mom was there waiting for me. To this day, I don’t know what happened, and I really don’t care. Nana was crying and begging her to let me stay. Mom looked at me and said, ‘Go get your shit. We’re outta here.’ So I did something I’d never done before. I dropped to the floor and said, ‘No. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to drag me out of here. If you try to do that, I will fight you until someone has to call the police. They might put me in juvie, but at least it’ll be better than living with you.’

That’s when she started screaming at Nana, saying it was all her fault, that she had turned me against her. She started to take a swing at Nana but I was fast and knocked her down before she could. She really went crazy then and started hitting me. She blacked my eye and bruised my arms before Papa got home and pulled her off of me. He said he was going to call the police but Nana said no, he shouldn’t, because they might put me in foster care. So Papa told Mama to get out and never set foot on his property again. He said he’d take pictures of what she’d done to me and if she ever came back, he’d take them to the police. So she left.

Gwen pauses here and begins to smile. Father, for the next four years, I had peace in my life. Nana and Papa took me to church–they’re Catholic, by the way, helped me make friends with nice kids, even drove me around the county so I could play softball. They also made sure I did my homework and helped me apply to colleges. The only thing I ever did that they really didn’t want me to do was come to Myer College. They wanted me to stay local but I had a full ride scholarship and I’m not that far away. I still go home for at least a few days every break.

And your Mom? I ask quietly.

Oh, she’d show up for things like my graduation and insist on taking all these pictures with me that she could put on the internet, like we were some kind of big happy family. At first it bothered me but then I thought, ‘what the hell’–sorry, Father–what difference did it make? I know who I am and whose I am. If she wanted to pretend she was some kind of supermom for likes on social media, it really didn’t affect me at all. She always wanted money, too, a little more every time until this last time. But I promise you, after what she just told me, she’s not getting another dime from me.

After hearing her story of all she’s had to overcome, my admiration and affection for this young woman has grown. There are so many parts of her life I can relate to.

I know how hard it can be to decide to keep a parent at arms length, I say. Honoring someone doesn’t mean you have to let a toxic parent stay in your life. It sounds like you’ve been very patient with your mother.

Gwen sighs. I’ve given her so many chances. And I do love her. She is my mom, after all. She gave me life when she could have chosen just to get rid of me–sometimes I wonder why she didn’t. But I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to let her drag me down, too. I don’t care what I have to do to stop her, but make no mistake, Father, I will do it.

Four: Helen

I haven’t been at the office long when I get a text from Father Wayne:

Don’t forget our meeting at noon. It’s your turn to supply the ammo.

Who else but Father Francis Marion Wayne, ex-Marine Corps chaplain, would offer spiritual direction at a shooting range?

I arrive at the range a little before noon, thankful that I’ve already planned to eat lunch at my desk. Tom promised me a sandwich from The Muffin Man, and my mouth waters every time I think of it. Father Wayne’s Jeep Wrangler–complete with a Marine Corps window sticker in one corner and a ‘Pray for Vocations’ sticker in the other–is already in the parking lot.

Trying to get a few practice rounds in before me, huh, Father? I mutter with a smile.

As I suspected, he’s already in the range, squeezing off a few rounds from his 9 mm Glock. He also has another gun on the little counter in front of him. I’ve never seen him with it, but I recognize it as an old military-issue Colt .45 revolver.

He must have seen movement out of the corner of his eye because he stops shooting and turns towards me. Smiling, he takes off his ear protection and extends his hand. Helen, good to see you.

You, too, Father, I say, returning his smile. I point to the antique in front of him. I haven’t seen that one before.

He smiles and picks it up, looking at it with affection. My father’s, he says. Carried it with him into combat in Korea–he was too young for WW2. When I joined the Marines after high school, he gave it to me.

So you fought in Vietnam? I ask, eager to learn more about this man I admire so much.

He laughs at this. No, no, Helen. By the time I got in, we’d already evacuated Saigon. It was the peacetime Corps–well, you know, as peaceful as the Marines ever get. I served proudly from 1978 to 1985, then again as a chaplain from 2001 until 2010, when it was strongly suggested I resign.

I furrow my brow. I thought you were a career Marine?

A cloud passes over his face. I fully intended that, Helen, when I joined. I wanted to serve in my father’s footsteps.

So, what happened?

He looks at the gun in his hand, which I notice trembles a little. My unit was sent to Beirut in 1984, I say. You were a child then, so you probably don’t remember what happened.

A truck bomb attack on the Marine barracks, I say quietly. You were there?

He nods. That’s how I earned my Purple Heart and decided that maybe God had another plan for my life.

Without saying another word, he dons his hearing protection, adopts a shooter’s stance, takes aim at the target, and fires off round after round from the Colt.

He places the now-empty revolver back on the counter, takes his ear protection off, and turns back to me. Well, Helen, shall we?

We start, as always, with prayer. Then, we spend the next thirty minutes target shooting. Afterward, we get sodas at the little snack bar outside and talk.

In an unusual move, I start the conversation today. Father, I say hesitantly, I couldn’t help but notice you’re a little off today. Is anything wrong?

He shoots me a wry smile and says, Now, Helen, this is supposed to be when we talk about you, not me.

He pauses for a moment before saying, But I suppose I can admit to you that I’ve got several things on my mind, beginning with a couple of students who are in way over their heads in their personal lives. You know, I think that many people were surprised when the Cardinal appointed me to be chaplain on a college campus, even a college as small as Myer. But he and I talked about it a good bit, and one of the things we discussed was that the type of problems turning up on college campuses today are more like what I saw among hardened Marines and their families twenty years ago than what seminary professors, or even parish priests, are accustomed to seeing.

I can understand that, I say. I know Tom is regularly shocked by some of the stories I bring home.

Speaking of which, he asks, obviously wanting to take the focus off himself, How are things between you two?

Good, I say. I quoted you to him yesterday when we were discussing a problem with one of our parishioners.

I hear you say ‘our,’ Helen, he says seriously. That is an admirable sentiment, but also a dangerous one. Some people, especially women, may prefer talking to you more than Tom about spiritual issues. The problem is that they may see your words, for better or worse, not as coming from a friend or even a relative, but from Tom. So I encourage you to avoid making any statement that could be considered in the least controversial.

I take a deep breath. You know you’re really challenging me on that, right, Father?

I know that very well, and for what it's worth, I have experienced similar conflict myself when people try to take something I’ve said as representing the opinion of the Cardinal. It is common knowledge that I have been his closest confidant for years now, and it is not a role I take lightly. I would do anything to serve and protect him, as I’m sure you would for Tom. The problem is that while it would be pretty straightforward to shoot someone, choosing our words carefully and staying quiet when we want to speak is a bigger challenge. But as you face this challenge, just think what you’d do if Tom told someone that he thought the county’s speed limits were unfair or that he’d figured out a way to beat the red light cameras?

There’s a twinkle in his eye as he says this and I ask, What led you to mention speeding in particular, Father Wayne?

Oh nothing, really. I’ve just seen him around town in that sports car of his, and I’ve noticed a certain, shall we say, flexibility on his part when it comes to traffic laws.

We both laugh at this and he looks at his watch. Well, my dear, we should both be on our ways. What can I pray specifically for you this week?

I have a sergeant who is expecting a baby in a few months. I’ve been working on a way to help her stay on the force without taking her away from her child anymore than she has to be. But my bosses have to approve it, so I’d appreciate your prayers that they do.

A very modern problem indeed, but one I’m sure you can handle. Now, let me give you a blessing and we’ll be on our way.

***

Not long after I get back to the office, Tom stops by with my sandwich from Nick Hallstead’s place. We move to the sofa, and I ask, How was lunch?

Great! he says. He told me why he and Mae had a private bedroom on the plane coming back from Rome.

Frankly, I’m a little shocked at this. Oh, Tom, really, I say, shaking my head. Aren’t you two a little old for locker room talk?

Helen, it wasn’t what you think–at least, not primarily. he says with a grin. He got the room because Mae’s pregnant.

Oh that’s wonderful! I say, looking at the big smile on Tom’s face.

But inside, I have different thoughts. Mae’s news is wonderful, and I am truly happy for her. But I still feel sad, because yet another woman is joining the biggest club on earth–one I have been excluded from. When I was alone, it mattered less. But now, knowing that I can never give that happiness to Tom, it hurts just a little bit more.

Not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm, I force myself to smile. When is she due?

January, he says. His grin slowly disappears. He’s obviously caught the look in my eyes. That’s why Martin wanted to have lunch. But there’s something more important I need to talk to you about.

I want to tell him it's OK, that he doesn’t need to change the subject. The truth is, however, that I’m glad to talk about something else. What’s that?

I sort of met Gwen Tolson’s mother today, he says gravely.

What do you mean ‘sort of met’? I ask, confused by his choice of words.

She came into The Muffin Man and caused a bit of a scene. I don’t think Gwen was expecting her, and she certainly wasn’t happy about her visit. Fortunately, I was the only one there, and after she left, I stayed to talk to Gwen.  From what I gather, her mom has a rather checkered past. You know that I normally keep things like this to myself, but I know that Gwen’s applying to the police department. While I didn’t learn anything that alarmed me, I also know the kind of toll family drama like that can take on a person. I thought you might want to talk with Gwen when you get a chance.

I’ll do that, I say. Did you happen to get her mom’s name?

No, I didn’t. You’ll have to ask Gwen.

I’m afraid I will have to, I say with a sigh. Not because her mother’s problems could keep her out of police work, but so we can help Gwen watch her own back.

Which is exactly why I am telling you this, he says with a grin. Now give me a kiss so I can go home and make dinner.

I’ll be glad to, but are you sure you want to cook? I mean, it is your day off.

Yes, I want to cook. I saw something on the menu at Spacolli’s that I want to try making. It’ll be fun.

Well, in that case, I will not look a gift horse in the mouth.

I should hope not. I give him his kiss and send him on his way, while I return to my Reuben and my piles of paperwork.

Five: Tom

Tuesday around 1 p.m., I pick Helen up at the police station. After giving her a kiss along with her lunch, I ask one more time, Are you sure you have time for this?

I’m positive, she says pleasantly as she opens the lunch bag. Dan can mind the store for a few hours. He knows where I am, and he can reach me anytime. Besides, I enjoy making hospital visits with you. It feels good to see people who are actually recovering from their troubles instead of just making them worse.

Well, you know I always enjoy having you tag along. Just remember–

I know, she says with a slight roll of the eyes. Your turf, your rules. I am there to offer comfort. I am not there to try to determine exactly how a kid fell out of a tree or what an old lady did in her life that caused her gallbladder to have to be removed.

Exactly, I say. Pulling out of the parking lot, I’m careful to watch my speed. After a state trooper pulled me over the other day and gave me a ticket for going 85 in a 70 mph zone–it was the interstate, for crying out loud–Helen gave me another lecture about not speeding.

Now to be fair, Helen, this is the first ticket an actual human’s given me, I had said at the time. Frankly, most officers see the collar and let me go with a warning.

But not this time, Tom, and it cost you $90 and 2 points on your license. You know what that means?

I nodded. It comes out of my book fund, right?

Right.

I didn’t argue the point, but quickly canceled an order I’d placed a couple of days before.

Have you heard anymore about Steve? Helen asks.

I shake my head. I actually tried to call back the number I have from the first call. Surprise, surprise, it’s not in service.

Do you get the feeling that there’s a whole side to Steve that few of us know about?

Uh-huh, and frankly I’ll be just as happy never to see that side of him again.

What did Gary say when you told him?

Well, I say as I turn off the street in front of the police department onto the one that goes to the hospital, he accepted the news. No real show of emotion. He thanked me and asked me to keep him posted, though I suspect he’s already contacted people he knows to get some first-hand information.

I suspect there was a lot more emotion after you left, Helen says quietly. You should check on Felicity in a couple of days to see how he’s doing.

We spend the rest of the drive talking about our jobs. For my part, I mention the registration fair coming up, the two meetings I have in the next two days, and the difficult time I’m having with this Sunday’s homily. Helen talks about a long discussion she had with the Mayor about the department’s lack of women and minorities.

Speaking of women in law enforcement, I say, is Nina doing well?

Is she doing well? Hmm, I think she’s doing OK. She’s frustrated with being on a desk, as I would be. But she’s adjusting little by little.

Any progress on the secret project?

That was the main reason I called the Mayor, to get her support and her promise to rush the approval through the personnel office.

Oh, so it involves a new position for Nina? I ask.

Helen colors a bit, realizing she’s said too much. Maybe, she says coyly.

Deciding not to press the subject, I instead say, So what did Madam Mayor say?

Well, when I pointed out we’d be bringing on at least one new female officer in the next six months, and the position would–well, never mind about that—she promised me her full support. Hopefully, I’ll hear something in the next day or two.

Then you’ll tell Nina.

She nods. And as soon as I tell Nina, I’ll tell you.

We arrive at Myerton General and I swing into the clergy parking space. Thanks to the intervention of a certain trauma surgeon, the hospital moved the parking space for clergy from somewhere on the other side of Hagerstown nearer to the entrance to the Emergency Room.

The space happens to be right next to the space reserved for police cars.

Where shall we start? Helen asks as we walk to the entrance.

I pull out my phone and look at my list. Well, let’s see, I say. We’ve got two surgeries, someone in for observation, and Gloria MacMillan.

Helen stops in her tracks as I continue to walk. What? she hisses. You didn’t tell me she was here!

I stop and turn back. Cocking my head to one side and smiling, If I had, you wouldn’t have come, now would you?

She opens her mouth to protest, then changes her mind. She draws herself up and starts marching to the entrance.

You owe me, Father, she whispers sharply.

Are treasures in heaven not enough? I say with a smile, falling into step beside her.

Treasures in heaven are fine, she says with a mischievous grin, but remember this the next time I need a favor from you.

Now it’s my turn to stop in my tracks, even as the doors open and she walks right through.

***

Fortunately for both of us, Gloria MacMillan is sound asleep when we arrive at her room.

Her grandson AJ’s there, and steps out into the hallway. What is she here for? I ask. Anything serious?

AJ sighs. No, Father, he says, a note of disappointment in his voice. She has an ingrown toenail that became infected. Grossest thing I’ve seen in my entire life. Can you believe she wanted me to take care of it? Handed me a pair of needle nose pliers. ‘Just give it a good yank, then squeeze the junk out of it.’ She was mad as hell at me when I called the ambulance. Yelling at the EMTs that she wasn’t going to pay the bill when she got it, that all she needed was a grandson with some guts–she didn’t say guts, but you’re a priest and I don’t want to tell you what she really said. Anyway, they got her here, gave her something for the pain and took care of it. They’re just keeping her overnight to make sure they got all the infection. She’s on IV antibiotics.

Helen smiles and says, I know she appreciates you being here.

AJ snorts. Chief Greer, the only person on earth she appreciates is that guy on her soap opera. I’m just here because if I’m not when she wakes up, I’ll never hear the end of it.

What about your Aunt Serenity and your Uncle Rob? Have they been here? I ask.

Oh yeah, oh yeah. They were here for the five minutes it took for Grandma to criticize them about something. They left not long after that. He shakes his head and sighs. I wish I could leave.

Now, AJ, Helen says in her Chief of Police tone, you know what the terms of your probation are–

I know, I know, he says, waving his hand. I’m under Grandma’s supervision until late December. I’m only permitted to go to work or church. If I keep my nose clean, I’m a free man around Christmas.

Are you still working for Nick? I ask.

Yeah, he’s a great guy. He asked me if I wanted to learn the business, since Gwen’s going to be starting the police academy in the fall, but I told him no. I like eating donuts a lot, but I don’t want to learn how to make them. Besides, if I do that, I can’t leave town as soon as the judge says I can. I’ve been saving as much as I can, and I’m leaving on the first thing smoking.

Considering everything, I can’t blame him.

We say goodbye to AJ, who promises to tell Gloria that we stopped by. As soon as we’re on the elevator, Helen says, I really feel sorry for him, but if Gloria winds up dead between now and December, he’ll be my first suspect.

Now, Helen– I start to say, then realize she’s right.

***

Two hours later we’ve visited the other three parishioners in the hospital. I gave communion to those who had requested it, and both Helen and I spent time with them and their families.

At one point, I watch Helen talking to one of the children visiting their grandparents. She has such an easy way with kids, quite remarkable for someone who not that long ago expressed no real affection for children.

She would have been a good mom. Had things been different between us, if I’d married her instead of leaving and breaking our engagement, we might have had several children. She’d have been a lawyer, I’d have worked as an archivist. We wouldn’t have known the heartbreak of losing a spouse. She might not have suffered the pain of never having children.

I rarely spend time in the world of what might have been. I heard someone once say that if you could change one thing, you’d change it for the worse. We are the people we are–the couple we are–because of all of our experiences. Two imperfect people–and as a priest, being so close to the perfect, I am fully aware of my imperfections–that God brought together in a most remarkable way.

Why were you looking at me? she says after we’ve left.

I seriously consider telling her some little lie, but instead say truthfully, Oh, I saw you with the kids, and spent some time thinking about what might have been.

She says nothing for the rest of our walk down the corridor. But as soon as the elevator doors close, she says quietly, I’ve spent some time there, too, the last couple of days.

I put my hand on her shoulder. Is it because of Mae?

She nods. Yes, but Nina also. I’m so happy for them, but I can’t help wondering why, you know? Why did I have my chance for children taken from me? It just doesn’t seem fair.

A single tear is falling down her cheek now. I take her in my arms and whisper, I know, darling. And I don’t pretend to have any answers.

She nods. There was a time when I thought God hated me, and that’s why it happened. I don’t believe that anymore, of course. He’s been so, so good to me–to us–but I can’t help wondering sometimes.

Just sometimes? I say with a sad smile. You’re doing better than I do.

She gives a short laugh at this, then looks up at me. You know I wouldn’t trade these last two years with you for anything, you know that, right?

I know. Same here.

Just then, the elevator doors open. We walk off the elevator arm and arm. A couple of people walking by give us funny looks.

Apparently, there are still some who don’t recognize us from the press coverage of our wedding a few months ago.

By mutual agreement, we finish up our day by praying in the emergency department’s waiting room. It’s become a tradition for me to end my hospital visits here, and Helen joins me when she tags along. Sometimes we’re alone, but when others are here, I offer to pray for their loved ones.

Today it is the former. After praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet for the well-being of the doctors and nurses of Myerton General, we’re about to leave when Nina Hallstead walks