“Tom, you know I have respect for you,” Harry said. “Even when we’ve disagreed, I’ve embraced our differences of opinion as healthy exchanges between men of reason.”
“I’ve always appreciated that about you, Harry.”
Anne knew she shouldn’t listen further, but she couldn’t make herself move away from the door. Clearly, something was on the bishop’s mind, and she wanted to know what it was.
“I’ve never faulted your spirit,” he continued. “The soup kitchen you started has done a world of good. Even when you ran that illegal shelter for those runaway kids, I knew your heart was in the right place.”
“Thank you.”
“But having a child out of wedlock with this judge—this, Tom, is not behavior becoming a priest.”
“Who told you I had a child with Anne Vandree?”
“For heaven’s sake, Tom, word is out all over the diocese that Ms. Vandree announced it herself. Are you telling me she lied?”
Anne waited for Tom to respond, but he said nothing.
“Is that little baby I just saw her holding your son or not?” the bishop demanded.
“He’s my son,” Tom admitted.
“For heaven’s sake, Tom, I’ve already received a half dozen calls this morning from Adams to Andover. Did you think you could keep something like this secret?”
Anne waited for Tom to tell the bishop about the baby’s real mother and explain the circumstances, but he offered nothing in response to the bishop’s question.
“Look, Tom. You’ve done a fine job in Cooper’s Corner this past year. Every time I talk to the vestry at the Church of the Good Shepherd, they say only good things about you. And I suppose it’s a testament to their support of you that none of them called me about this matter. But they all must know. How long do you think you can keep the support of those good people with this kind of behavior?”
Again Anne waited for Tom’s explanation. Again there was none.
“I checked up on Judge Vandree,” Harry said after a quiet moment.
So that’s how he knew her.
“She has an excellent reputation and is well respected,” the bishop continued. “Do you know of anything in her disfavor?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Tom said. “They don’t come any better than Anne.”
Tom’s words created a circle of warmth around her heart.
“All right,” Harry said. “If you don’t care about what people say about you, aren’t you concerned with what they’re saying about her?”
“Yes, I’m concerned,” Tom admitted.
“Well, you’re certainly not showing it. Tom, she’s had your baby. She’s staying here in your house with you. Why haven’t you done the right thing and married her?”
After a long moment, when Tom still didn’t respond, Anne heard the bishop exhale heavily. “Tom, this is very hard for me to say to you, but you’re giving me no choice. I have to ask for your resignation.”
Anne knew she couldn’t let this happen to Tom. Being a priest meant too much to him. Every nerve in her body suddenly shook with the need for action. This was her fault and she was going to correct it. Whatever it took.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside the room. “No,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Both Harry and Tom whirled around to face her.
“Ms. Vandree—” the bishop began.
“Tom is not at fault,” Anne said, quickly cutting him off as she stepped farther into the room. “I am. He asked me to marry him. I said no.”
“And may I ask why?” Harry said.
“Because I was married once before. I didn’t want to make another mistake.”
“And what of that baby you’re holding?” the bishop asked.
Anne looked down at Tommy, who was making gurgling sounds and drooling all over her blouse. She smiled. “Tommy could never be called a mistake.”
“Ms. Vandree, I appreciate your honesty,” Harry said. “Naturally, you must make the decision dictated by your conscience. But your refusal to marry Tom doesn’t change the fact that he has had a child out of wedlock. As this diocese’s spiritual leader, I cannot allow an unmarried priest to send such a message to his—”
“Tom and I are getting married,” Anne interrupted.
“Excuse me?” the bishop said.
“That’s one of the reasons we came to Boston,” she quickly improvised. “To make plans for the ceremony.”
The bishop turned to Tom. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Anne looked at Tom and found him staring at her. Fortunately, whatever he was thinking or feeling didn’t show on his calm countenance.
“Would it have made a difference?” Tom asked smoothly as he turned toward the bishop.
“Of course it makes a difference,” Harry assured him, smiling. “We all make mistakes, Tom. I won’t attempt to minimize yours. But the important thing now is that you and Anne will be married.”
Anne knew then that she had staved off the worse and bought them some time. She let out an internal sigh of relief.
Until she heard the bishop’s next words.
“There’s no reason for you and Anne to be tied to that three-day waiting period. My driver is parked down the street. He’ll take us to the clinic for your tests and then on to the city clerk for the waiver filing. After that my good friend Judge Franklin will be happy to sign a certificate to allow the marriage license to be issued immediately. I’ll perform the ceremony myself. Why, I can have you two married before dinnertime.”
Anne stood stone still in her shock, unable to even blink.
“I can’t wait to call back those parishes tonight and tell them that you are married,” the bishop continued. “I see no reason to mention that the ceremony only took place today, do you? Let them just assume you’ve been married. Yes, that would be best.”
Inside Anne’s head, all sorts of alarms were going off. It took her a moment before she realized that one wasn’t inside her head. It was the smoke alarm in the kitchen. She had forgotten she’d left Tommy’s formula heating up on the stove.
Great. She’d not only just set fire to their future, she’d set fire to Tom’s house.
* * *
T
HE
NEXT
FEW
hours passed for Anne as though she were somehow floating outside herself, watching a movie of someone else’s life.
None of it seemed real. Not the needle puncture that drew the blood from her arm. Not the yawn of the bored clerk that sent them off with their waiver. Not the smiling Judge Franklin, who issued the license. Not even the bishop’s jovial wife, Connie, who whisked her off to pick out a simple white dress.
A very faint voice inside an isolated corner of Anne’s mind kept repeating something—something it seemed to think was important. But the thick, heavy layer of unreality muffled its message.
And then, as though suddenly becoming conscious in the middle of a dream, Anne realized she was standing beside Tom, facing a candlelit altar in Boston’s famous Old North Church.
She stared through glazed eyes at the church’s historic interior, the original high box pews and gleaming brass chandeliers winking at her with a timeless beauty. The first set of church bells ever brought to America was here. Paul Revere had been the neighborhood bell ringer. On its soaring white steeple, Robert Newman had signaled the approach of the British regulars with his lanterns, “One if by land, and two if by sea.”
On that memorable day, a declaration of war had been made.
And now, here in the deepening twilight, the bishop was asking Anne if she would begin a new life with Tom as her husband in the declaration of consent.
“To live together in the covenant of marriage, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
Anne could not say the words. She had never made a promise in her life that she hadn’t meant and kept. And this promise, asked in the hallowed walls of this, the oldest church in Boston—dear God, this promise was the most important of all.
An army of sluggish, silent seconds marched by.
And then, into that stretching silence, Tommy started to cry.
Tom rocked him but it was no use. The baby bellowed. Tom leaned over and whispered in Anne’s ear. “Will you, Anne?”
“I will,” Anne said as she turned to take Tommy out of his arms. But whether she had just agreed to hold the baby or marry Tom was muddled in her mind.
As Anne cradled Tommy and the little baby slipped into silence, she heard the bishop asking Tom what he had just asked her.
Tom didn’t hesitate, but immediately answered, “I will.”
Anne floated out of both mind and body through the rest of the ceremony as that all-prevailing sense of unreality swept in to claim her once more. At one point she vaguely remembered repeating something after the bishop, but what it was she had no idea.
The next thing she knew, the bishop was pronouncing them husband and wife and she and Tom were coming out of the church into the last rays of a golden April sunset.
Harry clapped Tom on the back. “Congratulations. Beautiful ceremony even if I do say so myself.”
“And it’s so nice that you could be married in the same church where your parents exchanged their vows,” Connie said to Tom.
Where his parents had exchanged their vows?
“Connie and I want to take you out to dinner to celebrate,” the bishop said. “What do you say?”
“Thanks, Harry,” Tom answered, “but it’s been a long day. We’ll take a rain check.”
The bishop patted Tommy on his little head. “Sure.”
Connie gave Anne a brief hug. “The ladies of the parish dropped by to stock your kitchen this afternoon,” she said near Anne’s ear. “You and Tom and the baby should have enough for a few days.”
Anne thanked Connie. At least she hoped she did. She wasn’t sure what she was saying or doing anymore.
It wasn’t until they were in Tom’s car and alone that the dreamlike state finally faded and Anne began to fully realize what had just happened.
“You don’t mind that I turned down the bishop’s invitation?” Tom asked.
“I’m grateful,” Anne said. “I’m not up to polite dinner conversation at the moment.”
She looked down at her hands, noticing for the first time the beautiful solitaire diamond engagement ring with the matching gold band on her finger. They fit perfectly. She stared at them, trying to remember when Tom had slipped them on there. But it was a blank.
“They were my mother’s,” Tom said.
His mother’s rings. The same church where his parents had been married. A stab of remorse pierced Anne, and her words came out slightly strangled. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
“I know,” Tom said. “For a moment back there in the church, I thought it was all over. Anne, I know this has happened too fast for you, but we’ll work through it.”
“A few months of pretend marriage and then a divorce,” Anne said with a sad sigh. “It’s the only thing we can do now.”
She knew she sounded miserable. She was miserable.
“I keep telling myself that what we just did was necessary so that you could remain a priest. But, I think...I think we might have paid too high a price.”
Tom was silent for a long time before answering. “A good dinner will help things look brighter. Neither of us has had anything to eat since breakfast.”
He drove straight to the restaurant, an intimate bistro in the Back Bay. The waiter greeted Tom by name and took them to a private room in the back. The candlelit table was already set with appetizers. When the waiter brought out a heated bottle of formula for Tommy, Anne realized Tom must have made the arrangements that afternoon.
Tommy didn’t want his formula no matter how much Tom coaxed, but Anne soon realized she was starved. She polished off the poached salmon entrée, steamed vegetables and apple cobbler dessert with appreciation. When she sat back, the world did look a bit better.
The baby sat in Tom’s lap, amazingly quiet as he stared at the candles, his little face looking flushed in the flickering light. Tom sipped his coffee.
“You’re feeling better,” he said when Anne’s eyes rose to his.
“I don’t know how you found time to arrange for all this, but thanks.”
“It was while Connie took you shopping for your dress. You look beautiful in it, Anne.”
As though seeing it for the first time, Anne gazed at the shimmering silk dress that softly clung to her from throat to knee.
“I don’t feel beautiful,” she said. “I feel like a fraud. When do you suppose word will get back to Cooper’s Corner?”
“No doubt the first call Harry makes when he gets home.”
Anne reached into her purse. “I’m turning off my cell phone right now.” She flipped it open and pushed the button. “I can’t imagine what they’ll think.”
“I don’t care what they think,” Tom said. “I care what you think.”
Yes, he did care. Worry was written all over his handsome face.
“I think I’ve gone off the deep end.” Anne gave a rueful shake of her head as she dropped the cell phone back in her purse. “Yesterday I told an attorney I was Tommy’s mother. Today I told a bishop that we came to Boston to get married. You know the last time I lied before that?”
“You lied to Shrubber and Harry for me,” Tom said, ignoring her rhetorical question.
“I was eight,” Anne said. “I told my mother I had finished my homework so I could watch a favorite TV show. She discovered I’d lied, of course. Told me that if I couldn’t tell the truth, no one would be able to trust me. I determined right then that I was going to be a truthful person. I was not going to lie. People were going to be able to trust me.”
“I trust you, Anne.”
“Well, I don’t trust me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I used to be able to rely on my mind. Over the past few days it seems to have gone to sleep. It’s getting so I’m afraid of what I’ll say or do next.”
“What you’ve done over the last few days has come straight from your heart,” Tom said quietly.
“If that’s true, then I’m in need of some emergency bypass surgery.”
Tom searched her eyes for a moment before he leaned toward her. “The head can only tell you what you think, Anne. It’s the heart that tells you what you feel. Are you really so eager to dismiss its importance?”
Anne was suddenly very aware of Tom. His eyes were a deep twilight, the light in them like a homing beacon. His smell was warm and clean and inviting. The touch of his skin against her arm was searing.