by Webb, Peggy
“Shall we gather at the river, where bright angel feet have trod...” Her voice rose sweet and clear above the sound of the engine, and she tipped the urn toward the Mississippi, still singing.
The sun caught Babs’s ashes and turned them to gold; then the shimmering pieces separated and drifted downward into the waiting river.
“Soon we’ll reach the shining river.” Tess sang the familiar hymn. “Soon our pilgrimage will cease; soon our happy hearts will quiver with the melody of peace.”
Mick climbed high into the sky, then turned the plane in a graceful curve and descended toward the river once more.
“Saints protect you, Babs,” he said.
“Farewell, dear friend,” Tess added.
“So long, my friend,” Jim said. “We’ll miss you.”
“Be happy, my darling. Wherever you are, be happy,” said Johnny, his face pressed against the window.
o0o
When they arrived back in Tupelo, Mick was the first to say good-bye. They were in Lovey’s bedroom. Little Babs lay curled in a tiny ball in the middle of the bed, sleeping.
“I guess it’s time to be moving on,” Mick said, shaking hands with Jim and Johnny. He gave Lovey a bear hug, saving Tess for last.
She stood with her back to the window, facing all her friends. When Mick approached her, she didn’t know what to expect, but he folded her in a bear hug, just as he had done with Lovey. She caught him close, absorbing his warmth and strength.
“Good-bye, Tess, my girl,” he whispered, leaning close to her ear. “Be well.”
“You, too, Mick.”
He held her, then abruptly turned away. She couldn’t bear to watch him go.
“Johnny, can I borrow the car?” she asked, already striding toward the door.
“Sure thing, Tess. The keys are on the hall table.”
“Thanks.” As she left the room, she heard the
voices of the three men mingling in a chorus of parting.
She ran down the stairway, jerking up the keys in her headlong flight to the car. By the time she got behind the wheel, she was panting, but not from exertion. There was nothing wrong with her physical condition; there was something wrong with her heart. It was bleeding and cracked and threatening to break.
She drove blindly away from Johnny’s house, not knowing where she was going, not caring. She had to get away from Mick Flannigan. If she had stayed to watch him walk away with his bags, she might have screamed, or cried—or both. This time he would really disappear from her life. Before, it had seemed that he had taken an extended trip and could be expected to return at any moment. Even while she was married to Carson, then to OToole, she had the feeling they were merely filling in until Flannigan came back.
Funny, she had never known that until now, until she’d heard Mick say good-bye. Maybe she’d unconsciously been expecting him back because he hadn’t said good-bye the first time.
Tess found herself on Joyner Street, near the park. On impulse she pulled in, parked the car, and made her way to the redwood bench where she and Flannigan had watched the fireflies. It was too early for them to be out, but still she could feel the evening approach. There was a languorous end-of- the-day feeling in the air. It was almost hypnotic.
She closed her eyes and let peace seep into her soul. Flannigan would probably be taking his bags down the staircase now. No, he wouldn’t have suitcases. He would have a scruffy old duffel bag, probably the same one he’d had ten years ago.
Johnny—and perhaps Jim—would take him to the airport.
She cocked her head, listening. It seemed that she could hear the roar of Mick’s Cessna Skyhawk as it climbed into the sky. If she tilted her head, she figured she would see a tiny silver speck, disappearing over the horizon.
She felt tears gather behind her eyes, and she batted her eyelashes to hold them in.
“I won’t cry. This time I won’t cry.”
“Whatever is wrong, ‘tis not worth your tears.” The voice sounded out of the darkness behind her.
Tess jumped, then turned to see who was talking to her. An old man stood beside an oak tree, staring at her from a face as brown and gnarled as the tree trunk. His white hair and beard were long and scraggly, as if he hadn’t seen the inside of a barbershop for a long time; and he was dressed all in black. The black suit was at least two sizes too big, the pants bagging at the knees, and the jacket sleeves rolled up over his knobby wrists.
“Are you speaking to me?” Tess asked.
“That I am.”
He came out of the shadows, and Tess got a closer look. His suit had a frayed satin collar and a distinctive satin stripe down the sides of the pants. A tuxedo.
She was astonished and curious and not at all afraid. In her career she’d dealt with all kinds of people, and she considered herself a pretty good judge of character. The old man had a lively walk and a perky smile, and his blue eyes were as friendly as a spaniel puppy’s.
When he reached the redwood bench, he gave her a polite, formal bow.
“Would you mind very much if I sat beside you?”
“Not at all.”
“My name’s Casey.” He held out his hand.
“I’m Tess Jones. Glad to meet you, Mr. Casey.”
“Just Casey.” He inched closer and stared at her with bright blue eyes. They reminded her of Flannigan, and she had to look away. “Are you new here, Tess? I haven’t seen you in the park before.”
“I grew up in Tupelo, but I’ve been gone a long time.”
“So, what brings you home?”
“The death of a dear friend.”
“A great sadness, the loss of friends. It hurts nearly as much as the loss of family.” His eyes grew watery, and he wiped them with his handkerchief. “Such a sadness, the loss of family.” He sniffed loudly, then honked his nose.
“Mr. Casey...”
“Just Casey, if you please.” The old man smiled at her through his tears.
Tess melted like ice cream in the sun. Mick used to accuse her of having the world’s most tender heart, and she guessed he was right.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, leaning forward.
“Oh, my dear...”He paused, gazing off into the distance. “No concern of yours.” He sniffed again, shifting so he could see her out of the corner of his eye.
“Oh, please. I hate to see you cry. Please let me help you if I can.”
Casey praised all the saints he knew and a few he didn’t. Lady Luck was finally smiling on him. He guessed there might be a miracle for old Casey after all.
“Well...” Casey’s tears dried miraculously. “I can’t find my son. He’s all I have, you know, all I have in this world. I’ve been searching and searching... for years I’ve been searching.”
“How did you... get lost from him?”
“You see, my beautiful wife died, God rest her soul. Back in those days ‘twasn’t easy for a man to take care of a baby and his job too. The welfare took him away from me.”
“How awful.”
“I did the best I could by him, but I had a hard time keeping help, you see.”
“Where did they take him?”
“First one family and then the other. I kept up with him for a while, and then I was out on the job, traveling, you know, selling shoes, and I got lost from him entirely. When I got home, they had sent him away, south, some said. I never found him again.”
“That’s heartbreaking.” Tess thought of Flannigan. Until he ran away and joined the circus, he’d been in an orphanage in Pass Christian, on the Gulf Coast.
“I’m getting old now. My fondest dream is to see him one more time before I die.”
“Is there someone who can help you? Some agency?”
“Alas, Tess, agency people don’t care much about folks who need their help. They only seem to care about drawing government paychecks.” Casey sighed. “No, I’m afraid that, like Blanche, I have to depend on the kindness of strangers.” He gave her a sidelong glance.
Tess was nobody’s fool. She knew Casey was playing on her heartstrings, but she didn’t mind. This poor old man with his faded tuxedo and his elegant speech needed her. And right now, with Flannigan flying out of her life forever, she especially needed to be important to someone.
“Look,” she said, turning to Casey, “I have a few more days before I have to be back in Chicago. Tell me more about your son, and perhaps I can help you.”
“Well...” Casey closed his eyes, as if he were remembering. “He had the blackest hair you ever saw, curly, too, just like his mother’s. And he had the clearest blue eyes in the world. Pure Irish just like me and his mom.” Casey paused, dabbing his damp face with his handkerchief.
Tess held her breath, knowing she was jumping to quite unwarranted conclusions, but wanting to believe anyway. Casey could have been describing Flannigan.
“He’d be about your age, I’d guess,” Casey continued, “early thirties. Memory fails me sometimes.”
Tess stared into his eyes. Blue. So blue. Just like Mick’s. Wouldn’t it be remarkable if she had somehow stumbled onto Flannigan’s father? It could all fit. Mick had never been certain how he came to be in the orphanage.
“I imagine he’d be a strapping, big man.” He looked down at his own small frame. “His mother was a big, handsome woman.”
Tess jumped off the bench. Flannigan would be leaving town soon. In fact, he might be gone already.
“If you’ll come with me, I think I can help you.” She started running toward the car, then looked back to see old Casey puffing to keep up. She went back and took his hand. “Hurry. Please hurry.”
After she had buckled him into Babs’s sports car, she roared through the streets, taking the curves practically on two wheels.
“There’s really no urgency about this, my dear,” Casey said mildly, hanging on to the dashboard.
“Yes, there is. He might already be gone.”
“Who?”
“Flannigan.”
Casey smiled and clutched the armrest as Tess came to a tire-blistering stop in front of an elegant antebellum home.
“Wait here,” she said, then she was out of the car and running up the steps. “Mick. Mick!”
A slim man with graying hair came to the front door. “Tess, is anything wrong?”
“I have to see Mick. Is he still here, Johnny?”
“He has already gone, Tess. We left him at the airport not ten minutes ago.”
“Oh, God.”
She ran back toward the car, and Johnny called after her. “Tess?”
“I’ll explain later,” she called over her shoulder. Then she slid behind the wheel and roared off in another direction.
o0o
Flannigan’s plane sat on the tarmac, waiting for him. He usually approached the plane with a sense of exhilaration, for he loved flying, loved being high above the rest of the world, far removed from reality, going someplace wonderful and adventurous because it was someplace new.
Today his footsteps dragged, and his duffel bag felt fifty pounds heavier. He didn’t want to leave. And he knew why—Tess.
He tossed his bag into his plane and climbed into the pilot’s seat. But he didn’t gear up for flight. Instead he sat there, staring out over the runway.
Suddenly Tess was in his field of vision, her skirt and her red hair both whipping around her face. She was calling his name as she ran.
He jumped down from the plane.
“Tess? Tess!” He raced toward her, and they met at the edge of the tarmac. He caught her shoulders, and she reached for his face. They stood that way for a while, gazing at each other, speechless. Her hands moved softly over his cheeks, and he knew the feeling of almost-heaven.
When the wonder of seeing her again had diminished, he pulled her into the lee of the terminal.
“How did you get out here, past all the security?”
“I used my winning ways.”
He laughed. “There are a few people inside who will never be the same.”
“Mick. Oh, Mick.” Her hands moved over his face once more. “I’m so glad I’ve found you.”
“I am, too, love.” He cupped her head, tangling his fingers in her silky hair. “We didn’t say goodbye properly.”
“We never do.”
“It’s time to remedy that.”
He bent down, his lips almost touching hers, his eyes shining brighter than all the stars of heaven. She wanted to merge with him, body to body, heart to heart, and let the rest of the world go by. She wanted to stop time and join herself to him in a kiss that would last forever.
She moved closer. His heart thudded against her chest, and his breath was warm on her cheek.
“Mick,” she said, scarcely louder than a sigh.
“Tess, my girl...”
“I didn’t come to say good-bye.”
His head jerked up, and prickles of fear marched along his skin.
“Is something wrong, Tess? Has something happened to Lovey and the baby?”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. I’m sorry I frightened you.” She stepped back, her face shining with pleasure. “This is good news, Mick. Now, I don’t want you to get your hopes up or anything like that. I could be wrong.”
“You always did know how to make a man wait till Christmas. Out with it, my girl.”
“I think I’ve found your father.”
CHAPTER SIX
“My father?” Mick gripped her shoulders. “What are you saying, Tess?”
“I met an old man in City Park, and he told me how he’d been looking for his son for years.” She caught his arms. “Mick, he described you.”
“Ahh, Tess. Tess, my girl.” Mick lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. “There must be a thousand men who look like me.”
“Never. Not a single one. You’re special, Mick Flannigan.”
“You could be a bit prejudiced,” he said, but he was pleased all the same. He hadn’t felt special in years, not since he’d left Tess, as a matter of fact. “Tess, my darling, you’ve probably come across a lonely old man who touched that tender heart of yours. You were always picking up scraggly, broken-down creatures.”
“Casey’s a bit scraggly, but he’s not broken down. In fact, he’d be quite elegant if his clothes fit.”
“Casey?”
“That’s his name. Irish, like yours. And his eyes...”Her own eyes glowed as she talked. “You should see them, Mick. Exactly like yours. As blue as the bonny blue sky.”
Mick got caught up in her dream. His father. He could picture him, tall and elegant, his dark hair graying at the temples, his speech rich with Irish cadences.
“I’ll just take a look at this man, Tess. Where is he?”
“In the car.” She grabbed his hand and fairly tugged him back through the terminal and out the front door where the car waited with Casey inside. “There he is, Mick.”
Mick saw the snow-white hair and beard, the weathered old face. For a moment he expected the heavens to open and choirs of angles to sing. He expected a ghostly hand to write across the sky, Mick Flannigan, this is your father.
But the dream lasted only a moment. He didn’t believe in impossible dreams anymore.
The old man turned his head as Mick opened the door. Their eyes met. Casey was a con artist. Mick knew it immediately. Uncle Arthur had been the consummate con artist. It would have been impossible for Mick not to recognize one when he saw him.
“My name is Mick Flannigan.”
He held out his hand. The old man took it in a surprisingly firm grip for one who looked so frail.
“I’m Casey.” Casey stepped from the car, moving as elegantly as if he were stepping from the podium in front of a symphony orchestra. His tuxedo sagged around him as he faced Mick.
“Tess thinks you might be my father,” Mick said, giving him a straight look that said, I know your kind.
“Well, now.” Casey tilted his head this way and that, like a cocky old mockingbird. He ca
st a sidelong glance at Tess, then slid his gaze back to Mick. Finally he took a step backward. “Alas. You are not my son.”
“How do you know I’m not? I understand you haven’t seen your son in years.”
Tears sprang to Casey’s eyes, and Mick was impressed. Damn the old con artist. Mick had always admired a good one, and Casey was good.
“A father would recognize his own son.” Casey placed his hand over his baggy suit somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. “I would know in here.”
“Oh,” said Tess, disappointment clearly written in her face. “Mick, what are we going to do?”
Mick decided that fate was either a trickster or a genius. His plane was still on the tarmac, and Tess was looking at him with tears in her eyes. He didn’t believe in spitting in the face of fate.
“Tess, my darling, what we’re going to do is help Casey.”
“Do you mean that, Mick? You’ll help?”
“Now, Tess. When have you known me to turn a stranger from my door? Of course I’ll help.”
He thought Casey looked a mite relieved. As well he should. Mick would have a talk with him later, a very long, very private talk.
But for now, his main concern was protecting Tess. He didn’t know how she had managed all those years without him. How could he have forgotten her penchant for dragging home strays? When they’d been at Mississippi State, she’d always been rescuing lame dogs and starving cats. Rescuing a human being was a different matter. There could be a certain element of danger in getting tangled up in the affairs of another human being.
He’d watch over her, though. He wasn’t going anywhere in particular, so a few more days wouldn’t matter. He’d get this business with Casey settled. Then he’d say good-bye to Tess. Really say good-bye.
Mick draped his arm around Tess’s shoulders. She had such slim, elegant shoulders. Fragile feeling. He’d never noticed that about her before.
“Why don’t we gather Mr. Casey’s things?”
“Just Casey,” the old man interrupted.
“Okay. Then we’ll go back to Johnny’s house and make plans.”
Mick climbed behind the wheel of the car, and Casey directed them back to City Park.
“You left your things there?” Tess asked as they followed Casey back toward the redwood bench.