Father Briar and The Angel (9 page)

The amorous couple had
taken advantage of the parish’s “open door” policy and snuck into
the sanctuary one snowy day after school to explore not their
faith, but their bodies. There weren’t heretical enough to get it
on right there in the pews (having spent many a Sunday mass sitting
in them, they knew how sore they could make a clothed butt, much
less a naked one) so they went down to the nursery, which they knew
to both be empty and have padded play mats that would be
comfortable to lay, and get laid, on.

It was By Golly Gosha who’d
spotted them.

She was out driving around
town, up to nothing much, just watching the machinations and
movements of its denizens. This was her entertainment, her movies,
and it was far better than anything that was on the flickering,
static-ridden, newly popular television. From the cab of her Ford
truck (“Where does she get the money for such vehicles?” the locals
wondered, “selling rabbits can’t be
that
profitable”) she’d seen Ramona
and Trig sneak into the church and, knowing what teenagers do alone
in the dark, had gone to investigate.

She phoned Father Briar,
although not immediately; no, she took in ten minutes of the show
beforehand. She envied their teenage energy; their coupling was
positively electric, athletic, and arousing.

Upon his arrival, Cedric
gave a sharp rap on the door with his weathered knuckles. In the
small room it sounded like a shotgun going off and poor Trig leapt
away from his girlfriend and lost his erection in world
record-breaking time.

Father Briar and Gosha
could hear the jangling of belt buckles and the zipping of zippers,
so he waited until they were properly dressed to preserve their
modesty.

Then he chewed them out
using language he’d learned as a sailor.

Those events had led to
this meeting, with both concerned mothers. “I don’t want this to be
seen as a bigger problem than it actually is. Young adults,
especially these days, as they are so under the influence of trashy
media like movies, rock and roll, and romance novels, are beset
with sexual desires. It is that they learn to control them that is
important.” Here, Cedric couldn’t help bit feel like a bit of a
hypocrite, as he had no desire to control his sexual urges when he
was around Julianna.

In his heart of hearts, he
sympathized with Trigger and Ramona, sympathized with them deeply.
If Father Briar, with all of his Jesuit rigor and deeply abiding
Catholic faith, as well as years of training and practice, couldn’t
control himself, how could the teens?

He’d had a simple childhood
and his future had been planned and predetermined since the morning
of his birth; his was to be a life of service to God and Country.
So it was easy, at least for a while, to subvert his sexual nature
in pursuit of said service. These kids had so many options; the
whole world was laid out in front of them. There was talk of Trygve
going to the National Hockey League. “Getting paid to play hockey,”
Cedric marveled as he looked at the boy’s kindly and rotund mother,
“who could imagine such a thing?”

So he empathized with her
concern, too. Father Briar was never short on empathy. If Trigger
got Ramona “in a family way,” that would ruin his chances at a
glamorous future and sporting career. They’d be stuck here in
Brannaska forever, as if frozen in ice. They’d live a traditional,
conventional life, a difficult one, not like the Joe and Marilyn
life his talent could earn them.

As if paralleling his
thoughts, Mrs. Olsen asked, “do you think they should get
married?”

Cedric was surprised by the
speed and fervor of his response. “Absolutely not,” he commanded.
“Eighteen is far too young.”

“
I was married at
eighteen,” Mrs. Herbertson volunteered.

“
I was married at
sixteen,” Mrs. Olsen said, “best decision I ever made.”

“
Twenty two years with Ty
Olsen seems like a long, long time,” Cedric thought, but of course
didn’t say anything. “After all, what do I know about
marriage?”

And this, of course, made
his thoughts turn towards his beloved Julianna and how if she
stayed in love with him, and stayed faithful to him, she would
never be married. He wondered how much that weighed on her, how
much it hurt. It was something he’d never considered. He’d always
assumed he’d be a priest, and he’d also spent some years assuming
he’d be killed in the war, like good old Jake. But didn’t every
little girl grow up believing she’d be married, didn’t she grow up
dreaming of the day?

“
I don’t think they should
be married, either. I just want them to stop having sexual
intercourse.”

For whatever reason, the
other woman’s use of such a formal term made Mrs. Olsen giggle. Her
laughter was infectious and soon Cedric had caught it. He felt
rather undignified but he couldn’t help it. Knowing she had such
effect on people (living all those years with a goofy and notorious
eccentric had taught her a thing or two about comedy) she would
deploy her good cheer with strategic intent, often to defuse tense
situations.

“
Well, I’m glad we’ve all
had this little chat,” Father Briar said, even though nothing had
been resolved and no conclusions had been reached. There wasn’t
much he could do in this situation, anyway, other than to recommend
Scripture and other readings about morality and family and
conscience. Those were three things very much on his mind and he
wanted some space in his office to think. These women with their
catalogue ordered and mail delivered perfumes and bouffant hairdos
were overwhelming him.

“
Are you making the trip
up to Thief River Falls for the big hockey game this weekend? We
play Mille Lacs tomorrow here at home, but we’ll smoke them.” Mrs.
Olsen asked.

“
I certainly am,” he said.
He was planning on a way to finagle a seat next to Julianna, too,
but he didn’t mention that. He’d already arranged for her to come
to the home game tomorrow, but would he be able to get her to come
on a road trip with him?

Oh, how he longed for a
weekend away!

What would these women
think if he was giving them advice from personal experience,
experience neither he nor any other priest was supposed to
have?

“
Our family was thinking
of making a weekend of it in the big city. Maybe you could join us
and have a talk with Trigger after the game? Maybe Saturday
morning? We could have breakfast?”

Cedric couldn’t help but
smile at hearing her call Thief River Falls “the big city.” There
were six thousand people there.

“
And, quite frankly,”
Father Briar thought, “I was hoping to spend Saturday morning in
bed with Julianna.” It may not have been a bustling metropolis, but
Thief River Falls was big enough to provide a cover of invisibility
and anonymity for the illicit lovers. But his holy clerical duty
called.

“
Breakfast it is. And tell
Trigger and the rest of the boys good luck from me!”

Hiding your true feelings
is a gift given through the grace of God.

Chapter Ten: Hockey is
Religion, Religion is Hockey.

“
Come on boys, get to
fore-checking!” Ty Olsen shouted.

Julianna was stunned by his
passion for schoolboys playing a children’s game. But she had to
admit, there was an adrenaline rush to it; the rush of the team up
the ice, the building roar of the crowd, and the hot slap of the
stick against the puck, launching it towards the net. Whenever
Brannaska scored, Cedric would jump up and down beside her. His
excitement was exciting. When the locals won, he hugged
her.

Oh, yes, she could get in
to hockey.

“
When do they play again?”
she asked.

“
This weekend, up in Thief
River Falls.”

“
What an odd name for a
town. Are there really thieves up there?”

“
None that I am aware of.
But there is a river, and there are falls, lovely little falls. And
a high school hockey rink, of course.”

Of course. Every town in
Minnesota had at least one place for the teenage team to play, in
addition to a dozen or more for the neighborhood kids.

“
Would it be alright if I
attended that game, too?” This was a leading question; she darn
well better be able to attend the game with him!

Your support for the team
is always welcome,” he said with a sly smile, knowing that she
wanted a little more. She got a little squirrelly, he could see her
positively vibrating in her puffy down overcoat, but he wasn’t
quite ready to let it go yet.

“
The Church is, as always,
chartering a bus to take the congregation’s fans up there. You
could ride with them.”

“
With them?” she asked.
“Aren’t you going?” She tried not to let her frustration show. Her
faced turned red and she pursed her lips up into a pouty, kissy,
fish face.

Now he figured he’d been
winding her up long enough.

“
Yes, of course I’m going,
I have to drive up a little early to have lunch with a fellow
pastor in Thief River Falls, and then I’ll go to the game.” He
grinned his trademark grin. Thanks to the Navy’s generous dental
program, his teeth were perfect. She wanted to kiss him right on
the mouth. “Why don’t you take the Church bus up and we’ll find a
way for you to ride back with me.”

“
That is exactly what I
wanted to hear,” she said.

So that is exactly what
they did.

The church bus was lively
and fun. It was a three hour ride and so they occupied themselves
by singing songs and playing bingo. Julianna watched the Northern
Minnesota countryside unfold outside the windows, and when they
frosted up, she put her fingertips to them and pressed little
peepholes so she could see the world.

Sometimes she felt as
though her relationship with Cedric was like watching the world
through a peephole. She could see a bit of life, sometimes
beautiful things, sometimes a bit of the sun or the sky, but never
a whole picture, never a whole moment, never the whole of
love.

It was as though she would
always have to wear blinders, that she’d never be able to see or
feel what the rest of the world saw and felt, that she’d miss out
on so much.

But it was beautiful, too!
And safe. If she never could experience all of love, she could
never then feel the crushing loss when it ended, right?

The wheels of the bus went
round and round, rolling towards Thief River Falls.

Outside the arena, the
atmosphere was festive as the townspeople tried to shake off the
winter blues with some good old fashioned rivalry. People
materialized from the frozen over fields; Julianna couldn’t believe
how many people turned out.

“
It must be everybody in
three counties,” she thought.

It was, and probably more.
Thief River Falls High School Loggers were the best team in the
state of Minnesota, a place that takes high school hockey as
seriously as they took their farming, their religion, and their
complaining about the weather.

What prep football is to
Texas, prep hockey is to Minnesota. Games between great teams
routinely drew over five thousand souls, and tickets on the “black
market” could get expensive. The black market in Brannaska
consisted of Bjorn’s Café, a breakfast spot favored by farmers and
fans alike, as their apple fritters and Sunday Smorgasbords were
unrivalled throughout Central Minnesota. A twenty five cent ticket
could, sold by the proprietor-cum-auctioneer, who was Bjorn
himself, fetch two whole dollars.

The arena smelled like
fresh popcorn and stale, sweaty wool. Socks and mittens and hats
and coats steamed as their wearers warmed up, the air was thick
with competitive anticipation and teenage hormones. The cheers from
the girls in bobby sox and poodle skirts (often with two or three
layers of nylons to keep their pink legs warm; with war rationing
over, nylons were once again an affordable luxury) bounced around
the arena, boosted by the echo off the ice.

Brannaska came out in green
and white, Thief River Falls in black and white. Their sticks were
taped at the handles and curves with obsessive care. Skating
through their warm-ups, the teams carved graceful curves on the new
ice, elegant calligraphy with a grammar all its own.

There was something
reverent and worshipful about the crowd.

Julianna had never been
much into sports. As a child she’d been studious and her family
moved about the country like gypsies while her dad chased
interesting jobs.

She marveled at how the
players could turn on a dime, throwing their bodies sideways at the
last moment and sending a fine cloud of shaved ice skyward.
Julianna was impressed with their ability to skate forwards so
fast, so when they skated backwards with equal aplomb she could
barely believe her eyes.

“
Our guys look tiny out
there next to them,” Cedric worried.

“
Slow, too,” the Mr. Olsen
said. He’d made the trip in “The Meat Wagon,” the pickup he used to
search for and haul the various specimens he was stuffing around
in. He was known to plunder road kill, then mount and sell the
unfortunate critters as though they’d had died noble deaths at the
hands of hungry hunters.