Black Apple by Crate Joan

Author:Crate, Joan [Crate, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2016-02-29T16:00:00+00:00

29

Paperwork

MOTHER GRACE ASSUMED that Father Alphonses had told William about Tom Two Horse’s death firsthand, though he had informed her by simply muttering “terrible tragedy” and shoving the newspaper in her hand. Body Found Behind Hilltop Catholic Church the headline screamed, as she opened it on the kitchen table.

Since reading the article, she had tried not to think of Tom, yet thoughts of him kept dropping into her mind like black rain. Aie foi en Dieu, she told herself, pressing her fingers to her eyelids. Trust in the Almighty. Piled in front of her on the desk was the bookkeeping she should be doing, would be doing if she could stop the memories of Tom. She hadn’t thought she remembered what he looked like, but Mon Dieu, there he was—a first-year boy, small for his age, his eyes as large and soft as those of a new calf, an immature and vulnerable child with no brothers or cousins to protect him.

Hearing footsteps in the hall, she glanced up in time to see Father William hurry past her door, a cup and saucer clattering in his hands.

“Father William,” she called, but he didn’t so much as slow down.

He was taking all his meals with Father David this week, carrying them up to their suite on the second floor rather than sitting in the dining room with Brother Abe. Perhaps he was afraid he’d miss Father David now that the old man had finally decided to retire to the Oblates’ facility in Toronto.

The first Thursday of Lent would be St. David’s Day, and while honouring his namesake, the religious community of St. Mark would also celebrate Father David’s service to the school. On the Saturday, Father Alphonses would drive Father David and his boxes to Hilltop to catch the train.

She wanted to ask William about Tom’s death. Did he have any insights; indeed, any guilt? She could think of little else, and since Father William was avoiding her, she would have to find out the details from Father Alphonses. Despite not having money in the budget for unnecessary calls, she reached for the phone and dialled the rectory in Hilltop.

“Well, Grace,” Father Alphonses impertinently addressed her. “It was snowing and the walk needed shovelling. I went around the back of the rectory to retrieve the shovel. Nothing clears the mind before Sunday services like shovelling snow.”

Such false levity, she thought.

“I was breaking ice from the top stair when I noticed something grey hanging from the big elm at the back of the yard. I couldn’t tell what it was.” There was a pause, and she heard the muffled sound of popping joints. Father Alphonses had an annoying habit of pulling at his cold fingers when nervous.

“He had hung himself,” Father Alphonses said finally. “I hardly knew the young man, but he was a drinker. Hadn’t made much of his life since he left school. Why he chose the churchyard to do his dirty deed, I can’t say.”

“Well, I can. Unless he was about to hitchhike to St.

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