The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  Katrina was equally committed to her church. Converted some four years earlier in Norway with her family, Katrina was a faithful Latter-day Saint. She attended church regularly and in her heart viewed Mormonism as not only the best but the only way to heaven.

  Unequally yoked in this matter, Tom and Katrina avoided conflict by never discussing religion. He was tolerant of her beliefs and activities, and, in fact, often attended Mormon church functions with her. For her part, she never seemed to begrudge his occasional attendance at mass, and, along with Tom, she counted Father Scanlan and Sister Mary Theophane as dear friends. Even so, the Catholic religion, with its chantings and rituals, seemed dark and ominous to her.

  Thus it was that a year into their marriage, the unspoken issue of their separate churches and differing theologies lay as a gulf between them. Up to now, it had been a chasm into which they were both fearful to peer.

  Do this, and joy your hearts will swell …

  Listening to the choir, Tom reflected on what Katrina called their “blessings.” In the years since he had fled Ireland at nineteen, good fortune had followed him. Wealth had come to him almost as a fluke. Now he was engaged in a promising financial venture, they were living in a house such as he had never imagined he would ever own, and they had their little PJ—a promising son if there ever was one. Best of all, he had a beautiful wife, now a proud new mother, who was sitting on the front row of the choir seats, singing earnestly. He watched her closely, admiring her animation, her fair Norwegian features and blonde hair, and her pleasing figure.

  Oh, how we’ll make this chorus swell—All is well! All is well!

  Tom was moved by the music and the words of the choir as they concluded the closing number, yet all was not well in his life. The birth of Patrick James had brought a significant issue into focus.

  Before their marriage, Tom had made a promise to Katrina—that she would be permitted to raise their children as Mormons. Finding her in Mexico and discovering that she was widowed and therefore single and available again, had filled Tom with a sense of good fortune he had been unable to describe. And in the rush of emotion and his early passion, it had seemed little enough to enter into such an agreement. After she had become pregnant, and throughout their first year of marriage, Tom had been thrown into turmoil. He had a limited understanding of the Catholic dogma on the fate of unbaptized infants, but Father Scanlan had made it clear to Tom that it is the father’s responsibility to see to it that his children are properly christened and later initiated into the faith. Damnation was the issue, and it was something that increasingly weighed on Tom’s mind. The only relief available was to not think about it, something he had been unable to do.

  President George Q. Cannon, counselor to Wilford Woodruff and now to Lorenzo Snow, rose to offer the benediction, and the Tabernacle fell silent. President Cannon asked God in Heaven to watch over His flock, to care for the missionaries abroad, and to take into His arms all those who were sick and afflicted, and to especially watch over the little children of His kingdom.

  “Amen,” Tom softly murmured in response. “Amen.”

  Later, outside the Tabernacle, Tom waited for Katrina beneath the gleaming granite walls of the Salt Lake Temple, recently completed in 1893. The Square still held poignant memories for Tom, of the evening he had first seen Katrina after having kept his word to make it across America and find her. On that occasion, she had tearfully told Tom that she had promised to marry another. Harold Stromberg, the missionary who had taught Katrina’s family the gospel in Norway, had returned and had paid court to her for over six months. Successfully!

  Unaware of whether or not Tom would make it to Utah, Katrina had gradually overcome what she came to think of as a schoolgirl’s promise to Tom, to wait till the end of the year before she agreed to marry anyone. Tom was late, of course, by about three weeks, but that was history. Events had overtaken them, and in the end, the Lord had intervened in both their lives—Tom in his return from Alaska, and Katrina, from her harrowing ordeal following the death of her husband in Mexico. Of the Lord’s intervention, Tom was certain.

  The choir remained in its place to sing one additional number as the throng of conference attendees was departing the Tabernacle. Temple Square was full of people, strolling through the grounds, admiring the last of the fall flowers before the advent of winter snow.

  Recognized as a prosperous banker, albeit in truth a newly prosperous and a “not-quite-yet” influential one, Tom found himself tipping his hat to many well-wishers who passed by as he stood waiting for Katrina. Eventually, the multiple exits to the Tabernacle dislodged fewer and fewer occupants. Finally, members of the choir began to emerge from one of the west entrances of the oval-shaped building. Katrina was walking with several members Tom recognized from the soprano section, and two men. Upon seeing Tom, she hurried to him, anxious to introduce him to her new musical associates.

  Tom removed his hat once more, and Katrina stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.

  “Oh, Thomas, it was so thrilling! Could you see me?” she gushed.

  He smiled broadly and hugged her. “Was there anyone else singing?” he teased.

  Katrina punched him on the arm as her friends arrived, three steps behind her.

  “Thomas, may I introduce you to Sarah Conners, Abigail Matthews, and Martha Young.” The three ladies curtsied slightly and smiled at Tom. “These gentlemen,” Katrina continued, “are also members of the choir—John Templeton and Geoffrey Masterton.”

  “A pleasure, sir,” Masterton said with a pronounced British accent. “Captain Geoffrey Masterton, late of Her Majesty’s Welsh Colour Guard,” he said, offering his hand to Tom. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Callahan, and might I say, this lovely young woman who seems to fancy you so, has the voice of an absolute angel. A wonderful addition to the Lord’s choir.”

  Tom smiled at the man, his distinctive British upper-class, public school accent so familiar to Tom’s ears. Tom reached out to accept Captain Masterton’s outstretched hand. “Thank you, sir, but I’m the one who fancies her,” Tom said, winking his eye.

  “Ah, then both of you are indeed most fortunate, eh, what?”

  Tom smiled again at the man, whom he took to be in his late twenties or early thirties, his sandy-colored hair a bit unruly in the breeze. He stood eye level with Tom and had a similar build, his posture straight and formal, combined, however, with a pleasant, warm smile.

  “Thomas, I have a surprise for you,” Katrina laughed, an impish gleam in her eye. “I know I didn’t have a party for your birthday yesterday, and you probably think I forgot, but, well, I do have a small party arranged. I’ve invited some of our friends to come to our home this evening. Is that all right with you?”

  Tom’s eyebrows went up slightly, and he smiled at his wife’s girlish enthusiasm.

  “I’ve also invited my new friends,” she said, gesturing toward Masterton and the others. Taking Sarah Conners by the arm and linking her other arm in Tom’s, she led the group toward the south gate exiting Temple Square.

  “Who else have you invited to this small party?” Tom asked.

  “Of course, Robert and Alice Thurston will be there, along with some of our new neighbors,” Katrina said. She fought to contain a smile, and Tom could see that something else was in the works.

  “And is that all, for this small birthday party?” he queried, turning the group left as they exited the temple grounds. Katrina pulled at his arm, turning Tom to face her.

  “No, Thomas, that’s not quite all,” she said, once again reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Captain Masterton,” Katrina said, looking toward the immaculately attired man, possessed of a military bearing, who was also smiling, “could you possibly tell me the time?”

  Masterton made a show of retrieving his pocket watch from the vest of his suit, releasing the catch, and holding it at arm’s length to read the dial. “Sister Callahan, I make it to be two-twenty-seven, exactly,” he said, snapping the case and r
eplacing the watch in his pocket.

  “Well, then,” she said, turning back to Tom and squeezing his arm, “in exactly thirty-three minutes, if the telegram I received last week was correct, and the train is on schedule, we will have two more persons to attend your birthday party.” Katrina’s joy was so apparent to Tom and to the five choir members gathered that Tom had no choice but to capitulate to the drama of the moment.

  “And who, pray tell, will ...”

  “Anders!” she practically screamed, wrapping her arms around Tom’s neck and hugging him tightly. “And Sister Mary! They telegraphed last week to advise of their arrival. Tom, they’re home and they’re safe. Our family, Tom. Our family is back together.”

  Tom looked at the small cluster of people, their faces reflecting their joy at being able to participate in this small conspiracy. Captain Masterton stepped forward, again offering Tom his hand.

  “My heartiest congratulations, Mr. Callahan. And may I offer my sincere best wishes on the advent of your birthday, sir. With your permission, we’ll take our leave now, and join you at your residence this evening.” Masterton reached for Katrina’s hand and kissed the back of it, nodding his head and smiling at her as he turned to leave.

  “Thank you,” Tom responded, somewhat overwhelmed by the turn of events. “Thank you all,” he continued, looking around the group. “Please, please be sure to come this evening. It seems Katrina has once again completely bamboozled me. To my delight, I might add,” he laughed, taking her in his arms and spinning her around on the footpath. “May you always hold such sway over my heart, Katie, m’darlin’,” he said, kissing her lips boldly, to her embarrassment and the delight of the others.

  “Till this evening then, sir,” Masterton said, tipping his hat and turning to walk east with his companions, tapping his walking cane rhythmically on the footpath.

  Tom and Katrina gazed after them for a few moments, then Tom turned Katrina in the opposite direction. “Best we walk the other way, I suppose, out to the train station.”

  “Henry will meet us there with the buggy and will see to the luggage.”

  “Always good to have a carriage-man handy,” Tom allowed. “It seems you’ve got it all arranged,” he said, smiling and striding off toward the station, Katrina’s arm linked in his. “Who exactly is this Masterton fellow?” Tom asked.

  “Oh, he’s a wonderful man, Thomas. The ladies in the choir think he’s quite charming. He was with General Kitchener in the Sudan during the campaign to capture someplace called Khartoum, I think. I understand he was wounded there, and returned to England where the missionaries met him. I heard he was engaged to marry an Earl’s daughter, but when he joined the church, she called it off.”

  “I see,” Tom said, continuing to walk along the footpath, Katrina’s arm linked with his.

  “Oh, Thomas, I’m so happy today. I can’t think of a thing that could make my life more blessed. Our anniversary; little PJ healthy and growing so fast; singing in the choir; and Anders coming home. And you, Thomas Callahan,” she said, stopping him and standing to face him directly. “I love you so very much.”

  The same thought Tom had while sitting in the conference session quickly crowded his mind again. He knew the one other thing that Katie desired—the thing she prayed for but that continued to elude her. It was something he had the power to grant, yet he couldn’t. It pleased Tom that Katie worked so hard to be a loving and caring wife, and in return, he felt he had tried to be a good husband. We are happy, he thought. But he knew that the difference in their religions must nag at her, as it had nagged at him. He knew there was an empty longing in his wife, and reflecting on how she never voiced her fondest desire and deepest concern filled him with a sudden feeling of love and gratitude.

  Stopping their walk and turning her to face him, Tom looked deeply into her green eyes and said, “Katie, m’darlin’, you are the one who has made our life so blessed.”

  His expression was serious, and he gently stroked her cheek with his fingers as they stood outside the wall on the southwest corner of Temple Square, people milling about and the crowd of conference attendees just beginning to diminish.

  “But just to show that you’re not the only one who can plan surprises,” he said, reaching into his inner coat pocket, “I’ll take this moment, since my planned, quiet anniversary dinner at home has now become a public affair,” he laughed, “to try to express the depth of my feelings for you.”

  He tilted his head back and looked up toward the sky for a moment, then took a deep breath. “In Ireland, Katie, we have a saying for some thing, or some one, who is very special. We call that thing or that person, ‘Top Shelf,’ and you, Katrina Hansen Callahan, are the most ‘Top Shelf’ person I have ever known. This,” he said, revealing a long velvet case, “is my feeble attempt to honor your value.”

  Katrina looked down at the case for a moment, then raised her eyes to meet Tom’s, causing him to smile broadly. As she opened the case, her slightly moist eyes began to flood, and her vision of the beautiful object blurred.

  “Oh, Tom,” she whispered, raising a finger to wipe away her tears. The velvet-lined case contained a slender, golden chain, to which was attached a gold, one inch by three-quarter inch miniature kitchen cupboard. The cupboard had three shelves, and on the top shelf, a magnificent solitary diamond had been set, resplendent in its brilliance. A quarter inch below, the next shelf had two asymmetrical stones, and the third shelf, three. All six diamonds were brilliant and glistened in the bright October afternoon sun. The size and placement of the stones drew the eye upward, toward the “top shelf.” Katrina snapped the case closed and laid her head against Tom’s chest, her voice absent and her heart pounding within her breast.

  “Happy anniversary, Katie, m’darlin’. You’ll always be my ‘Top Shelf’ girl,” Tom said, his arms enfolding her.

  At 3:12, its engine venting steam, the train pulled into the Union Pacific station at the west end of South Temple. As the train jostled to a stop, Tom and Katrina waited excitedly for Katrina’s brother, Anders, and for Sister Mary Theophane to appear. Today, their circle of family and friends would once again be complete.

  Katrina had found it difficult to honor her brother’s request that she not inform their parents of his arrival. Why he wished it so, she would have to wait to hear, but she had controlled the urge to tell them—to have a Hansen family reunion at the station.

  Anders’s father, Lars Hansen, had opposed him going to Cuba. But then, Lars had opposed most of the things Anders had ever attempted. Only when Anders had taken the position of hospital engineer and moved into Tom’s old quarters in the basement of Holy Cross Hospital, had the young man found any peace.

  Sister Mary’s letters to Mr. and Mrs. Hansen, and the separate letter to Tom and Katrina, months earlier, had informed them of the necessity of amputating Anders’s left arm. It had come as a shock, but once the initial impact wore off, Katrina had thanked God that her brother’s life had been spared.

  Now he was home. In time for Thomas’s birthday, she thought. If the windows of heaven, as President Snow had said, furnished no further blessings, her family had already filled their baskets and had more than enough to spare.

  Tom and Katrina stood anxiously watching as people began to exit the train. With her arm locked into his, Katrina felt Tom’s body brace slightly, and she turned her head to follow his gaze. There, in full habit, looking tired and drawn, stood Sister Mary Theophane with several other nursing Sisters gathered behind her. Tom and Katrina watched as Bishop Lawrence Scanlan, Archbishop of the Salt Lake Diocese, stepped to greet them. Sister Mary leaned forward slightly and reached for Father Scanlan’s hand, kissing his bishop’s ring. The senior prelate took her by both shoulders, and modestly, but firmly, embraced the chief administrator of Holy Cross Hospital. She thanked him respectfully, then, from the corner of her eye, caught sight of Tom. Her warm smile quickly acknowledged his presence and Tom’s mind flashed back to an identical smile that
had greeted him in the foyer of Holy Cross Hospital, when, freshly arrived in Utah, he had made his own introduction, cap in hand, nearly three years past.

  Also spotting Tom, Bishop Scanlan raised his hand to invite Tom and Katrina to join them in the welcome of Sister Mary. As Tom was guiding Katrina through the crowd on the platform toward the pair, Katrina’s hand flew to her mouth and she uttered a small cry of joy. Stepping down from the train was Anders Hansen, followed by his friend Stitch. Anders immediately saw Katrina and moved in three quick strides to greet his sister.

  For long moments Anders held Katrina tightly in his good arm. Tom took note of Anders’s empty left sleeve, which was pinned to the shoulder of his jacket, representing to Tom’s mind a badge of honor reflecting the sacrifice he had made in Cuba. Sister Mary’s letters had been full of praise for his brother-in-law’s contribution to the medical mission. Her rendition of Colonel Theodore Roosevelt making a special trip to visit Anders and Stitch in Tampa, Florida, on his way back from Cuba, had brought tears even to Tom’s eyes.