The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [447]
Fran left the parlor with a gesture of hopelessness. Loretta walked over to her mother, patted her head. “Mother, now come and get yourself some rest.”
“Rest when my son is dying?” Mrs. Lonigan broke into tears. “And the day he went out in the rain, he looked so pale and tired. I could see that morning that the strength was no longer in him.”
“Mother, we must be brave,” Loretta said, gritting her teeth, and the mother sighed, as if unhearing.
“That as fine a boy as William should be dying for the likes of her. With his education and all we did for him, that he should go traipsing after her. She’s not good enough for him. She’s common. The chippy. Oh, I tell you the curse of God will be put on her, and she will never know a happy day.”
Mrs. Lonigan drew out a pair of black rosary beads and commenced mumbling the rosary. Returning to the parlor entrance, Fran signalled Loretta, who walked to the hall, unnoticed by her mother.
“Mother is awfully upset,” Loretta said.
“We must be kind to Catherine. Poor thing. She never would have let herself get into such a condition if she didn’t love William.”
“I know it. Poor thing. Won’t she do something to prevent it?”
“I tried to talk to her. She said that an abortion is murder,” Fran said.
“God couldn’t want her to have the baby now”
“I’ll try again, but she is very set. Poor foolish thing,” Fran said, and Loretta nodded her head, dismayed.
“If she needs the money, Phil and Carroll could provide it. It will disgrace her and us. That people should know about William having a son after he is dead. It will be terrible. What will they say?” Loretta said.
“Of course, she is a little common,” Fran said, nervously tapping her foot on the floor. “William should have selected a girl more suited to the station in life where he belonged. But after all, she is his girl, and for his sake, at least, we’ve got to help her.”
“What can we do about Mother? She is terribly upset, and dead set against Catherine. I can understand how Mother feels, but still, it isn’t fair. Oh, gee, Fran, why must this happen to our family?”
“Don’t cry, darling. We’ll both of us just have to see Catherine and try to talk some sense into her. It’s still time enough for her to have something done. She could stay with you while she was resting, if necessary, or we could send her to a hospital.”
“Hospital will be best. Phil has put every cent into improving his place, but we could still manage to scrape together half of what it would cost.”
“Carroll has just lost a lot of money in stocks, but we could manage something also. And I’ll see her tomorrow. We’ll just have to drum some sense into her head.”
“Yes, dear.”
“And I’m going to tell Dad to talk to Mother. Oh, if he only hadn’t come home drunk this way. But poor Dad, he never would have done it, if he wasn’t just heart-broken. Poor lad.” Loretta wiped her eyes. “And we, everything is thrown on our shoulders. Everything. Oh, why must this happen to us?”
Loretta laid her head against her oldest sister’s shoulder, and cried.
II
Mrs. Lonigan remembered the day that her oldest son was born. She recalled him as a youngster in a sailor suit. And the day she had enrolled him in the first grade at St. Patrick’s school. The pride she had felt. He had been such a sweet boy, too, in that blue sailor suit, and he had held her hand so tightly, and when she had started to leave after talking to the sister, his eyes had grown big with tears, and he had run after her. She had swept him up in her arms and kissed him, her son. And then the night he had graduated from St. Patrick’s, looking so like a little man in his first suit of long trousers. The dream and the hope she had had that night of her boy going into the priesthood. If he had, he would not now be suffering on his death bed, and this awful tragedy would not be visiting her poor home. God showered grace and blessing on any home that gave a son anointed to His service.
And if he was a priest