Conceived Without Sin (24 page)

"Ellie?"

"Yes, Sam."

"I want to talk to you about marriage. About serious things."

Her heart jumped. He had never initiated a conversation about marriage. It was uncanny, considering her conclusions moments before.

She kissed him on the cheek. He flushed.

Okay,
she told him with a
look.

"I want to talk about three things," he began after clearing his throat. "Money, religion, and children."

"Okay. Why do you sound so nervous?"

"Because I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I think we should agree on those things."

"Don't we agree already?" she asked, leaning away a bit to look him in the eye.

"Do we?"

"Let's make sure, then," she said matter-of-factly. "Where do you
want to start?"

She let go of his hand. He felt her tense up. She looked toward the faux fire, fueled by natural gas, in front of them. It looked so real.

"Money?" he suggested.

She nodded.

"I've been talking to Buzz," he continued. "During the trip to the ocean. Maybe that's why I sound so wooden. We talked about these three things."

"I know he's your friend, but isn't that kind of personal?"
There was hurt in her voice.

"Yes. Very personal. But I didn't talk about you and me, per se; just the whole idea that any couple thinking about getting married should be straight on these things. You know Buzz is divorced. He got hurt. His daughter doesn't love him. He was just trying to help me avoid mistakes. He was trying to help us."

She thought about that for a moment. She took his hand
again.

"I don't think we're going to have problems with money," she said finally.

That's what I said to Buzz at first,
he thought, resisting the urge to bring his name up again.

"I agree. I mean, money doesn't mean that much to me."

"That's easy to say when you have a lot of it," she observed keenly.

"Hmmn," was all he could say.

"Bucky and I had some lean years, Sam. Especially after my mother
left us. I don't want to live like that again. Money is important. It's not the most important thing, but it is important."

"That's why we should talk about it. It is important. But not to me. Success is important to me. Doing well at Edwards. The money will come with doing well at my job, which I love.

"Being with you, by comparison, is not just more important, but in another whole category to
me. I would…" he stopped himself.

He wasn't used to talking with Ellie about serious things. It was hard to read the look on her face. It was not the same as talking with Buzz and Donna, and for the first time, he was aware of the difference, although he had a hard time putting his finger on what exactly was different.

"You would what?" she asked kindly.

"I would rather have you than have money,
or even success in business. I don't think I would have felt that way before meeting you."

She hugged him, touched.

"You can have all three, you know," she said, the side of her face on his chest.

I guess I will,
he thought, surprised that the surprise of her giving herself to him never ceased.

A long silence ensued.

"I want children," she began, riding the ebb and flow of her thoughts. "Not many;
two would be nice. And not right away. I want to spend some time with you after we get married. I want to start my own business, too. Get settled."

"Sounds reasonable," he found himself saying.

"You don't sound too excited, Sam," she said directly. It was true.

"Oh, sorry. Yeah, I want children too. I want to spend some time with you, too, after we, uh, get married." He paused for a long time.
"Are we getting married?"

"Is that a proposal?" she asked, her voice lower, pulling herself close to him.

The topic of the conversation, so clear a minute earlier, was fading, pulling away like a boat from a dock. She put her lips close to his, looking into his eyes.

I love your eyes,
she told him.
I love you.

You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known,
he thought, wanting only her.

"Yes,"
he said simply, thinking of shooting basketballs.
Swish.
Sam had always been the last to lose his nerve on the court. "But I want to ask you formally; to do it right–later, in a restaurant with candles, on my knees. So you can't forget, ever. I don't want to ask you now."

She kissed him. He kissed her.

"Then I accept," she whispered into his ear. "And I'll never forget this time. We can get a
ring–as a matter of fact, I want to help you pick it out–and you can surprise me again."

"I would like that," was all he could think to say. She put her head back onto his chest. He felt so good, so right.
Beware of feelings,
Buzz's voice came to his mind.

He let her enjoy the moment.

"Shouldn't we finish the conversation?" he asked after a while.

"Conversation? Oh. Yes. Children and money and
religion."

"Yeah," he said, stroking her hair, looking at the fire. "You know I don't believe in God. Does that bother you?"

"No," she said.

"Really?" he asked.

"Faith is too personal to try to force it on other people. You're a good man, Sam. The best man I've ever met. That's enough for me. I've dropped hints about having a church wedding, but I don't expect you to become a Catholic or anything.
Has that Buzz got you thinking about becoming a Catholic?"

Was that slight agitation back in her voice?

"Not in the least. He tries in his own way. But it doesn't do much good. I just don't believe. I do appreciate your religion more, so you shouldn't be irritated by him–"

"I'm not irritated by Buzz," she said plainly.

"Did I say you were?" he asked.

"You just did."

"Sorry. Look, let's not talk
about Buzz. All I'm saying is that I respect your religion. You respect mine, which is no religion at all. But we have the same values, don't we?"

"I guess we do. That's what really matters."

The tension slipped away, up the chimney above the false fire.

"Ellie?"

"Sam?"

"Buzz did make one suggestion that I want to try. Would you mind if I came to Mass with you and Bucky? To keep you company. If
we have kids someday–" the word
someday
jumped out at him, but he didn't stop talking "–it would show them that I respect your faith."

She turned back to look at him. She kissed him again, putting a hand behind his neck as she had done on the first night in his Accord.

"That's why I love you, Sam," she whispered into his ear. You make me feel
treasured.
"You always put me first, and you make me
want to do the same."

Chapter Eleven

1

"Wow," Buzz said. "That's the best movie I've ever seen. Ever!"

He jumped from his chair.

"Ever!" He thrust a fist into the air, then whooped. His apartment echoed with it.

"I've never heard a New Jersey boy whoop before," Donna said dryly. "But it's my favorite movie ever, too."

"Is he always like this?" Ellie whispered impishly into Sam's ear.

Sam laughed, and nodded.

"Look,
it's midnight," Buzz said breathlessly, after settling down, looking at his watch. "It's times like this when I–" he stopped.
Wish I had the freedom to take a drink.

"High Noon," Donna said, not knowing why Buzz cut himself off, still tingling over her tenth viewing of Gary Cooper's classic. "The best movie ever made. I agree with Buzz."

"I liked it a lot," Ellie said. "But to be honest, I don't
know why you think it's so spectacular."

Donna almost rolled her eyes, but caught herself. She looked at the perfect emerald-cut diamond on Ellie's hand.

Sam's happy. If I'm his friend, I'm happy, too. Ellie's not so bad.

It wasn't that Donna didn't like Ellie. She just didn't like her with Sam. She tried to ignore her jealousy, to tell herself it was petty, but it kept creeping back up out from
under a rock in her soul.

I need to see her as a person, not as a competitor. I've already lost the competition, anyway. How can I be so shallow?

"I bet I can tell you why Buzz and Donna think it's the best movie ever made," Sam said mellowly, reaching for his glass of grapefruit juice.

"Please, Sam, tell us all," Ellie asked.

"This should be interesting," Donna said.

"Yeah," Buzz said.

They all
looked at him. Buzz standing in front of him, Ellie sitting next to him on the couch. Donna in Buzz's favorite leather chair.

Sam had not meant for his little boast to cause such a dramatic pause. He took a deep breath.

"Because it showed the power of love. Grace Kelly loved her husband more than her Quaker beliefs. Gary Cooper loved duty and the law over his own life. The bad guys loved nothing,
as usual, except revenge and money and booze. Everybody else in the town, well, they couldn't find anything to love that was more important than their own lives. They were willing to live as slaves rather than help the one good man in town. For a morality play, that movie was very, very realistic, at least as far as the townsfolk were portrayed. Why don't they make movies like that anymore?"

"I feel like clapping," Donna said. "You should be a movie critic."

Ellie was deep in thought.

"Why didn't he leave?" Sam's fiancée asked finally. "You say it's love, Sam. I think it was just so they could have a movie. Everybody seemed to have a good reason to abandon him. In real life, Cooper would have been outta there."

"Movies aren't real life, Ellie," Buzz said, but without a patronizing
tone. "And I know what you mean. I think you just answered Sam's question as to why they don't make movies like that anymore. Because Cooper's kind of love isn't realistic to the modern mind. Back when they made that film, moviegoers wanted to think they would be like Gary Cooper or Grace Kelly in a tough spot. Now, people wonder why he stuck around, and think he just got lucky in the end. I don't
think people would like a modern version of High Noon, because it cuts too close to the bone. They would relate to the townsfolk, and feel, deep down, like cowards."

"Would you have gotten off the train if you were in Grace Kelly's place?" Sam asked innocently, not realizing that he was putting Ellie on the spot.

You dummy, Sam!
Donna thought. She saw that his question had given Ellie pause.
Bad sign.

"Of course she would have, Sam," Donna chided, trying not to sound melodramatic. "She even looks like Grace Kelly, you moron!"

Ellie blushed.
Yeah, I guess I would have gotten off that train–for Sam,
she thought, smiling at Donna.

You would have too, wouldn't you, Donna. For Sam or Buzz. That's why you like that movie so much.

Ellie realized, maybe for the first time, that Sam's misfit
friends were extraordinary. They didn't fit into the 1980s. They fit into
High Noon.

Buzz, who realized exactly how charitable Donna had just been to Ellie, laughed loudly, straining successfully not to sound strained.
That's my girl!

Sam, realizing his mistake, grabbed Ellie's hand, and whispered in her ear. "Thanks, but would you shoot a bad guy for me?"

"What was that, Sam?" Buzz asked.

"He
wants me to start shooting people, too," Ellie deadpanned.

That made them all laugh.

Ellie's not so bad,
Donna thought hopefully, realizing that Ellie was more than just Sam's fiancée.
I might like you even more if it was just you and me.

"Can I make the tea tonight?" Ellie asked. "Or are we calling it quits early?"

Buzz cleared his throat. "If I were Sam, and I were engaged, I would call it quits
early."

"Just one cup?" Ellie asked.

She was having a nice time. It was only her second Wednesday night video since the engagement. Last Wednesday they had watched
Woman of the Year
with Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn. "In your honor," Buzz had said then, smiling deviously.

"I've got to work tomorrow," Sam said, frowning.

"And like we don't work, too, Mr. Computer Magnate?" Buzz kidded, walking
into the kitchen, where he put a kettle on the old gas stove.

"I swear I haven't had a productive Thursday in months," Sam said, smiling, trying to poke fun at himself.

"Me neither," Ellie said. "Or Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, or Fridays. You always keep me up late."

"My job is so dull, it doesn't matter if I'm tired on Thursdays. It puts me to sleep either way," Donna offered.

Buzz started
singing a very bad rendition of the theme song of
High Noon
in the kitchen. "Do not forsake me, O my darlin'…"

"Someday," Sam said. "Buzz is going to be famous. But not for singing."

"Be nice," Ellie said, slapping him gently on the thigh.

Sam got a sheepish look on his face.

I've never seen him try so hard to be funny before,
Donna thought.
He really is in love.

A dull sadness came to Donna,
but she was used to it by now.

"It still hurts, though," she muttered under her breath, looking away from them.

"What was that?" Sam asked.

Donna turned back and smiled. "Oh nothing."

In the kitchen, Buzz was pondering the surprise twist.

Ellie's not so bad,
he echoed Donna's thoughts.
And she's enjoying our company. I just hope that Donna hangs in there.

But he knew she couldn't. Not indefinitely.

+  +  +

After Sam and Ellie left, arm-in-arm, Donna sat down with Buzz in the kitchen, waiting for a second pot of water to boil.

"After they get married, they won't come over every week," she said.

"I know," he told her. "Is that so bad?"

"No, not really. She makes him happy. She's a nice girl. Very smart. Very, well, sophisticated. Very beautiful. Perfect. But I still–" she stopped herself.

"Still what?" Buzz asked.

"I still don't think she got High Noon. That worries me."

"You can't expect everybody to be like us," he said, taking her hand across the table. "Not that we're that great. We're nobodies in this culture."

"Sister Elizabeth wouldn't stand for you saying such a thing, Buzz Woodward."

There was more than a touch of anger in her voice.

"Don't ever speak that way about me
or you again. We're perfectly normal, even if the world is messed up." She took her hand away.

"I've never felt normal," Buzz said, sadness almost creeping into his voice. Donna saw it in his eyes.

"Sorry, Buzz, but you hit a nerve. My mother would never let me speak that way either. We've all got a role to play in God's plan, that's what she would say. You should read up on the Mystical Body
of Christ. We all help Jesus bring His grace into the world, not just Our Lady and the saints. We all count."

Buzz didn't answer. He took a sip of tea.

"Sorry, Donna," he said finally. "You know me, Mr. Happy."

"You've been down again, lately, haven't you?"

He looked away. Now she took his hand back.

"I'm praying for you," was all she could think to say. She wasn't much for trite advice.

"I know.
Don't stop. I need it. I'll pull out of it. I always do."

The tea kettle started to whistle again.

"You're my Gary Cooper, you know," she said kindly when she caught his eye again.

"You're the best, Donna Beck."

He got up slowly to get the kettle.

She didn't blush. She let go of his hand, saddened that the wall was still up between them, frustrated that the two men she loved were both unavailable,
but still thankful that she had them both for friends.

Maybe men and women are just not meant to be such close friends, she thought. I'm going to talk to Sister Elizabeth about that.

2

When Mark Johnson finally understood what he needed to know and what he needed to do in order to save his marriage, it seemed so simple, yet still a mystery.

The children and adults gathered in the living room,
and prayed a simple family Rosary, led by Joe Kemp. Mark noted the understated fervor with which Mary Kemp prayed, her eyes closed, kneeling before a crucifix on the wall above the mantelpiece. She did not concern herself with keeping an eye on her children; her example set the tone. The two older boys also prayed with calm concentration. The other children prayed with various states of distraction,
except for Annie. The youngest child beside the baby, Eileen, who was only two years old, and just learning to talk, played quietly with a plastic statue of Saint Joseph at her mother's side. Joe held the baby for his wife, as he sat on the couch.

Annie prayed wide-eyed, her eyes on the cross, a smile on her moving lips. She seemed to be speaking directly to Jesus. Her composure moved Mark, but
he did not know why. He wished that his daughters could exhibit such recollection during prayer.

After the Rosary, Joe Kemp played with his younger children on the floor of the living room, chasing and wrestling, tumbling and laughing. After the fun, the two older boys and the older girls helped Mary prepare the children for bed. Joe and Mary prayed simple, brief night prayers with their children
in their rooms while Mark and Bill waited in the living room.

Annie snuck out of her bedroom, which she shared with her older sister, Sarah, to give Uncle Bill a good night kiss and hug. She gave Mark a hug, but no kiss, and padded back to her room.

It was a bit past nine-thirty by the time the younger ones fell asleep. The older children were allowed to stay up reading in their rooms; the oldest,
the boys, were also allowed to do homework–in their rooms, where they had two old desks next to a bunk bed.

The Kemps did not have a family room; the children shared the three upstairs bedrooms, and the basement had been converted into a large bedroom, which had a modest bathroom, for Joe and Mary. The baby slept in their bed, and would do so well into her second year. Mary had also explained
earlier that the two-year-old, Eileen, would leave her bed most nights to climb into her parent's bed. Joe had installed a special railing just for her, and at the expense of three weekends of work with his older sons, widened and lengthened the basement stairway to make it safer.

"We couldn't afford a larger home, so we did the best we could to maximize space. I'm not sure the zoning laws allow
a bedroom downstairs, but so what? It's more private for, well, you know," he had explained after Mark's query earlier in the day regarding the unusual sleeping arrangement.

The living room, which was quite large, had been the center of family life during this day. It was lined with bookcases. There were also bookcases in the basement bedroom. The Kemps had an impressive home library. The television
had not been turned on all day.

Joe came out of the boys' room, then fetched four wine glasses from the kitchen, along with a bottle of Sutter Home White Zinfandel.

Mary came in from Annie and Sarah's room, and collapsed onto the couch with a huge sigh. Joe handed her a glass of wine, and sat down next to her, facing Mark and Bill, who sat in two solid, upholstered chairs.

"So that's your day?"
Mark asked.

Mary exchanged a look with Joe. She took his hand, and they both smiled.

"My day is finally getting started," she said quite seriously. "It's couch time."

"Couch time?" Bill asked, knowing that Mary and Joe were being a bit too melodramatic.

"Couch time," Joe confirmed.

"Okay," Mark said. "I'll bite. What is couch time?"

"Mark, Bill told me why you're here, of course. I wish I had
a magic answer for all your problems. It might look like Mary and I have a perfect marriage, but it wasn't always so. We had some pretty rough times in the first five years, when the kids were coming, and money was very tight–it's always been tight, but it was worse then. We got into debt. We started worrying. Life was hectic. We had a few bitter arguments, and–"

He paused, looking back to Mary,
who nodded. "Everything suffered," he continued. "Our children. Our spiritual life, too. Mary almost had a nervous breakdown. We never considered separation or divorce, but we were at wit's end.

"Bill asked us to not mention our problems during the day. But we were eager to let you into our home because we understand the difficulties you must be going through right now.

"Throughout the whole time,
we prayed together and went to Mass every morning, but something was missing. Our spiritual director played a big part in helping us sort things out. We're not in Opus Dei, but he's an Opus Dei priest, Father Rocky Hanson, who I met on a retreat I went on just as we were at the end of our rope.

"Our little slang term 'couch time' represents to us what saved our marriage and our family, but it's
not so easy to explain. We're willing to try, though, if you want us to. It took us months to change, but we did it."