Ya-Yas in Bloom Page 3

  Oh, how Vivi and Teensy hated to sit still during Mass. It made their bodies hurt. Sitting still through a lengthy Catholic Mass in Latin was not made for healthy four-year-old girls. They longed to move and dance and squirm and shimmy. Their plan was to crawl under the pews and do a little traveling.

  On most Sundays and holy days, Mr. Abbott did not come to Mass. Claiming he was at his law office, he rode his horses and drank champagne with the horsey crowd out at Mockingbird Park. The previous Sunday, when Mr. Abbott was absent, Vivi tried ducking down underneath the pew and crawling back a few rows. It was a tight fit, but she managed it, even though she got her little hiney spanked when Buggy got her home. On the other side of the aisle, Teensy tried the same trick and was more successful. The space between prayer kneelers and the underside of pews was pretty tight, but at four years old, they were both still quite small. The intrepid unveilers hadn’t traveled far, but now they knew the underpew railroad could provide an avenue to Coco Robichaux.

  On this holy day, Vivi and Teensy were furious that their mothers had dragged them to Mass even though it wasn’t even a Sunday! They had just been to Mass what seemed like yesterday. When Vivi protested, Buggy explained to her, “The Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary is the greatest of all feast days. Because she was the mother of Baby Jesus and because she didn’t have any original sin on her soul, God took her up to heaven with her whole body just like it was. Her body will never rot and have worms crawling all over it like the rest of us who were born with mortal sin on our souls. No, she will live in heaven forever and speak in tongues and understand her daughters like me who know how to speak in tongues, even though nobody around here listens.”

  Actually, Vivi did listen to her mother speak in tongues, something Buggy did only when Mr. Abbott was out of the house. Buggy explained to Vivi that the Holy Spirit inspired her to speak in tongues. At first Vivi thought it was a game, and would jabber right back at her mother, but when Buggy made her go to bed without dinner for “making fun of the Holy Spirit,” Vivi got out of the way when Buggy started making those spooky sounds.

  It was hot and sticky on Assumption Day, even with all the windows open at Divine Compassion. Vivi tried to stop thinking of millions of worms crawling all over her body. The priest, Father O’Donohue, was filling in for their regular parish priest, who had been called to visit his sick mother in Donaldsonville. When Father O’Donohue turned to the congregation and spoke in English, he said a lot of words about the Blessed Virgin being lifted up because she was so pure and how she was dressed in the sun with the moon under her feet. Vivi didn’t understand most of what he was saying, but she liked the part about Mary having a crown of stars. She wanted one for herself.

  When Father started in on how the Lord had brought his enemies to naught, Vivi looked across the aisle and caught Teensy’s eye. Teensy gave her famous wink—the signal they’d planned in advance—and in an instant, both girls ducked down and began crawling under the pews. The girls moved so fast and sure that they disappeared before their mothers hardly noticed. Vivi and Teensy slithered through worshippers’ feet, crawling over people’s shoes and ladies’ dress hems, and scooted through Our Lady of Divine Compassion on their hands and knees underneath the pews. They delighted in moving too fast for anyone to grab them. Not that people didn’t try. Not that Mr. Gremillion didn’t catch the back of Teensy’s heel and try to pull her back where everyone could see her. But Teensy was too swift for him. She shook her foot loose and kept on crawling.

  You could hear the murmur of the parishioners spreading throughout the church. No one dared speak aloud for fear of seeming disrespectful, but there was a buzz of whispering and grunts and a wave of head-shaking and hard stares at Buggy and Genevieve, as though the mothers were sinning through their teeth to have such behavior in their offspring. The congregation of Divine Compassion had little doubt as to which children were causing the disruption. You could just look at Teensy and Vivi and know they were “high-spirited,” to put it mildly. Each of the girls babbled constantly, dropped prayer books on the floor for the fun of it, put their rosary beads on their heads like Cleopatra headdresses, and threw the church bulletin out into the aisle just so they could get up from their seat, priss over, and pick it up. Among the congregation there had been talk about whether these two little girls should even be brought to Mass if they couldn’t learn to behave. But both Buggy and Genevieve believed it was important for their daughters to attend Mass, even if the two girls weren’t exactly angelic.

  On this Assumption Day, both mothers wondered if they’d been wrong. Their girls were bellying their way under the pews, making good time. Fast-moving little girl gophers of God.

  Teensy got to the back of the church and scampered from the Saint Joseph Altar side to the Lady Altar side, her white Mary Jane shoes tapping against the tiles of the church floor. Little did people know how much restraint it took her not to break into an all-out tap dance.

  Next thing everyone knew, both girls popped up in the pew just behind Denise Kelleher and jerked on her pigtail so hard that she let out a piercing cry. When she turned around, Vivi and Teensy stared at her, waiting for her transformation into Coco Robichaux the Great. After all, if bread and wine could be turned into body and blood, then this little girl could become their heroine. But the surprise, alarm, and hurt in Necie’s eyes told them they were wrong. Vivi let out a loud shriek, followed by a squeal from Teensy. They sounded like they were making up their own wild liturgy.

  This girl was not Coco Robichaux. Coco Robichaux would have laughed out loud like a hyena, then prissed them up the aisle to the front of the main altar, where all the action was. Once there, as Father O’Donohue droned on about the purity of the Virgin Mary, Coco Robichaux would have raised their high little-girl voices in a rousing version of their favorite song:

  “K-K-K-Katy, Beautiful Katy,

  You’re the only g-g-g-girl that I could adore!”

  Then Coco would have led them in knocking down the altar boys and yanking their red garments up over their ears so the girls could dress up in them. Coco Robichaux would have climbed into the pulpit, shoved the priest aside, and begun singing at the top of her voice. Oh, Coco Robichaux would have been a brave, crazy, short Joan of Arc!

  Not so with Denise Rose Kelleher.

  This child was a meek and mild Saint Theresa the Little Flower kind of a girl if there ever was one. Seeing the sweet, scared face of Denise Rose Kelleher, the gopher girls of God ducked back down. But by then their mothers were upon them, dragging the little sinners out the side door of the church in humiliation. A collective tsk-tsk could be heard throughout the church.

  Not one hour after the dinner dishes had been washed and put away, and fresh flowers were placed next to the Blessed Mother’s statue in the front hallway, Buggy called Mrs. Kelleher to set up a meeting of the mothers and daughters with Father O’Donohue. Buggy said it was urgent that they seek absolution before Father O’Donohue left Thornton.

  Mrs. Kelleher and Buggy knew each other from the Ladies Altar Society. Buggy, a devoted worker bee, donated all her finest flowers to the church, sometimes leaving her own yard with bald spots and her own house empty of color or fragrance. The House of God required—no, deserved—flowers. The reason flowers existed was to venerate Our Lady and her Holy Son.

  Necie’s mother, Rose Kelleher, was head of Our Lady of Divine Compassion Altar Society. Mrs. Kelleher knew how to keep meetings running, and how to give out assignments. She knew enough about each person’s garden to know who should contribute to decorate the altar.

  The meeting took place at the rectory the following Wednesday. Vivi was scrubbed, dressed, and, after a good swat on her backside, instructed about how to behave. She was to apologize to Mrs. Kelleher and to Mrs. Kelleher’s daughter, but first and foremost to Father O’Donohue. Buggy had made that very clear: “There are such things as mortal sins, Viviane. And even though you have not reached the age of reason, you can still b
urn in hell for the way you hurt the Baby Jesus in church on the very day you should have venerated His Mother on her day of Assumption into heaven. Now you must confess your sin and receive penance and forgiveness, if Father sees fit.”

  They arrived at the front door of the old brick rectory across the street from the church, and a maid led Buggy and Vivi into the priest’s office. There they sat together on a love seat near the window. Soon Mrs. Kelleher and her daughter showed up. Buggy murmured prayers under her breath continuously. Mrs. Kelleher and her daughter sat in two straight-backed chairs against the far wall across from the large desk, which dominated the room. Vivi stared holes at the pigtailed girl and wondered how she ever thought such a little sissy could possibly be the brave and valiant Coco Robichaux.

  Soon the last mother and daughter entered the room. Genevieve was wearing a peach-colored frock with a ruffle at the hem. Her hat was in a matching color, and the way it perched on her head told the world that she was not worried about burning in hell.

  “Bonjour, Madame Abbott,” Genevieve said, smiling at Buggy. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Vivi.”

  What a relief it was for Vivi to see Genevieve’s smile. It gave Vivi hope that she would not burn in hell forever after all. It made Vivi love Genevieve all the more.

  Teensy looked at Vivi and bared her teeth like a wild animal. Vivi crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue, then burst out laughing, but stopped the moment her mother pinched her arm.

  Genevieve and Teensy sat in two wing-backed chairs that faced the desk.

  Soon, Father O’Donohue, a muscular, full-bodied man with bushy eyebrows and clear blue eyes, opened the door and swished by them in his long robe.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. Little girls. How are you on this lovely day that the Lord has given us?”

  He sat behind his desk and made a steeple with his hands. He looked from girl to girl, waiting for them to speak. No one answered.

  Finally, Buggy said, “Father, forgive our daughters, for they know not what they do. Please, I have done my best every moment of the day and night to raise a girl that would please the Baby Jesus and the Holy Lady. I do not know where I have gone wrong. For her to have mocked you and Our Lord so gravely is a horrible thing. I have not been able to eat or sleep since it happened.”

  The door opened, and the maid brought in a plate of lemon squares and Irish soda bread and sugar cookies and a large pitcher of sweetened iced tea and set them on a table beside the desk. “Well, then,” Father said, “I hope you’ll allow yourself to break your fast with us.

  “Please”—he gestured to all in the room—“enjoy the fruits of our Lord’s bounty.”

  Teensy immediately jumped up and piled three lemon squares on one of the tiny china plates with the Knights of Columbus insignia. She sat back down and began to bite into one, dangling her legs, always happy to put anything sugary in her mouth.

  “Merci, Père,” said Genevieve, standing and crossing to the table. “How délicieux.” After helping herself to a glass of tea, Genevieve sat back down and took a sip. She wiped her mouth with a small linen napkin, then said, “That was a sermon très inspirant you gave on Assumption Day Mass, Père.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Whitman. I am glad to hear that at least one of the parishioners here thinks so.”

  “Oui,” Genevieve said, “all of us did.”

  Buggy cleared her throat.

  “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Abbott?” Genevieve said.

  “Father, it was as if the Holy Spirit Himself had written it,” Buggy enthused. “That is why it is even more shameful that these young daughters of Mary acted so sinfully.”

  “Indeed,” Father said, helping himself to several slices of soda bread and iced tea. He plopped a lemon square in his mouth, washed it down with a gulp of iced tea. Then he said, “Praise God for sweets.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he looked around the room. Vivi and Teensy gave him big smiles. Buggy bowed her head.

  Father’s gaze landed on Necie, and he said, “Denise Rose Kelleher, what a fine Irish name. Miss Denise Rose, what is it you wish to say here today?”

  A blush rose up and spread all over Necie’s face, extending even to her ears. She could not speak.

  Mrs. Kelleher gently touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Father has asked you a question, Denise.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Necie said. Still she could not speak to the priest.

  Father O’Donohue reached over to the table and made up a plate of lemon squares and sugar cookies and poured a glass of tea. He got up from his desk and brought it over and handed it to Necie.

  “There you go, girl, have a sweet. And say something. You’re Irish, aren’t you? The blarney can’t have passed you by.”

  Mrs. Kelleher laughed softly, then got up and poured herself a glass of tea. She watched her daughter and waited.

  Father sat back down and took another bite of soda bread.

  “Well,” Necie said, barely audible, “I would please like to know why they pulled my pigtails. I didn’t do anything to them. Is it because they don’t like me?”

  “No!” Teensy said, almost knocking over her plate of lemon squares.

  “No!” Vivi said. She stared at Teensy, then continued. “It’s because, well—it’s because we thought you were someone we know.”

  “Really, it’s because we want to play with you,” Teensy said. “But you’re so good you don’t even notice us. You don’t even look at us after Mass on the front steps of church. You don’t even act like we’re there when we walk by you at coffee time in the parish hall. You act like a midget saint.”

  “I am not a midget saint,” Necie said. “I see yall.”

  “Why don’t you play with us, then?” Vivi asked.

  “You don’t ask me.”

  “We’re asking you right now!” Teensy said. “S’il vous plait.”

  Father O’Donohue, who was back in his chair, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, stared at Vivi and then at Teensy. “So you two think the way to make friends is to pull hair, do you? Is this some rare custom that only exists here in Thornton at Our Lady of Divine Compassion?”

  “No, Father,” Vivi said.

  “No, Père,” Teensy said.

  “We’re sorry,” they said in unison.

  “Don’t be telling me you’re sorry,” Father said. “It’s not my hair—what’s left of it—that you pulled. It’s Miss Denise Rose Kelleher’s lovely long pigtails that you jerked.”

  Teensy and Vivi looked at each other, and then at Necie. “We’re sorry,” they said, again in unison.

  “Ask her if she’ll forgive you,” Father said.

  “Will you forgive me?” Vivi asked.

  “Yes,” Necie said.

  “How about me?” Teensy asked.

  “I forgive you too,” said Necie.

  “Then,” Father said, “if Miss Denise Kelleher forgives you, so do I. But I warn you: if you ever pull such a stunt again in the sanctity of church, you will not be met with such mercy. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Father,” Vivi said.

  “Oh, yes, Father,” Teensy echoed.

  Each mother heaved a sigh. But Buggy was not going to let it drop. She was the mother of a guilty daughter, and it was her responsibility. “Father, I heartily beg your forgiveness for the pagan way my daughter behaved during Mass during your most inspiring sermon. I would like to ask you to please give her a punishment. I will leave it in your hands. Thank you, Father.”

  The priest studied Buggy for a long time. “Mrs. Abbott,” he said, speaking slowly, “are you a happy woman?” He reached over to the tray of sugar cookies, popped one into his mouth, and kept looking at Buggy. “Come and talk to me sometime, will you? Not at Holy Confession, just here at the rectory.”

  “Yes, Father, certainly, Father. When would you like me to come?”

  “Sometime soon, before I leave, and before the end of summer demands too much of your time in your garden. I’ve heard so much about the
flowers you grow and grace Our Holy Lady’s altar with. Our Lord has given you the gift of the green thumb indeed.”

  Buggy bowed her head. “Thank you, Father,” she said, shyly.

  “Now, as far as you two,” he said, standing and pointing with large, strong, thick fingers toward Vivi and Teensy. “Stand up and come over here,” he said, pointing to a spot before him.

  Vivi and Teensy obeyed. He stood before them and stared from one girl to the next.

  “Tell me, in the name of all saints, why you two lasses would interrupt my overly long Assumption feast day sermon with such clamoring? Just give me one good answer.”

  Vivi and Teensy were silent. They wanted to look at each other, but couldn’t. Not with Father looming over them.

  Vivi gave a false cough, hoping she might make him think she was getting sick. She coughed again. Then again.

  “That is one very poor imitation of a sick person,” Father said. “I asked you a question.”

  Vivi was not certain what “clamoring” meant, but she thought she’d give it her best. She thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “We were talking in tons, Father. We were trying to get Denise to talk in tons too.”

  “Tongs!” chirped Teensy. “Yes, Father, we were talking in tongs!”

  “The Holy Ghost told us to talk in tons—I mean tongs!” Vivi said.

  Buggy dropped her face into her hands.

  Father O’Donohue kept staring at them. He rubbed his hand across his face. Vivi and Teensy did not know what he was going to do next. Genevieve gave what sounded like a laugh that turned into a snort because of her attempt to stop it.

  Father O’Donohue finally shook his head. He turned his back to them and stared at the books on the tall bookshelves behind the desk. They could hear him laughing, but because he was not facing them, they could pretend they had not heard him.

  “Oh, I see. Tongs, it is. Speaking in tongs? And because the Holy Spirit told you to?” Father O’Donohue dropped his chin to his chest and let out a small chuckle.