The First Snow of Winter

by Fred Allen

  Peter left the copy of Sharkey’s photograph which the publican assured him would be mounted in a place of honor and made Peter promise that he would send a picture of himself to be mounted beside that of Sharkey.

  The following day Peter flew back to Canada on a VIP flight. After arriving in Montreal he took a train to Quebec City and reported to the Director of the upcoming Victory Bond Tour. The first rehearsal would be held at the Chateau that evening and this would be very convenient for Peter because his accommodations had been reserved at the Chateau.

  That evening members of the tour cast were introduced starting with members of the chorus which included some of the girls who would participate in a few humorous skits that would be part of the show. The second girl introduced, Marie-Louise Ross, was the most beautiful girl Peter had even seen. Peter was in love.

  Chapter VIII

  FATHER PATRICK IGNATIUS O’BRIEN

  On his visit to the Guards’ Depot the previous day, Peter had asked the Depot Commander if he could have a copy of the picture of Sharkey which he had given to the Sergeants’ Mess for mounting on their Hall of Heroes. The RSM called him that morning to advise that the picture would be ready later in the day.

  In his suite at the very exclusive officers’ club that had been arranged by Canadian Military Headquarters, Peter commenced one final task. He knew that Sharkey’s mother was dead and that he had no close relatives in Ireland but he recalled the many stories about Father O’Brien which Sharkey had regaled listeners with just about everywhere he went. Although most of these stories described a continuing battle of wits ,at least, between Sharkey and his brothers and the Parish Priest, it had been quite obvious that Sharkey regarded the old priest with something as close to affection as he was capable of showing.

  Peter wrote to Father O’Brien and told him of Sharkey’s death. He told the good Father what a fine soldier Sharkey had been and how proud Peter was to have been his friend and to have benefited from his tutelage and comradeship. He brought the old priest up to date with a brief account of Sharkey’s recent service including his second DCM and his promotion, and concluded with an account of how he had died, as he had lived, a hero. He told Father O’Brien he was enclosing a recent photograph of Sharkey that the good Father might want to mount in his office. Peter picked up the photo from the Guards’ Depot late that afternoon, put it in a large envelope with his letter, and mailed it to Father O’Brien. Peter did not know the exact address for the old priest so he just addressed it to Father O’Brien Care/Of Maguire’s Pub in the town in Ireland that Sharkey had mentioned so often.

  Maguire handed the envelope to Father O’Brien several days later. Little had changed in Maguire’s public house. The lovely Kathleen Riordan (nee Maguire), aging gracefully, and her husband Gerald, both worked behind the bar and Maguire now had four grandchildren in whom he took inordinate pride.

  As time went by, John, the oldest boy, also became the object of the pride of the pub regulars in addition to the family as he was growing into a very fine young man and an outstanding student. The Sisters of Charity at the local school absolutely doted on young John Riordan and the Mother Superior was of the unswerving opinion that it would be a terrible waste if such a fine, devout young man did not answer the only true calling-that of the church.

  When John Riordan reached the age of Confirmation, the Mother Superior revealed her ambitions for him to Father O’Brien who suppressed his surprise with the highly appropriate reply that “The Good Lord will do the calling; it is merely for we mortals to reply.” The old priest had been pleasantly surprised, perhaps even amazed, at the development of John Riordan and, in ruminating, the Good Father would add,’……bastard of that hellraiser Patrick O’Brien

  Shawkey and grandson of that reprobate-although fine rugby player-Shamus Shawkey’.

  While young John Riordan’s outstanding academic achievements became the talk of the town, there could be no mistaking his remarkable physical resemblance to Sharkey, but only Father O’Brien, and the now matronly Kathleen, knew his true blood lines and Maguire himself only suspected.

  Maguire had mellowed over the years and the many tales about the Shawkey family were again a source of great entertainment in the pub. As Sharkey’s fame as a war hero in two wars became a staple of local folklore, Father O’Brien judged it the appropriate time for their local hero to be honored by something more substantial than fading memories. He put together a montage of pictures of Shamus, Michael, Sean and Sharkey with newspaper clippings of Sharkey’s citations and had the good Sisters of Charity, and some of the senior students, mount them all on a large display board. With some apprehension Father O’Brien took this impressive display to Maguire and was delighted when the publican readily agreed to give the display a place of honor in the public lounge, where, by coincidence, the old priest’s huge chair was a permanent fixture and where the good Father did most of his “community work.” Maguire could not help but draw the attention of his regulars to one of the pictures in the montage taken when Sharkey was being decorated with his first DCM while still in a hospital bed. Maguire would point to Sharkey’s uncovered head, with just patches of hair, and proclaim with great relish “There, I was right when I called him a scraggy haired son of a bitch!”

  Indeed, Maguire actually took great pleasure in telling visitors many of the stories about Sharkey their local hero. But, from time to time, as the good Father sat in his chair in what he called “deep meditation on the subject for his Sunday sermon”, and, watching through half closed eyes, he observed Kathleen, young and lovely again as she stood in front of the display, cheeks flushed by intimate memories then, always with a deep sigh, she would turn away.

  When Father O’Brien received Peter’s letter, he realized that his original objective of a tranquil retirement was now assured with the last of the Shawkey brothers gone. But his eyes misted up as he read the letter and he sat for a long time just looking at the enclosed picture. He arranged with the Mother Superior to have the montage rearranged with the new picture and suitable additions to Sharkey’s distinguished record of service.

  Now that Sharkey’s place in the community was assured, Father O’Brien spent many hours just looking at the display and reminiscing. His wakeful reminiscences often carried into his dreams. He joined with the Mother Superior in rejoicing when she advised him that John Riordan had committed himself to the service of God and would enter a seminary as soon as possible.

  This wonderful news and a letter of commendation from his Bishop congratulating him on John Riordan’s acceptance, gladdened the heart of the old priest as he continued his daily meditations, and most of the time his focus was on the display honoring Sharkey. Then, as he retreated into deep meditation and his eyes closed, the regulars were very pleased to observe the beautiful smile that would often creep over his face.

  Ah yes! The good Father had every reason to smile at the memories of Shamus and all his hell raising sons. And his smile silently reflected his delicious secret that he was now offering Sharkey’s bastard son John Riordan to the church with the potential of even becoming a Prince of the Church. A delicious secret indeed, he thought, but before accusing the good Father of sacrilege, or even irreverence, we should try to understand the true reason for this highly satisfied smile. Father O’Brien was just reflecting on the number of times he had reminded his parishioners of the “many mysterious ways the Good Lord used to display His wonders”. Now, finally, he had the ultimate proof as to the truth of this admonition to his parishioners in the accomplishment of this near miraculous wonderby the Good Lord.

  Chapter IX

  PETER AND JACOB

  As Peter drove east on the main highway, the wind had increased in velocity and the accumulation of loose snow was now sufficient to generate brief “whiteouts”. He had encountered little or no westbound traffic for the past hour, and the only other vehicle on the road of which he was
constantly aware was the large black car following closely-at times too closely-behind him. All of his inquiries had indicated that the storm originally located over the Gulf of St.Lawrence was at least twenty-four hours away. If this was only the leading edge, Peter thought, it would be one hell of a storm.

  He passed a Province of Quebec sign denoting a rest area but the visibility was so reduced that Peter could not even distinguish the turnoff. The cluster of buildings at the rest area were obliterated by the blowing snow as was the Quebec Provincial Police cruiser parked in front of the Tourist Information Bureau.

  Jacob Rosenburg, at the wheel of the big Cadillac, ensured that he kept the tail lights of the station wagon in sight. He still had not recognized the driver of the station wagon but he had seen the New Brunswick license plates and he was reasonably certain that the wagon was going at least as far as Edmundston and so long as he kept the tail lights in view his driving would be that much easier. His wife Sara was dozing beside him. He had been very worried about Sara recently. She had a heart condition and had been under her doctor’s care for several years. Despite her poor health, she had insisted on flying to

  Ottawa with him for the family reunion. When the beautiful new car was presented to them she adamantly refused to fly back to Fredericton alone and insisted on driving back with Jacob. This was one of the reasons that Jacob decided to return by the Canadian route, which was just a bit shorter than the American route through New Hampshire, Vermont and Maine. A second reason was the six cases of Cuban cigars in the trunk of the Cadillac, which had been presented to Jacob by an old friend with contacts in Havana. Jacob feared complications and the loss of these prized cigars in going through American customs if he tried to enter the United States.

  When Peter arrived at the turnoff that had been of concern to the QPP Detachment Commander, the barrier was now across the main highway and Peter followed the implicit direction suggested by the barrier and turned down the road on the right. The Cadillac followed him. For a while after the turn-off, conditions appeared to improve and the two cars were able to proceed at a reasonable speed. Peter was not familiar with this stretch of road but he recalled that there had been a detour in this area while the Trans Canada Highway between Riviere-du-Loup and Edmundston had been undergoing major reconstruction.

  During the next hour the two cars covered about twenty miles and Jacob, having by this time, recognized the driver of the station wagon, was determined to stay as close as he could to Peter Marshall. So close, in fact, that the high beams of his headlights were posing a problem for Peter as they were picked up in either his rear view mirror or the small mirror mounted on the driver’s door.

  Conditions worsened suddenly as Peter was aware of driving up a long grade. He saw a sign on the right announcing a steep down grade and, at the same time, he thought he picked up the outline of a building off the road to the right and visible for only a split second through a small window in the blowing snow. As Peter reached the top of the grade and prepared, very carefully, to descend the other side there was a total “whiteout” caused by snow blowing over the crest of the hill and Peter suddenly realized that he was going down hill on ice and totally out of control. The big Cadillac was practically on his rear bumper as Peter could just hold onto the steering wheel and prayed for a straight road down the hill.

  His prayers were answered in part; the road was straight but the hill was steep. Peter thought he just might ditch the wagon but the steering wheel was unresponsive and he realized that, while he might minimize damage by going into the ditch, they would have to contend with the big Cadillac, which would land on top of them. At the bottom of the hill the station wagon came to what appeared to be a ramp leading up to a short bridge, and the ramp caused the wagon to swerve and slide sideways for a short distance before plowing into a large snowdrift blocking the middle of the bridge. The wagon came to a shuddering stop and the Cadillac still following closely behind, swerved at the last minute to avoid a head-on crash against the side of the wagon. The Cadillac merely clipped the rear corner of the wagon and came to a crunching stop against one of the heavy stone pillars on the side of the bridge.

  Peter quickly checked on his passengers and found no apparent injuries. Wee Willie was whimpering a bit but more from shock than pain. Peter’s chest was a bit sore from hitting the steering wheel and Marie-Louise was groping around on the floor looking for her sunglasses, which had been knocked off when the wagon collided with the snowdrift. Robbie and Sandy were fine. Peter touched the accelerator and found the engine still running smoothly and, checking the gauges, found that he had three quarters of a tank of gas. The visibility was that limited he could not see anything but one of the tail lights of the Cadillac which was now parked about parallel to the wagon and less than ten feet away.

  Peter managed to open his door, pushing back a pile of snow that had been resting against it. He struggled through the heavy gusting wind over to the door of the Cadillac on the driver’s side. He could not see inside the car through the heavily frosted side window, but as he opened the door the occupants could be seen slumped against the steering wheel and dashboard. Peter saw that the driver’s eyes were open as he reached towards the other passenger. “Sara, Sara, are you all right?” The passenger moved and her head came up “Jacob, Jacob, what happened?” They both appeared to be all right, probably saved by their seat belts which were still buckled, and Peter recognized them immediately as Jacob and Sara Rosenburg a couple who played a major role in Fredericton’s Jewish community.

  Jacob obviously recognized Peter because he apologized profusely. “I’m very sorry Peter. I was following too close and I just couldn’t stop coming down that hill. Are you all right? Is your family all right?” Peter assured him that there had been no serious injuries. Closer examination revealed that the tailgate window of the wagon had been broken and a large hole exposed the interior to the elements. Damage to the Cadillac was more serious. The left fender had been crushed back against the front left tire leaving it flat and the wheel seemed to be bent. Robbie was already in the back of the wagon and was attempting to cover the hole in the window with extra items of clothing.

  “Peter, how many are there in your car?” asked

  Jacob.

  “Four in addition to myself”, answered Peter. “My wife, my daughter, our son Robbie and the baby.”

  “Well,” continued Jacob. “It looks as though we’ll be here for a while. Why don’t you move your family over here? There’s lots of room for three of them and the baby in the back seat and, even with temporary repairs to that window, they’ll be much more comfortable here. We have two coolers full of food in the trunk. It’s all kosher but that won’t be a problem. We also have a “Jiffy Pot” to help prepare food for the baby. All I have to do is plug it into one of the cigarette lighters.”

  Peter thought for a moment and realized that Jacob’s idea made sense. He was quite correct in his estimate that they would be there for a while. Weather conditions were getting worse and they were now at the bottom of a deep narrow valley which appeared to be acting like a funnel that only increased the intensity of the gale force wind blowing down from the northeast. He realized that he had provided no specific expected time of arrival to his contacts in Fredericton. As for as his in-laws in Quebec City , they had departed for Montreal early in the afternoon where his father-in-law had an appointment to have his prosthesis changed.

  Peter made his way across the short distance between the two cars with some difficulty against the increasing gale force winds. He opened the door and steeling himself against the open door now being buffeted by the wind, he announced “Come on folks, we’re moving to the other car. Sandy and Robbie unfasten the baby’s seat and bring Wee Willie with you in the seat and also bring his travel bag.” Marie-Louise appeared to hesitate for a moment then decided this was the wrong time to question Peter’s authority and she slid over under the steering wheel
and exited through the door Peter was bracing himself against to hold open. They struggled through the sharp cold wind across the short distance to the other car and, after a struggle to hold the back door open, they slid onto the spacious back seat. There was a small jump seat that folded down from the back of the front seat and this proved to be perfect for Wee Willie. With the addition of a cushion, the jump seat could even serve him as a bed.

  When Peter saw that they were settled in comfortably, he told Jacob he would return to the wagon and see if he could improve on Robbie’s impromptu repairs on the rear window and try to keep some warmth in the car by keeping the motor and heater going for short periods of time. He told Jacob to signal with his left turn signal if there were any problems. The position that the Cadillac ended up in left it almost impossible for Peter to see either of the headlights but he could see the rear left turn signal.

  Back in the wagon Peter turned on the ignition and set the heater at high. He then proceeded to check on Robbie’s handiwork but Peter noted that the Cadillac’s glancing blow had jarred the tailgate open and he could detect exhaust fumes leaking into the passenger compartment. He stuffed two pairs of Robbie’s heavy ski socks into the opening and satisfied himself that no detectable exhaust fumes were now leaking into the passenger compartment.