The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  “Teresa was just saying how hard it is in Hollywood.”

  “Well, that’s all behind you now,” PJ said. “You’ve got a family to create.”

  Teresa looked at her brother for a moment. “You make it sound awfully easy, PJ.”

  “­Isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not,” she replied. “Few people have the opportunities I’ve been offered, brother dear. I don’t want to just toss it away.”

  “But ­you’re married now.”

  “Lots of actors and actresses are married, PJ,” she laughed. “It’s not a celibate profession.”

  PJ laughed in return. “I should say not, from what I read. But you’ll want a family, won’t you?”

  “I know Seby will,” Teresa responded wistfully. “I’ll just have to see how it goes.”

  “Just remember, Tess, Mom had several opportunities, too, and she chose us—her family.”

  “And I’ve chosen Seby, and he’s a very understanding man.”

  Kiri glanced over at the handsome Mexican man who was helping Tommy with the luggage. “He seems a good man, too, Tess.” Kiri hugged Teresa again. “You’ll know what to do. Just remember, we love you and I’m so glad to have met you. You’d better be going. Tommy looks anxious.”

  “Tommy’s always anxious.” Hugging Kiri one final time, Teresa stepped back, embraced her mother once again, and got into the car. “We’ll see you in a couple of weeks, Mom.”

  “That’ll be fine, dear. Have a good time and take some pictures on that other island.”

  Tommy slid into the driver’s seat and slowly began to inch the car away from the gathered family, all of them waving. Reaching the highway, he gained speed and headed back to Honolulu and the pier where PJ had arrived about a week earlier. After reaching the harbor and parking the car, the three walked toward the shipping office.

  “I’ll still be here when you get back, Tess,” he smiled. “Got to keep Mom and Pop from going native.”

  Teresa laughed. “No fear of that in Dad’s case, I think. He was even wearing a tie this morning.”

  “He was a bit formal, wasn’t he,” Tommy replied. Turning to his new brother-in-law, he said, “Seby, it’s great to have you as a member of the family. I don’t know that I ever properly thanked you for coming to my graduation at Annapolis and for the flight back to Salt Lake City.”

  “De nada, Tommy,” Seby smiled. “I understand you picked up a bit of Spanish while you were in the Dominican Republic.”

  “Very little,” he laughed as they entered the building and approached the ticket counter. “Now,” he said, nodding toward the woman selling tickets, “I think I need to learn Japanese.”

  “Yes, Hawaii seems to have a large proportion of Japanese, doesn’t it? A real mixture of races here in the islands,” Seby said. “I’ll just go see about our tickets and accommodations while you say goodbye to Tess.”

  “Well, take care, little sis,” Tommy said, wrapping his arms around Teresa as Seby walked toward the counter. “Seems you brought a good man into the family.”

  “Seby is a good man, Tommy. PJ told me before we left that I should settle down now and have a family.”

  “And what do you want?” he said, noticing his sister’s hesitancy.

  Teresa shook her head. “I want both. I love my career making films ... and I’d love to have a baby.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, PJ reminded me of what Mom did for all of us—how she gave up her opportunities. He thinks I should be like her.”

  “And I think you should be like you, Tess. Do what makes you feel right.”

  “And if it hurts Seby?”

  “I know you don’t want to hurt Seby, or anyone else for that matter, Tess. I know you. But ­you’re only going to get one chance at this, and Sis, it looks to me as if you have all the makings of a fine actress. It’ll never come again.”

  “Thank you, Tommy,” she said, hugging him tightly. “It’s so seldom I’ve gotten to see you. I wish we were a lot closer.”

  “No matter how far apart we are, Tess, you and I will always be close. Call on me for anything.”

  “Thanks, Tommy. Well, here comes Seby.”

  “Like I said, I’ll be here when you get back. Telegraph or call if anything changes; otherwise I’ll meet you here on the seventeenth.”

  “Okay, Tommy. I love you, old man,” she smiled, giving him another hug.

  “And I you, Tess. Seby,” he said, extending his hand to his new brother-in-law, “when you come back and things are a bit settled, PJ and the kids gone and all, perhaps we can get a couple of horses and take a ride on the upper end of the island, play some golf, and get in some fishing. Hawaii’s a beautiful place, really.”

  “Hey,” Teresa exclaimed, “this is my honeymoon.”

  “Yeah, but Seby is my brother-in-law, Sis.”

  Seby wrapped his arm around Teresa and pulled his wife close.

  “That would be fine, Tommy. I’ll look forward to it.”

  Tom drove the sporty yellow roadster carefully, following the bends in the road and keeping his speed down to a reasonable thirty-five miles an hour. Convincing Tommy to lend his prize possession to his parents hadn’t been all that difficult, but when they had actually driven away from the bungalow, Tom had watched Tommy in the rear view mirror and smiled. The younger Callahan appeared as nervous as a father turning the family car over to his son for his first date. After spending nearly a month in Hawaii, Tom and Katrina were thoroughly relaxed. For several weeks, at Katrina’s urging, Tom had not telegraphed his bank, and his only response to Mark Thurston’s last telegram was “Use your best judgment. See you in a month.” As they drove, Tom felt exhilarated, free of the burdens of business, mergers, and financial dealings of any kind, totally so for the first time in many years.

  “Now that ­we’re away from the bungalow and the kids,” Katrina said, “why is this little trip so secret, and where have you been each day for the past three days, Mr. Callahan?” she smiled, sliding next to him on the car seat and leaning over so she could be heard against the gentle rushing of the wind.

  “You’ll see,” he grinned.

  A mile or so beyond the Mormon temple in Laie, he turned inland, off the main road and onto a red dirt side road, beginning a gentle climb toward the mountains. Cresting one ridge, he descended the other side and made a complete reversal of direction, heading back toward the ocean, the mountains now behind them. Finally, just as the road ran out and the underbrush began, he came to a stop and shut off the engine.

  “Taking a girl into the mountains without an escort is not proper behavior for a man your age, Mr. Callahan,” she teased.

  “­You’re safe enough, Mrs. Callahan,” he rebuffed.

  “Well, shucks, that’s not the answer I was looking for,” she laughed out loud, removing her scarf from her hair.

  Tom came around to Katrina’s side of the car and opened the door. Then he assisted her out and took her hand, guiding her toward the edge of the plateau where they had stopped. The view below them was magnificent. To the southeast, they could see the temple and the grounds surrounding it, including a small cluster of neatly arranged houses that had grown steadily each year since President Heber J. Grant had dedicated the temple in 1919. To the north lay the expanse of the Pacific Ocean, displaying an endless variety of shades of blue and green, with white-capped waves breaking on the beach. Immediately in front and below, Tom pointed to a palm-shaded, sheltered cove and its sandy beach, which stretched along the coast for hundreds of yards.

  “This is absolutely beautiful, Thomas,” she said, leaning against him and surveying the view. “It was well worth the drive and the subterfuge.”

  “There was no subterfuge, Katie. I just wanted to talk to you first without PJ and Tommy being involved.”

  “Talk about what?” she asked, leaning back and looking into his face.

  He looked out over the ocean and scanned the horizon for a few moments, running his fing
ers through his hair but unable to keep the breeze from immediately displacing it again. Finally, without taking his eyes off the ocean, he spoke.

  “How many years have you complained to me about the coming snow and the cold winter walks down to Temple Square for choir practice?”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said, turning his gaze toward his wife, “that for at least a half-dozen years, and more if I could remember them,” he smiled, “you’ve been moaning about the winter and the cold creeping into your joints.”

  “I love Salt Lake winters,” she argued.

  “I know,” he answered gently, “but you hate the cold and the snow.”

  “But ­they’re one and the same.”

  Tom laughed out loud, taking her in his arms and pulling her closer.

  “Yes, they are, aren’t they?”

  “So what does that have to do with ... anything,” she said, stretching out the last word as she began to fathom his direction. “Thomas, what have you been up to? What have you done?”

  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Katie, I’ll put it to you in a nutshell. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for several years actually, even in Portlaoise Prison where I worked it out in my head, although how I might accomplish it never came to mind, or even if I was going to have a future life to accomplish it with. I’m trying to say that I didn’t know how, or when ... until now, that is.”

  “What came to mind? How or when to do what? Thomas, stop rambling,” she demanded.

  “All right, Katie,” he smiled again. “For several years I’ve been thinking about ... retiring—selling the bank or at least turning it over to someone else.”

  “Thomas, ­you’re not serious,” she exclaimed.

  “Yes,” he answered, nodding his head, “I’m quite serious. I’ve bought this land, Katie,” he said softly, looking around again.

  “What land?” she asked.

  “This land! The land ­we’re standing on. Eight hundred and fifty acres actually, running all the way down to the beach there,” he said, pointing toward the ocean.

  “For heaven’s sake, why?” she said.

  “Because I’m ready for it, Katie. I’m ready to stop working, at least in the financial rat race I’m involved in every day. This is kind of a dream, Katie.”

  “I’ll say it’s a dream,” she repeated, “and I wonder if I’ll ever wake up.”

  “Katie, think about it. PJ is in New Zealand, and with his ranch and children growing, his family will always be there. Seby and Tess will be in Utah, and Tommy ... well, if he stays in the Marines, Tommy will be Lord knows where. This is a good spot,” he said, again looking out over the land. “We can sail down—probably fly down one day—to New Zealand, or back to San Francisco, or have all the kids and grandkids come out here every year. Think of it, Katie. The temple is here, the church is growing, and who ­wouldn’t want to vacation here in Hawaii? The grandkids will be badgering their parents to come and see Grandma every year.”

  “Are you serious?” she said, reaching up to hold his chin and turn his face toward hers.

  He placed his hand over hers. “I am, Katie. I’m over fifty and ­you’re almost—”

  “Never mind what I’m almost,” she interrupted. “Then you are serious.”

  Again he nodded. “­Wouldn’t this be a beautiful life?” he said, gesturing toward the beach and the land surrounding.

  “Oh, I’ll grant you, Thomas, that this is a paradise by anyone’s definition. But it’s so different from our life.”

  “So was Utah when we arrived, wasn’t it? The prophet is counseling new members to stay where they are—in their own countries—and build Zion. We can help, right here.”

  “So this is your dream?” she said.

  “Perhaps I hadn’t put thought to the actual site or place, but yes, I have thought about selling out and retiring. None of the kids want to run UTB. They don’t want to be bankers.”

  Katie nodded her agreement. “It has been a good living for us, hasn’t it? But it seems they’ve all chosen their own way of life, and I suppose we can’t expect them to just follow in your footsteps, can we?”

  “I have to admit, Katie, they’ve each made a pretty good way of life for themselves, except for Tommy, of course. His running all over the world playing soldier doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “He’s content, Thomas, I can tell that he is.”

  “I suppose, but he’ll never settle down as long as he stays in the marines,” Tom said.

  “I suppose not, but perhaps to him, he is settled down—that frequent reassignment is part of the course in his career.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “So you bought this land?” she said, grinning at him as if he were a little boy, caught stealing cookies from the kitchen.

  “I did,” he smiled. “Do you like it?”

  “Who ­wouldn’t? It’s beautiful. But it would be quite a change for us.”

  “It would, but wherever you are, Katie, m’ darlin’, is good enough for me,” he said, pulling her closer again.

  “Yes, a little soft soap and flattery always brings me around to your way of thinking, eh, Thomas?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I mean that I know you, Thomas Matthew Callahan. But then, maybe I have a dream of my own.”

  “A dream?” he asked.

  “For after retirement, I mean.”

  “What dream, Katie?”

  “­You’re not the only one who’s thought about retirement, Thomas, but I didn’t think you were ready. How long will it take you to sell out—to put your affairs in order, I mean?”

  “Oh, maybe a year—give or take a few months. If I move too quickly, prospective buyers will think I’m in trouble, and the price will go down.”

  “Then about a year or so—by the end of ’28 at the outside?”

  “That’s a reasonable timetable, I suppose.”

  “And then we would move here,” she said, looking around at the land, “sell Valhalla, build a house here, and live in Hawaii.”

  “That’s right. And travel, too, if you’d like,” he said.

  “Ah, travel,” she nodded. “As if we haven’t done enough of that in our time. This is all quite short notice, Thomas. You know that, don’t you?”

  “We’ve got over a year to prepare, Katie. It’s not like we’d be moving tomorrow.”

  “Alright, Thomas,” she said, resignedly. “I’ll agree to this plan of yours. Heaven knows it would be wonderful to live here in this paradise. But before we move here, I have one request of my own. Something I’ve been dreaming about ever since Alice and Robert came home from England.”

  He looked at her without speaking, waiting to hear.

  “I want us to go on a mission.”

  “A mission? You mean Elder and Sister Callahan?” he laughed.

  “I mean,” she said, a serious look in her eye, “I want to go on a mission after you retire and before we move to Hawaii.”

  “A mission! Just think what Robert would say about that?”

  “First he’d hug you, and then he’d say, ‘God go with you.’”

  “A mission,” Tom repeated, his gaze far beyond the ocean. “Who’d listen to me?”

  “I did,” she said, smiling at her husband.

  Chapter 10

  April, 1929

  Salt Lake City

  Rather than taking one year, it took closer to two before Tom was able to conclude several major transactions with Utah Trust Bank’s mining interests and stock holdings and to arrange for management of his personal investments during his expected absence. After consulting with Robert Thurston, who had not returned to the bank’s employ after his missionary service, and with Robert’s son, Mark, now president of UTB, Tom had decided against selling the bank, preferring to leave Mark in charge. With the stock market growing rapidly, all with whom he counseled suggested Tom decide about the bank’s divestment after finishing his
mission.

  That was sound advice, Tom figured, if he ever went anywhere Nearly a year earlier, when he had finally determined to follow through on his decision to retire, Tom and Katrina sat in front of Robert Thurston’s desk in church head­quarters—a strange sensation for Tom who was used to seeing Robert in the UTB setting—and told him of their desire to serve the Lord on a mission. Following his return from service as president of the British Isles Mission, Robert had been called to serve as the director of the church’s missionary committee, under the Quorum of the Twelve, and he had never skipped a beat in his transition from the mission field. During their interview, Katrina had done most of the talking although Tom was clearly supportive. Perhaps aware of Tom’s hesitancy, or the underlying reason behind it, Robert did all he could to assure Tom that he was indeed a worthy candidate for missionary service. But nine months had passed since that meeting, and nothing official had been heard from either Robert, whom the Callahans saw at church every week, or from church headquarters.

  Tom’s disgruntled attitude about the delay had begun to grate on Katrina’s nerves, since the mission had been her idea in the first place. For the first year after coming home from Hawaii, Tom had gently tried every ploy he knew to talk her out of volunteering for a mission, all unsuccessful. When, after nearly a year, nothing had been heard from the missionary committee, Tom felt certain that the mission idea had been scrapped. Still, he bristled at having volunteered and then, apparently, having been rejected by church authorities.