THE ANNOUNCEMENT


Quietly Charlie MacCready looked around the refectory on the first floor in the east wing of St. Michael’s Abbey and Home for Boys.  It was hard to believe that just ten short months ago he was happily living with his grandmother on Tam O'Shanter Drive.

Thoughts about the day he was sent away by his mother’s older brother, his Uncle Chester, filled his mind. Uncle Chester was an intimidating man, standing over six feet tall with big, broad shoulders. His dark hair and even darker eyes reflected his cold heart.

In contrast, Charlie’s grandmother Ophelia was a small, five foot tall woman, Charlie’s height.  Her gentle features reflected her warm, kind heart.  Her long white hair was always pinned up in a tight bun.  She smelled of rose petals and ivory soap, a scent that was comforting to Charlie.  She always wore a colorful bib-apron with pockets over her knee-length house dress.  In fact on the day he was sent away, she pulled from her apron pocket an old, tarnished brass key. She pressed it tightly into his hand and whispered a warning, “Whatever you do, do not let this out of your sight. Do not tell anyone where it came from and do not give it to anyone, no matter who may ask. It is very important.”

Charlie felt the key that hung from a chain around his neck beneath his surplice and black cassock, the school uniform at Saint Michael’s.  He also felt the small golden locket that hung from the same gold chain.  In it was a tiny photograph of his parents, Patrick and Faith MacCready.

Charlie had no memory of his parents. He was only two years old when they dropped him off at his grandparents’ house in the middle of the night.  They promised to return for him but never did.  Over the years his Uncle Chester and Aunt Bernice came to the conclusion that their sister and brother-in-law were dead.  A conclusion shared by neither his grandmother nor himself.

No, my parents are alive and one day they will come for me, just as they promised, Charlie thought and tightened his grip on the back of his chair.

He looked at the table in front of him and then around the room.  He had become accustomed to the tall, dull white walls of the refectory.  If it weren’t for the gold ornate frames on the paintings of deceased Abbots that lined the west wall and the dark navy blue velvet curtain that hung behind the head table on the south wall, the refectory would feel sterile.  Charlie didn’t mind that the windows on the east wall were curtain-less.  When he was standing, he could see the green fir trees of the forest outside.  Four, long wooden tables stretched from the front of the refectory to the back.  The tables that were full at breakfast were nearly empty.  Charlie was able to see just how many residents there were.

The student body of Saint Michael’s is made up of students, those boys curious about becoming priests, and residents.  The residents are boys for whom Saint Michael’s is the only thing keeping them from the state juvenile home and boys who are orphans.  Charlie was listed as a resident, a title he hated because.in his words he was neither a delinquent nor an orphan.

Charlie looked at the head table on the raised platform at the front of the refectory.  The prefects, as the prefects are called, and the Abbot of Saint Michael’s Abbey stood in their places and looked out at the boys.

Father Vicar, the tall, gaunt priest at the far right end of the long table, is prefect for the notorious Saint Peter’s dorm.  It is common knowledge, among the boys anyway, that the bullies who live and thrive in that dorm, did so under Father Vicar’s approving eye.  Charlie knew, first hand, just how true that was and shuddered at the memory of being dunked, head first, in the toilet by the worst of them.

Next to Father Vicar stood Brother Conrad.  Though just as slim as Father Vicar, he didn’t have the sinister look. His brown eyes were gentle and his smile was warm and kind.  He oversees one of the smaller dorms, Saint Thomas the Doubter and is known among the boys for being very protective of his boys.  It was also said that he wished he could move his dorm anywhere but where it was, across the hall from Saint Peter’s; but that is impossible.

At the opposite end of the head table stood Brother Owen, the prefect of Saint Sebastian’s dorm, across the hall from Saint Nicholas’, Charlie’s dorm.  Brother Owen was the quietest of the four and barely opened his mouth when he spoke.  Some of the boys from his dorm said it was because he had worn braces for years as a teenager, and was a habit he hadn’t broke.

Next was Brother Simon, the prefect of Saint Nicholas’ dorm. He could have been a twin of Father Vicar or so Charlie thought when he first met them both.  Brother Simon had that “more-sinister-than-holy” look. However, since that night in the attic, Charlie came to realize that beneath his gruff image Brother Simon had a soft heart.  They would forever share a special bond and an understanding.  Charlie would always be grateful to him too for telling him about his father, Patrick MacCready.  As it was Patrick had been a resident, an orphan, at the Abbey years ago.  He was a member of Saint Peter’s dorm but had become friends with the young Brother Simon, a member of Saint Nicholas’.  Charlie had yet another reason to be grateful to Brother Simon.  Charlie knew, earlier that day, it was Brother Simon who had secretly left a photograph of young Patrick on his bed in Saint Nicholas’ dorm.  Charlie smiled to himself as he thought about the photograph he tucked safely away in his closet before coming to dinner.

Seated between Brother Simon and Brother Conrad, at the center of the head table, was the head of Saint Michael’s Abbey, Father Abbot Ambrose.  From the first day Charlie met him he liked the Abbot.  Finding out that the tall, thin monk with white hair and a long, white beard was actually his great-uncle, his grandmother’s brother, was a pleasant surprise, though still a shock.

After the prayer, the boys took their seats.  Dinner was then served.  The refectory filled with the aroma of beef stew and freshly baked dinner rolls.  Charlie poured himself a glass of cold milk and sat quietly looking around.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want your dinner?” Gustav Kugele asked leaning over his plate.

Charlie looked across the table and smiled at the portly, round faced boy.  Gus’ sandy blonde hair which looked as though someone put a bowl on his head and cut around it, was mussed.  His coal black, beady eyes twinkled as he looked at Charlie’s dinner.

Charlie looked down at his plate. He wasn’t really hungry even though the beef stew did look inviting.  He looked back at Gus.

“No, guess not,” he answered. “You want mine?”

“Sure,” Gus beamed.

Charlie looked up to be sure no one from the head table was watching, and then he slid his plate across the table to Gus.  Gus quickly scrapped the stew onto his plate and slid the empty plate back.

“Thanks, Charlie,” Gus said sticking his fork into a large chunk of potato.  He quickly stuffed the whole piece into his mouth.

“Good thing Rick wasn’t here to see that.” Howard said dryly as he watched them.  Howard Miller was Charlie’s best friend.  The two met the day Charlie arrived at Saint Michael’s.  As bunkmates they shared a cubicle, an eight-foot by eight-foot square space separated by a wood panel partition, in the corner of Saint Nicholas’ dorm.  Even though they were opposites in appearance, the two were constantly mistaken for the other by some of the older monks.  Howard was tall, thin and had short, curly, very dark and very thick hair.  He also wore black, thick-rimmed glasses on his beak-like nose.  Whereas, Charlie while just as thin was a bit shorter, had thick, wavy, reddish-brown hair, freckles on his nose and ears that seemed to stick out just a bit too far.

“Speaking of Rick,” Charlie glanced at his bare wrist as though seeing a watch. “His plane should be taking off right about now, don’t you think?”

“Wow,” Gus breathed, stew gravy smeared on his face around his lips. “He gets to fly in a plane, that’s so cool.”

“So what,” Howard sneered and rolled his eyes.

“Well, have you ever been in an airplane?” Charlie asked looking at Howard.

“Once when I was still with my dad,” Howard nodded as he remembered.  A tear came into his eyes.  It seemed the older he grew, the more he missed his father.  Or perhaps it was because of Charlie’s unwavering hope that his parents would return for him made Howard secretly wish his father would realize he’d made a mistake and come back for him.  He fought hard to keep the others from noticing.  “Ah,” he shrugged. “Who cares? I hope he has a rotten time at Disney World.  Hope that big mouse bites him.”

Charlie smiled knowingly.  In just the short ten months they’ve known each other, Charlie’s become very good at reading Howard.  He knew Howard’s jealous act was just a cover but it was best not to pursue that conversation. Besides, for as long as Charlie has known the two of them, Howard and Rick have always had a love-hate friendship.  It seemed that no matter how much they tried to be friends, they were always rubbing each other the wrong way.

“So, what do you think the big announcement’s gonna be?” Charlie changed the subject.

Howard sat back in his chair and looked around the refectory. His thick, black rimmed glasses slid down his nose.  He pushed them back up without thinking.

“I guess it has to be something really big for Abbot Ambrose to cancel this year’s baseball games,” he said and scratched his head.  “I don’t think they’ve ever canceled the games before.”

“Well, the suspense is killing me,” Charlie sighed.

Gus looked up from his plate; gravy dripped down his chin and his cheeks bulged as he chewed.  “Who died?” he mumbled.

“No one died,” Howard sighed in his usual disgusted tone.  He really did like Gus, even though it seemed he had no patience for him. “Wipe your chin before it drips onto your surplice. The Brothers in the laundry are getting tired of getting the stains out of your robes.”

Gus quickly wiped his chin with his napkin.

“I don’t know why we have to wear these stupid things.”  Gus sighed as he inspected the red, loose fitting, bellowing-sleeved, waist length shirt called a surplice that he wore over his floor-length black cassock.

“You’re fine.” Charlie assured him.  “Howard was just teasing you.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Howard spoke up with a tone that said he was a bit annoyed by not being taken seriously.  “I talked to the Brothers in the laundry this morning before Mass.  They were soaking a red surplice that was caked in mud.  It had Gus’ name on the inside tag.”

“It isn’t mine!” Gus protested. “I didn’t send any of my clothes to the laundry.  They’re still upstairs in my locker and I’m not missing any either.  I’ll show you after dinner if you don’t believe me.  It has to be someone else’s.”

Howard looked confused.  “Are you sure?” he asked. “If it isn’t yours, then whose is it?”

“I don’t know,” Gus shrugged.  “But I’m telling you it isn’t mine,” he added in a more confident note.

“Well, we’ll just have to take a look then,” Howard nodded with an accusing tone in his voice.  It was obvious to Charlie that Howard still didn’t believe Gus.

“You’re both missing a major point here.” Charlie spoke up.

Howard looked at Charlie and wrinkled his brow. “What point?” he asked.

“The point is how and where would someone get covered in mud?” Charlie answered glancing back and forth at the both of them. “It hasn’t rained in weeks.”

“Oh, there’s always mud in the Abbey’s pig barns,” Gus spoke up nonchalantly.

“Pig barns?” Charlie cocked his head curiously.  He hadn’t heard of the Abbey having pig barns.

“Ah-ha!” Howard lunged at Gus with an I-told-you-so laugh.  “For someone who claims the surplice isn’t his, you sure know where the mud is.”

“Oh everyone knows about the pig barns,” Gus scoffed.  “That doesn’t prove a thing.”

“I didn’t know,” Charlie spoke up.  “Why hasn’t anyone told me about them?”

“Oh, the Abbey owns lots of property and there’re a lot of places not everyone knows about and places that are off limits.”  Howard shrugged.

“There are?” Charlie said.  “Like where?”

Howard looked at Charlie, at the familiar glimmer in his brown eyes.  A sinking feeling filled the pit of his stomach.

“No!” he said sternly.  “This is not another mystery to solve,” he growled and shook his head.  “I’ve had enough.”

Suddenly, the familiar clap of the wooden block against the head table silenced the room.  All heads turned and all eyes were on the Abbot who stood up.

Abbot Ambrose smiled and his blue eyes twinkled as he looked over his spectacles at the faces of the boys in front of him.  Slowly he walked around to the front of the table where he leaned back against its heavy wooden top.

“What’s with all the sullen faces?” he frowned at them.  “It’s not that bad,” he smiled warmly.  “As you have all heard by now, I have called off this summer’s baseball games for two reasons,” he began softly.  “The first reason is, with the graduation of our senior class and with all of the students going home for the summer, we no longer have enough boys to qualify for our team.”

None of the boys made a sound as they all listened intently.  Not even Dougary Duggan, the dark haired boy who was the winner of last year’s most valuable player award and the ringleader of the hoodlums of Saint Peter’s dorm.  Charlie looked at the other five boys of Saint Peter’s dorm seated at their table against the west wall, near the hall doors.  They were all dressed in their dark purple surplices over their black cassocks.  It was the uniform for the boys of Saint Peter’s dorm which made it easy to identify them and, more importantly, to avoid them.  That was the real reason behind the different colored surplices, Charlie believed, to identify to what dorm and prefect they belonged; red for the boys from Saint Nicholas’s dorm, blue for Saint Sebastian’s, yellow for Saint Thomas’ and purple for Saint Peter’s

“The other reason why I have called off the summer games,” Abbot Ambrose continued, “is that I have appointed Prior Emmanuel to head up the Abbey’s new project.  It will involve the majority of our Brothers for the better part of the summer and coming year.  We are going to begin building a new residence hall and school for all of you, on the side of the hill to the west of the front grounds, between the Abbey and the parking lot.  This old building is getting a bit too cramped.  The new building is going to be one story with two daylight basements.  The basement will have a new recreation room with a small kitchen and a supply room.  The sub-basement and will house classrooms and offices for the teaching staff.  The main floor will be divided into four dormitories, a chapel, a common room for you to read and study in and a large auditorium.”

“Wow!” Howard breathed and nudged Charlie.

Charlie looked around the refectory at all of the shocked and excited faces.  He even felt excited by the thought of a new building.

“Beginning this week, trucks will be delivering the building materials and machinery.  Since some of the equipment will need to be stored on the athletic field behind the Abbey, we are going to open up the front grounds to you boys.  However, I would appreciate your full cooperation in staying away from the restricted work areas.  And I warn you, behave yourselves.  Any reports of unruly conduct will be dealt with swiftly and severely.”

Abbot Ambrose paused and his smile faltered slightly.  Charlie could have sworn he saw a tear in his great uncle’s eyes for a moment.

“With this new project, there are going to be some other changes in the Abbey.”  Abbot Ambrose paused and took off his glasses, wiped them clean and put them back on the end of his nose.  “In recent months, matters of the Abbey have increased and therefore I will be assigning a new Dean of Men to take over my duties here with you.”

A collective gasp rose from the boys.  They looked at each other with stunned faces and then back at the Abbot, the man they had come to love like a father.

“I know this comes as quite a shock,” he said in his usual gentle tone.  “And if there were any other way,” he shook his head.  “But I assure you, I will always be available to you boys.  For the next year, while the new Dean is getting used to his new duties, I will remain as head of the prefects.  I am keeping my office on the main floor here and you are always welcome to drop by at any time.  We will be converting two of the visiting rooms into offices for Prior Emmanuel and the new Dean.  I know they would welcome your visits too.

“And, one last announcement, I am also pleased to inform all of you that Brother Simon has graciously agreed to stay on in the position of Prefect to Saint Nicholas’ dormitory for the coming year.” Abbot Ambrose smiled and led everyone in congratulatory applause as he nodded at Brother Simon. However, for the majority of Saint Nicholas’ dorm’s residents their applause was a bit less enthusiastic as they realized Brother Simon’s strict, militaristic rule was not over.  Charlie grinned and applauded happily, much to Howard’s surprise.

“Now, do you have any questions?” Abbot Ambrose asked immediately looking at Rick Walter’s empty chair.  He smiled.  Rick Walters had gone home for the summer.  Rick was always good for at least two or three questions.  Abbot Ambrose looked around the room.  There were no raised hands.  He looked back at the boys of Saint Nicholas’s dorm.

“Howard,” he said. “I can tell you have a question.”

Howard jumped at the sound of his name.  It was true, he did have a question but he was still playing back the Abbots words about Brother Simon, in his head.  Slowly he stood up.

“Ah, have you decided on who the new Dean is, yet?” he asked a bit awkwardly.

“No.” Abbot Ambrose admitted.  “I intend on making that decision very soon.”

A hand at Saint Peter’s table popped up.

“Yes?” Abbot Ambrose nodded to it.

“You said the front grounds will be opened to us but does that mean we have to wear these things all of the time?” a brown haired boy asked as he tugged at his surplice.

Abbot Ambrose raised an eyebrow.  “If you mean by ‘those things’ your cassock and surplice, the answer is yes,” Abbot Ambrose said plainly.  “When you boys are on the front grounds, just as it is every  Sunday, you are to be dressed in your uniforms and you are to conduct yourselves accordingly.  Remember your actions are being observed by the outside world and what you do reflects on our Abbey.”

A groan rose from Saint Peter’s table and from the boy who asked the question.  Slowly he sank back into his chair.

“Oh, there is one more thing,” Abbot Ambrose stopped and turned back around.  “Tomorrow Father Vicar will post, on the bulletin board in the common area of the fourth floor, the courses that we will be offering this summer.  You may feel free to sign up for whichever course you choose but please take special note of the age requirements on a couple of them.”

The meal concluded with the usual prayer and the boys silently filed out of the refectory.  Charlie looked at Abbot Ambrose as he passed by the head table on his way into the hallway.  He wanted to have a word with him, but the Abbot appeared to be in a deep conversation with Brother Owen and Father Vicar.

“Cra-”

“Howard!” Charlie snapped, interrupting him and giving him a stern look as they entered the hallway.

Howard scowled at Charlie.  He breathed a sigh as the three started up the stairs to their fourth floor dormitory.  “I can’t believe it, Brother Simon is our permanent prefect.”

“I’m doomed,” Gus groaned.  He held his stomach as though he were going to be ill.  “I’ll never make it.  Brother Simon hates me.”

“Oh, he’s not such a bad guy,” Charlie defended his new friend.  “He’s only strict because he actually cares about all of us.  He doesn’t want us to show any weakness because the other boys will use it against us.  He’s really thinking about us.”

“Yeah, right,” Howard scoffed.  “What a bunch of b. s. Hey,” Howard smiled fiendishly as a thought occurred to him.  “B. S. Brother Simon.  From here on out, that’s what I’m going to call him.”

Gus let out a chuckle.  “Me too,” he laughed.

Charlie frowned disapprovingly at them both but especially at Howard.  Neither Howard nor Gus knew the truth about Brother Simon and his motives, so they would never understand.

“Well, I’m more concerned about who the new Dean is going to be,” Charlie said as they passed through the heavy fire doors at the east end of the fourth floor students’ wing.  “He could be even worse than Brother Simon.”

Gus froze and his eyes widened in fear. “You don’t think-?”

“Oh, no one could be worse than ol’ B. S..” Howard turned and looked at Charlie curiously.  “What’s the matter with you?”

“I just think that maybe sometimes we’re a bit too hard on Brother Simon.” Charlie answered.

“Brother Simon, Brother Simon, Brother Simon!” Howard snapped and looked at Charlie.  “What’s with you all of the sudden?  Why are you defending him?  Is there something you aren’t telling us?” he asked while studying Charlie’s eyes.

Charlie felt his palms begin to sweat. He didn’t like being put on the spot and looked nervously at Gus and then back at his best friend.

“No,” he answered flatly. “It’s just that he did save my life.” Charlie answered.  “And I think he’s also the one who gave me that photograph of my dad.”

Howard continued to stare at Charlie’s eyes then slowly nodded.  “I see,” he said but his tone said he still wasn’t sure Charlie was telling him all that he knew.  “So, one act of kindness and the guy’s suddenly a saint?” he asked.

“Oh, never mind.”  Charlie shook his head, frustrated with the entire conversation.  He turned around and started toward their dormitory.  He glanced to his left at the large painting of Saint Peter beside the dormitory doors.  A chill made Charlie suddenly shiver as he remembered the warning Austin Fuller, a member of Dougary’s gang, gave him.  “Be careful around Dougary this summer.  He’s really mad at you because his father was committed to the loony bin.  He’s out for revenge.”

Charlie looked to his right at the painting of Saint Thomas the Doubter.  His thoughts slowly returned to the conversation of the moment.

“I’m telling you, it was not mine,” Gus said sharply.

“Well, we’ll see soon enough,” Howard answered smugly.

The three passed through an arched doorway and into the common room.  To their left was a row of white porcelain sinks beneath a long mirror.  The swinging doors to the restrooms and showers were on either end of the row.  Across from the sinks, to their right, a small half-wall separated off the common area.  Boys had already filled the four tables beneath the tall windows and busied themselves with their games of checkers and chess.  A handful of the more studious boys made themselves comfortable on the sofas and big overstuffed chairs with their library books.

“A little too boring for me,” Howard said with a shake of his head.  “Come on Gus,” he prodded as Gus slowed his pace.  “You’re so sure it’s not yours, so hurry up.”

“I’m telling you I’m not missing any.” Gus said and pulled an apple from beneath his robes and took a messy bite.

As they passed through another archway and neared their dorm, Charlie glanced at the door to Brother Simon’s room.  The glow from the evening sunlight made it hard to tell if the room was occupied.  “You guys go on ahead. I want to talk to Brother Simon,” he informed them.

Howard and Gus gave him a disgusted look and then proceeded on to their dorm.

Charlie knocked lightly on the oak door with a large opaque window.  The shiny brass nameplate under it bore Brother Simon’s name.  Charlie wasn’t nervous about talking with Brother Simon, at least not as much as he used to be.  The two shared a special bond since that night in the attic when Brother Simon saved him from being dropped out the window.

“Ave!” came the gravelly voice on the other side of the door.

Charlie opened the door.  The room hadn’t changed much from when Father Emmanuel was the prefect.  Books lined the many shelves on the wall behind the large, oak desk.  However, they were now void of any plants or photographs.  The two chairs still sat under the large window that overlooked the front grounds.  A cardboard box sat in the chair nearest the bookcase.  Brother Simon was busy unpacking placing his books on the shelves. He turned around as Charlie walked into the room.

“I thought you might be stopping by,” he said in his usual distant voice and resumed organizing his shelf.

“So, you’re staying?” Charlie asked.

“I know you heard the announcement,” Brother Simon replied dryly. “It is a waste of words restating the obvious.  What can I do for you?”

Charlie looked around the room.  “Nothing. I just wanted to thank-you for the photograph.”

“Photograph?” Brother Simon paused and muttered thoughtfully to himself.  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”  He slid another book into place on the shelf.

“The one of my father,” Charlie started to explain but then stopped.

“I know of no such thing.” Brother Simon turned around and gave Charlie a stern look.

Charlie stiffened as though hit by a sudden gust of cold air.  Brother Simon smiled slightly.  “But I’m happy you have one.  He was a good kid, a good friend,” he said taking the last of the books from the box.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Brother Simon pointed out. “And it is, may I ask you a question?”

“Oh.” Charlie said and lowered his head.  He pushed back the all too familiar feelings of nervousness and silently reminded himself that underneath his harsh exterior, Brother Simon was really his friend. “What made you change your mind?  I mean, about being our prefect?”

Brother Simon froze.  He let the books in his hand fall back into the box.  He turned around and looked at Charlie.

“Is it because of what happened that night?” Charlie added quickly while he studied Brother Simon’s cold, dark eyes.

Brother Simon thought for a moment. His mind flashed with the images of the attic.  He debated about whether or not to answer Charlie or simply order him from the room.  He clenched his teeth.  He hated feeling cornered.  In fact, he hated feeling anything at all.

“Yes, Master MacCready, it is,” he finally spoke in a softer tone than his normal cold, stern voice.  He looked at Charlie with the same tender look in his eyes that he had that night in the attic, after Charlie was safe.  “You see, you made me realize that I haven’t put that night all those years ago behind me.  Facing my past has made me want to move on with my life.  When Father Abbot asked me to stay on as prefect, I thought maybe this would be a good way to do just that.  So, I accepted.  I’m not doing this because of you, but at the same time, because of you, I am.”

Charlie felt a tear start to well up in his eyes and a lump tighten in his throat.  He fought it down.  He knew that Brother Simon would not approve.

“Oh, but don’t misunderstand,” Brother Simon continued with a slightly colder tone.  “I still don’t like children.”  He paused for a moment and looked at Charlie. “But, you remind me so much of your father.  It’s like having my old friend back again.”

Charlie smiled.  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and seeing.  This was the side of Brother Simon that no one ever saw; a side he kept hidden from everyone.

Brother Simon nodded knowingly at Charlie.

“Well, Master MacCready, I have a lot of work to do. We shall talk again.”

“Okay.” Charlie’s nodded. “I’ll get out of your way.” He headed for the door.

“Charlie,” Brother Simon halted him.

Charlie turned around.  There was that odd look in Brother Simon’s dark eyes again, a look of concern and caring.

“With all of the construction work going on, there will be a lot of strangers about.  Promise me you’ll be careful. Hold onto that key.  Don’t let it out of your sight.  It is very important,” he warned.  “There are people who will stop at nothing to get it.”

Charlie’s back stiffened as a feeling like a rush of ice water swept over him.  He felt his chest, for the key that hung beneath his robes.  Feelings of panic and curiosity rose up inside his head and left him confused.  He took a step back into the room.

“You know about my key?”

“I saw it the day I picked you up at your grandmother’s and when you were pulled back into the attic, it fell from beneath your pajama top.” Brother Simon nodded.  “Your father had a key just like that as I recall.”

“He did?” Charlie gasped.  He could not believe his ears.  “What’s it for?”

“I can’t tell you that, I’m sorry.” Brother Simon sighed. “I gave my word.  Just, be careful.  Promise me?”

Charlie’s mind exploded with questions.  Who did he promise?  Why?  How does he know?

“I promise,” he nodded to Brother Simon.

“And one more thing,” Brother Simon’s voice changed back to his familiar cold tone. “If you tell anyone of our conversation, I will deny it.”

Charlie nodded and left the room.

Charlie was deep in thought as he walked back to his dorm.  He didn’t even glance at the large life size painting of Saint Nicholas that hung between the prefect’s door and the double doors to his dorm.  In a daze, he opened the doors to Saint Nicholas’ dorm and entered.  He could still hear Brother Simon’s voice echoing in his ears.  “Your father had a key just like that as I recall.”  Could it be the same key, he wondered.  Why does Brother Simon get to know what the key was for and, like his grandmother, why won’t he tell?

Charlie looked around the familiar dormitory.  Along three of the walls were twin beds of various styles, all donated by the churchgoing townspeople.  Beside each bed was a nightstand.  Some matched the headboards of the beds but most did not.  Large wooden panel partitions were placed between every other bed, forming two beds into what the monks called a cubical.  In the center of the dorm was a sitting area.  Two overstuffed, green and gold plaid chairs sat opposite a matching sofa on a braided rug. An old trunk with a glass top served as a coffee table but more often as a footrest in the center.  Two tall floor lamps stood at either end of the sofa like silent sentries keeping watch.  Mechanically, Charlie headed for his bed in the corner cubical, the cubical he shared with Howard.

“Hi, Charlie,” Howard greeted.

“Hey,” Charlie answered distractedly and sat down on his bed.

Howard swung his legs around and sat up on his bed opposite Charlie.  He could tell Charlie was thinking about something.  He cocked his head slightly, “What’s the matter?”

Charlie looked at Howard.  “Ah, nothing really,” he answered.  “Brother Simon just told me some stuff and I don’t know what to think about it.”

“Like what?” Howard pressed.

Charlie looked around the room to be sure the other boys weren’t around.  Then carefully he pulled the brass key out from beneath his robes and stared at it.

“He said my father had a key just like this one.” Charlie spoke in a hushed whisper.  “He said that there are people who would try to get it.  He also knows what it is for but he won’t tell me.  He said he gave his word.”

“And your grandmother won’t tell you either.” Howard added as he looked at the key.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed and put the key back under his robes.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Howard tried to sound reassuring.  “No one’s going to want an old key like that and even if they did, they won’t be able to get at it here.”

“Get at what?” Gus asked as he stood at the foot of Howard’s bed.

Howard and Charlie both jumped.  They didn’t hear Gus walk up.

“Nothing!”

Gus recoiled at the sharpness of Howard’s tone. “My foot!” he snapped back. “You guys are up to something. What is it?”

“Really, Gus,” Charlie spoke in a kinder tone. “It’s nothing. I just had a conversation with Brother Simon and that’s all.  Hey, what did you find out about the surplice? Were any of yours missing?”

A smug look came over Howard’s face as he looked at Gus. “Yes, Gus, tell Charlie about your surplices.”

Gus glared at Howard slightly before looking back at Charlie.

“I am missing one,” he admitted. “But honestly, I don’t know how it could’ve happened.”

“But who’d want to take your surplice?” Charlie shook his head.

“Who would want to steal your mail?” Howard added in a somewhat condescending tone. “And who always wants to make trouble for us?”

“Dougary!” Gus said through clenched teeth.

“Bingo!  Give the fat boy a prize.”  Howard clapped his hands and laughed.  Gus glared at him harder.

“Howard!” Charlie snapped.

“Oh, you know what I meant.” Howard brushed them both off.  “Dougary, Larry, Travis and Austin,” he added and looked directly at Charlie.  “All of them have been out to get us.”

Charlie did not say a word, although he had his doubts about Austin.  Before he had gone home for the summer, Austin warned him that Dougary and the others were out to do him serious harm.  If he were as rotten as the rest of them, he wouldn’t have warned him, but Howard would never believe that.

“We’ll just have to watch them closer.” Charlie said.




                             SHADOWS IN THE NIGHT


The glow of the summer moon shone through the window, across Charlie while he lay sleeping and onto the cold grey floor.  Charlie tossed and turned in his bed.  Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead.  He let out a soft whimper as he grimaced.

“No,” he murmured.

Charlie ran deeper and deeper into the dark forest. Small, brittle twigs snapped under his bare feet, but Charlie didn’t feel a thing.  The forest became darker and darker until only a few thin slivers of moonlight were able to pierce the branches of the tall trees.  He stopped.  He was alone.  Lost.  He looked all around.

“Char-lie,” a strange yet familiar, deep voice called from the darkness.

Charlie spun around.

“Char-lie,” a woman’s voice called in the distance from the other direction.

Charlie spun around again.  Frantically he searched the darkness.  Suddenly there was a movement; a shadow disappeared behind a tree.

“Dad? Mom?” he called and stepped forward as tears clouded his eyes.

“Char-lie!” The voices called out in unison, but coming from opposite directions.

Charlie spun around.  Through his tears he could see a dark shadow standing beside a tree.

“Char-lie,” the voice called again.

Charlie ran toward the shadow.  It disappeared.  He spun around, frantically searching the darkness.

“Char-lie,” the woman’s voice called.

“Mom, where are you? I can’t see you.” Charlie cried, blinded by the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

Charlie turned around and around, wiping the tears from his eyes.  Suddenly he saw a shadow of a man.  The shadow reached out its arms to him.

“Dad?” he cried and tried to see through the blur of his tears as he hurried toward it.

Suddenly Charlie froze.  Fiery, red eyes glowed from the darkened face.  He could feel its hot breath against his face as its powerful hands gripped his arms lifting him off the ground.  The shadow drew him closer.  Charlie closed his eyes and turned his face away from the menacing shadow.  He struggled and struggled to scream but could not.

He opened his eyes.  A paralyzing fear rushed over him like a warm ocean wave.  He looked up from his bed at a black, shadowy figure that was bent over him.  He watched silently as a thin, bony hand with long fingers and fingernails like an eagle’s talons pulled on the thin gold chain that was beneath his pajama’s top.  Charlie felt the key raise from off his chest.

“No!” he screamed and sat straight up in his bed.  He grabbed the key, still under his pajamas and scrambled to the corner of his bed.  He searched the darkness but the shadow was gone.

Howard woke with a start and sat up.

“Charlie?” he said in a sleepy, half-awake tone.  He grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and slipped them on.  He looked around the dark dormitory and then over at Charlie.

Charlie didn’t answer.

Howard climbed out of his bed and went to his friend. He sat down on the edge of Charlie’s bed and looked into Charlie’s eyes that were wide with fear.  He noticed Charlie’s hands trembling as he clutched the key beneath his pajamas.

“Charlie,” Howard reached out and touched Charlie’s hands.

Charlie pulled away sharply, then looked at Howard for the first time.

“What is it?  What’s the matter?” Howard asked and looked around.

“S-s-someone w-w-was h-h-here.” Charlie’s voice quivered.

Howard looked around the room.

“There’s no one here,” he said turning back to Charlie. “It must’ve been a bad dream.”

“No!” Charlie snapped. “Th-th-there was s-s-someone. I-I-I saw him.  He-he-he wanted th-th-the key.”

Howard sighed and relaxed.  For a moment, Charlie was beginning to scare him, too.  “You just had a bad dream.  That’s all,” he said in a soft, reassuring voice. “Remember we talked before lights out about your key and B. S.?  You just had a dream.  It’s okay.”

Charlie looked at his best friend.  For the first time he began to wonder if it was just a dream; but it felt so real.

“A dream,” he repeated out loud as his pulse slowed to normal and his fears eased.

“Yes, a dream,” Howard echoed and smiled. “Now, try to relax and go back to sleep.”  He yawned and stretched. “I’m so tired.”

Howard returned to his bed and slipped under the warm covers.  He stirred for a moment and then was fast asleep again.

Charlie slowly inched his way back under his covers. “A dream,” he repeated quietly as he lay back down.  He closed his eyes.  “A dream,” he yawned.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep the sound of the dormitory doors closing touched his ears.  “A dream.”


                                                                                         ******