Grace was standing in the bathroom, getting ready for church. Her father banged on the door. “Molly Anne Quinn, you come out of there right now. ’Tis not right to keep the good Lord waiting.”
She smiled at her bouncy red curls, blue eyes, and freckles in the mirror. She was a pretty Irish girl this time.
“Must you do this to us every single week, Molly?” he asked as she pulled herself up into the carriage.
“Did you not say we were running late, Father?”
Molly was in a surly mood because her father wanted her to settle down and get married. But she had other ideas for her life. She wanted to have a career. She wanted to be a teacher. But her father told her that a woman’s place was in the home, as a wife and a mother. That life seemed so dreary and constricting, and she wanted nothing to do with it. That left her and her father at a stalemate.
“I am losing my patience with you, lass.” The carriage lurched forward.
“Well, that makes two of us.” She looked at her mother sitting across from her, saying nary a word. She loved her mother dearly, but she never wanted to be like her—subservient, obedient.
Today after church, her father was making her speak to a priest about her “situation.” As if that would make any difference. She didn’t share the village’s respect for the priests, with their ridiculous black cassocks and ideas that were positively medieval. But it was too far to walk home, so she intended to humor her father.
After listening to Father O’Brien drone on for an hour, she waited in the small office of the new youth pastor, irritated that he was taking so long, and not sure why she was seeing a youth pastor anyway when she was clearly an adult.
Then a young priest blew into the tiny office, a harried look upon his face, his cassock flapping behind him. “Pray, forgive me for keeping you waiting so shamefully,” he said. “The boys in class were a wee bit more of a handful this morning.” He stuck out his hand. “By the way, good morning, Molly. I’m Father Crandall. But please, call me Father June.”
Molly laughed and shook his hand.
“Aye, I know. It’s actually ‘Junius’—my father was ever fond of the eighteenth-century essayist—but everyone has called me June for as long as I can remember. Can you imagine the ragging I got when I was little?” He gave her a wink and his best smile, then sat down at his desk.
Molly chuckled again. Despite herself, she liked this character. He was funny, and very cute with his curly black hair and piercing blue eyes. A real charmer.
“So why are you here, my dear?” he asked.
“Because my father thinks I’m incorrigible.”
“I see. And are you?”
“Oh, most definitely.” She was flirting with him and she had no idea why. It wasn’t as if he could ever get married, although if he could, she bet her father would approve. She grinned, turning a fine shade of red in her embarrassment.
“And why might that be?”
“My father would like to marry me into servitude,” she said. “Become a domestic slave, like my mother, with no mind of my own, doing as my husband tells me and never complaining.”
“Is that what you think marriage is, then?” Father June asked.
“It is, to judge by most of the marriages I’ve seen.”
“Well, what would I know? My experience with the institution of matrimony is a wee bit limited.”
Father June was funny, and despite her determination to the contrary, she enjoyed her time with him.
They talked seriously after that, and she shared her fears about marriage with him. That she wanted more from her life, like an education and a career, and how she thought those things were mutually exclusive.
He listened to her the way no one ever had before. The funny thing was that, even though they were only a few years apart in age, he was…wise. He certainly had a better grasp of things than the boys she spent her weekends with. They agreed to talk more the following Sunday, and when she left, they shook hands once more, and she swore that when she held his hand, she felt something strong and powerful pass between them.
They continued meeting every Sunday, and Molly looked forward to her sessions with him. She was even nicer to her father. When the weather warmed, she and Father June took walks together. Sometimes they talked about what was going on with her, and sometimes they just talked about life.
She thought they were just friends, but after seeing each other for almost a year, Molly suspected that she was in love with him. Her feelings certainly confused her. She was nervous and excited when she was with him, and sad and lonely when she was away from him. She knew they couldn’t be together, yet she could not stop seeing him.
One Sunday, after they’d wandered on the riverbank for an hour, enjoying the early spring willows just turning vibrant green, Molly asked him the question she’d wanted to ask for a long time.
“Father June, do you ever think about getting married and having children? I mean, I know as a priest you’re not allowed to have those things, but I wondered if you ever thought about them.”
He led her to a nearby rock and spread his handkerchief for her to sit on. He sat next to her—not too close—and was silent for a long time. “Molly, I do think about those things, but I shouldn’t be thinking about them because…I am not in a position…” He stood suddenly and turned away from her. “I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other for a while.”
Her mouth went dry and her heart skipped a beat. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
Molly rose and went to him. “But I don’t want to stop seeing you.” She put her hands in his. The look in his eyes told her that her suspicion was right. He does have feelings for me! “Please, Father June, I need to see you. I love you, and I think you love me too.”
“It’s not that simple, Molly. I can’t just break my vows and marry you.”
“Why not? If you love me, then why not?”
Father June straightened his back, towering over her. “Because I made a commitment to God, and I meant it with all of my heart and soul. Please, Molly, I cannot see you anymore.”
They didn’t speak as he took her home. Tears coursed slowly down her cheeks, and when the carriage pulled up to her house, she ran out and did not look back.
Molly refused to go to church after that, but wouldn’t tell her parents why. She told her father she would agree to marry whomever he felt was suitable, and he was very pleased to hear the news. He introduced her to several suitors, allowing her to choose the one she wanted, and after six months of dating, she picked Shaun Slattery. He was nice, handsome, and he treated her well enough. They announced their engagement to her parents together.
She went to church the following Sunday to tell Father June of her engagement. She paced nervously in the small office as she waited for him, willing herself to be strong and to not fall into temptation. She still thought of him often, still missed him more than she would admit—even to herself. But she had a life to live, and if it was to be without him, then so be it.
Father June stepped into the office and her heart leapt into her throat. She knew as soon as she saw him that it had been a mistake to come.
June closed the door behind him, took a step toward her and drew her into his arms. He wept as he held her and then he kissed her. It was a long, passionate kiss.
“God help me, I love you, Molly Quinn,” he whispered into her hair.
Molly cried in his arms, breathless from the kiss they’d just shared, then drew back and searched his eyes. “What does this mean, Father June?”
“It means that you should start calling me June. I think I’m done with the Father part.”
Molly flung herself into his open arms, her smile filling up the room. She thought her heart might burst with love. This was beyond anything she had ever dared to hope for.
The glint of the diamond ring on her finger caught her attention and brought her back to the real reason she’d come here today. She told June about her engagement, and showed him the ring. “But ’tis you I love, you I want to be with.”
They talked about what would happen, and he told her they needed to keep their relationship a secret for now, until he could officially renounce his vows. He warned her that there would likely be a scandal, and that they might both be shunned from the church, and the community. She didn’t care. At least she would have the man she loved to protect her.
They met the next few Sundays and made their plans. They agreed that they would sail to America and make a life together there. They planned the day and time, and agreed it would be best to arrive separately at the ship.
The wait was excruciating. When the day finally arrived, Molly met the ship early. The sun rose until the last traces of dawn were no longer visible. The ship was due to sail at ten o’clock. She paced anxiously, chewing her lip, waiting for June to arrive. Passengers thronged up the ramp, and Molly pleaded with God. She was sure He was no longer listening to her, but she prayed anyway. “Please, Father, let him come.”
She paced and bit her nails until they bled. When the ship blew its horn, signaling the final boarding call, June still had not arrived. She felt as if someone had ripped her heart from her bare chest.
“June, where are you?” she cried into the wind.
Another blast of the horn and Molly cried in desperation. It had never crossed her mind that he wouldn’t show. Had something happened to him? Had he changed his mind? Had God called him back to the fold? Thoughts swirled through her mind like the wind. And then she made the only decision she could make.
Much to her father’s dismay, she’d ended her engagement to Shaun the night before with no explanation. That morning she’d snuck out of the house, leaving only a letter telling them where she was going and why. Her life here was over, that much was clear. There was no turning back for her now. She picked up her suitcase and started up the ramp to the ship.
When she reached the top, she turned to look one last time as they started lifting up the ramp. From a distance, she saw the silhouette of a man running, arms waving in an urgent gesture, shouting words she could not hear. She strained to get a better look and as he got closer, she saw that it was June.
“Oh, thank you, God!” she whispered, then realized that the ramp had been lifted and was now being secured.
Molly begged and pleaded with the men to lower it once again, but they refused. Her breath faltered, threatened to betray her. She stared down at June, who was wearing a similar look of fear and panic.
She pulled on the arm of one of the men and asked him where his boss was. The man pointed to a tall, thin man with a bushel of shocking white hair. She ran to him, tugging frantically at his arm.
“Sir, please, my fiancé is down there.” She pointed to June. “We’re going to America to be married. Will you please ask your men to let him up?”
The man looked her over, seemingly admiring every square inch of her, and finally barked the order to his men to lower the ramp.
“Oh, thank you, sir!” She threw her arms around his neck. The white-haired man didn’t seem to mind this at all. Molly ran to the ramp and flew into the arms of the man she loved as he reached the top.
“Thank God,” she whispered into June’s ear as she clung to him. And there, in front of God and everyone, she kissed him, and told him—loudly enough for all to hear—that she loved him.
They laughed together. It was a celebratory laugh. A laugh that said, “We did it. We’re free.”
The horn sounded its final warning and the ship pulled away from shore. Molly held onto the railing, and June wrapped his arms tightly around her as they watched the only land they’d ever known, and had once dearly loved, disappear into the horizon. Molly closed her eyes and heard a voice calling to her, saying something she could not comprehend.
“Grace, get up! You’re going to be late for school.”
She blinked a few times to clear the confusion from her mind. She looked at her surroundings, and as the dream began to fade, she realized she was in her own room, and that it was Joey yelling to her as he pounded on her door.
“Get up, already. We’re going to be late.”