I don’t know how many stanzas I completed before fatigue became so great I could not keep my eyes open.
I awoke, fully dressed, to the bells in the tower of Our Lady of Mercy ringing out and sun streaming through my bedroom window. Blue and Douglas, curled on the bed, sat up. I could not immediately recall the last time I’d heard the bells. And then that moment came to me. I had been in Dr. Fukomara’s office, about to have a vasectomy. But I had imagined those bells, hadn’t I?
I wondered if I could be imagining them again and quickly went downstairs, pulled open the front door, and stepped out onto the porch. Blue and Douglas remained at my feet. It was not my imagination. The bells rang as loud and true as Ernie had rung those bells in the sixth grade at the all-school Mass. Standing on the porch, I realized something else. I no longer felt anxious about Mickie. I felt the same comforting warmth and peace come over me as I had felt in Lourdes when it seemed to be radiating from my chest. I had been unable to define the feeling until that moment, and then it became very clear to me. It felt like my mother’s loving embrace. It felt like it felt when she wrapped her arms around me when I was a boy in need of comfort.
Spirito Santo, the Italian man had knowingly whispered. Spirito Santo.
Douglas and Blue began to bark. Mickie had trained them not to leave the porch, and so they remained on the top step, barking, tails whipping the air, collars rattling. I looked down the street but did not see anyone out walking their dog or an approaching car. “What is it?” I said.
Blue looked up at me, but Douglas’s gaze remained on the street. When I looked again, the taxi appeared over the slight rise in the road, slowing as it neared and then turning in to the driveway. Blue and Douglas were ecstatic, whimpering and whining, tails whipping at high speed. The back door of the cab opened.
And Mickie Kennedy stepped out.
15
Mickie looked up at me and smiled, but it had a sad, “I’m sorry” look to it. The dogs leaped and jumped all around me but did not leave the porch until I stepped down. They bolted to her. She’d started to cry, apologizing even before I reached her. “I got your messages. I’m sorry, Sam. I know I worried you.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I didn’t have any service.”
“I spoke to you Tuesday.”
“I left.”
“Where? Where did you go?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise, the best surprise. I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t see all your calls until we landed. I know what you were thinking, Sam. I know you’d thought I’d left.”
I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything except that Mickie was there in my arms. I kissed her and hugged her tight.
After a while she said, “Let’s go inside.”
I paid the cab driver and carried Mickie’s bag inside, dropping it in the entry at the foot of the staircase. Mickie sat at the kitchen table. After we caught our breath, she said, “We never did finish the conversation the night before I left.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not. Not if we’re going to marry.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
“I can’t have children, Sam. It happened when I was younger. I had to have a hysterectomy. I didn’t want to marry you and not be able to give you children. You deserve children. You’re a good man and will make a wonderful father.”
“I don’t care about that,” I said. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I told your mother. I should have told you. But you know how hard it can be when years go by and you don’t say anything? For so many years, when you were away, I rationalized that we would never be together and so it didn’t matter. But now . . . I should have, Sam. I should have told you.”