The Silent Shooter

Three-4

WE’RE ALMOST TO MYERTON when Helen asks, “Tom, you say the Liturgy of Hours every day, right?”

“Most of the time,” I answer. “I mean, it is always a goal to say all the hours, and I did, faithfully, when I was Archdiocesan Archivist. But since becoming a parish priest, I am a lot busier and so while I usually say Morning and Evening Prayer, as well as Night Prayer right before I go to sleep, I don’t always get around to the Daytime Prayers. Why do you ask?”

“Because I believe it’s important for us to try to be roughly equal in as many areas of our life as we can. You’re always going to have an advantage over me in the spiritual department, but I want to try to even the playing ground.”

“Well, it would not be hard to say Evening Prayer together after dinner now that we’re engaged. Morning Prayer might be a bit trickier since we’re not typically together in the early mornings.”

“At least not yet,” she says playfully.

“Seven months, three days and an odd number of hours, my darling.”

“I know. But we talked about being part of each other’s world and you have done a wonderful—some in the department might even say excessive—job becoming part of my world. I want to become more of a part of yours.”

“OK, well, let's start tomorrow night. That will give me a chance to get my mind around how we should proceed.”

I pull into the driveway at the Applegates and we walk to the door hand in hand. I ring the doorbell, and soon Vivian greets us with a cheerful smile.

“Tom,” she says, giving me a hug. “Hel—” she stops when she spies the sapphire ring on Helen’s left hand.

“Is that what I think it is?” Vivian squeals. Helen nods, and Vivian throws her arms around her. “Oh, I am so happy for you! Tom, you too,” she says as she turns to me and wraps me in a hug. “Clark! Get out here! And bring the champagne!”

From the kitchen, Clark yells, “Is it what we thought it was?”

“If you thought we’re here to tell you the Vatican said yes,” I shout with a laugh, “then you’re right!”

Clark comes from the kitchen and places the champagne on the coffee table before hugging Helen and then me. Once we’re all in the living room, Clark deftly uncorks the champagne with a resounding pop and pours the glasses, handing them around.

“Tom, Helen,” Clark says, “you have both been in our prayers since you shared with us the possibility that you might marry. The Lord has answered your prayers, and ours. Vivian and I are so happy for you, and we want you to know you have our love, support and continued prayers as you embark on this new chapter in your lives.”

We drink, then sit down. For the next hour, we tell Clark and Vivian everything that has happened and is going to happen in the coming days and weeks.

“I would expect, Clark, that as a local pastor, the press will want to talk to you,” I say.

“I’ll just let Viv handle that,” he says, patting his wife on her shoulder. “She’s the professional, after all.”

“Speaking of the press,” Vivian says, “need any help with that?”

Helen says, “Not right now. The Vatican Press Office sent someone, Angelo Risetti, to coordinate our press contacts until things begin to settle down.”

I say, “I know that you have your own obligations Sunday morning, Clark, but we’d love to have you and Vivian at the reception afterwards.”

“We’ll try to be there,” Clark says, “probably well after it starts, you understand.”

“Oh, we’re not going to be there at first anyway,” Helen laughs. “The Archbishop is announcing the engagement to the press right after Mass ends. We have to pose for pictures, you know, look like the happy engaged couple we are.”

“But,” I say, “we won’t have to answer questions.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Helen says. “The first performance of the Father Tom Greer and Detective Helen Parr Dog-and-Pony Show is next Monday morning, live from beautiful downtown Myerton.”

“What?” Clark asks, looking a little startled.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Heather Andrews is interviewing us in front of a live audience. They’re going to be erecting a stage on the church lawn.”

“Well, we’ll be there,” Clark nods.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Vivian says, “But remember, the press is just doing their job, even when they ask questions you may find intrusive. Just be prepared for them.”

“How can we prepare for them when we don’t know what they’ll be?” I ask.

“Oh, use your imagination. What do you think people will want to know about the most?”

“s*x,” Helen and I say at the same time. We quickly look at each other and blush.

Clark laughs. “You’re probably right about that one. In this day and age, especially, people will want to know about your mutual commitment to chastity until you’re married—especially you, Helen.”

She nods thoughtfully. “They’ll probably want to know about how I fell in love with a priest,” she says.

“How I reacted,” I say. “About any conflicts, thoughts about leaving.”

Vivian nods. “I think you’re going to be more than ready. And if there’s a question out of left field you don’t want to answer, just brush it aside and change the subject.”

“That’s good advice,” I say. “Thanks.”

We chat for a few minutes about the goings-on in Clark’s church and their boys, as well as Anna and my Mom.

Looking at the time, Clark says, “You know, I hate to push you out, but you both have a long day tomorrow. You two better be getting home.”

Helen and I stand, as does Vivian. “But before you leave,” Clark says, “I’d like to do something that, frankly, I’ve never done before. Let’s kneel together so I can pray for the two of you.”

“That would be wonderful,” I say.

“Yes,” Helen adds, “that would be lovely.”

After helping Clark move the coffee table, we all kneel together in their living room while he prays for Helen and me and the beginning of our new life together. Helen and I hold hands during it, and I’m thankful that she and I have such friends to love us and pray for us during the months ahead.

***