by Gordon Ryan
“Dear God, you cannot take this woman from me,” he breathed. “You can not!”
It took a concerted effort from Tom and Seby to convince Teresa to go home and get some sleep. She had been at her mother’s side from within thirty minutes of the hospital calling to inform them of the accident, and she had remained in or near the room for the following forty-eight hours, giving permission for the medical staff to perform all necessary procedures. Tom’s arrival had relieved her of that responsibility, but she was still reluctant to go home without a more certain knowledge of her mother’s condition. But, as Doctor Morgan had said, that could take hours, or even days. They could only wait and see. Teresa had finally left with Seby, after he promised her that he would return at first light and deliver her back to the hospital.
Accompanied by his young counselor, David Healy, Bishop Ronald Smart entered Katrina’s hospital room sometime after 10:00 o’clock that night. Only three other men had served as bishop of the Callahans’ ward over the twenty-two years Tom and Katrina had been married. One of their former bishops had been Robert Thurston, Tom’s partner at Utah Trust Bank, who was both a business associate and a close personal friend. Thurston’s successor, a man named Clements, had brought an air of formality to his office. Lacking the natural warmth of Robert Thurston, Bishop Clements had always struck Tom as being dogmatic and a little impatient. He and Tom had been civil to each other but had never formed a friendly relationship. However, Tom had immediately warmed to Bishop Smart, who, like Tom, was a self-employed entrepreneur, a man of about forty years of age, who had expanded a small, family-owned freighting business started by his father into a large, intermountain transportation company.
Tom stood to greet Bishop Smart, first shaking his hand and then accepting a warm embrace from the man whom Katrina often referred to as the father of the ward.
“We’d heard you’d returned, Tom. Brother Stromberg wanted to fly up the morning after the accident, fly over your camp and drop a note, but we convinced him to wait until you returned rather than have you race your horses down the mountain. I hope you don’t mind. We were thinking of your safety and perhaps hoping for some improvement from Katrina. Any change in her condition today?”
Tom shook his head. “None, Bishop. She’s breathing regularly, and the nurse says her vital signs are stable, but no response yet,” Tom said, sitting again and motioning for Bishop Smart to take a seat.
“Give it time, Tom,” the man nodded. “We’ve actually come to see you,” he smiled, pulling a chair close to Tom’s, then sitting and facing his friend. Brother Healy sat in a chair closer to the window, although the drapes were drawn.
“To see me? I’m fine, Ron.”
“It never hurts to have your friends with you,” the bishop smiled. “Did Brother Stromberg tell you about the accident?”
“He did,” Tom nodded, “although he explained that the police didn’t know much about what happened. Do you know any more?”
“No,” Bishop Smart said. “You do know about Judge Garfield’s death and his wife’s injuries?”
“Yes. A great loss. He was a fine man. When is his funeral?”
“Tomorrow. We intended to hold it at the ward house, but as the word spread, the expected audience has grown considerably. The service has been relocated to the Assembly Hall on Temple Square at eleven o’clock. He’ll be laid to rest in the old Salt Lake Cemetery near his grandparents. I don’t know if you knew it, Tom, but the judge was born right here in Salt Lake City, only twenty years after Brother Brigham arrived in the valley. The Garfields have five children. Their youngest son, Jared, has just returned from his mission to the southern States.”
“I don’t know them well, Bishop. Sister Garfield has occasionally come to our house to practice singing with Katie. She’s a very pleasant woman. Is she in Holy Cross?”
“No, she was taken to LDS Hospital. The judge had driven both ladies up to Ogden for a concert, and they were on their way back. For some reason they skidded off the road just north of Layton, maybe to avoid hitting a deer. A following car spotted them in a depression alongside the roadway and summoned help. The judge was dead when the police and ambulance arrived. Sister Garfield was able to give the police an initial report, although she was in considerable pain and almost incoherent. As you know, Katrina has been unconscious ever since. Tom, Brother Healy and I were notified, and when we arrived, Teresa requested that we give her mother a blessing. I hope that’s all right with you.”
Tom looked over at his wife, her still form lying silently with the sheets tucked up around her neck. The on-duty nurse smiled at him and leaned toward the bed, checking on her patient.
“She would have asked you herself had she been able, Bishop. Thank you.” Tom felt a cold chill sweep through him, and he shuddered as he watched Katrina lying so still.
“Ron, the doctor told me that she could still ... that is, she’s still very much in danger.”
“Yes, Tom, I’ve spoken with him,” Bishop Smart said softly.
“I saw her, you know, the other night,” Tom said, without looking at the bishop.
“You saw her? I don’t understand—”
Tom fidgeted his hands. “Two nights ago—in the mountains, I mean. I had a dream. At least I think it was a dream. Isn’t that how God speaks to us sometimes? In dreams?”
“He speaks to us in many ways, Tom. Tell me about your dream ... that is, if you feel comfortable speaking about it.”
“In truth, Ron, I don’t feel comfortable with any of what’s happening, but as soon as Seby told me about the accident, I knew for certain it was Katie in my dream. And Benjamin was there, too. I watched as he greeted her and ...” Tom paused, trying to gain control of his emotions.
Bishop Smart said nothing, waiting for Tom to continue.
Tom took a couple of deep breaths, then turned to look at Brother Healy, who smiled and nodded his assurance. Tom then glanced at the nurse sitting beside Katrina.
“Mr. Callahan,” she said, rising, “I’ll just step out for a moment and get a cup of coffee. Please call immediately if there’s any change,” the young woman smiled. “I’ll be across the hall at the nurses’ station.”
“Thank you, Miss ...”
“Nurse Hughes,” she said softly, leaving the room and closing the door.
“Time was,” Tom said after she left, “when most of the nurses were Catholic sisters. Now of course, with the nursing school and all, they have many lay nurses on staff. What I wouldn’t give to see Sister Mary come through that door,” he said, breathing deeply and exhaling.
After Nurse Hughes had gone, David Healy stood and said, “Tom, would you prefer to speak with the bishop alone?”
“No,” Tom said, shaking his head, “not at all. Please have a seat,” he said.
“Bishop,” Tom continued, “it all seemed so real, although I know I was sleeping. I dreamed I was on horseback, riding on a narrow trail on the edge of a deep canyon. On the other side of the ravine, I saw a man, a young man, and I knew immediately that it was my son Benjamin. He seemed as real as you are, sitting here right now. I looked away for a moment, to be sure my horse was staying on the trail, and when I looked back, a woman had joined Benjamin. I didn’t recognize her at first, but in a few moments, I knew her to be Katrina. She and Benjamin embraced, and suddenly my heart was filled with the desire to be with them, but I couldn’t find a way to get across the canyon. I felt helpless, Ron. I turned my horse around to retrace my steps, but some brush in the trail blocked my view of them. When I got to a place where I could see across the canyon again, they were gone. I called out to her, but no one answered.”
“This happened two nights ago, Tom?”
“Yes,” he said, reading the bishop’s thoughts, “I’ve thought of that too, sitting here in this room with her, just a little while ago. From what Seby and Doctor Morgan told me, it was about the same time as the accident. Ron, surely that doesn’t mean she’s ... that she’s gone to be with
Benjamin.”
Bishop Smart looked briefly at his counselor and then back at Tom. “I don’t know, Tom. By all accounts, Sister Callahan is still here with us. Her vital signs are stable, and her breathing is regular. But the spirit has a strong will. I’ve heard reports of people crossing over and coming back. I personally have never experienced, or known anyone who has, experienced these things, but perhaps there was some communication between Katrina and your son. We don’t understand these things, I’m afraid. And perhaps we’re not meant to, but the Lord does talk to us in dreams, of that I’m certain.”
“But why couldn’t I get to them, Ron? I mean, why the separation between us?”
“Bishop,” Healy said, “may I speak?”
“Of course, David.”
“Tom, I’ve been sitting here listening to your thoughts and I must tell you, my heart goes out to you. Do you recall last year when the stake presidency asked each bishopric to visit the families in the ward and discuss the plan of salvation and the importance of temple work?”
Tom smiled. “David, you’ve been in my home dozens of times and brought a good spirit with you each time, but that particular—”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said. “We were talking about genealogy specifically, and I remember Katrina commenting that her greatest joy was knowing that her parents were together and that Benjamin had a family and a home to go to. We talked a bit, Tom, about the Catholic doctrine, too, if you recall, and where in that scheme of things Benjamin would be as a result of his dying before baptism.”
“Now I recall that conversation, David. I’ve never found the idea of purgatory acceptable, even when I lived in Ireland as a young man.”
“I understand. It doesn’t give a parent much to hope for, does it? Still, as you say, you saw Benjamin and knew who he was, right?”
Tom nodded.
“And Katrina joined him, if only for a moment?”
Again Tom nodded.
“Tom,” Healy said, leaning forward and looking deeply into Tom’s eyes, “I know with all my soul that Benjamin was blessed to enter the celestial kingdom, as are all children who die before baptismal age. And you also saw Katrina join with him and they embraced. We all know your wife to be a fine woman, with a strong testimony of the gospel, trying to live her life so that she can be with her family in the celestial kingdom, isn’t that right, Tom?”
“Aye,” Tom replied, “I’ll attest to hearing over twenty years of that testimony, Brother Healy,” he smiled. “And I haven’t made it easy for her along the way.”
Bishop Smart interjected a thought. “Maybe you don’t know how much of a support to her testimony you’ve really been, Tom. Your wife loves you and sustains you as head of the household. Many times she’s talked with me about her pride in your accomplishments and how good a father you’ve been.”
“Can she still attain the celestial kingdom if she tells little white lies about her husband, Bishop?” Tom smiled again.
“In all seriousness,” Healy continued, “I believe that you were privileged to have a glimpse into the heavens, Brother Callahan, and for one brief moment, you saw your wife together with your son as they will be some day. Bishop Smart will attest that during our blessing of Sister Callahan we felt a complete peace of mind and a comforting feeling of assurance. While that doesn’t give us positive answers about her physical condition, I know of a certainty that the Lord is aware of her plight, and that His will shall be done.”
“You mean that He told you—”
“No,” Healy said, shaking his head, “He didn’t tell me anything other than that He is aware of His daughter in peril and that He will be with her. But as regards the great canyon—the separation between you and your family—we are taught ...” Healy hesitated for a moment, looking toward Bishop Smart for approval to continue. Smart nodded at Healy and looked back at Tom.
“Listen to him, Tom.”
“The Lord teaches us these lessons for many reasons. I’m not saying that Sister Callahan’s life-threatening injury was brought about to teach you about the gospel—in fact, after all the years you’ve spent among us, you already know most of it, I’d say—but if, as a result of this crisis, you have a better understanding of this particular principle, this unifying ordinance that holds families together, then it will have been a blessing. If ... if Sister Callahan were to die as a result of her injuries, she has fulfilled all the necessary earthly ordinances to be with her parents and Benjamin. You understand that, Tom?”
“I know that’s the Mormon teaching.”
“And you know that by that same doctrine, you have yet to fulfill your part of the marriage vows that would unite you with your wife and children.”
“That’s pretty harsh, isn’t it? I can’t believe that God would separate us after all these years.”
“I understand. And where would Catholic doctrine have Katrina go, unbaptized as she is?”
“I’m not certain I understand your meaning.”
“Tom, according to both religions, you can’t be together should either of you die now.”
The three men sat silently, contemplating Healy’s words. Then Tom stood and stepped to the far side of Katrina’s bed. As Tom gazed at his wife, Bishop Smart also rose and came to stand alongside Tom.
“We’ll leave you now, Tom. Is there anything we can do for you before we go?”
Tom just shook his head. Across the bed, Healy rose and stepped toward the door. Bishop Smart followed and Tom stood with them near the doorway.
“Thank you, both,” Tom said. “Sometimes I think it’s easier for someone who hears all this for the first time to accept it. I’ve struggled to understand your beliefs for over twenty years, knowing perhaps that it was a good doctrine, but not certain how to embrace it without turning my back on my heritage. I suppose I still wrestle with that.”
“We understand your concern, Brother Callahan, truly,” Bishop Smart said. “Think what Sister Callahan and Benjamin would have you do. I mean, do you suppose for an instant, that as you watched them together across that great canyon—the fondest desire of your heart to join them—that they did not have the same desire—for you to join them? But they can do no more for you, Tom, in this life. While you are still living, only you can make that possible.”
Tom reached for Brother Healy’s hand.
“Thank you, David. I know your heart is true and your words are sincere. I appreciate your concern. Bishop,” Tom said, looking at Smart. “I have always felt your love for my family. Thank you for that. I’ll try to make it to Judge Garfield’s funeral tomorrow.”
“I’ll be back either way, Tom. And Tom, talk with the Lord about these things. He is mindful of your needs, but His hands are tied to some extent too. We must all make our own choices. That’s the plan of salvation.”
“Good night, Bishop, Brother Healy.”
After the men left, Tom stood silently by the side of Katrina’s bed. He looked down at his wife, her once lovely face barely recognizable as the woman with whom he had shared most of his life and all his earthly possessions. But it isn’t earthly possessions she really wanted, is it, he thought.
“Come back to me, Katie. Please, God, let her come back to me,” he whispered.
The door opened and Nurse Hughes entered, walking around to the far side of the bed and reaching to feel Katrina’s forehead.
“Any movement, or change?” she asked.
Tom shook his head. “I’m going to step outside for a few moments, in the Rose Garden. Please send someone if Katrina stirs,” he said.
“Certainly, Mr. Callahan. I’ll be here. Just take your time,” she said.
Tom left the room and walked down a long corridor to the east end of the building where he exited the hospital into the cool night air. He followed a walkway into a garden of rosebushes, some of them, he supposed, planted by him many years before, when as a young man he had worked as a maintenance man at the hospital. Lights showed at only a few of the windows in
the sandstone building, and the three-story Gothic structure was bathed in moonlight.
When he reached the familiar stone bench, he lowered himself onto the cool seat and read the inscription on the nearby headstone, the only grave marker within the hospital grounds.
“Sister Mary, since you’ve already gone to your reward, you’d know the answers now too, wouldn’t you? But then you always knew the answers long before any of the rest of us. Why can’t we learn them here and not have to wait until our turn comes to cross over? Dear God, is it not time for you to speak to me?”
“Did you know the sister?” a voice said, startling Tom. He stood quickly and turned to see a man standing nearby. The man’s clerical collar glowed white in the moonlight.
“I’m sorry, my son. I didn’t mean to have startled you,” he said. “I was just having a midnight stroll in the garden—a little private meditation for a sleepless soul. Did you know Sister Mary?” he asked again, nodding toward the tombstone.
“I did,” Tom replied. “I met her when I was very young, many years ago.”
“I’ve read of her efforts here at Holy Cross, and the sisters still speak of her reverently. A fine woman, I understand. I’m Father O’Shea,” the short, elderly man said, extending his hand. “I’ve recently come to Holy Cross from the San Francisco diocese.”
“Good evening, Father. I’m Thomas Callahan,” Tom said, grasping the priest’s outstretched hand.
“Oh, yes, of course,” the priest said, his eyebrows raising. “One of the hospital’s principal benefactors, as I understand it.”
“No, Father,” Tom replied, shaking his head. “I give very little. Only money. The principal benefactor lies beneath us here,” he said, looking toward Sister Mary’s grave marker.