doors.
“Father Michael. How nice to see you. We were just discussing...”
He put up his hand. “You don’t have to say it, Sarah. Our church is dying.”
“Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”
“Really? Then let me take you on a tour,” he said, slipping his arm through hers and leading her to the school’s main staircase. “See these stairs? They’re not just rickety. They’re unsafe. I had Harry Abrams give me an estimate. Ten thousand to fix them. And it has to be done before September, when the children come back to school.”
Father Michael coughed and then coughed again, raising his arm and covering his mouth with his sleeve.
“Have you seen a doctor?” Sarah asked and looked at Mary Catherine, who shook her head.
“I had pneumonia twice this winter. This bronchial thing kicked me from here to Sunday.” He raised his head and looked at the two women. “I am fully aware, Mary Catherine, that the reason we are losing parishioners is because of my chronic ill health. But I can’t help it.”
“You could eat better and get more rest,” she scolded.
“Has Colleen Kelly been snitching on me again?”
Mary Catherine nodded. “That’s why I made the vegetable casserole for you yesterday.”
“Hmph,” he snorted. “Even my wife couldn’t get me to eat vegetables. Nasty things. Come, Sarah, let’s go look at the church.”
They walked outside and down the cement sidewalk where newly planted petunias were bobbing their colorful blossoms in a gentle breeze. Father Michael pointed to the roof. “It needs new shingles.”
Sarah squinted and looked closely at the gutters. “The flashing along the gables needs replacing, as well. Definitely some tuck-pointing on the brick. Looks like some cracks in the foundation over there.” Sarah pointed to the corners near the back church doors.
“We need a new boiler and furnace, lights and flooring,” Father Michael said.
Sarah didn’t need a calculator to know that the repairs were going to cost close to a million dollars. “This is going to be expensive.”
“But we can’t afford any repairs, Sarah,” Father Michael moaned.
“We can’t afford to let St. Mark’s crumble into a pile of dust, either,” Sarah retorted, feeling a wave of pride wash over her. “My grandparents helped to build this church. My mother was devoted to this church. I can’t just let it...go away. And what of the school? If the church shuts down, what happens then?”
“The school board is already talking about closing it next year,” Father Michael said.
Mary Catherine turned to Sarah. “Now do you understand why I think the children’s choir would help rejuvenate things?”
“I do,” Sarah agreed. “But it’s going to need more than just a few songs on Sunday to tackle this problem.”
“Like what?” Mary Catherine asked.
“I don’t know. But I’ll think of something,” Sarah assured them tentatively. Had she just made a commitment? She looked up at the soaring spire and saw another dozen shingles that needed replacing. Her church was broke. They needed her help, but she hadn’t the first clue how one went about raising a million dollars.
* * *
R AIN PELTED THE hundred-year-old glass windows in the library, creating a cacophony of pinging and tinkling. Inside the well-lit meeting room, Sarah sat in the same chair as last week, opposite Luke and Margot. Two chairs to Margot’s right was Alice Crane, who was talking about her fiancé’s car accident. “He was coming home from work on a night like this,” she said, motioning to the huge window. “The rain was coming down in torrents, and it was very windy. The bridge just south of town had washed out, but he didn’t see it. The cops told me there was a mudslide, which made the highway even slicker. His car spun and then flipped over twice. He was killed instantly.” Alice started to cry and grabbed the box of tissues on the chair next to her. She blew her nose.
“Father Michael. How nice to see you. We were just discussing...”
He put up his hand. “You don’t have to say it, Sarah. Our church is dying.”
“Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way.”
“Really? Then let me take you on a tour,” he said, slipping his arm through hers and leading her to the school’s main staircase. “See these stairs? They’re not just rickety. They’re unsafe. I had Harry Abrams give me an estimate. Ten thousand to fix them. And it has to be done before September, when the children come back to school.”
Father Michael coughed and then coughed again, raising his arm and covering his mouth with his sleeve.
“Have you seen a doctor?” Sarah asked and looked at Mary Catherine, who shook her head.
“I had pneumonia twice this winter. This bronchial thing kicked me from here to Sunday.” He raised his head and looked at the two women. “I am fully aware, Mary Catherine, that the reason we are losing parishioners is because of my chronic ill health. But I can’t help it.”
“You could eat better and get more rest,” she scolded.
“Has Colleen Kelly been snitching on me again?”
Mary Catherine nodded. “That’s why I made the vegetable casserole for you yesterday.”
“Hmph,” he snorted. “Even my wife couldn’t get me to eat vegetables. Nasty things. Come, Sarah, let’s go look at the church.”
They walked outside and down the cement sidewalk where newly planted petunias were bobbing their colorful blossoms in a gentle breeze. Father Michael pointed to the roof. “It needs new shingles.”
Sarah squinted and looked closely at the gutters. “The flashing along the gables needs replacing, as well. Definitely some tuck-pointing on the brick. Looks like some cracks in the foundation over there.” Sarah pointed to the corners near the back church doors.
“We need a new boiler and furnace, lights and flooring,” Father Michael said.
Sarah didn’t need a calculator to know that the repairs were going to cost close to a million dollars. “This is going to be expensive.”
“But we can’t afford any repairs, Sarah,” Father Michael moaned.
“We can’t afford to let St. Mark’s crumble into a pile of dust, either,” Sarah retorted, feeling a wave of pride wash over her. “My grandparents helped to build this church. My mother was devoted to this church. I can’t just let it...go away. And what of the school? If the church shuts down, what happens then?”
“The school board is already talking about closing it next year,” Father Michael said.
Mary Catherine turned to Sarah. “Now do you understand why I think the children’s choir would help rejuvenate things?”
“I do,” Sarah agreed. “But it’s going to need more than just a few songs on Sunday to tackle this problem.”
“Like what?” Mary Catherine asked.
“I don’t know. But I’ll think of something,” Sarah assured them tentatively. Had she just made a commitment? She looked up at the soaring spire and saw another dozen shingles that needed replacing. Her church was broke. They needed her help, but she hadn’t the first clue how one went about raising a million dollars.
* * *
R AIN PELTED THE hundred-year-old glass windows in the library, creating a cacophony of pinging and tinkling. Inside the well-lit meeting room, Sarah sat in the same chair as last week, opposite Luke and Margot. Two chairs to Margot’s right was Alice Crane, who was talking about her fiancé’s car accident. “He was coming home from work on a night like this,” she said, motioning to the huge window. “The rain was coming down in torrents, and it was very windy. The bridge just south of town had washed out, but he didn’t see it. The cops told me there was a mudslide, which made the highway even slicker. His car spun and then flipped over twice. He was killed instantly.” Alice started to cry and grabbed the box of tissues on the chair next to her. She blew her nose.
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