The Mill River Recluse by Darcie Chan Page A

McAllister,” Father O’Brien replied. “I understand Bishop Ross and your father have been friends for half a century.”
    “Yes, that’s true,” Stephen said.
    “I know Bishop Ross felt badly that he wouldn’t be here to marry you,” Father O’Brien said to Patrick and Mary, “but under the circumstances, well, he didn’t believe he had a choice.”
    “Of course we understand,” Patrick said, with a conciliatory glance at his mother. “He’ll be with us in spirit, and I’m sure you’ll conduct a wonderful ceremony.”
    “Speaking of which,” Elise said, “we should discuss some of the details. I’ve found a number of beautiful hymns that may be suitable.”
    “And we’ll want to be sure to schedule a rehearsal,” Stephen said.
    Everyone was soon engaged in discussing the particulars of the wedding--everyone except Mary.
    She sat on the sofa, sipping her tea and trying to concentrate on something other than the new priest sitting in the chair across from her. Unlike the many young women who had every detail of their weddings planned before they met their husbands, Mary didn’t worry about her wedding at all. Just in being the object of Patrick’s affection, she had already seen her wildest fantasy come true. It was no matter that during each discussion of her upcoming marriage, she seemed to be relegated to the position of an observer. She was perfectly content to let Patrick’s mother fuss over the details of the ceremony, and especially relieved that she wouldn’t have to deal with people concerning the many arrangements to be made.
    Mary turned her attention to the circular sensation of the engagement ring on her left hand. She couldn’t quite believe that she was to be married to Patrick, that she would be part of a real family. There was also the issue of money. Each time she visited Patrick, she experienced again a sense of amazement at the grandeur of their home. After the years of the Depression, she and her father would never have to do without again.
    “Is that all right with you, Mary?” Stephen’s voice jarred her from her thoughts.
    “It must be. She’s not stopped smiling since we sat down. I suppose having the ceremony in the bride’s hometown is the traditional thing to do, anyway,” Patrick said, with another glance at his mother. “You say the church can hold two hundred?”
    “Oh yes. Not that I’ve ever had that many people in it at once. It might be a little cozy, but I’m sure all of your guests can be accommodated,” Father O’Brien said, bending down to retrieve his napkin from the floor. Mary stole a glance at him. “In fact, yours might be the biggest wedding the town has ever seen.”
    He reached for his teacup, and another sparkle caught Mary’s eye. The end of a teaspoon protruded from the sleeve of Father O’Brien’s jacket. Mary blinked. Surely she was mistaken. When the priest set the teacup back on its saucer, the silver shimmer was gone.
    Mary looked at Father O’Brien’s face, but the priest’s expression was as calm and relaxed as when he first entered the parlor. She was perplexed. A priest wouldn’t steal. Besides, why would anyone, especially a priest, steal a spoon ? Her eyes must have played a trick on her. He was wearing a silver watch, or perhaps a bracelet of some sort. Surely, that must have been it.
    “So, where will you live once you’re married?” Father O’Brien asked. Patrick and Mary looked at each other.
    “Well,” Patrick said slowly, “Mary’s father will still be in Mill River, of course, but the Marbleworks and my family are here, in Rutland...”
    Mary nodded, but the problem disturbed her. Naturally, Patrick wanted to live in Rutland, but she could not bear the thought of her father living alone in the old farmhouse in Mill River. She was all the family that her father had left, but Patrick’s parents had three other children and an enormous extended family nearby.
    When she explained this to Patrick, he had