“I was going out with Mark tonight…”
“We’ve had these tickets since Christmas, I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you. You see Mark all the time, you can give me one night, can’t you?”
Charley scowled. “Mark really wants me to be there…”
“And so do I. If he’s worth anything as a friend, he’ll understand.”
“You can’t take Mars instead?”
“I want to take you.”
She scuffed her foot on the ground. “Can I go out after?”
“We won’t be back until after ten.”
“After that.”
“Charley. Much as I appreciate your need for a social life, you are fourteen. Give it a couple of years and you can stay out until midnight, but for now you have a curfew, because I care about you and want you to be safe.”
“You let me stay out for New Year’s.”
“That’s an exceptional case. Now, go get yourself glammed up, I want to take my two young ladies to the theatre.”
She sighed exasperatedly and stomped up the stairs, and he shook his head. Teenagers. She was happier now, with friends and with Mark, but there was a price for that.
Liza was easy, at least, sitting up and looking on with interest while Charley slouched in her seat. Maybe he should have let Charley spend the evening with her boyfriend, since this was supposed to be a treat and Mars or Joel might have been more appreciative. But it was spending time together, and if the plans worked out, they’d be doing a lot more of that.
At the end, he led the way through the drizzle, and they stood under the bus shelter as cars splashed by in the darkness.
“Enjoy that?”
Charley shrugged, not looking up from her phone.
“It was amazing, thank you.” Liza, always more grown up. “It's so... different. Do you go to stuff like that a lot?”
He grinned. “Not for a couple of years. It's a lot of fun, though, isn't it? More... human than a movie. And more of an experience too.” He glanced between the two, then perched on the bench and licked his lips. “So, while I've got you two together away from the younger ones, I want to ask you something. I think you already know Megan and I are thinking about getting married, but I want to know honestly how that would make you feel.”
Liza smiled awkwardly. “It's good, of course you should if you want. Don't... don't let us stop you.”
“But we want to know how you feel, because of course it will affect you. I know I visit a lot, but it’s not the same as living in the same house.”
“It's up to you, it's more than enough that you're giving us somewhere to stay. I know we all appreciate it.” She glanced at Charley as she said this.
“I know, but we want you to be safe and happy and we want the best for you. And if you don’t want any disruption, if you’d rather wait until you’re more settled or even until you’re grown up and ready to move out, we’ll wait. We've waited this long, after all.”
“Like it even makes that much difference?” Charley chipped in. “Like, it's just a stupid tradition thing. Bet you'll go for a church and everything.”
Tom heard Liza’s intake of breath, but made himself grin. “I’m a priest, Charley, of course I'll get married in a church. Does it make a difference, being married? Maybe not to some people, but for us it’s about commitment. We want to promise to spend the rest of our lives together.”
“Unless you get divorced.”
“Well, yes, but we want to promise to love each other until death us do part. Obviously, things can go wrong, but that means we do everything we can to fix them.”
“You could just do that anyway?”
Liza shook her head. “They can do what they want.”
“Thanks, Liza, it's okay. Charley, I guess we could do it anyway, but we’re also – as you say – churchy people. We agree with church teachings, about the importance of marriage.”
“What, that no sex before marriage stuff?” She slouched further, folding her arms across her chest.
“Marriage as a celebration of love and commitment. Marriage as the foundation of the family.”
“Married families can be just as shit as other ones.”
“Quite true, Charley. Marriage isn’t a magic sticking plaster which fixes all of our issues, but it's something Megan and I see as important.”
Charley shrugged and looked back down at her phone.
“It’s not about us,” Liza told him. “I’m just happy you let me stay, if you want a wedding you should have one.”
“Thanks, Liza.”
The bus arrived, and he got on, dropping the girls off at Megan's and carrying on home. The other side, the reason he wanted to deny, why marriage was necessary for them: because how could he enforce Church teaching, if he didn’t follow it himself? If he was to enforce discipline, he had to be above reproof, including in appearance. He'd asked his bishop, before she'd retired, whether he and Megan could live together, and hadn't been surprised at her answer: she'd rather they didn't. It wasn't that he disagreed with Church teaching – he didn’t – but it was a factor to be considered.
He’d wanted to talk to Ruth about it when they’d met, but given tone their meeting had taken, he'd decided against it. Well, he’d talked to Megan enough, he’d worked with parishioners, he’d been to Life and Service back in college… talking to Ruth was a silly notion, really, completely unnecessary. He just valued her advice. Come on, Tom, he told himself. She’d tell you to go for it, and you can get all the advice later, once you’re engaged.
On the top shelf of his wardrobe was a box, and he had to dust it off before opening it. His mam would have hated it, he thought, as he tried with clumsy fingers to untangle three different necklaces. Her prettiest treasures brushed in together, shaken up, left in a mess like this. But back when he’d packed them, it had been all he could do, once he’d lined them all up on the dressing table. Once he’d admired each item, thought back on the times he remembered her wearing it. The tiny silver cross. The mother of pearl pendant on its chain. Earrings made from coloured glass beads. The enamel dove broach. The gold ring, left on her bedside table for those last weeks, after her fingers swelled too much for it to fit.
No. Something new for Megan. Something as special as she was special.
“What?”
“On Friday. I think it’s time you had a break, and we had some us time. I’ve talked to Liza, she’s happy to babysit.”
“We talk all the time, in the evenings.”
“Well I’m a hopeless romantic, as you’ve reminded me before, and I want to take you on a date. Will you allow me the privilege? We’ll leave after Mika’s bedtime, before you start worrying about that…”
“I don’t suppose I get a choice?”
“Of course you do. But I’ll be very sad if you say no.”
“In that case, I suppose I’d better say yes.” She stuck her tongue out playfully, and then was serious. “Joel’s happy, isn’t he?”
“He looked and sounded it. And the level of mischief Dan’s dragging him into, I think he’ll do well. He was like… an eight-year-old. Not a miniature adult.”
“That’s it, I was thinking he was different. It’s good to see, isn’t it?”
“I feel like that’s another one successfully placed.”
“I hope you’re right. Though you know, I still wish we could keep them all. Joel and Lou and Mitch and Hope. And Justin.”
“Poor Justin. God rest his little soul.”
They kept a moment’s silence. Little Justin, one of the hardest children they’d had to look after, the cause of many sleepless nights and too many hospital visits. How could a hospice be so desperately underfunded as to turn him away? Why did it have to come to them? The night they would never forget, where Tom had held Megan as she’d sobbed herself into exhausted sleep. It had been hard on the other children too, but when there was nobody else, you had to do what you could.
“You never struck me as a mum, when we first met. Charging around snapping at me to get a move on.”
“I never thought you’d stick it.”
“And yet here we are.”
“Here we are.”
Don’t bother wondering what life might have been like. This was life now, this was where God had brought him. To a place where he had to hang a white stole around his neck and commit a child he’d held in his arms into the ground. But also to a place where he was saving lives, where he could offer hope to those without hope, a future to those without a future. Where he could share in the life of the most extraordinary woman he’d ever known, could offer his all to her, could love and be loved...
He thought of the ring, in the box on his bedside table. So long to wait! Why not ask her tomorrow? Today?
“And we can rest assured that Joel has the best we can offer him.”
“As do our four.”
They were just about used to it, now, laying the table with one fewer place. Less food to be bought, too, a sad but practical consideration. Tom served it up and then sat beside Mika, cutting her meat into bite-sized chunks.
“You think you can eat all of that?”
She looked at the plate, and then nodded enthusiastically, taking her fork in a fist until he eased it from her fingers and made her hold it properly. Watching out of the corner of his eye as he ate his own meal.
“No fingers!”
She stuck her tongue out at him and picked up another piece of carrot.
“Mika… knife and fork.” He shook his head at the face she pulled, but smiled when she took up the cutlery again. She was definitely getting the hang of it. About time too, seeing as she’d started school in September, but you had to be realistic with these kids.
“I’m going out after school tomorrow.”
“You are?” Megan raised her eyebrows at Charley, and then met Tom’s eyes across the table.
“Yeah. With Mark.”
“Your boooyyyyfriend…”
“Mars.” Megan gave him a look. “That’ll do.” She looked back to Charley. “You’ll be back in time for dinner, of course.”
“Why don’t you let me do anything?”
“It’s a school night. You have homework.”
“I’ll do it at lunchtime.”
“Would you like to bring Mark to dinner?”
She pulled a face. “No!”
“Why not?”
“I’m not a baby.”
Megan sighed. “Back in time for dinner. The rules might be different at holidays and weekends. Anyway, you see enough of each other. You’ll get bored.”
She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, which Megan chose to ignore, meeting his eyes across the table instead. Why were teenagers so much work?
Friday was slow to come, and even once it had arrived, the hours dragged by. Two ministerial review meetings, back-to-back, the struggle to maintain his professional calm. Not really the way to prepare for a special date. Then again, it kept him grounded.
“Is that okay, Liza?”
“It’s fine. Have a good time.”
“Thank you, so much. Call if anything happens, anything at all.”
She waved them off from the door, and Tom looked back as he neared the corner of the road. The door was closed. She was seventeen, and responsible, and Charley was out with Mark – since it wasn’t a school night - and Mika was asleep, and Mars would be fine. It’d be fine. Well, one of them might need to sit down with Charley soon, Megan had given her The Talk but as well to check she’d grasped it. But these were kids used to fending for themselves, they didn’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool. It’d be fine.
He’d found a nice place, a bit out of town, with a big garden. A table booked for two. Far too conscious of the lump in his pocket – did it show? Was it obvious? Had she already guessed? Calm down, Tom, what does it matter if she has? It’s hardly a surprise, you’ve talked to her enough about it…
It was the best meal he’d had in ages, better even than the diocesan Christmas dinner. Shame it was so hard to swallow – why was he so nervous? He knew the answer, he’d planned what to say, he was used to making speeches to far more – important – people than this. He smiled and tried to make small talk, tried to pretend that he wasn’t just biding time to say something of actual importance. Please God, help me out, I know it’s not that important but this matters to me.
“Was that snow?”
He craned his neck round. “It was forecast…”
They stared for a minute.
“In front of the light. It is, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Much later than last year.”
“And will, hopefully, go away a little earlier.” Nobody needed four months of snow.
“At least there are fewer people out in it this year.”
“Some, but fewer,” he agreed. Not the kind of conversation he'd been planning on tonight. “And our kids aren’t out in it. We can wrap them up warm and they can play in it, and then they can come back inside and we can feed them hot cocoa and they’ll be safe and well in shelter.”
“How many more are out there? Without that?”
“Too many. We can only give thanks for the few we have helped.”
“Of course. And for the fact that things are getting better.” She swirled the wine in her glass. “So long as Charley gets home safely.”
“The snow isn’t hard.”
“Oh, I know. I just worry about them.”
“So do I. But Mark seems to be looking after her well.”
“And she’s besotted with him. It's cheered her up, she was so lonely…”
She’d just about finished eating, and he couldn't bear to wait any longer. He pretended to be calm, that everything was normal. He giving her a few minutes to finish. Then he waved the waiter over and whispered something, and then stood up. “I think we should take a little stroll before pudding. Go and make sure that’s really snow.”
She shook her head with a knowing smile. “Of course. That sounds charming.”
Damn, he’d screwed up the subtlety there. Oh well, chances were she’d figured it out long ago. She wasn’t stupid.
The grass was damp with melted snow. This might have been better on a summer’s evening, beneath the sunset, surrounded by flowers. But there was something romantic about snow, wasn’t there? His hand was in his pocket, and he twisted the ring box in his fingers, made sure it was the right way round before he brought it out.
“Megan, I love you. You are the most wonderful woman I have ever met. You’re brave, decisive, compassionate, and the strongest person I know. You amaze me every single day, and just thinking about you makes me happy. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Going down on one knee, just as he’d practised in his room, a moment’s appreciation for the artificial joint which made it possible, barely noticing the cold damp of the ground.
“Megan, will you marry me?”
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