Bless Us Father (14 page)

Mrs. Riley put her hands on her hips and stepped closer to Mary Margaret. “I don’t see that it is any of your business. Father Antonio is our parish priest, and as such, he’s our spiritual advisor.”

Mary Margaret cocked an eyebrow. “And what was he advising you about?”

“What I discuss with my priest is privileged information. What does it matter to you, anyway?” she said, a red flush creeping up her neck.

“It...it looked like the two of you were pretty friendly, that’s all.”

“Go on. Finish that thought. I’m interested in knowing what you have to say. Please tell me.”

“Well, I told you before that Father touches me sometimes, and I was wondering if he’s doing that to you too.”

“Why, you evil child. I told you before not to lie about Father Antonio and besmirch his good name,” Mrs. Riley said, spitting the words out.

Mary Margaret stepped backwards into her room as her mother raised her hand up to slap her. She wasn’t fast enough, though, and the palm of Mrs. Riley’s hand made contact with her cheek and upper lip.

“MOM! You cut my lip! I can’t believe you hit me.”

She ran past her mother down the hallway and into the bathroom. She turned the cold water on and grabbed a hand towel that was lying on the counter. She dabbed at the small cut on her lip with the towel.

“Let me see,” Mrs. Riley commanded from behind her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Mary Margaret turned around and fixed her mother with an accusatory look. “You’ve never hit me before. What did I do to deserve this?”

“I’m sorry it’s come to this.” Mrs. Riley squared her shoulders. “It’s just a tiny cut, Mary Margaret. You’ll be fine.”

“I can feel my lip swelling. I’ll look terrible for school tomorrow,” she said, her chin quivering.

“Put some ice on it.” Mrs. Riley stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “One more thing. Don’t tell your father any of this. He’s got enough on his mind right now.”

“I understand, Mother,” Mary Margaret said, not really understanding at all.

#

Mary Margaret watched her father walk by her bedroom door, stop at the hall closet, remove the suitcases stored within, and take them back to his bedroom. She could hear drawers opening and his footsteps going back and forth in the room. Curiosity mixed with trepidation got the better of her as she got up to go to her parent’s room.

“Daddy? What are you doing?”

He had his back to her and was putting clothing into the suitcase that was on the bed. “I’m packing, Mary Margaret.”

“I can see that, Daddy, but why? Where are you going?”

“Your mother didn’t tell you?” he asked, going to the closet for more clothes.

“Tell me what?”

He sighed and hung his head before slowly turning to face his daughter. “I asked her to talk to you when you got back from the library. Did you see your mother before she went to the grocery store?”

“Well, yeah, I did,” Mary Margaret said, remembering the argument and slap on the face. “But she didn’t say you were going on a trip or anything like that.”

“Come over here, sweetheart,” he said, sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to him. “Sit down and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

Mary Margaret sat next to him and linked her arm through his, looking into his eyes.

“I’m going to have to go away for awhile.”

“But, why?” her words came out in a whisper and she felt like her throat was going to close, strangling her.

“My company is sending me to work at the Douglas plant in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I don’t know how long it’s going to be.”

“Tulsa? Why there?”

“Something is going on in Vietnam, and President Johnson is all worked up about it. He wants the Douglas plant to start working on repairs to military planes. I have to go with a bunch of other mechanics to be trained.”

“How long, Daddy?” she said, gripping his arm tighter and leaning against him.

“Sweetheart, I just don’t know. I asked your mother to go with me. I thought the three of us could have an adventure. You could go to school in Tulsa. I found a Catholic girl’s school there that seems nice.”

Mary Margaret’s heart skipped a beat. The idea sounded wonderful to her. She wasn’t having a good time in school right now, anyway, and though she’d miss Father Antonio... “When are Mom and I going?”

He sighed again. “You’re not. You’re staying here.”

“But I’d like to go. It would be an adventure. I want us all to be together.”

“Sweetie-pie, your mom flat refuses to leave California. She says her roots are here and she doesn’t have any desire to go live with the Okies.”

“Can I go with you, then? Mom can stay here.”

“No, Mary Margaret, you can’t. I’ll be working way too many hours and you’d be unsupervised in a new place. It wouldn’t do.”

“I’m old enough to supervise myself, Dad. I’d cook for you and make your lunches, and do your laundry. I’d be a big help. Please?”

Placing his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eye, he said, “I’m sure you would be a big help, but I can’t take you with me, Mary Margaret. I’m sorry. I rented a room in a house with some of the other men that are being transferred, and there won’t be any women living there. It wouldn’t do for you to go with me.”

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, pushed his hands away and ran out of the room. For the second time that day, she shut her bedroom door and put the chair against it so no one could get in. Flinging herself onto the bed, she shoved her face into her pillow and began sobbing. She felt betrayed by the people she most loved. They were all leaving her one by one. First Linda stopped being her friend, then Father O’Malley left for an extended visit to Ireland, and now the most important person in her life was leaving her. And to top it all off, her relationship with her mother was worse than it had ever been.

She didn’t have anyone left to turn to except Father Antonio. What if he left her, too? What would she do then?

All things truly wicked start from an innocence.

-Ernest Hemingway-

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

March, 1964

Pulling the blanket away from her face just far enough to see the clock, Mary Margaret was relieved it was only eight on a Saturday morning. Maybe she could sleep another hour before her mom started yelling at her to help with the cleaning.

It was getting harder and harder to get out of bed. Three months had passed and Dad was still in Tulsa. She missed him so much. So far he’d only managed to get home on two weekends, and Mom had refused to drive to Tulsa to visit him any other time. He wasn’t even going to be able to come home for her sixteenth birthday on the following weekend.

Mom spent most of her time drinking coffee and watching television. When she wasn’t cleaning the house or bossing Mary Margaret around, that is. She’d even taken up smoking again, a habit she’d kicked before Mary Margaret was born. When Mary Margaret asked her about it, she said it calmed her nerves.

Unable to go back to sleep, Mary Margaret uncovered her head and stared at the ceiling. How had her life gone so wrong? She didn’t have any friends to pal around with. Even Danny Ellis had started dating another girl. One that could actually go out on dates at the age of sixteen, unlike Mary Margaret who was going to have to wait until she was seventeen.

And Linda, her former best friend, didn’t even know she existed. Mary Margaret would see her walking across campus arm in arm with the other cheerleaders, laughing and giggling, and always looking past Mary Margaret, even when she was standing right in front of her.

Mary Margaret had never been a vivacious, bubbly person, but she’d had an optimistic outlook on life until now. For some reason, she just couldn’t force herself to be happy. She was so lonely. The only constant in her life was Father Antonio.

At the thought of Father, she blushed and allowed herself a little giggle. He did make her feel better, even if it was only once a week and for a very short time.

Father Antonio was always busy with parish activities because Father O’Malley was still in Ireland and he had to fill in. Father O’Malley’s trip had had to be extended when he fell and broke his hip while on vacation. No one knew for sure when he would be able to return to California. His family was caring for him in Ireland and seemed to want to keep him with them for as long as possible.

But one day of the week, Wednesday, Father Antonio took the day off and refused to take any calls. One of the priests from a neighboring parish covered for him, and he returned the favor for him on Thursday.

Father Antonio wouldn’t even let Mrs. Hunter work in the rectory on his day off, saying he needed as much peace and quiet as possible. Mary Margaret was still permitted to work her four hours in the evening in order to answer the telephones, however.

They’d fallen into a familiar routine. When Mary Margaret got there at four, Father Antonio already had the table set in the dining room, and had ordered pizza for them to share. He would pour himself a big glass or red wine and a glass of Pepsi for Mary Margaret. They would share the pizza while they talked about their week. Father Antonio did most of the listening, and asked lots of questions about Mary Margaret’s studies and activities. He always seemed happy when she said she didn’t do anything but go to school, help her mom around the house, and work in the rectory. He would nod enthusiastically when she told him this and tell her that’s all a good Catholic girl her age should be doing.

After their meal, Father would retire to his room to read awhile, and Mary Margaret would do her homework and answer the telephone. By now, she was well-trained and never, no never, called Father to the phone. She would give the caller the number to the priest at the neighboring parish and refused to tell them where Father Antonio was.

Then, about an hour before she was due to get off work, Father would come back downstairs carrying a portable record player. He’d first check to make sure all the doors were locked and all the blinds were closed, then he’d plug the record player in.

He was teaching Mary Margaret Latin dances, and the music he played was vibrant and sensual. At first she danced stiffly and with much restraint, but the last few weeks she’d learned to loosen up her hips and go with the beat of the music. She would close her eyes sometimes and allow him complete control over her movements.

They would dance for fifteen minutes or so and then Father would lead her over to the blue vinyl sofa. They would sit down and he would kiss her lips and neck as his hands fondled her breasts, abdomen, and her private parts. Lately he’d started unhooking her bra and putting his hands on her bare skin. She gasped the first time he gently pinched a nipple, causing him to become alarmed, thinking he was hurting her. He’d also pull her panties down just far enough to get his hand inside and massage the little hard button on her privates. Sometimes he’d slip a finger gently into her vagina. Not very far, but far enough to cause her to want more. Then he would lay her down on the sofa and put his body on top of her, pushing his male hardness against her private area until he’d groan, shudder and collapse on her. After a few moments he’d stand up, get his clothing back together and instruct her to do the same.

All of this was done while they were fully clothed. Father would unzip his pants and pull them down a bit, but he never removed his underwear or showed himself to her.

She felt so conflicted about this secret they shared. He made her feel so very special that she didn’t want it to end, and it wasn’t really sex, was it? After all, she was still a virgin and his private parts had never really touched hers. There was always some article of clothing between them. And he was the parish priest. Surely he wouldn’t do something that was wrong. He was just comforting her and making her feel loved.

Mary Margaret heard footsteps coming down the hall and jerked her hand away from her privates where it had gravitated while she was thinking about Father Antonio.

Opening the door without knocking, Ellen Riley walked over to the bed. “Open your eyes, Mary Margaret. You’ve slept long enough. There’s work to be done.”

Mary Margaret covered her eyes with her arm and said, “I’ll get up in a minute.”

“You’ll get up now, young lady and come eat your breakfast. We’re spring cleaning today and tomorrow.”

Groaning, Mary Margaret threw back the blankets and got out of bed. She went to her closet and got out a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt.

“Hurry and get dressed. I’ll have your breakfast waiting,” Ellen said, giving Mary Margaret a last stern look.

Mary Margaret dressed and put on her oldest sneakers. She went to the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth. She brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, securing it tightly with a rubber band. With one last quick look in the mirror, she hurried off to the kitchen.

“Pour yourself some juice; I’ll have your bacon and eggs ready in a minute.”

Doing as she was told, Mary Margaret got her juice and sat at her usual place at the table. She noticed her mom hadn’t set a place for herself and all that was there was a cup of coffee and her ashtray. How someone so fussy and clean could have a disgusting habit like smoking was beyond Mary Margaret’s understanding.