The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  “Tess, really, I think you should—”

  “Dad, do as ­you’re told for once,” she smiled.

  “Sir,” Nurse Hughes interrupted, “you were up all night. The young lady and I can watch Mrs. Callahan, and I give my solemn promise that if any developments occur, anything, I’ll telephone your home immediately.”

  “Two against one, eh?” Tom said.

  “No, Dad, two for one.”

  “All right, Tess, truth be known, I am very tired. Perhaps a few hours sleep will do me good. But I’ll be back at midnight, and I’ll have William come with me to take you home.”

  “Great, Dad. Thank you.”

  “Now call me, Tess. Any change at all.”

  “Another groan?” Teresa said, half teasing.

  “Perhaps a bit more than a groan. But if she says, ‘Thomas, where are you? ...’”

  Teresa hugged her father and held him tight for several seconds.

  “Oh, Dad, I pray that’s exactly what she’ll say when she wakes up. I really do.”

  “I know, Tess. You just sit here and rest. Actually, you can catch a few winks in that old, beat-up, leather chair someone kindly added to the room,” he said, smiling at Nurse Hughes.

  “It’s very comfortable, sir. I’ve used it on my breaks sometimes. It’s usually in the nurses’ lounge.”

  “I know,” Tom said. “I recognize it.”

  “Sir?”

  “Sister Mary Theophane used to sleep in that very same chair when she stayed overnight for some special patient, which was very often, I can tell you. I’ve caught a few winks in it myself, when I was a lot younger.”

  “You knew Sister Mary?”

  “Probably before you were born, Nurse Hughes. Well, goodnight, ladies. I’ll be back around midnight.”

  “Eat too, Dad.”

  “Yes, mother,” he replied.

  When Tom arrived at Valhalla, he found a note from William and his wife, Helen, who served as the Callahans’ cook, saying that they had gone to evening Mass at the Cathedral of the Madeleine to say prayers for Katrina and would return later. Not wanting to cook anything, Tom found some cheese and milk in the icebox and took them with a slice of bread up to his room. After eating, though he was tired, he didn’t fall immediately asleep. Instead, he lay for a time in the quiet of his empty house, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

  Then he slid off the bed, kneeling on Katrina’s side and resting his arms and head on the patchwork quilt that his wife had hand sewn some years before. Over the years he had often knelt there with Katrina, but nearly always involuntarily, at her insistence. She had been the one to lead out in prayer, and he wished now that she were there with him. He remained on his knees for several moments, his eyes closed, gathering his thoughts.

  Finally, he began. “God in heaven ...” he said, speaking out loud. Then, not knowing exactly how to continue, he paused for a long moment.

  He began again. “Dear God, this has been a long two days, and I need your help. Please, God, bless Katrina to get well.”

  It occurred to him that God might think him unworthy to make such a request, and with his eyes still closed, he added, “I know I’ve been stubborn, but I’ve also been confused. I’ve wanted to do the right thing, but I needed to know for sure what I should do. It seems clear that you have been trying to tell me to accept the Mormon religion. The dream I had of Benjamin, the words of Father O’Shea, Bishop Smart’s caring concern, the counsel of Elder McKay, and especially the thoughts of young Jared Garfield—perhaps all these things have been signs pointing to what I need to do.”

  Tom paused in his prayer, unable for a moment to define what he was really seeking. Then he continued.

  “I guess I’m afraid that if I finally join the church, Father, Katrina will think I’m doing it only because I was afraid she might die. But that ­isn’t true. It has taken a long time, but at last I’m settled in my mind, and I thank you, Lord. Please bless her to get well, so we can do what she has wanted for so long.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Tom remained on his knees for a few moments, then got to his feet and began to disrobe. The bedside clock read 5:20 as he set the alarm for 11:30 and then crawled under the covers.

  After what seemed only seconds, the alarm rang. Assuming he had set it incorrectly, Tom reached in the darkness of his room to silence the jangling clock. Then, after turning on a bedside lamp, he reached for his vest, lying next to him on the bed, and looked at his pocket watch. It confirmed the lateness of the hour, and he quickly rose.

  Hurrying into the bathroom, he splashed water on his face and looked into the mirror at the haggard face of a tired, distraught man.

  “Tommy, me lad, another forty-eight hours of this, and when Katrina does wake up, she won’t recognize you any more than you recognized her yesterday.”

  He quickly dressed and took the spiral staircase two steps at a time, bounding down the stairs into the kitchen, intent on grabbing another bite of cheese and a glass of milk.

  “You’ve changed your schedule somewhat, Señor,” Seby smiled, rising from the table and reaching for a pitcher to pour another glass of milk.

  “So, Seby, you decided to come back this evening.”

  “Yes. I thought you might be taking turns with Teresa and that perhaps I could share in the blessings, if ­you’re willing.”

  “Thank you, Seby. I know it’s only a couple of blocks, but at this hour I’d be less concerned for her safety if you could take me back to the hospital and bring Tess home.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Señor. Was there any improvement when you saw Sister Callahan this afternoon, Tom?”

  “As a matter of fact, the doctor said Katrina was showing signs of being in pain, and he was happy about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He said it’s a good sign. Supposedly it shows her brain is functioning again.”

  Seby nodded. “I can see how that would please him, but surely he’s going to do something to relieve her pain.”

  “If she wakes up a bit more, I think he said. Shall we go?” Tom said, grabbing two pieces of bread and a hunk of cheese. “I feel like a shepherd, eating bread and cheese all the time.”

  The hospital corridor was empty as Tom and Seby tip-toed down the hall toward Katrina’s room. The door to her room was closed, but as they opened it, they saw the room was filled with white uniforms, gathered around Katrina’s bed.

  “Dad!” Teresa exclaimed as she saw her father. “She’s awake!”

  Tom stepped between two nurses who were observing as Doctor Morgan took Katrina’s pulse and then pulled back her eyelids, looking closely into her eyes.

  “She just opened her eyes, Dad, a few minutes ago. I called, really I did, but there was no answer. You must have just left.”

  “Is she speaking?” Tom asked.

  “Not yet,” Doctor Morgan replied.

  Tom and Teresa stood at the foot of the bed as the doctor completed his physical exam. Katrina’s eyes wavered slightly, her eyelids closing for several seconds at a time, but when she opened them again, her pupils moved from person to person until Tom could see that she was focusing on him. She momentarily looked away toward Teresa and then back to Tom, the hint of a smile on her lips. Teresa leaned into her father and buried her face in his chest, glancing back at her mother several times as Tom stroked his daughter’s hair.

  “Mr. Callahan, I’d say it’s time to relieve your wife’s discomfort. Nurse, fill this prescription,” he said as he jotted several notes on Katrina’s chart. “Immediately, please. And let’s clear the room. I think everyone on duty tonight has had a good chance to participate in our miracle and we do have other patients. Everyone, if you please,” he said to the room in general.

  In a moment the room was empty of all but Doctor Morgan, Nurse Hughes, Tom, Teresa, and Seby. Morgan turned his attention back to his patient.

  “Mrs. Callahan, are you able to hear my voice?”

  Katrina’s eyes s
hifted to her questioner. She appeared to be trying to speak, but her voice was unable to pass.

  “Nurse, some ice chips, please. Quickly.”

  Hughes immediately left the room while Katrina continued to shift her eyes from Doctor Morgan to Tom and then to Teresa. The nurse soon returned with a bowl of shaved ice and a clean facecloth. Doctor Morgan retrieved a few of the ice chips and leaned forward, rubbing the chips across Katrina’s lips. She responded with her tongue, licking weakly at the cool moisture. As she did so, her eyes once again turned toward Tom and by a slight movement of her facial muscles gave the impression of understanding. Once again she licked her lips.

  “Thomas,” the whisper came, “my head hurts.”

  Doctor Morgan raised his head and looked back at Tom.

  “That problem, Mr. Callahan, I can treat,” he smiled. “I believe our wait is over.”

  After one more round of cajoling, Teresa agreed to let Seby take her home, and, after gently hugging her mother, somewhere around three in the morning the two young people left. Tom asked the nurse who had relieved Nurse Hughes if she would mind leaving him alone with his wife for a little while, and the young nurse trainee, concerned about her instructions to not leave the patient, agreed only when the shift supervisor, an older Catholic nursing sister whom Tom had known from Sister Mary’s time, agreed to give the couple a bit of privacy.

  “Thirty minutes, Mr. Callahan, then we’ll have that young lady asleep,” she ordered, her tone and demeanor reminding Tom of Sister Mary herself. The conspiratorial smile the older nurse gave to Tom as she closed the door was pure Sister Mary as well, Tom thought to himself.

  For minutes, Tom just sat by the bedside, content to hold Katrina’s hand and look into her eyes.

  Finally, he said, “I’m going to talk to you, Katie, and I’d prefer that you just listen and not try to respond. Is that all right?”

  She blinked her eyes and nodded, almost imperceptibly, but before he could go on, she said in a voice that was barely a whisper, “Thomas ...”

  He leaned forward to catch her words.

  “I was with Benjamin,” she said.

  “I know,” Tom replied, “I saw him too,” he said, squeezing his wife’s hand.

  “He told me I must come back,” Katrina murmured, almost inaudibly. “It was so peaceful, Thomas, I ...”

  “Katie, please be quiet. There’s plenty of time. You need to rest, but there’s something I want to tell you. Something I need to say. Please try to listen carefully.

  “I’ve been a fool. All these years I’ve been a bloody fool. The gospel you’ve tried to teach me is true, my darling. Perhaps I knew it before. I certainly came to understand it in Portlaoise Prison, but now, I know it in my heart.”

  Katrina blinked her eyes as if trying to comprehend his meaning. In spite of her facial deformity, he saw a familiar set come to her jaw and a look of determination sparkle in her eyes.

  “Thomas, you can’t just—”

  “No, Katrina,” he said, shaking his head, “just be quiet and listen to me, please. I haven’t come to believe in Mormonism because I thought you might die. My belief stems from the knowledge that you will live—here, and in the hereafter. I know that now. I’ve seen it. And so will I. Maybe I was frightened by your possible death. Of course

  I was frightened by it. But if I can’t stand the thought of being without you here, you should be able to understand that I can’t stand the thought of being without you there. Please don’t ask me to explain why it took me so long to understand such a simple principle,” he said, shaking his head. “I only know God’s hand is in this, Katie. I know that it is. For so many years I sought to hear His voice, but I missed the work of his hands—his works as they were about me every day.

  “Just know that I love you, that God loves you—loves us both—and that I will always love you, in the truest sense of that word.”

  Having said that much, Tom was overcome by emotion. He struggled briefly to control his feelings, but finally surrendered to them, laying his head on the bed next to Katrina and weeping.

  Teresa and Seby left Holy Cross Hospital well after 3:00 a.m., and Seby drove her the few blocks to Valhalla. Turning into the circular driveway in front of the great house, Seby stopped the car and turned off the engine. He exited the car and walked around to Teresa’s side, where he opened the door for her, then escorted her up the steps to the front door.

  “Seby, I almost feel like I’m floating on air tonight,” Teresa exclaimed breathlessly, even at that late hour. “Mom is all right. She’s going to be all right,” she almost squealed, then covered her mouth with her hand at the sound as it broke the stillness of the night.

  Suddenly, she stepped forward and kissed Seby full on the lips before drawing back momentarily and looking into his eyes. Again, without a word, she placed her hand behind his head and stood on tiptoes and kissed him more ardently, holding on to his neck and sustaining the kiss for several moments. His arms went around her and he pulled her to him, returning the kiss and locking her in his embrace.

  Then, somewhat embarrassed by her impulsive behavior, Teresa backed away, turned to put her key in the lock, and stepped across the threshold. Before closing the door, she turned back and looked at him once more.

  “Seby, I’m so happy tonight. I hope you understand.”

  “I understand that your mother has returned to her family and that she will recover from a very serious injury. I also understand that you are a beautiful woman, Teresa Callahan, full of passion and life. For me, that is understanding enough for one evening.”

  Tom and Katrina sat in the foyer of the church Office building and waited until the young church worker returned. He gestured toward the stairs.

  “Elder McKay will see you now,” he said.

  Following the young man, they walked up the stairs and were ushered into David O. McKay’s office. Wearing a light gray suit and a pale blue tie, the handsome Apostle stood from behind his desk and limped toward the couple, his face beaming.

  “Please excuse my not coming down to greet you,” he said. “My ankle has been giving me fits since I twisted it in a stirrup some days ago.”

  The two men shook hands, and Elder McKay took Katrina’s hand in his and led her to a chair in a small, parlor-like seating arrangement by the window of his office.

  “It’s wonderful to see you looking so well, Sister Callahan. You gave us quite a scare there for a week or so.”

  “So I hear, Elder McKay. I recall little of that time, and perhaps that is fortunate,” she said, reaching for Tom’s hand. “But as for looking well, without this hat to cover my missing hair and the blessing of cosmetics, I think I should look a fright.”

  “Well, I’m sure you are as beautiful to Thomas as you are to me, and we’re grateful the Lord has permitted us to enjoy your presence for many more years,” he smiled. “How may I assist two of my oldest friends?” McKay said as he took a seat facing the couple.

  “We came to ask a favor, D.O.” Tom said.

  “Anything I can do, Tom. You know that, I believe.”

  “I do,” Tom smiled in return. “How does your calendar look on Wednesday, the fifth of October?”

  “Let me see,” he said, rising and stepping to his desk. “That’s about three weeks, uh, I’m speaking that evening, at a stake meeting, but the afternoon is free,” he said. “Can I help with something?” he asked, limping back and retaking his seat.

  Tom smiled again and nodded. “Of course you know that Robert Thurston is still presiding over the British Isles Mission and won’t be home for over a year,” Tom said. “Robert has spent a lot of time counseling me over the years, D.O. By rights I should talk to him about this request, but ... well, to come directly to the point, I’ve come to ask you to baptize me.”

  Elder McKay instantly looked at Katrina. She responded by smiling broadly, though there was a glistening in her eyes.

  “My, this is a pleasant surprise, Tom,” the Apostle s
aid, leaning back in his chair. “If I remember correctly, that date would be your birthday, ­wouldn’t it?”

  “It would,” Tom said. “My forty-sixth. But then Anders always said that the Irish are slow learners,” Tom laughed.

  McKay chuckled and put his hands together, steepling his fingers and locking eyes with Tom. “Tom, tell me how, after so many years, you’ve come to this decision.”

  “It’s a long story, D.O.”

  McKay nodded. “­We’re both still young men, Tom. We’ve got plenty of time,” he smiled.

  “Well, I guess it all began when this young college kid named Dave McKay pulled me out from under a rampaging horse, on statehood day, down on South Temple ... perhaps some of the understanding came while I was in a prison cell in Ireland ... and most of it certainly came from watching and learning from this beautiful, spiritual woman as she has showered me with her unconditional, Christlike love for over twenty-five years ... but it was brought to its conclusion on a mountain top several weeks ago. The years in between, D.O., well, they probably prove the ‘slow-learning-Irish’ theory,” Tom smiled.

  Sebastian Stromberg raced into the ranch house. He tossed his hat onto the couch and picked up the telephone on the fourth ring. Then holding the receiver to his ear and the speaker horn to his mouth, he dropped into a chair next to the telephone table.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Seby. It’s Tess. I hope I didn’t bother you.”

  “Not at all, Teresa. It’s very nice to hear from you.”