Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [31]
Father George glanced down at his clergy uniform, recalling what Trina had said to him on the drive into town. He was wearing the same black shirt, black pants, white collar, black belt, and black dress shoes. He did bring a straw hat for the afternoon gathering and was wearing short sleeves. But the young priest didn’t own anything other than a few sets of running clothes, pajamas and a robe, one suit coat (black of course), and the four black shirts and four pairs of black pants he had bought when he finished seminary. He thought priests, and especially the new ones, needed to stay in the appropriate attire at every community event. He was hot, but he liked wearing the uniform. “I’ll be fine,” he responded.
Oris opened the trunk and turned to the priest. “Take a look at that,” he said, pointing to the back of the car. “Have you ever seen a trunk that big?” he asked. Then he reached inside a cooler and pulled out two bags of ice. He pitched one to the priest, who stumbled but was able to hold on to it. Oris pulled down the trunk hood and winked at Father George. “Nice catch.”
Father George managed a smile, appearing surprised that he had caught the ice. “It’s a big trunk,” he agreed.
“Holds every suitcase I’ve got plus a couple bushels of Hatch green chile.”
The priest nodded. “So, are you expecting a lot of people?” he asked as the two moved away from the car. He had seen a number of cars on the street and in the parking lot, but he figured they belonged to people using the ball fields and picnic tables behind the elementary school. He wasn’t sure how many people would be at an eleven-year-old boy’s birthday party in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday in the middle of summer, but he didn’t expect very many. Since he knew he had Mass at five P.M., he figured he would just say a blessing over the meal and then slip out.
As soon as he walked around the corner he realized there were more than just a few family members at this event. Behind the school it looked as if the entire town was present. There were at least a hundred people sitting around tables and under trees, even a big group playing a game of softball. Father George assumed that a lot of people knew Alex and his family, but he had no idea that the boy’s birthday was an event the entire town celebrated.
“It’s everybody,” Father George said, sounding surprised as he stopped to look at the crowd.
“Yep,” Oris responded. “Somebody should have told you to cancel Mass tonight,” he commented. “Or maybe you’d prefer to do it here? There’s enough of us Catholics to be able to follow you from the prayer book. Probably take up a better collection.” He kept walking toward the gathering.
Father George suddenly realized that in stopping to glance around he had fallen behind the older man, and he hurried to catch up. “Should I have brought something?” he asked, still cradling the bag of ice.
“Nope, you’re a guest the first year. Next year you’ll have to make the stew,” Oris teased him.
The two of them arrived at the long picnic shelter just as everyone was running out to the ball field. “Alex is up!” Someone shouted.
“Well, I can’t miss that!” Oris yelled. He threw the bag of ice on top of a cooler and hurried out to the field with everyone else.
Father George stood alone at a picnic table, still holding the bag of ice. He turned to watch what everyone else was running to see. Alex was sitting at home base, in his wheelchair, holding a bat, awaiting a pitch. The priest glanced around and noticed that he was completely alone. He opened the cooler, put the bag of ice inside, and walked to the edge of the shelter just as Alex took his first swing. An older man was pitching slowly to him. It looked like the sheriff, his grandfather, the one George had met when he met Alex.
Everyone seemed to be cheering for the boy. There was a second pitch, and Alex swung at that one too. More cheers of encouragement erupted. The ball was returned