The View from Alameda Island - Robyn Carr Page 0,72

the earthly managers who wear me out. Maybe the problem is mine. I don’t feel useful.”

“Still that, eh? We should pull together a pumpkin giveaway—we have some good stock this year...”

“Is the phrase, ‘live with the smell of the sheep,’ familiar to you?” Tim asked.

Beau looked stunned. “Ah, no. But it doesn’t sound real appetizing...”

“It comes from the pope. He deftly pointed out that when priests and bishops aren’t out with the people, working with the people, directly helping the people—and I think he meant tilling their gardens and helping them fix their plumbing as well as providing spiritual guidance—they become managers. Let me put that more succinctly—they become bureaucrats. The bishop gave me a good book for some leisure reading. Three Easy Steps to Becoming a Bishop.” He laughed. “He’s such a political animal that when he heard the pope calling for priests who lived with the smell of the sheep, he immediately came looking for a lowly priest with political potential and that’s how he found me in that poor little parish in the central valley and got me transferred up here. So he could look me over. I guess I cleaned up pretty well. Now he wants me to apprentice under him in the See. He wants a bishop to come from his archdiocese.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing,” Beau said. “A bishop apprentice.”

“It’s a glorified secretary. A valet.”

“You’re on the path to become a bishop,” Beau said. “Congratulations. We’ll throw you a party or something.”

“Except, that doesn’t really interest me,” Tim said.

Beau was stunned. “Wait a minute. I thought you wanted to be the pope!”

“No. I wanted to be Bing Crosby,” he said. “Maybe when I was a kid, I thought being the bishop was such an achievement, but what really propelled me was the idea of a nice little Brooklyn neighborhood parish filled with hardworking men and women in need of more than prayer, in need of sustenance and opportunity and a good singing voice. Children who could be encouraged and filled with hope. I never wanted anyone to be sick or hungry, you know? But there were going to be people in need. I wouldn’t be able to right all the ills of the world, I knew that. But...” He became quiet. “I wanted to help, to give comfort.”

“Did you want to be a hero?” Beau asked.

“I wanted to be another pair of hands,” Tim said, his voice soft and earnest. “I wanted to work, not write canon law that controlled people and kept them from being human. I wanted to be needed. No, that’s candy-ass—I wanted to make a difference in ordinary lives. They need another bishop like they need a rash.”

“Oh boy. They’re about to grace you with this high honor and you’re...you’re...”

“Losing the fire,” Tim said.

Beau was quiet. He watched his friend closely. It was unusual for Tim to be this serious, this grave. “Why have you never said anything?” Beau finally asked.

“The real question should be, why am I saying something now? Because, my brother, I feel there could be changes coming. I know you need me right now. I hope you understand if I’m unavailable for some reason.”

“Of course,” he said. “Listen, take care of yourself, Tim. I’m good. I want you to be happy. You didn’t sound happy just then...”

“God didn’t put me here to be happy,” Tim said. “He put me here to be useful. That’s happiness right there. So you see, in the end it’s entirely selfish. It makes me happy to dig my heels in and work alongside the poor and disenfranchised.”

“You should have skipped the seminary and the vows and just hired out as a missionary. I can think of a hundred nonprofits who would kill to have someone like you, someone willing to break his back for a bowl of soup.”

“Tempting,” Tim said, causing Beau to look at him with amused surprise.

Beau shook his head. “You’re one of a kind, you know that.”

* * *

Lauren had tried not to think too much about the upcoming holidays, but the truth was it popped into her mind often and it worried her. She would bring it up to Cassie first. She was the most loyal and reasonable. Then she would talk to her sister; she would offer all the cooking and hosting she was able to. Maybe Beth would have no interest in having a holiday meal at Lauren’s new house, which was perfectly all right. She would go anywhere that seemed agreeable.