The Callahans: The Complete Series

by Gordon Ryan

  Then, late on a Friday afternoon, a telephone call came. Brother Farmington, secretary to the Twelve, allowed Tom and Katrina three days to speculate on why they had been summoned to a meeting with Elder David O. McKay. All that was revealed during the conversation was that Brother and Sister Callahan were to meet with the apostle the following Monday morning.

  Now, waiting in the church Office Building foyer, Tom sat impatiently as Katrina tried to curb his nervousness. Finally, Elder McKay himself came down the stairs, and Tom rose from his seat.

  “My good friends, good morning to you. And how are you this beautiful day, Sister Callahan?”

  “I’m quite well, Elder McKay. Thank you for asking,” she smiled.

  “And Tom, how are you these days? A little less busy, I understand,” he said, reaching out to grasp, and then pump, Tom’s hand.

  “Oh, Katrina’s found a few things around the house to keep me busy, D.O.”

  The apostle laughed softly, smiling at Katrina. “There’s always a list of chores, ­isn’t there? Please excuse the delay this morning, but there is someone I’ve asked to join us, and he was detained for a few moments in President Grant’s office. Please, come with me if you will.”

  The trio climbed one flight of stairs to Elder McKay’s office where he ushered them to seats before taking a seat himself. They chatted casually for a few moments until being joined by another man who came into the room.

  “Ah, there you are,” Elder McKay said, rising. Recognizing the newly arrived visitor, Tom also stood. “Tom, I presume you know Elder Melvin J. Ballard of the Twelve. Elder Ballard, these are my longtime friends, Thomas and Katrina Callahan.”

  Elder Ballard extended his hand toward Tom. “It’s a pleasure, Brother Callahan. I’ve been aware of your fine bank for many years and the good work you’ve done in our community. Sister Callahan,” he said, turning his attention to Katrina who remained seated but extended her hand. “I’ve heard you sing on several occasions, much to my pleasure I might add.”

  “Thank you, Elder Ballard,” Katrina said.

  “Well, then,” McKay said, gesturing for all to take their seats again, “now that ­we’re all here, Tom, perhaps you could tell us, how are things at Utah Trust Bank?”

  “­They’re fine, D.O. You know Mark Thurston of course, Robert’s son. He’s doing a fine job of managing our interests, and I have full confidence in him.”

  “So you’ve actually pulled out of management?”

  Katrina chuckled softly and reached between their chairs for Tom’s hand.

  “Physically, Elder McKay,” she said. “But I still see him with his nose in the paper every day, turned to the financial page and reading every line.”

  McKay and Elder Ballard smiled and looked at Tom.

  “Guilty,” Tom grinned. “But it’s been nerve-racking, I suppose, to be so near and to try to remove myself after being so closely involved for, what, thirty years?”

  “We can well understand that, Brother Callahan,” Elder Ballard said.

  “Tom,” Elder McKay said, his voice soft yet determined, “Brother Thurston tells us that now that you’ve removed yourself from the daily operations of your business, you’ve considered serving a mission. Is that correct?”

  Tom nodded. “It is, D.O. It’s something Katie and I have discussed for quite some time now,” a slight tone of irritation at the delay evident in his voice—a tone that earned him a quick glance from his wife.

  “I know,” McKay nodded. “It has been a long time since you spoke with Brother Thurston, but then most things in the church happen in their own time it seems,” he smiled.

  “The older I get, the more patient I become,” Tom said, “but perhaps I’m just not old enough yet,” he laughed, trying to erase his rudeness.

  “I know the feeling,” Elder McKay responded. “Brother Callahan,” McKay said, continuing a serious tone, “are you in good standing with the Lord?”

  Tom remained silent for a few moments, contemplating. He felt Katrina gently squeeze his hand.

  “Brother McKay, I’ve been a member of the church for just over seven years now, but as you know, I’ve lived very close to a member of the church for over thirty,” he said, looking toward his wife. “If the Lord is displeased with me for any reason, He’s not seen fit to display it. For all I know, I’m on the right track. I certainly try to be.”

  “I believe you do, Brother Callahan, and the Lord is well pleased with your efforts. Perhaps you are aware that Elder Ballard has recently returned from South America—Argentina to be specific.”

  “I did read that ... after,” he said, smiling at his wife, “I finished the financial pages.”

  “Elder Ballard has done a great work for the church, opening up the South American continent for missionary work. And that work must continue. In that regard, Brother Callahan, the Lord has need of you ... and your good wife, Sister Callahan.”

  Tom looked quizzically at Elder McKay for a moment, not understanding the South American reference.

  “Brother Callahan,” Elder McKay said, looking directly into Tom’s eyes, “we extend a call to you to serve in the South American Mission—to replace Elder Ballard as mission president in Buenos Aires, Argentina.”

  Tom sat stunned, unable to respond. He looked at Katrina and saw a hint of moisture in her eyes. He then glanced at Elder Ballard, then again at his wife, and then back to Elder McKay.

  “Elder McKay,” he stammered, “I know nothing of Argentina or South America for that matter. I’ve been there, of course, inspecting some of the bank’s mining interests, but I ... I don’t even speak Spanish or Portuguese.”

  “That will all come in time, Brother Callahan. Trust in the Lord.”

  “I don’t mean to question the calling, Elder, but ...”

  “I understand,” McKay said, “but you have a work to perform—a very important work, I might add. We look forward to the day when the church will have spread throughout that great continent. Elder Ballard is certain that the Lord is mindful of the people of South America, and that it’s time for us to begin in earnest the work of bringing them the gospel.”

  “Whew,” Tom said, exhaling slowly, his eyes flitting back and forth between Elder McKay and Katrina. “I volunteered for a mission, Elder McKay, but a mission president? That’s for Robert or a member of your quorum.”

  “Brother Callahan,” McKay said, “I’ve known you for over thirty-five years—as a young Irish immigrant, a hospital maintenance man, a fugitive from justice”—at which comment Tom chuckled—“a bank president, lawyer, husband, father, philanthropist—I could go on and on, and you’ve been successful at all of them, but none of that matters now. The Lord has always known you, Tom, and He knows your heart.”

  Tom sat quietly for a few moments, his head lowered in thought.

  “I have learned one thing in my short time in His church, Elder McKay—when the Lord calls, we answer.”

  Elder McKay nodded and looked toward Katrina. “Sister Callahan, how do you feel about your new calling?”

  “When do we begin, Elder McKay?” she said, her eyes now glistening with tears.

  McKay deferred to Elder Ballard who responded.

  “I think you should be in place by August, if possible. We have about forty-eight missionaries there now, and another eight or ten are about to be called. It’s a great work, Sister Callahan, and your husband will need all the support you can muster. Outside of the main cities, it’s often a very primitive life-style down there, and our new converts come mostly from very humble backgrounds.”

  “August,” she repeated. “That’s good. I was hoping to participate with the choir in our first national radio broadcast in July. It will be my last outing as a member of the Tabernacle Choir for some time, I presume.”

  “I expect so,” Elder McKay said, standing and coming out from behind his desk. As Tom rose, the apostle put his arm around Tom’s shoulders. “And a great loss to the choir.”

  �
�Thank you, Elder McKay,” Katrina said, rising from her chair and stepping close, smiling up at the apostle. “Thank you so very much.”

  By July, telegrams and letters had been exchanged with the family, Katrina had found suitable replacements to fill her positions on various charity boards and committees, and Valhalla had been sold to an older couple Tom had known for many years. Understanding how hard it was for Katrina to actually put into motion the steps necessary to enable their retirement after their mission, Tom included a clause in the contract, stipulating that the Callahans would have first right of repurchase should the buyers decide to sell Valhalla. After having lived over thirty years in the home in which she had raised four children through various stages of childhood and adolescence, the actual signing of the papers with the new owners had been an emotional experience for Katrina. On the morning the moving company arrived to pack and store their furniture, Tom delayed the men with a hastily contrived chore while Katrina cried her way through each and every room in the stately mansion.

  The last few weeks prior to their departure for South America were spent in residence at Seby’s cattle ranch in Hidden Valley. Seby was very apologetic about the necessity of his spending some time away so close to the Callahans’ departure, traveling to New York and Chicago on business, but Tom assured him that his absence provided more time for a long overdue father-daughter reunion with Teresa, who had arrived from Hollywood only two days after Tom and Katrina relocated to Draper.

  President Callahan—as Teresa began playfully calling her father—took every opportunity to ride horses in the foothills and up the canyons east of Seby’s holdings, often accompanied by Teresa.

  The highlight of the time spent living in Hidden Valley was when the family made a trip to downtown Salt Lake City, where Tom and Katrina were set apart for the mission service by Elder McKay. As he sat in the chair, waiting to be set apart, the now graying Irishman held his eyes closed, thinking of Ireland and his dear departed mother. Be true to the faith, she had implored. Ever since his baptism into the Mormon faith, this directive from his mother, given thirty-five years earlier as he had fled Ireland, had provided the only guilt he had retained about leaving his Catholic roots. But some time before his baptism, Tom had come to an understanding that he was being true to the faith, and surely by now, he hoped, his mother and Sister Mary would both understand that.

  Once Seby returned to Utah, the time seemed to disappear, and before the family knew it, only three days remained until departure. After dinner one of those evenings, Tom, Katrina, Seby, and Teresa sat outside the Hidden Valley ranch house on the wraparound veranda, enjoying the sunset and the pleasant air.

  Katrina was the first to break the silence. “What a beautiful evening,” she exclaimed.

  “We have them every night here in Draper. It’s only the people in the city that miss out, Mom,” Seby teased.

  “Is that so? And how about you, Tess? I bet you don’t get these kind of evenings in southern California.”

  “There are some beautiful sunsets, Mom, over the ocean from the studio president’s home in Santa Barbara.”

  “Oh? Do you go there often?”

  “He has cast members up on weekends sometimes. We work on dialogue or new ideas.”

  “I see. When will you go back?”

  “Next week, I’m afraid.”

  Seby rose and walked to lean against one of the pillars supporting the roof overhanging the veranda.

  “Will you be going with Tess, Seby?” Katrina asked.

  Seby didn’t answer for a moment and then he turned his head to face Katrina.

  “No. I’ll remain here in Utah,” he said, looking for a moment at Teresa.

  In that moment of visual exchange, Katrina knew all that she had feared was happening. She glanced at Tom who appeared oblivious to the exchange.

  “Will you be gone long, Tess?”

  This time, Tess glanced up at Seby and then replied to her mother. “I’ve signed to do another picture, Mom. I’ve been offered the lead role in this one. It’s quite an opportunity. I can’t afford to pass it up.”

  “Katie,” Tom said, “how about you take a walk with the old man, so I can be sure to find my way back after dark?”

  “A walk?”

  “A tour,” he said, rising from his rocker, “of Seby’s empire before we go down to Argentina to see what a real ranch looks like.”

  “If you wish, dear,” she said, placing her glass of ice water on the small table and standing. “You two just enjoy the sunset, and if ­we’re not back by midnight, send the police.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Tess laughed. “Behave yourself, Dad.”

  Tom stepped toward his daughter, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

  “That’s President Dad to you, if you please.”

  Seby remained standing by the pillar with Teresa sitting close behind him as Tom and Katrina walked down the steps and toward the path leading to the barn and corrals.

  “You understand that she knows,” Seby said.

  Teresa stood and came to stand beside her husband. “I know. Mom always knows.”

  “I think your dad understands, too,” he added.

  “And how about you, Seby?” she said, facing him and looking up into his eyes.

  “I understand that I want a family—children—and that you want another film. Until that’s resolved, Tess, I don’t really understand any of this.”

  “Seby, you agreed that I should pursue this opportunity.”

  “No, Tess. I agreed that you should pursue the opportunity that came before this most recent opportunity. This is the next opportunity, and likely it’s only the current opportunity, before the next, next opportunity raises its head.”

  “That’s not fair, Seby. I’ve been a good wife.”

  He looked down at her. “You’ve been an excellent wife ... when ­you’re here. But I believe we need a family, Tess. Time moves quickly. Look at your mom and dad,” he said, turning to watch the couple as they strolled farther from the house and disappeared behind a rise in the landscape. “They once felt young and that life was full of future opportunities too.”

  “Dad’s nearly fifty-five years old, Seby. ­You’re barely thirty.”

  “You’re barely thirty, Tess. I’m thirty-two, but that’s not the point. It’s who we are to each other that’s important. Nothing on this ranch means more to me than you.”

  “Are you saying I have to choose?”

  “No. I would never say that. But you ­shouldn’t have to choose, Tess. You should already know. And when the time comes, you will know. In the meantime, just know that I love you and I want you here with me.”

  “Oh, Seby, it’s so hard to let go. I enjoy making movies. I love what I do. Can’t you understand that?”

  “Yes, I can. But I want you to love what you do here, too. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “Just once, Seby. Let me see how I do on this one film.”

  “Like I said. I’ll not ask you to stop. It’s your choice.”

  “Thomas, did you hear what Tess was saying?”

  “I did.”

  “I think their marriage is in trouble. I was trying to find out what she was thinking.”

  “That’s why ­we’re taking this walk. They need to work it out by themselves, my love.”

  Katrina was silent for several moments as they continued to walk through the pasture surrounding Seby’s ranch. When they crossed another path that led back to the ranch house, Katrina stopped her husband and stood in front of him, looking up into his blue eyes.

  “Elder McKay was right. ­You’re already becoming a mission president, President!”

  “How about a kiss for the president, Sister President,” he laughed, taking her in his arms.

  As they had on so many occasions over the years, all family members present in Salt Lake—in this case only two Callahans and two Strombergs—gathered at the Union Pacific train station at the end of South Temple Street to bid the depart
ing missionaries farewell. With PJ in New Zealand and Tommy still stationed in Hawaii, the group was much smaller than on previous family arrivals or departures. Still, as Tom tipped the porter to load their luggage into one of the newly designed Pullman sleeper compartments, the echoes and ghosts of earlier reunions at the same track overwhelmed Tom with a feeling of nostalgia. With his business interests under a blind-trust management agreement—a condition Katrina had requested to enable them to devote their thoughts and energies to their mission calling—their lifetime residence sold, and their children scattered around the globe, Tom had to work hard to overcome the feeling that his world, as he knew it, was coming to an end.

  As they waited, they were surprised to see Elder David O. McKay suddenly appear on the platform.

  “Elder McKay,” Katrina exclaimed, “how thoughtful of you to come and see us off.”

  “It’s a great pleasure, Sister Callahan. And I see the younger generation is hale and hearty,” he said, greeting Seby and Teresa. “Who knows, Sister Callahan, by the time you and President Callahan are firmly established in the mission field, you might become a grandmother again.”