Page 19 of Crosshairs

“Nothing, my boy.”

“I can make someone squeal on you if I have to.”

“Are you always a cop?”

“Cop, parent—not that different. Now spill.”

My grandfather leaned in a little closer. “Bridget may have caught me finishing off your cabernet.”

“Not the last bottle of the 2019 Caymus.”

“That’s just it, boyo. I didn’t realize it was the last bottle until it was gone and I couldn’t find any more.” He gave me a smile like a kid who’d been caught in a fib. I just laughed. No one could get angry at an elderly priest who was still mischievous.

When Mary Catherine and I decided we were ready for the family meeting, six of the kids were already in the dining room: the two oldest, Juliana and Brian, who were both starting to find their way in the world as young adults but still living at home for the moment, thank goodness; Eddie and Trent, our younger boys; and Bridget and Fiona, the twins.

I had to call in Shawna and Chrissy, finishing their chores in the kitchen, and Ricky, playing on his phone in his bedroom.

I started counting heads and got to nine, but before I could ask where Jane was, the front door burst open and she rushed in, apologizing for missing dinner.

Mary Catherine said, “Where were you? Holy Name has been closed for hours.”

Jane looked at Mary Catherine, then at me. “I said I was sorry. I’m working on a project and have to spend some time at Butler Library up on the Columbia campus. Sister Mary Margaret worked it out so I have a Columbia ID and everything so I can use the library.”

I said, “What’s the project about?”

A sly smile spread across Jane’s even features. Then she said, “Can I keep it a surprise? I think you’ll like it.”

How could a father deny a request like that? Plus, she was using her sweet tone, not her disillusioned teenager tone. It was enough to convince me.

I turned to the room and raised my voice in a mock shout, saying, “We’re going to have a family meeting!”

The only one who seemed happy about that was Chrissy. “Do I get to vote?”

I said, “Everyone gets to vote. Except, as always, my vote and Mary Catherine’s count as two each.” That earned a few groans and comments from the older kids, who started to make excuses and wander off.

Without confronting anyone individually, Mary Catherine clapped her hands one time. Everyone froze like we were in aTwilight Zoneepisode. In reality, it was just years of conditioning: when the kids heard Mary Catherine give that single hard clap, they knew they’d better listen.

Mary Catherine said, “Your father doesn’t ask that much of you. One meeting to clear something up will help us all. Everyone take a seat at the table.”

I stood there dumbfounded as, without another word, each child sat down around our long dining room table. Mary Catherine hadn’t raised her voice. She hadn’t even issued a threat. That was power. There’s no way I could’ve done that.

I took a breath and started telling the kids about our appointments with the fertility clinic, what the doctors had told us, and that we hoped Mary Catherine might soon be pregnant. I finished by saying, “We were hoping to get your honest reactions to this news.”

There was dead silence.

My heart sank.

Then Brian started to clap. The others all joined in. Shawna and Eddie added a couple of shouts and hoots. It was a shower of applause.

Juliana was the first to speak. She looked at Mary Catherine and said, “I was worried you were sick. I knew you were going to a doctor, and you seemed so tired. This is great news.”

I let out my breath. Juliana was the oldest and remembered the early days of Maeve’s, my first wife’s, cancer diagnosis. I should’ve been more aware of that.

That opened the floodgates. The twins jumped up from each side and hugged Mary Catherine. Suddenly our dining room echoed with raised voices and squeals of surprise.

Then I noticed one kid wasn’t joining in. At the middle of one side of the table, sitting quietly and looking like she was about to cry, was my youngest, Chrissy. The baby of the family.

I said loud enough to make everyone calm down, “Chrissy, tell me the truth. How do you feel about this?” I was anxious about her reply. One unhappy kid could sour this whole endeavor.