The Perfect Patsy

One-2

HELEN CALLS ME THE next morning before she leaves town and then texts me off and on throughout the day. But other than these brief contacts, I focus my attention on the parish.

Including something I’ve been avoiding for almost three months.

“Tom,” Anna says, “you just need to take care of it.”

I slump in my chair. “But can’t we give it some more time?”

She sits across from me and crosses her arms. “Now, Tom,” she says firmly, “you cannot go any longer without one. The education center seems like it’s actually going to happen, and besides, religious education was supposed to start last week. No one’s complaining—yet—because everyone knows the amount of stress you’ve been under.”

“But it’s not like I haven’t done anything,” I point out. “I put in a request for a Nashville Dominican a week after the incident with Leslie.”

“Tom, that’s a pipe dream and you know it,” Anna says with exasperation. “Every parish in the country would like one of them as a teacher, and you want one with the qualifications to be Director of Religious Education. It’s a moonshot.”

“But it’s my moonshot,” I say plaintively.

In my heart, I know Anna is right. The Dominican Sisters of St. Cecilia, based in Nashville (hence the nickname ‘Nashville Dominicans’), are well known as one of the few orders consisting of young, enthusiastic, and energetic women dedicated to teaching the Faith. And while they’re also one of the fastest growing orders, their numbers cannot keep up with demand. The chances of Saint Clare’s getting one in my lifetime is small, something both Anna and the Archbishop warned me about when I first proposed the idea.

“But Tom, you cannot just let the religious education program wither on the vine while you wait,” Anna says. “There are several children, including Catherine Conway, who are due to receive their sacraments this year. You need to do something.”

I take a deep breath and give voice to an idea that has been solidifying in my mind for some time.

“I know. That’s why I’m going to serve as DRE until we get our Dominican.”

The look of incredulity on Anna’s face is disheartening, but not as disheartening as the laughter that bursts forth from her.

“What’s so funny?” I ask indignantly.

“Tom,” Anna says, “you can’t do that. You’re busy enough as a parish priest, plus you’re getting married in a couple of months.”

“I’ve already begun to line up teachers,” I go on to explain. “Most are on board, except for Miriam for obvious reasons. I’ll teach the sacrament preparation for the six- and seven-year-olds myself. The curriculum should be arriving this week.”

“Are you that determined to not hire a DRE?”

“I’m getting a DRE,” I say. “From the Nashville Dominicans.”

“But Tom, shouldn’t we—”

“Shouldn’t we do what, Anna?” I snap. “Advertise for another Director of Religious Education like last time? That’s how we got Leslie.”

Even after several months, just mentioning the name of the woman who almost killed Helen sets my teeth on edge.

“I very much doubt that we’d get another DRE like Leslie,” Anna says quietly. “Most of them are not the psychotic daughters of serial killers.”

“I hope not. I found the one quite sufficient. But at least with a Nashville Dominican, we have someone who’s already been vetted and tested and examined.”

“But Tom—”

“Anna, my mind is made up on this,” I say. “I’ll serve as interim DRE until my request is granted.”

Anna glares at me. “And if it isn’t?”

I meet her stare. “If there’s no news on my request from Nashville by the time Helen and I return from our honeymoon, then we’ll advertise. But I’m having Helen run a background check this time.”

Anna nods. “Fair enough.” She gets up to leave, and then asks, “By the way, how long have Mae Trent and Martin Maycord been seeing each other?”

I sit up straight. “How did you know about that?”

“Oh, Tom,” Anna shakes her head. “You know I don’t like to gossip. And I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

“Where?”

“Last night, when Bill and I were out. They were at the same restaurant. I didn’t see them at first, but they were on the dance floor, looking like they thought they were the only people in the world.”

“Well,” I say. “I knew there was interest there.”

“Oh, there’s a lot more than interest,” Anna says. “Even if he’s somewhat older than she is, they do make a nice-looking couple. Trust me on this, Tom. You’re going to have a wedding next year.”

“Two, if Gladys and Nate work things out,” I say quietly.

“Is something wrong between the two of them?”

“Let’s just say Gladys was mad enough to throw a milkshake on him at Sprockets a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, Tom,” Anna says. “You know young people. I’m sure it was nothing more than a lover’s spat. Things will be just fine between those two.”

***