Clare had tumbled into love helplessly and unexpectedly three times in her life. It never got any easier, and she never landed anywhere near her starting point. The first time was when her ordinary, understandable—she thought—relationship with God became something that tugged and pushed and pulled her until she had abandoned her military career and entered the priesthood. The second was when she had looked over the top of a squad car at the Millers Kill chief of police, frowning and frustrated, snow spangling his hair, and a key fit into a lock she hadn’t known was there and everything changed. The third time was when the nurse had laid her flannel-wrapped son in her arms, and it hadn’t felt like love, it had felt like a fortress, with Ethan the center and Clare the wall.
Just once, she’d like to have a soft, simple love. Puppies, maybe. She glanced down at Oscar, who had literally taken a bullet for her last winter. Even her dog came with baggage.
Oscar at least had the virtue of being easy to bring to work. He dozed in her office, went for a walk a couple times a day, and was sober and polite to everyone. Ethan …
Ethan was screaming. “Maybe something’s wrong with his tummy.” Lois stayed just outside Clare’s door, presumably for protection if Ethan should begin to projectile vomit.
“It could be colic.” Elizabeth de Groot, a braver woman than the secretary, frowned by the bookcase. “One of my nieces’ children cried for three months straight. They couldn’t do anything.”
Clare, jiggling Ethan against her shoulder, closed her eyes against the prospect. “It’s not colic.”
“Comes on like that.” Elizabeth snapped her fingers.
“What’s this, here?” From over Lois’s shoulder, Clare could see the sexton, Glenn Hadley, peering in through the door. The old man was wearing his summer uniform, a twill shirt and pants that had faded to the same indeterminate color and had permanent cigarette-carton-shaped creases on all the pockets. “Little guy giving you trouble, Father?”
“Mr. Hadley, you really don’t have to call me—” Clare stopped herself. “Yes. Yes, he is.” Her uniform didn’t look any better than the sexton’s—her black skirt was damp and creased and despite draping herself with a rag, she had a streak of spit-up across her sleeveless black blouse. “Lois, the Dale-Yeager nuptials will be here in five minutes.” And she had a lunch meeting with the financial committee after that. “Could you…?” She shifted Ethan toward the secretary, who backed away. “It would just be until I could call…” She didn’t know who she could call. Margy was off getting her hair done in Glens Falls and Russ’s niece was at Lake George with a bunch of friends and Someone Special. Maybe Russ’s sister? Her friend Karen Burns? If only Ethan would stop screaming for a moment so she could think, she could—
“Lemme take him, Father.” Mr. Hadley brushed past Lois and held his hands out. “I’ll walk him downstairs until you figger out who can sit for him.” He scooped the wailing, red-faced baby out of Clare’s arms, held him up high, and took a sniff. “Don’t smell like he needs changing.”
“Uh, no. I checked.”
“Clare.” Elizabeth gave her a quelling look. “I’m sure we don’t want to trouble Mr. Hadley, who, after all, has lots of mopping and scrubbing to do.”
“Don’t worry none, Deacon, I’ll keep him well away from anything bad for him. He already do his burp, Father?”
Clare touched her blouse. “Oh, yes.”
“Okaydie-dadie. Maybe he just needs a change of view.” Mr. Hadley lifted Ethan up airplane-style and settled the infant atop his bald head, stomach to scalp.
“Oh, I don’t think—” Clare began.
Ethan stopped screaming. His eyes went wide and his tiny mouth opened in astonishment. Mr. Hadley bounced up and down a few times and Ethan flung his arms and legs out. He bubbled a breathless laugh.
“Baby hat,” Mr. Hadley said. “Works every time.” Bobbing up and down, he left the office. Clare could hear him talking to Ethan as they made their way down the hall.
“My,” Elizabeth observed.
“Baby hat,” Lois said. “Baby hat.”
Clare dropped into her desk chair and reached for her phone. “I’m going to see if Karen Burns is home with Cody today. If she is, she can probably take Ethan, too.”
Elizabeth brushed an invisible speck from her immaculate black clericals. “Clare, I hate to be the one to puncture any balloons—”
Oh, really?
“—but you’ve got to see that having Ethan here for any stretch of time isn’t going to work out. I mean, if you had a sitter in the rectory next door, or if you were only here part time—”
“I can’t do part time. I won’t.” Clare clamped down on her temper. “I’ve already had maternity leave, I’ve got Guard duty one weekend a month, and this fall I’ll be gone for two weeks’ annual training. I’m not going to take any more time away from my parish.” She flipped open her address book and speared Karen’s number with one finger.
“I think you should consider—”
Voices in the hallway kept Clare from having to hear what her deacon thought she ought to consider. Resignation, probably. Or full-time day care. How many people had to sing that tune before she’d finally sit up and listen? Was it really the best thing for Ethan, or just temptingly convenient? God, if she could just get her mind to settle and be still for twenty minutes, she might be able to sort her life out, but the way things were going, she wasn’t going to have a second of calm until Ethan left for college. She breathed in deeply, trying to be mindful. What had the pediatrician suggested? I am at peace. Too aspirational. I have a calm mind. I have a quiet mind.
The engaged couple entered the office. Elizabeth let herself out with only a flashing look to indicate their conversation wasn’t over. “Hi, you two,” Clare said. “Why don’t you grab some coffee or tea from the parish hall. My little boy didn’t want to settle for his nap, so I have to take just a minute to line up a sitter.”
“Sure thing.” The bride-to-be bent down and scratched Oscar behind his ears. “You get to bring your dog and your baby to work?” She sighed. “Oh, Reverend Clare, I envy you.”