The Professor and Sean II
By: Scotty
(Copyright 2006 by the author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 13

(Ryan narrates)

I couldn't believe my ears when Father O'Rourke told Sean that his sister was buried here under the maple tree. I know that I let out a gasp, but what startled me the most was after Sean demanded to know if Father O'Rourke was sure, he almost crumbled, but held his own. The good Father had taken one hand and I held the other. His countenance was pale, but there were no tears, no other demands.

"Is that all there is to tell me?" he asked the old priest.

I told Sean that I was sure that there was much more to tell, but that perhaps he should let this newfound information sink in a little. I reminded him that he needed to think about the momentous information that he had been given. He pulled his hand from both us and walked away a little, then turning, he asked in a voice so filled with sadness that it was heart wrenching,

"How long ago? How old? What was her name? Was she blonde and blue-eyed like I am? Why did they bury her here? Why not the cemetery? Why didn't anyone tell me. A sister that I never knew. I can't believe it."

The elderly man of the cloth moved slowly to Sean and took him in his arms. He just hugged him and for a long time there was silence at the building site. The workmen, still watching, knew something had happened that was powerful. I stood there as if my feet were attached to the good earth. I laughed inwardly, `I am a man of words, a teacher of language and literature and I don't know what to say.' Finally I had enough sense to suggest that we find a place to sit. I called out to the workmen to please bring us some chairs from the cabin on which we might sit.

Moments later three chairs were by our side. We helped the good man into one of the three. We grabbed a chair each and placed them on either side of him. Sean seemed still in a daze, but I decided to keep quiet and let him and Father O'Rourke have the stage. Father O'Rourke began speaking,

"I don't know what provoked your parents not to tell you about your sister. I have always thought that they planned to tell you when you were old enough to handle it well. I don't believe that they even intended to keep it a secret from you. Both your Aunt Emily and I had made a solemn oath to your parents that we would tell no one about this place and what it meant to them. Sean, do you remember anything about this place?"

"No, just that Mom always planted flowers here in the summer, but she planted flowers everywhere," my lover told him.

Father continued, "It happened ten years before you were born, and the details of all that are in the private knowledge of only one person, your Aunt Emily. I was involved because I blessed this plot of land and helped your Dad bury the child. You will understand more after you talk with your aunt. Perhaps we should go there now so that you can finally know all the details of this matter. I know that I will rest better knowing that you are familiar with it all. I know your aunt will rest better, too. It's not easy to keep such a secret."

Sean was suddenly on his feet. He looked at me with a straight gaze, and ordered me,

"Ry, bring the foreman here. I have some instructions for him. Father, where is she buried?"

"It was years ago, you know, but I would say about ten feet from the tree, but the tree has grown bigger. Maybe five or six feet now."

I returned with the foreman, who held his hard hat in his hands out of reverence for the place. I had told him what had happened. He was an older Latino man who spoke fine English. He said to Sean,

"Mr. Kelly, please accept my sympathy as you have just learned about your sister. I cannot imagine how you can take it with such control."

"Thank you. Sir, I want a heavy black wrought-iron fence erected around this area. Make it four feet high. It can be within five feet of the back of the tree, but I want it fifteen feet away from of the tree in the front and that same distance on the sides. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir, I understand."

"There's more. Within a few weeks a monument will arrive. A crew will come with it. I want it installed in the center of the area in front of the tree. Do you understand what I mean, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Kelly, I understand. I will personally take care of this. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Before Sean could answer, the wind picked up and as it blew through the leaf-bare trees and the evergreens, it created a weird hollow sound. The workmen immediately stopped working and looked at each other with what can only be characterized as fear. As the sound intensified, I could see that Sean was ashen faced. But he wasn't shaking and he seemed in control. Father O'Rourke had moved closer to me and was genuinely shaken.

I told him I had to go to Sean. He nodded his approval, but as I moved toward Sean, there was suddenly a whirlwind of dust and snow around him and for a brief moment or two he disappeared from our sight. Then as quickly as it had started the noise and the wind stopped. Sean stood there, covered in snow, his curly hair now appeared gray instead of blond, but he was smiling. I rushed to him and took him into my arms and held his as tightly as I dared. His head rested on my shoulder and he kissed my ear and whispered to me,

"They've gone to their rest, Ry. They promised not to interfere in our lives again. They just couldn't let this special place be damaged. Now I understand why they had to return. Their last wish was that we see Aunt Emily so that she could tell us the rest of the story."

"Are you okay, Baby?" I asked him.

"I'm fine, Hon. Please take Father O'Rourke and wait for me down by the Explorer. I need a few minutes alone."

I didn't think I needed to answer him, so I took the good Father by the arm and we slowly started back down the small incline to the Explorer. I turned and looked up at the tree. Sean was on his knees, his head bowed low. He seemed so fragile at that moment. There was a quiet, a stillness that seemed to have enveloped the whole site of the cabin, the beginnings of the house, and the maple tree. I noticed that all work had stopped, and the workmen were standing in a group. They had all removed their hard hats and stood there, heads bowed as they faced the hill and the maple tree.

"He's sure a wonderful person, Ryan. He's so thoughtful, so caring. I know my life has been made better just in knowing him. He has suffered more in his short years here than most suffer in a lifetime. Ryan, just love him, keep him safe," he said. I noticed the watery eyes and the tears that silently ran down his wrinkled and age-blemished face. I squeezed his hand and said,

"He's very special to you, isn't he?"

"Yes. Yes, he is. He's like the son I would never have. He brought joy into my life. I wish I had been able to do more for him, but all I could do was to show him that God didn't decide to take his parents that the driver of the other car did that by the decisions he made."

Neither of us said anything for a while, still watching Sean in his personal moment with his sister. I finally told him,

"Father, I promise you, here, before God, that I will love him and keep him safe. When I look up there and see him in prayer for someone he never knew, I realize how fortunate I am to have him, to have him love me. His gentleness, his humor, his all encompassing love make him special and priceless. I assure you, Father, that he is the center of my life for all my years. He will never know grief of the kind he has suffered in his young life."

The good Father gave me a hug and told me that he knew I would love and take care of Sean all my life. I told him about the boys we hoped to adopt and how much Sean wanted them so that he could finally be part of a family. He sighed deeply and said that he would pray that the adoption would happen and that we would find happiness with the boys.

As I glanced back at the maple tree, I saw Sean get up from his knees and cross himself. Turning, he looked first at us and then at the workmen. Instead of coming down to us, he went to the workmen and after speaking to them for a minute or so, he began to shake hands with each of the workmen. As he left to come to us, the workmen began to applaud, but he continued to us. When he arrived, he simply said,

"Let's get going to Aunt Emily. I want to know all there is to know about my sister. Thank you Father for telling me what you could."

After saying that, he opened the passenger door and helped Father O'Rourke into the Explorer. He gave me a quick hug and kiss, opened the back door and got in. I didn't ask why, but simply got in the driver's seat and began our short drive to visit Aunt Emily. Hopefully, we would finally be unraveling the mystery.

********

(Father O'Rourke narrates)

Telling Sean about his sister was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. I remembered the day I agreed with his father and mother that I would not disclose this secret, wondering as I recalled that day, why I had agreed to it.

I had seen Sean grow into adulthood, knowing how his Uncle had been unkind to him, and I fretted over what I should do. One of the failures of my life is that I didn't tell him earlier. I have prayed for forgiveness for years.

Sean's parents had been young and unaware of what life could be. They loved each other, so, even if I knew that I shouldn't help with the burial or keep a secret, I did both. So much has happened in the church since those simpler times. It was a time when burials were to be in consecrated land, in cemeteries owned and run by the Church. There were reasons why his parents felt they couldn't do this.

As I looked back over my years in the church, I remembered the ups and downs of my priesthood. I didn't tell Sean and Ryan, but I had been disciplined for participating in their commitment ceremony. I had to have a meeting with the Bishop who was blunt and firm in telling me that I was wrong to participate. He reminded me that even if I was retired I still had responsibilities as a priest and one of those was not to be a part of any service, which was not approved by the Church. I was told that if this were to happen again, I would be in serious trouble. I wanted to ask him about the accusations that were rampant concerning priests sexually abusing young boys. But I thought the better of it; no purpose would have been served by bringing it up except, perhaps, as an excuse for my actions. I left the Bishop's office properly chastised.

As we neared the Mt. Cascade Home where Emily not lived, I prayed that I would finally understand all that provoked the young couple to pursue the path they had taken. Emily had never spoken to me about the details, and in fact, I had never asked for details. I know that Emily had experienced some very difficult times with this secret. Keeping secrets can be demoralizing. It certainly doesn't contribute to mental health.

Of late, I have not felt well. In part I attributed it to old age and the lack of mental stimulation at Mt. Carmel Home. The priests at the home were old and many were infirm. I had noticed that I had more and more difficulty getting about, a fact not lost on anyone who saw me creeping along with my cane. Ah, I told myself, such is the continuum of life and death. The old make room for you young. It is the way of nature and of God.

As we parked in the lot at Mt. Cascade, I felt apprehensive about what was to transpire. Another silent prayer helped ease that concern. Sean had opened the door for me and was helping me out of the automobile. He seemed strangely at peace, and I marveled at his ability to hear what I had told him and deal with it in a sensible fashion. It was clear to me that, in the last few hours, the boy I had known for so long was now a man. Ryan, too, was determined to get this aspect of their lives over with so that they could go on living. I prayed for both of them.

********

(Sean narrates)

The ride to Mt. Cascade was silent; none of us had anything to say aloud. We were all lost in our own thoughts about what had happened at the cabin. My experience there was life changing, but I knew that I was now totally separated from my parents and that my life with Ryan would be whatever the two of us would make of it.

After Ry parked the car, I quickly got out and opened the door for Father O'Rourke. For some reason I was suddenly aware of how fragile and pale he was. He was still the wonderful man who had helped me through a difficult time, and who was willing to bless our vows when we came to Vermont for our commitment services. Now he looked small and insecure sitting in the front seat of the Explorer. My realilzation was that he was near his meeting with his God. It had been his life's journey, and I was sure he was ready to end the journey to paradise.

"Are you okay. Father?" I asked, hoping there wasn't too much concern in my voice.

"Just a little tired, Sean. You know I'm no spring chicken as the old cliché says. My bones are a bit rickety, my skin a little saggy, and my brain a little forgetful," he said with a laugh.

Ry had appeared at the passenger's side of the car and heard the good priest's replay. He glanced at me, confirming I thought, that he, too, recognized the fragile nature of Father O'Rourke.

"Father, I would say you are in remarkable shape for a man of your age. Look how well you get about, and the things you are interested in. We all change over the years. I know, because I have had to become a little more careful of my diet and I have to exercise or I will soon develop a pot belly and become flabby," he said as he helped me escort the good man to the door of the home.

Before we reached the door, it was opened by an older man with salt and pepper hair and a large frame which was beginning to show age. I noticed that Father O'Rourke did not appear to recognize him. He extended his hand to me, and introduced himself,

"I'm Kenneth Rollins, the administrator of Mt. Carmel Home. I would like to welcome you here. Mrs. Kelly informed me that you would be coming. She also asked to have a private place to talk with you. I thought my office would serve that purpose and you will find Emily there waiting for you. Please follow me."

We followed him down the long carpeted hall, to an office at the end. Sitting in the room with the door ajar was my Aunt Emily. She looked up and saw us and with some difficulty stood. We hurried into the room, thanking Ken Rollins as we did. He left abruptly. I had walked to my aunt and hugged her.

"Why don't we all sit down," offered Father O'Rourke.

"That's a wonderful idea, Father," Emily said.

Ry closed the door and, after helping Father find a chair, sat down. I had already helped my aunt back to her chair, and I went and sat next to Ry. For a bit, no one said anything.

Father O'Rourke finally spoke, "Let's say a prayer before Emily begins to tell you more."

We bowed our heads and joined our priest as he began the Our Father. When we finished, he continued, "We ask you, Heavenly Father, to bless all of us as we attempt to bring to a close this secret which has been a cross for Emily and me, and is now a tremendously emotional experience for Sean. Help all of us to understand Your plan. Give to Ryan the ability to be his partner's strength. We ask this in the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ. Amen." He reached across and squeezed Emily's hand, and continued saying,

"The floor is yours, Emily." We all waited.

********

(Aunt Emily narrates)

"First of all, Sean, my dear nephew, forgive me for keeping this from you over the years. Understand that I didn't do this to be mean or to keep the secret from you for any other reason than I took a vow, in God's presence, not to divulge any of it to anyone. Why your mother and father choose this as the way to handle the situation, only they know for sure. I have my own ideas about it; some based on conversations with your mother. Your father never discussed the particulars of it with your uncle or me. I can understand why they have released us from our vows now, because you had to understand the importance of the maple tree and the ground around it.

"It happened nearly thirty years ago. All of us were in high school at the time, your mom and dad, your uncle and me. Since we dated brothers, your mom and I often had long conversations about our relationships with the brothers. It became apparent to me that your mother and father were deeply in love. I really liked Jesse at the time, but I don't think I was nearly as serious about our relationship as your parents were about theirs.

"Anyway, your mother's parents began to be alarmed by the intensity of the relationship, and demanded that your mother stop seeing your father. That was a mistake, because it only increased the pressure on the two young lovers to find a way to circumvent this order. Jesse and your father had a terrible fight about it, finally ending up in a fistfight. Your dad had no intention of giving up your mother; no one could make him see the situation any differently.

"So they continued to see each other clandestinely, often in the baseball dugout in the early evening. When it was time for prom, they were at a loss as to how to handle it. They decided to ask permission, and they were surprised by the answer they got. They could go to the prom, but after that, they were not to see each other again. Both were headed to college, different ones, and everyone thought it best to let the romance cool down a little. They didn't really know your father, Sean, he was a man of conviction, and he would not be persuaded to stop seeing the person who made his life complete.

"Do you have any questions, sweetheart?" I asked Sean.

"No, at the moment I don't, but I may have some later," he told me.

I went on. " It was obvious to almost everyone at the prom that your parents left early. They drove to the cabin that your mother's family owned. There, in front of a roaring fire, they consummated their love for each other. I think they both knew the consequences of their action. In fact, Sean, from what your mother told me, they prayed for a specific outcome. They managed to return to the prom before it ended. Your dad brought her home by the time agreed upon, and leaving her at the door of her house, they kissed passionately, and promised each other that whatever happened, they would get married even if it took the three years until your dad was twenty-one. It would be four years before your mom would turn twenty-one.

"Fate and God had other plans for them, but these plans included outcomes they had never entertained. It was about two months after the prom when your mother and I went for a long walk. It was then that she told me she was pregnant. She had told your dad a few days before. They were in agony about how to handle it. They finally told both families. Her family wanted her to terminate the pregnancy. His parents wanted her to go to term and have the baby, perhaps, then offering it up for adoption. Your father was adamantly opposed to either suggestion. His solution was that they marry, and he, somehow, would take care of his family.

"They were angry discussions with numerous recriminations, but eventually everyone agreed to the marriage, and with parental permission, they could now wed. It was a silent, almost secretive ceremony. There were few people there, and again, the good Father O'Rourke blessed their marriage. Her parents allowed them to live at the cabin until deep snow arrived and then they would go to her parents' home. Bless her parents for providing her with proper medical care. Her pregnancy went on without any problems. Your dad had begun to take courses at Marlboro College on a part-time basis, hoping that he could eventually get a degree. Your mom, of course, was on a different path, she was to be a mother and she was excited.

"In mid March, the two of them returned to the cabin, hoping to capture some of the happiness that they had know there earlier. It had been a mild winter for Vermont, and that spring was delightful; March being one of the warmest and sunniest on record. They enjoyed walks down to the lake, and they discovered that maple on the knoll, and both of them fell in love with that location. A tranquility had returned to their lives, and they enjoyed some days of utter happiness.

"On March 28th, your mom began to have labor pains. Your dad was a calm man, and he quickly got her ready and drove her to the hospital. He had stopped to tell her parents, who in turn were to notify his parents. The labor was difficult and it went on for hours. There was some alarm about the baby's heartbeat, but they were assured that everything would be fine. After two days of intense labor, your sister was born. It was not to be a happy day because she was stillborn. The intensity and the duration of the labor had been too much, and she died in the womb. It was then that the hell really began."

Father O'Rourke interjected, "It was a grievous and unpleasant time, one that really tested faith and belief in God. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. It was terrible."

I continued my story. "First of all, your dad was such a wonderful man. His only worry at that terrible time was for your mother. He spent every minute of his time with her. She did not do well, and eventually, the doctor ordered some medications to quiet her down and to help her cure physically and mentally. That left your father alone to struggle with the two families. His parents wanted the baby buried in a Catholic Cemetery. Her family, in their devastation, were of little help. Then it was the responsibility of poor Father O'Rourke, to tell your dad that they baby couldn't be buried in the cemetery. It had never been baptized!"

Then poor Sean let out an agonized groan, somewhat like a whimper, but he held himself together. And from across the years, I recalled the terrible sound that came from his father when he learned the same news. I was unnerved by the similarity. I needed to help poor Sean by getting to the secret. But, before I could go on, I waited as Ry comforted Sean. I realized that I had tears running down my face, as did the good priest, because for us, there was the terrible moment of reliving that day, but an immense freedom that seemed to be building as we finally were being released from the vow we had made.

"Do you want me to continue, Sean? Or would be you like to take a break?" I asked.

"I just want to know the whole story, Aunt Emily. Please go on."

"Your mother seemed more like herself, and with your dad's strong emotional support, she was able to accept everything. They decided to call the child Estelle, meaning star, and for a middle name they wanted Love. So your sister's name is Estelle Love Kelly and her birth date is March 30, 1975. Your mother and father were allowed to hold her, to say goodbye to her. It was a moment shared with no one else. And then where would they bury the lovechild? It was your mother who told your dad there was only one place to put her; at the cabin, where she was conceived in love, and where she should rest in love.

"That was it. Somehow Father O'Rourke was able, with the permission of your parents, to get the remains. A day later, we were standing in the the early spring sunlight, which was filtering through the maple tree that had just begun to show signs of rebirth. Your father and Jesse dug the small grave. Father blessed the land, said some prayers, and then your dad placed the little coffin in the warming spring earth, and amidst the sobs from all of us there, he and Jesse covered it with the rich Vermont soil. It was the next week that your mother's family presented her with the deed to the cabin and all the land. They wanted to make sure that Estelle's remains would never be disturbed."

Sean was clutching Ryan, and both had tears streaming down their faces. My nephew, my brave nephew, had held it together until this moment. After thirty years, I was consumed by own sobs as I let out the agony that had for so long been a constant companion. The good priest had struggled to his feet and was beside me consoling me. I could hear Ryan as he murmured encouragement to Sean.

"It's okay, Baby. It's okay. Now you know; there are no more secrets. You can go on, now, knowing your heritage, ready to share your love with others," came Ryan's soft words.

"Ryan, can anything else go wrong for me? I don't think I could take much more. Thank God for you and your love. You have been my soul mate, my strength. I love you, Hon, more than words allow me to tell you. Aunt Emily, are you going to be okay?" Sean asked.

By then I had collected myself, and assured him that I would be fine, Father O'Rourke has returned to his seat. There was more to tell, but I was not sure that Sean would want to hear anymore. So I asked him,

"Do you want me to go on?"

His reply was instant, "Go on, I want to hear all that you have to tell me. Please go on."

I took a deep breath and continued. After that tragedy, the doctors told your mother that she would probably not be able to have another child. Your parents were devastated. Every free moment after that, they spent at the cabin. Even though by then they had the home in town, the cabin was the center of their lives. Your father finished his degree and began to make a life for he and your mother and. Jesse was jealous."

"Why was Jesse jealous? I don't understand," Sean inquired.

"It's not easy to answer that, Sean. It has to do with your father's ability to do things right. And Jesse resented that your dad had not listened to him earlier. You know about the relationship with your mom. We were married a few months later, and unfortunately, we couldn't have children. I think in a way that Jesse was happy about that because now he was even with your dad. Neither of us could have children. As the years passed, your dad became more and more successful. He and your mother had a social life, knew many people, had money to use. Jesse and I, in the meantime, had not been so successful. With no college education, Jesse was not able to get good jobs. For some reason he blamed your father for his misfortune instead of accepting his failure as a husband and provider.

"Your mom and I remained close, sharing much of our lives, but Jesse and your father seemed to move apart, the division widening. Your parents spent two months at the cottage in the summer of 1983. They were very disappointed that your mother did not get pregnant. They began to believe what the doctors had said. Father O'Rourke did a Novena with them, and in February of 1984 they spend a week at the cabin enjoying the winter snows and the beauty of the place. It was during that week, dear Sean, that you were conceived, to be born healthy and kicking in November. The joy your parents knew with your birth is beyond understanding.

"It was this same joyful experience that deepened Jesse's hatred for your father; you, everyone, even me. Nothing I said or did would reconcile him. He couldn't understand that he had been damned by God to know only unhappiness. He never went back to church after your birth. When you were about a year old, your parents asked Jesse and me to be your guardians if anything happened to the both of them at the same time. I, of course, was happy to agree. Jesse only agreed when he found out that there would be money coming in for your care. That's how you came to us after the accident. Maybe you can understand just a little how Jesse felt. It's no excuse for how he treated you, but at least you know why he did."

"Aunt Emily, Uncle Jesse wasn't really a bad person. He just felt life had given him a bad time. I can understand how he must have felt, but it's difficult for me to forgive him for what he did to me and to you. That doesn't change anything. I'm sorry I never knew the other Uncle Jesse," Sean told me.

"It's too bad, because when I fell in love with him and married him, he was a great guy. And the support and caring he gave to his brother, your father, when Estelle was stillborn, convinced me that he had a large, caring heart. What poisoned him was not having a son of his own to love and for whom to care. Deep in the inner recesses of his heart, I believe that he loved you, but his life had so warped him, that he couldn't let it show. I really wish you had known him better. Do you remember him before the accident and when you came to live with us?"

Sean stood up and came over to me. He took my hand in his and told me,

"I remember laughing with my dad and him. I was very little and we used to play some game, I don't know what it was, but we always ended up laughing and having fun. That's all I remember of him until I came to live with both of you."

"It's a game your Uncle Jesse made up. He called it "Who's got the kitty?'. Whoever had the stuffed cat had to hide it so that the others couldn't see it. Then they searched for it. You always did the same thing. You would run and get the kitty out of his hiding place and tell everyone, `I've got the kitty.' You loved that game and for a long while the three of you played it incessantly. You never seemed as interested when your mother and I tried to play it with you. I could never figure that out."

"Thank you Aunt Emily and you, too, Father O'Rourke, for helping me through this difficult time. Aunt Emily, I'm having the area fenced off and a monument erected in the center of the plot. For many years to come, others will know of my sister and her final resting place," he told me.

"Sean, your parents would be so pleased if they knew what you were doing. That you honor the grave of their daughter and your sister could only bring them joy," I told him.

He smiled broadly at me, and taking Ry's hand in his, told us,

"Oh, I am sure they know and are at peace now."

To be continued...

A special 'thank you' goes to my editor and proof reader, Wayne. His contribution is significant and greatly appreciated.

As Sean would say, "He's "Awesome!"

Feedback always welcome:     

 

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