“May the blessings of Allah be on you and on your family,” Abdul said.
“And on yours,” the older man said as he pulled the white crocheted
Abdul’s face flushed hot. This was a question he had not anticipated, but an answer came to him in a flash. “Easter lilies,” he declared.
The man considered this, then smiled broadly, showing straight white teeth in a pleasant face.
Abdul’s nervousness dissolved, and he felt his own smile take its place. “Great big Roman Easter lilies,” he said again, and they both laughed.
CHAPTER 35
RYAN EMERGED FROM the boys’ dormitory, into a warm spring afternoon without a cloud in the sky, made even more perfect by the fact that it was Saturday.
He’d survived his first week of classes at St. Isaac’s.
And even better, Melody Hunt was waiting for him, just as he’d hoped she would. He set his overnight bag down and dropped onto the bench next to her. All around them were people Ryan was starting to recognize, but this morning they all looked different, clad in their regular clothes rather than the blue-and-white uniforms he’d already grown used to seeing, and when one of his classmates suddenly appeared in exactly the kind of low-slung baggy pants and oversize shirt that Frankie Alito always wore, he felt a twinge of panic and had to remind himself that he was still at St. Isaac’s, and not back at Dickinson.
“Aren’t you going to take all your laundry for your mom to do?” Melody asked, eyeing the overnight bag that was far too small to contain anything more than a change of clothes.
“Nah. I’ll do it Sunday night,” Ryan replied, then cocked his head and eyed her with a look he hoped was seductive. “And while they’re drying, you can teach me more Catholic History.”
“You didn’t get an ‘A’ from Father Sebastian just because of me,” Melody said, blushing slightly, but not moving away at all. “You’re the one who did the studying.”
“And you’re the one who told me what to study.”
Melody scuffed her tennis shoe against the cement pathway as if not quite sure how to respond, then settled for just changing the subject. “So what do you think of St. Isaac’s, now that you’ve been here almost a week?”
“Not too bad,” Ryan said, giving up the attempt at a seductive look in favor of a wry grin. “At least I haven’t been beaten up yet.”
“And your face looks a lot better than it did on Monday.” She hesitated, then: “Not that it looked that bad even then.”
Ryan tried to fight the blush he felt rising in his cheeks. Maybe the seductive look had worked after all. “And my ribs are healing, too.”
Melody looked around the rapidly emptying courtyard, with more kids leaving every second. “It’s going to be boring around here all weekend with you gone,” she said with a wistful tone that made Ryan’s heart beat a little faster.
“Why don’t you go home, too?” Ryan asked.
“My family lives too far west.” Melody shrugged, but Ryan could see she wasn’t as nonchalant as she was trying to sound. “But at least they’d like me to come home. Sofia’s mom lives right here in Boston, like a mile away or something. But she married some rich guy who doesn’t want Sofia around, so she can’t go home, either.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, she only goes home on Christmas Day. Seems like the only ones who have to stay here are either troublemakers or inconveniences.”
Ryan told himself he didn’t fit into either category, but even as he tried to convince himself of the truth of his thought, it didn’t quite ring true. But why not? The fight — if you could even call getting beaten up a “fight”—hadn’t been his fault, and if his mother didn’t want him at home for the weekend, why was she coming to pick him up? But, of course, he knew why he was wondering if maybe he at least fit into the “inconvenient” category.
Tom Kelly.
Who Ryan hoped wouldn’t be with his mother when she came to pick him up in — he glanced at his watch — two minutes. “Uh-oh,” he said, suddenly wishing he had another hour or two with Melody. “Gotta go or I’m going to be late to meet my mom.”
“Okay,” Melody said, and once more Ryan heard that wistful note. “Call me when you get back, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, tapping her back. “See you tomorrow.”
† † †
An elderly, bent woman with a wrapped birthday present in the basket of her walker was fumbling with the door to Father Laughlin’s outer office when Ryan got there, and he held it open for her as she slowly made her way through.
His mother was already inside, talking to Father Laughlin, and she smiled happily when she saw him.
“Hi, honey,” she said, putting her arm around him. “Father Laughlin was just telling me how well you’re doing, and I was just telling him that we’re going out to dinner to celebrate your first week here.”
“Have a good time, Ryan,” Father Laughlin said. “Just don’t forget to come back tomorrow.”
Before Ryan could say anything at all, the old woman with the walker suddenly spoke. “Where’s Jeffrey?”
“Mrs. Holmes?” Father Laughlin began. “How nice to—”
“I want to see my grandson,” the old woman broke in. “It’s his birthday!”
Father Laughlin glanced at Teri, one of his eyebrows lifting slightly as he took one of the old woman’s hands in his. “Why don’t you come into my office?” he suggested, gently trying to guide the old woman through the inner door.
Mrs. Holmes jerked her hand away from the priest and peered up at him suspiciously. “Do I know you? I just want to see my grandson.”
Father Laughlin tilted his head closer to hers and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Do you remember coming to talk with us about Jeffrey after Thanksgiving?” he asked, his voice soft.
The old woman pulled away once more, backing up slightly, then glared up at Father Laughlin. “I want to see my grandson!” she demanded.
With a deep breath and another helpless glance toward Teri McIntyre, Father Laughlin gently but firmly took the old woman’s elbow and ushered her into his office. “Let’s talk in here, Mrs. Holmes, all right?”
It was as if she hadn’t even heard him. “Why isn’t he here?” she shrilled. “Where is he?
Father Laughlin’s response was lost as he smiled sadly at Teri and Ryan, spread his hands in supplication of their understanding of the situation, and quietly closed his office door.
Teri stood transfixed, staring at Father Laughlin’s closed door.
“C’mon, Mom,” Ryan coaxed, but even as he spoke, he knew she wasn’t listening to him. Indeed, he could almost hear her thinking about Monday morning, when they’d met Kip Adamson’s parents on the front steps of St. Isaac’s.
Finally, though, she turned, her brow furrowed deeply, and followed him outside.
The car was parked in the loading zone at the bottom of the steps.
And Tom Kelly was in the driver’s seat.
Suddenly, the rest of the afternoon was going to be a chore, and now, instead of having dinner in St. Isaac’s dining hall with Melody Hunt, he was going to have to sit in some restaurant with Tom Kelly.
Still, it was just dinner, and then he and his mother would go home and he’d have the rest of the evening and
