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Seamus had been almost bursting with excitement at the prospect of seeing his great-grandson. He dominated the conversation as he listened to the activities Brian was involved in, which included finishing high school.
The old man said, “Just keep your head up and do what’s right.”
“I’ll try, Gramps.”
Seamus got a little agitated and said, “You’ve got to do better than try, Brian. You’ve got to be the better man. No matter what happens, rise above it.”
Brian was very solemn when he said, “Yes, sir.”
Seamus said, “Make use of the chapel. Tell the chaplain that your great-grandfather is a priest in the city. Tell him to call me at Holy Name. He’ll do it as a matter of professional courtesy. I want him to know what a great kid you are.”
Brian smiled and said, “Thanks, Gramps.”
We finished up, and there were tearful good-byes all around. I felt like I needed to help Seamus when he was slow to get up from the chair. Mary Catherine and I led him down the long, unremarkable hallway. I turned back one last time to see Brian standing behind the wide counter, waving to us.
It felt like I had a hole in my heart.
Chapter 36
It was late in the afternoon by the time we all piled into the van. With three large suitcases strapped on the luggage rack on the roof, we had a little bit of a Beverly Hillbillies vibe heading east on I-90.
I polled the audience, and the overwhelming response was that we drive straight through to Maine and our new home away from home.
Mary Catherine caught the look of concern on my face as I calculated the twelve or so hours between now and arrival. She leaned over and said, “I’ll help. It’ll be fun.”
And so we were off on our adventure to the town of Linewiler, Maine.
The crowd wanted a ghost story, and all I could think of was “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” The story of Ichabod Crane was enough to scare some of the younger kids. I tried not to be too dramatic in my retelling, but Mary Catherine put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Maybe we should try another story.”
Trent said, “But it’s got to be a ghost story. Something scary.”
Eddie chimed in, “Yeah, Dad. Not a short story we read in second grade.”
Fiona said, “Hey, we’re reading it now. In eighth grade!”
Eddie kept his smug smile as he said, “We all move at our own pace, Fiona. I’m sure everything will turn out fine for you.”
It was hard for me to suppress a smile. I love the interplay between brothers and sisters. God knows I provided enough brothers and sisters for that to happen.
Then it was Seamus who started a story. I was a little surprised, but I appreciated his Irish accent and serious tone as he shifted in the front seat to look back at the faces of his great-grandchildren.
He said, “It started a long time ago. Way before any of you were born.” He looked directly at Mary Catherine and said, “Even before you were born.”
He had the kids’ complete and undivided attention.
“I was called from the church in New York down to Washington, DC, where strange events were occurring around a little girl.” He searched everyone’s faces to make sure they were paying attention, then snuck a quick glance at mine.
“The girl’s mother was a famous actress, and no one had been able to tell her why the girl was acting so strangely. Not doctors, not psychiatrists, not neurosurgeons.”
Finally I had to interrupt him. “Seamus, are you trying to pass off the plot of The Exorcist as something that happened to you?”
The old man just shrugged, like he’d been caught stealing a cookie. “I doubt they’ve ever heard it before.”
Once it had turned dark and we had grabbed a quick bite to eat, everyone started dozing off in the van. Seamus was one of the first to fall asleep—and his slumber might have been the most obvious. His head rested on the back of the reclined front seat, and his mouth dropped open. At least his wheezing snore assured me that he was alive during the trip.
By eleven o’clock, I was the only one still awake in the van. Mary Catherine sat on the first bench seat with Chrissy’s head in her lap and Fiona’s on her shoulder. It was a perfect picture of three pretty girls, even if all three of them had snoring issues of their own.
The trip felt longer than I anticipated, even though we were on the final leg. I had to stop in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, just to stretch my legs and grab a quick cup of coffee. As I tried to quietly slip out of the van, Mary Catherine popped awake and crawled across my seat to join me.
