like a hawk’! They do watch the ground very intently, don’t they? I might use that in a sermon. One could say that’s the way God watches over us.”
“You were very lucky to have such a good marriage,” I said, setting Archie on his feet and trying to herd him away from the wall. “How long has it been since you lost your wife?”
“Ten years,” he answered sadly. “People told me it was a blessed release, but do you know, even in the last stages of her illness, when she was unconscious all the time, I was unwilling to let her go. Selfish of me, I daresay, but just to know she was still on this earth was important to me. Tom didn’t understand that. I’m not sure I do myself.”
“I think I do,” I said as the three of us finally started moving toward the church. “I was only twelve when my mother died, and she died suddenly, not like your wife. But I remember feeling that the world was a different place, a foreign place, if she wasn’t in it anymore. It passes, though, that feeling.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve learnt to live without her, of course. God doesn’t leave us without consolation. I had Tom to raise, as well as my work.”
“Tom’s a fine young man.”
“He is, although these days—” He broke off as we passed through the forbidding doorway into the serene, flower-scented little church with its heavy round pillars, low ceiling, and age-worn oaken pews. Archie went for the pews, crawling under and over them, talking to himself.
“Is Tom having problems?” I asked.
“Well—I must admit to being rather worried about this engagement of his. The young woman—Gemma—seemed at first very suitable, academically minded, well mannered—They became engaged last winter, but after only a few months she became infatuated with the man who was so unfortunately murdered the other night, Mr. Stone. She broke off the engagement and Tom was devastated. Now Stone is dead, he tells me the ring is back on her finger—the one she’d returned to him when this fellow took up with her! Doesn’t that seem to you very flighty behavior? Hardly auspicious for a successful marriage.”
“Well, yes, it does,” I had to admit. “And my own experience tells me any attempt to talk to him about it just results in a quarrel?”
“Quite.” He sighed deeply. “He is far too much in love, I’m afraid.”
I was touched by his openness, so untypical of the English, telling a near-stranger like me such personal things. There was a naïveté about him that was very appealing. I was about to confide how immovable Emily could be when she’d formed an opinion, to show him he wasn’t the only parent with that problem, when I heard a ringing crash at the front of the church. We both started and looked toward the sanctuary. Someone had left the celebrant’s chair close beside the altar, and Archie was in the process of climbing from the one to the other while a gold candlestick rolled back and forth on the floor.
He made it onto the altar before I could reach him and stood up on the embroidered white cloth that covered the stone top, beaming at his accomplishment. I heard the vicar oh-dearing and tut-tutting behind me as I put my hands under Archie’s arms and lifted him to the floor, complimenting him enthusiastically on his jumping ability.
“Do you think this would be a good chance to speak to him about the sanctity of the altar?” he asked.
“Oh, Vicar, he’s much too young,” I said, unable to repress a laugh, “and his vocabulary’s very limited. I don’t think he’s anywhere near ready for theology!”
Archie was now squatting on the floor, rolling the candlestick around, and I could see the white candle it held had split down one side.
“You must let me pay for a new candle,” I said to Mr. Ivey, “and I’ll take the altar cloth home and wash those muddy shoeprints out of it.”
“No, no, we have quite a supply of candles, I shouldn’t think of taking money for it. The cloth, now—I’ll
“You were very lucky to have such a good marriage,” I said, setting Archie on his feet and trying to herd him away from the wall. “How long has it been since you lost your wife?”
“Ten years,” he answered sadly. “People told me it was a blessed release, but do you know, even in the last stages of her illness, when she was unconscious all the time, I was unwilling to let her go. Selfish of me, I daresay, but just to know she was still on this earth was important to me. Tom didn’t understand that. I’m not sure I do myself.”
“I think I do,” I said as the three of us finally started moving toward the church. “I was only twelve when my mother died, and she died suddenly, not like your wife. But I remember feeling that the world was a different place, a foreign place, if she wasn’t in it anymore. It passes, though, that feeling.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve learnt to live without her, of course. God doesn’t leave us without consolation. I had Tom to raise, as well as my work.”
“Tom’s a fine young man.”
“He is, although these days—” He broke off as we passed through the forbidding doorway into the serene, flower-scented little church with its heavy round pillars, low ceiling, and age-worn oaken pews. Archie went for the pews, crawling under and over them, talking to himself.
“Is Tom having problems?” I asked.
“Well—I must admit to being rather worried about this engagement of his. The young woman—Gemma—seemed at first very suitable, academically minded, well mannered—They became engaged last winter, but after only a few months she became infatuated with the man who was so unfortunately murdered the other night, Mr. Stone. She broke off the engagement and Tom was devastated. Now Stone is dead, he tells me the ring is back on her finger—the one she’d returned to him when this fellow took up with her! Doesn’t that seem to you very flighty behavior? Hardly auspicious for a successful marriage.”
“Well, yes, it does,” I had to admit. “And my own experience tells me any attempt to talk to him about it just results in a quarrel?”
“Quite.” He sighed deeply. “He is far too much in love, I’m afraid.”
I was touched by his openness, so untypical of the English, telling a near-stranger like me such personal things. There was a naïveté about him that was very appealing. I was about to confide how immovable Emily could be when she’d formed an opinion, to show him he wasn’t the only parent with that problem, when I heard a ringing crash at the front of the church. We both started and looked toward the sanctuary. Someone had left the celebrant’s chair close beside the altar, and Archie was in the process of climbing from the one to the other while a gold candlestick rolled back and forth on the floor.
He made it onto the altar before I could reach him and stood up on the embroidered white cloth that covered the stone top, beaming at his accomplishment. I heard the vicar oh-dearing and tut-tutting behind me as I put my hands under Archie’s arms and lifted him to the floor, complimenting him enthusiastically on his jumping ability.
“Do you think this would be a good chance to speak to him about the sanctity of the altar?” he asked.
“Oh, Vicar, he’s much too young,” I said, unable to repress a laugh, “and his vocabulary’s very limited. I don’t think he’s anywhere near ready for theology!”
Archie was now squatting on the floor, rolling the candlestick around, and I could see the white candle it held had split down one side.
“You must let me pay for a new candle,” I said to Mr. Ivey, “and I’ll take the altar cloth home and wash those muddy shoeprints out of it.”
“No, no, we have quite a supply of candles, I shouldn’t think of taking money for it. The cloth, now—I’ll
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