You are living stones, being built up into a spiritual house … 1 Peter 2:5
CHAPTER 7 ............................ CREPES
Kerry sat alone at a table in a bistro and stared out the window. She felt safe on the ship, even in the bow of a storm. At least she didn’t have to confront Patrick. She savoured the last bite of her desert and told the waitress that the crepes were the “best ever”. The waitress told the chef and the chef introduced himself to Kerry.
"If you come back this evening, I shall prepare you something special,” offered the chef.
“Well I don’t know,” hedged Kerry.
“I have a vegetarian vanilla, saffron and citrus plate in mind,” he teased.
“Hmm. That does sound good.”
“Then I shall see you at eight,” announced the chef. “Bring friends.”
Kerry shook her head in agreement and sat back to finish her tea. A few minutes later, Finola entered the restaurant and looked distraught.
“May I sit with you?” asked Finola.
“Of course,” answered Kerry, “but I was just leaving.”
The waitress came to take Finola’s order and Kerry recommended the crepes.
“Patrick is a great guy,” said Finola as the waitress left. “We treated him badly, but he never once said a bad word against us. He sent money over the years. When the quarry closed, it was he who kept us going.”
Kerry wanted to leave. She had refused Patricks “welfare” money and didn’t like being blamed by Finola for Patrick staying away.
Kerry stood up to go.
“Please don’t leave!” urged Finola. “I have more to tell you.”
Kerry signed and sat back down.
Finola wiped tears away from her face and Kerry offered the embroidered handkerchief from her purse. The two women, who had been enemies, began to unload decades worth of anguish and shortcomings. Kerry said that she didn’t know what to do about Patrick, and Finola said that she was ashamed of how she treated him as a child.
The waitress arrived with Finola's meal, and tray of tea and deserts.
“This is delicious!” exclaimed Finola. “I have never tasted anything like it.” In just a few minutes she had completely cleaned her plate.
Kerry smiled and wondered if she looked that happy when she was eating.
The two women teared up again and shared the damp handkerchief. They talked about “the old days” in Kinkerry and about their girls, but eventually the conversation returned to Patrick.
“He’s staying in town you know,” explained Finola. “He’s been asking where you are.”
Kerry took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can see him.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” said Finola. “I want to clear things up between us.”
Kerry shook her head to say, “Not me.”
“He’s changed his name back to Murphy. Old man Matthew must be pleased about that.”
“His wife would have been mortified.”
“Patrick has a bunch of people with him. Business types.”
“We never officially divorced but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t moved on,” reasoned Kerry. “God knows. I’ve tried to put the past behind.”
“He may just want to say, “Hello.”
Again Kerry shook her head to say that she wasn’t interested.
However, despite their differences, the two women agreed to support one another when they returned to Kinkerry.
“I’m coming back here tonight for dinner,” explained Kerry. “You’re welcome to join me.”
“I’d love to.”
The chef and his staff had been watching the women from the galley. They could not help but hear the angry words and the sobs in the empty restaurant.
The chef turned to his staff and announced, “We’ll make something very special for tonight. A celebration!”
Later that evening, Kerry and Finola returned to the bistro where a violinist and a cellist played music that floated above the tables. The chef served crepes filled with juniper berries and figs, paired with a blueberry wine that he had made himself.
“Food from heaven,” mused Finola.
“Unbelievable!” exclaimed Kerry.
When the meal was finished, Kerry signed the bill and added a short note:
Citrus and herbs,
Figs and grapes,
We shall never forget,
Sovereign III crepes.
The women who had been sworn enemies for years, left the bistro laughing and crying together. When Erin, Kelly and Matthew saw them in the corridor, they were taken back by the sight. Kerry and Finola were not just drunk on wine, but also on the prospect of new beginnings.
………………………………………..
The next day Father Michael set up a town meeting. He said that he had an announcement to make. Generally, most of Kinkerry would not have attended, citing more important things to do, but given that Patrick was in town, and that rumours were flying everywhere, then the meeting was packed to standing room only.
Michael walked to centre stage and there was a hush over the crowd.
“I have a lot of explaining to do,” began Michael. “And there will be time for that. But there is someone here who would like to speak first.”
Michael sat down and Patrick walked to the podium.
“I’m Patrick Murphy. Many of you know me as Patrick Morgan, but I can assure you I stared out as a Murphy. I was raised at the ‘top’ of the bay, from where I had a great lookout over the sea. Somehow, growing up, I always knew that I would leave here, but I also knew that I would come back.”
The audience shuffled in their seats.
“When I was away, I built a business, many businesses, and God blessed me. But the one thing I missed, was my family. I left them behind. I left them here in Kinkerry.”
The audience coughed.
“Before I knew it, my family and I were estranged, and they barely knew me at all. I wanted to patch things up, but it was difficult. They resented me for being away, which is natural, of course, but it cut me off from the one thing in life that I loved.”
The audience cleared its throat again.
“I wanted to do the right thing. And many years ago, I called Michael, Father Michael to you, and brother-in-law to me, and I made a proposal. I would send him money, donations to the church, and he would in turn, spend it as if I were here, in my place.”
“You’re here now!” yelled a member of the audience.
“Yes I’m here now. But back then I wanted to keep it quiet. Anonymous. So Michael and I planned, to let you the people of Kinkerry, think that the money from me, was actually the money from Mrs. McCallum’s estate.”
The audience grew restless and noisy.
Patrick explained as best he could, that over the years he had invested in their businesses, built up the school and paid for the scholarships to colleges and universities.
Mary from “Nettles Flower Shop” yelled, “Thank you!”
Jerry from “Jerry’s Tire” called out, “You don’t own us!”
“No! That’s not why I came back. I didn’t come back to collect. I came back to come clean. Mrs. McCallum’s estate ran out of funds over a decade ago and I was able to make up the difference.”
“And then some,” corrected Mrs. McCallum’s estate lawyer.
The audience was growing impatient.
Father Michael stood up to speak.
“You lied to us!” yelled an angry man in the audience.
“I did and I’m sorry,” repented Michael. “I omitted to tell you the truth.”
“Liar!” yelled several people.
“Patrick did nothing wrong," reasoned Michael. "He came to me with money, and God knows the church needs money. We need money! I wanted to help him keep it anonymous and it was my plan to merge his giving with the idea that it came from Mrs. McCallum. I shouldn't have done it that way."
“What's going to happen now?" asked a woman.
“Indeed. That's why I'm here. I want to make an announcement. I’m taking a leave of absence and I’ll ask the bishop to find you a replacement.”
“No,” cautioned Patrick who was caught off guard.
Michael packed up his papers and left the stage, and Patrick followed. The audience was a mix of anger and relief.
“Who does he think he is?” asked one of the attendees.