I'll Love You Tomorrow Read online

  Buddy took it all in. He had never seen the area outside the city. He watched as the land seemed to drop off and change… becoming open and more vast. He noticed the animals. The horses and cows with long horns. Occasionally he saw someone working the fences or driving a tractor. And then he noticed large stretches of land, which had miles of green grass and nothing or no one on it.

  “A storm is brewing Buddy…out there on the horizon…out over the river.”

  Buddy listened to explanations delivered by the priest. Words he had never heard about things of which he knew nothing. At four his life was pretty much relegated to the few blocks around his home. The fruit and vegetable market were most of his family and friends seemed to exist. He knew nothing of fields of grass, the bay, the cows, the horses or priest or Catholics or the lord.

  “How do you know that a storm is brewing”, Buddy asked the priest.

  “I was born far from here, near the Gulf…that is the Gulf of Mexico”…the priest said, it’s this vast body of water Buddy…a body of water which is so large that you can look out over it and never see the end. A place, which has fish and mammals larger than this car. It is a place where many people called fishermen work Buddy… and make livings for their families. They go out to sea in large and small boats and stay out there until they have caught their fill. It is a wonderful place…the sea… but it is filled with danger as well. Especially Buddy, when the storms come…and for those of us who have lived on, or near the sea… its and automatic feeling to know when a storm is brewing…long before the storm clouds gather and the birds fly home…long before a hush comes over the atmosphere and a tightness replaces the air we breathe…long before the darkness appears and drives the infinite blue from the sky”.

  Buddy did not know the words, but somehow he knew the feeling. He knew that his tiny heart had known nothing but storms, dark clouds and harsh rain. He hoped, he prayed that one day these clouds would be lifted from him and he could live the normal life of a child with parents who would watch over and love him.

  Near the Epp Stitch Sinclair Station, Father noticed that Buddy was taking a nap…it made him so sad to watch him and wonder what had happened to his mother, of whom the police nor the officials at the Juvenile Detention Center had bothered to mention…if they knew anything.

  They drove on through the night and arrived at the orphanage. Father had found that it was quicker for him to take the service road and come in the back behind the kitchen…following the on-the-job-shortcuts…life becomes easier.

  He parked in ‘his spot’ and then he touched Buddy on the head…“Wake up big guy,” the priest said to the sleeping youngster.

  Buddy was a bit uneasy as he clung to his radio and clothing. Sister Mary Como was waiting for them, as well as Sister Claire the nurse.

  Once in the priest’s apartment, Sister Claire took Buddy by the hand and led him to the door.

  “Good night Buddy…I’ll see you soon.” Father Hermann said to the boy who waved faintly with his small hand as he turned to go down the long darkened hall, to a place he knew not but he went obligingly because he trusted the man with the funny collar and the warm smile.

  “Ok.”

  And then he was gone, Sister Claire would take him to the nursery…give him a good warm bath, dress him in nice clean PJ’s and let him browse among the other youngsters for a few minutes until it was time for bed. The younger boys did not have to say the rosary but there was a night prayer at the foot of the bed.

  Just before the appointed hour for lights out Sister Clare came to Buddy’s small bed in the middle row, the first bed and asked him to stand on his bed. There was a good deal of chatter among the little boys, excited by the new arrival and Sister Claire simply stood holding Buddy’s small hand waiting for them to calm down.

  “Now boys, I want to introduce you to our newest member of our family…I am so pleased to have Charles Quinn, whom we all shall call Buddy. Buddy is four years old and our new priest here at St. Joseph’s, Father Hermann has just brought Buddy to us today, and we will be able to get to know him better starting tomorrow. Now will everyone give Buddy a warm welcome and tomorrow I want to ask each of you to make a special effort to say hello to Buddy, and help him with any question he might have…everyone clapped politely as Buddy sank into his bed and Sister Claire tucked him in…it was the first time he could ever remember anyone doing that, nor could he remember sleeping in his own clean bed with clean PJ’s. The lights went out and a soft sobbing could be heard coming from beneath the covers where Buddy Quinn had covered his head.

  The next day was better for Buddy, he did not cry that night and then each day after that it got better and better as Buddy began to assimilate among the many and different boys in his dormitory. Boys that he would grow up with, if his parents or theirs, did not show up to claim them. There remained the possibility that a strange family might come as well, to adopt one of the young boys and take them home. The boys at this age stood the best chance of being adopted…the same was true of dogs, everyone wanted a puppy to raise.

  Buddy was certain that he would not be adopted, but the idea infatuated him. He wondered how life would be in a home with a conventional mother and father… and perhaps other brothers and sisters. He could not remember a time when his mother and father had been together, in fact, the image of his mother’s face had blurred over time and he could no longer remember what she looked like, and he had no photograph of either of them.

  After two weeks in the home, Buddy became one of the boys…settling well into the home’s routine…happy to see the priest, Father Hermann, each day at Mass. Buddy began to dream that Father Hermann was indeed his own Father and he became enamored with the idea of serving as an altar boy for his Father…just as the older boys did. But first he would have to learn to read and learn as well, the Latin Mass. But that was a long time away for Buddy, the fifth grade seemed like a life-time for him. In the meantime, he would have to be content to see his Father each day and on the week-ends when he and Joe Tough would come to the playgrounds to play horseshoes, shoot basketball on the court or watch the older boys play a game of basketball or football with Joe Tough around to referee or stop fights.

  Indian summer had brought wonderfully warm weather to the Tennessee countryside and on this Saturday in October, the boys shed sweaters and played on the large outdoor playground covering more than twenty-five acres. There was room for a full football field, which had been carefully designed down to the field goal post and around the outer perimeter of the football field there was a track for running.

  There were also two full sized basketball courts and horseshoe pits, which Father Hermann and Joe Tough took on all challenges…and were never beaten.

  Joe didn’t know as much about the rules as Buddy did…but no-one seemed to question his authority, nor the fact that he loved to blow the whistle and award the ball to the team that always seemed to be losing. To all the boys watching on the sidelines there seemed to be a justice at work and the good priest seemed to enjoy the game and Joe Tough’s judicial practices. But after a while of Joe Tough’s antics, Father Hermann would blow his own whistle and bring the football or basketball game to a halt. Joe Tough had been taken from the game…it was halftime…and time now for the good priest to do what he did best.

  “Boys, I want to share a few things with you that I know well about the game of basketball…this game requires a finesse’…does anyone here know what that word means?” Father Hermann waited patiently for a hand…no one stepped up.

  “Well finesse’ is a French word…it means to do something with ease and grace. Basketball then is a game that requires the ball handler to be graceful…this is not a contact sport, as Joe Tough has so able-ally pointed out to you…

  The idea is to take the ball safely from one end of the court…without double dribbling or palming the ball or walking with the ball to the other end of the court. Now, it’s also important to remember, if you are handling the ball, that you
have four other team members, and you should try to pass the ball to them when they are in the clear to move the ball along the court and to get it beneath the basket for the scoring of points.” Father Hermann said patiently.

  “Now…who can demonstrate what double dribbling looks like.”

  Several hands went up as did Joe Tough’s who seemed eager to please father as well as the rest.

  “Joe, I know you know so let us select someone who may not know how to dribble.”

  “Tonny…Tonny Simpa…he don’t know nothing Father…I blow the whistle on him and he won’t stop…that double dribble.” Joe Tough said as he pointed to Tommy Simpson.

  “Ok, well…Tommy come on out on the court and let me see you demonstrate what double dribble looks like.”

  Simpson took the pass from the good priest and began to dribble with one hand…the ball located now on his right side…he transferred the ball to his left hand while picking up his dribble…and then he began to dribble once more.

  “Very good demonstration Tommy…did all of you see that…once you have started your dribble you cannot pick the ball up and then start to dribble again…is that clear?”

  “Yes father.”

  “Ok, now who can demonstrate what “palming the ball” looks like?

  “Tony…Tony…Tony, Ma…but try as he did Joe Tough could not get the last name out… Marshall seemed to create a wall around the vocal cords and he nearly chocked on the word.”

  “Ok, good Joe…where is Tony Marshall.”

  Marshall stepped forward and Tommy Simpson bounced the ball to him.

  Marshall began to dribble the ball, very fast and then he pivoted on his right foot and as he did so he carried the ball over and under, picking the ball up ever so quickly to interrupt the dribble…almost a double dribble but in this case the ball actually stopped for less than a second.

  “Good demonstration Tony…now Joe Tough, I want you to come out to help me demonstrate the proper way to bounce the ball from one teammate to another.” Tough ran down the court…he was tall against these fifth graders but he wasn’t very well coordinated…he carried his right hand in the air…like a girl but he did cover the distance quickly and returned by father’s side. Father passed the ball to Joe on one bounce.

  “Joe, I want you to hold the ball and I am going to come past you, and when I do I want you to give the ball back to me…think you can do that Joe?”

  “Yeh…and I can shoot the ball too…like Cliff Hagan!”

  “I know you can Joe but right now we are learning how to pass the ball…are you ready?” Joe shook his head to acknowledge that he was ready and knew what father wanted him to do. Father Hermann passed the ball to Joe on one hop, Tough caught the ball and held it at his side…Father Hermann half-ran, half-walked to Joe’s side and Joe handed him the ball.

  “Excellent Joe…now we are going to do that again but this time I want two new volunteers out here to help in a demonstration of what happens when there is both an offensive and a defensive player on the ball.” Chuck Smith and Harry Bacon came out on the court.

  “Ok Chuck, you will be with me trying to guard me and take the ball from me if you can. Harry you are guarding Joe, but not so close that you actually touch him…Joe, I am going to dribble the ball a few times to try to catch Chuck here off guard to enable me to pass the ball to you…so, heads up.” Joe looked up into the blue sky. Father Hermann dribbled back and forth on the court as Chuck tried to guard him and take the ball but Father dribbled past him and bounced the ball to Joe Tough who placed his leg between himself and Harry Bacon. Father proceeded on toward Joe and took the ball from him and then he continued on to the basket as Chuck tried to catch him, Father went in for an easy lay-up.

  Everybody cheered.

  Father dribbled back to the gathering, he was sweating and his white shirt was out of his pants as he tucked it back in…he wasn’t in very good shape…he had a big belly and he was only slightly taller then the biggest boy on the court, standing no more than five foot two inches tall but weighing nearly one hundred forty-five pounds. A sad comment on his sedentary job, which required spending too many hours behind a desk… and time spent as well in meeting after meeting, trying to care for all the abandoned children from the State of Tennessee, while destroying his heart.

  “Ok, now that was a good demonstration of teamwork between Joe Tough and myself…it also demonstrated a failure of the defense, Chuck and Harry, to make the necessary adjustment…let me show you here…Joe take up your position…Harry you take your position guarding Joe, and Chuck I want you to guard me but Harry I want you to do something… when I get to Joe’s side…before I take the pass from him…you can see here that Chuck has been blocked out of the action by you and Joe…so I want you to step away toward the basket and after I take the pass from Joe and begin to dribble toward the basket…you are now between me and the basket…you have effectively stopped me from dribbling in for an easy Crip shot…do you all see that?”

  “Yes Father.”

  “Good, now I want to see eight boys on the court, one headed toward each basket to practice this maneuver…and I want the rest of you boys to get a partner and a basketball and start to bounce pass the ball to each other. Joe, I want you to watch these passes, and make sure they are doing it correctly.”

  A crowd of other smaller boys had gathered around the court, watching in fascination as the older boys tried to follow the good priest’s instructions…among them was Buddy Quinn.

  This activity went on for a good two hours before Father had to go back to his office for an important phone message. The caller was the police department and Father Hermann returned the call at once.

  “This is Father Hermann.”

  “Yes Father, thanks for calling…thought you would like to know that we have found Mr. Quinn…in the river, drowned.”

  “Buddy will be quite upset, I’ll tell him this afternoon…but what of the mother…detective, do you have her name or her location.”

  “Yes…we know they were divorced when Buddy was three years old…his father abducted Buddy and was on the lamb for nearly a year before he abandoned the boy…her name is Katherine Quinn, she lives in Danville, Kentucky…we don’t seem to have an address, but I will call the local sheriff and ask him to run her down for me.”

  “Bless you officer for your good work.”

  ********************

  Later that night Buddy was taken to Father’s apartment by Sister Claire, Father took the young boy by the hand and led him into the living room…“Thank you Sister…Buddy and I are going to listen to the radio for a little while and then I will bring him back to the dorm.”

  Buddy sat down on the sofa as the good priest tuned the radio to “The Adventures of Amos and Andy.” He gave Buddy a glass of orange juice and two fig cookies. They listened to the program without comment but occasionally they would laugh, as did the audience at the two comedians. In less than an hour, Buddy had consumed the orange juice and eaten the two cookies and had settled down to the environment which included the smell of the Chesterfield cigarettes which were an ever present part of the priest’s life.

  “Buddy, how are you getting along here, do you like it?”

  “Yes Father…but I want to become an altar boy.”

  “Well I look forward to that as well Buddy…of course you know you will have to study the Latin Mass, and to do that you have to be able to read.”

  “I am working hard with the picture books.”

  “That is the way…now Buddy I have some sad news for you, but some happy news for your father…you see Buddy I have just heard from the police, this day, and your father has gone to live in heaven…do you know about heaven Buddy?”

  “No Father.”

  “Well Buddy, you know that God made all of us in his likeness…his children…but we were placed here for a definitive period, and when God chooses he takes us back to live with him in heaven…we don’t know exactly where heaven is, nor do w
e know when God will call us back…but your father has now returned to God Buddy and you will not see him again until God calls you to heaven.”

  Buddy didn’t say anything…his eyes remained fixed on the floor. “He never cared for me anyway…and I don’t care if he has gone.” He said to the priest.

  “It is ok to be angry Buddy…most important is not to keep it long, inside you…and don’t blame your father Buddy…we have no control over when the good Lord calls us home.”

  “This is my home.”

  “Yes it is Buddy…for as long as you need it.”

  *******************

  Over the next few weeks Father Hermann was extremely busy with the business of the Catholic Charities, the Home of the Innocents and St. Joseph Asylum. He lost track of Buddy Quinn and had forgotten about his mother until the early spring when, quite unannounced, Buddy’s mother, Katherine showed up at his office on South Brook Street. Father was informed by the receptionist that Katherine Quinn was waiting and he had to think for a moment who this lady might be. Was she a young pregnant woman needing help? A place to stay until she delivered the baby…and perhaps putting the child up for adoption, which we would handle for her at Catholic Charities.

  At any rate, though it wasn’t convenient, I took a break and Mrs. Quinn was shown into Father’s office. He stood as she came into the room. A beautiful woman, nearly five foot seven…he knew because she was taller than he. She had reddish hair, the look of the true Irish lassie and she had large green eyes, which Father thought was quite strange and a contrast of remarkable beauty.

  “Thank you for seeing me Father, I have come by bus from Danville…hearing that you have my boy from the sheriff… Do you have my little boy…Charles Quinn?”