The lawn was cluttered with assorted plastic chairs, most of them owned by the Levines, who had arrived early to help set up. Buddy and Hal were arranging lawn furniture with Ben and Eric, from next door. Jack, in the kitchen with Ed, was assembling strawberry shortcake.
Kathleen followed Joyce to the front steps and whispered, “
Did you get the clippings?”
Joyce nodded. The police blotter from the Rockport paper had announced the arrest of seven men on drug charges. A story in the Gloucester Daily Times about drug running on Cape Ann noted the participation of “Russian and Irish nationals.”
“Well, look who’s here!” Father Sherry boomed as the Loquastos pulled up to the curb. He opened the car door for Mary, who clutched at a black patent-leather handbag, and escorted her into the yard for introductions. Joe, wiry and thin, trailed behind. He lit a cigarette and peered at the house as if it were an attraction at Disney World. Joyce invited Mary inside for a look, but she smiled shyly and said, “Maybe later.”
Both Loquastos perked up when Lou and Marge Bono walked across the street. The priest made the introductions. “All our kids grew up together,” Lou explained to Frank, who was offering drinks. “You should have seen the neighborhood back then,” he said, accepting a Diet Coke. “The children, all running in and out of each other’s house. We got the city to put up that sign Children at Play. It’s still there, isn’t it, Marge?”
Frank called Nina over for introductions. Nina, who’d been painting her toenails on the front step with her friend Sylvie, stood up reluctantly.
“Oh, that’s a hard age,” Mary Loquasto said when Frank started to apologize for Nina’s bad manners.
All conversation stopped with the arrival of the Lupos. Theresa, four feet ten inches at most, wore a black crepe dress with a crocheted white collar and a new pair of Nikes. She headed straight toward the statue and patted its cheek, as though it were a favorite niece.
Lena, a few inches taller and quite a bit wider than her mother, was in black leggings and a pink tunic. Her manicured nails splayed over her hips as she apologized to Joyce, again. “Burying all that stuff in your yard like that?” She rolled her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why do you say you’re sorry? It was not your fault,” Theresa exploded. “Not my fault, too. Don’t make no apologia for me. It was from the doctors, from the medicine. No old-heimer’s. La miseria.”
“Okay, Ma,” said Lena. “Everyone knows you’re all there, Ma.”
Taking Rabbi Hertz’s arm, Father Sherry quietly explained that Theresa had been prescribed two medications that shouldn’t be taken together. “No old-heimer’s,” Theresa repeated, guessing that the priest was talking about her.
Lena’s teenage son, Mike, walked over to the statue, where Steve had already dug a trench around the concrete base. “Hey, Joe,” Steve called out. “This thing could have lasted until the next ice age.” Joe Loquasto acknowledged the compliment with a wave.
The guests gathered around the Madonna. Safety goggles in place, Steve started the drill, which set up a painfully loud, high-pitched squeal. Five minutes later, Mike and Frank helped him lift the Madonna onto a hand truck. Lena and Theresa wrapped the statue in woolen blankets and tied it with bungee cords for the short trip to their house.
As they covered the face with a towel, Joyce realized she was sad to see “her” Mary leave. Early that morning, before Frank or Nina had been awake, she’d gone outside to say good-bye. “I’m sorry if there’s any indignity to all this,” she had whispered. “I won’t let anyone look up your skirt. But I think you’ll be happier with the Lupos.” She had slipped her palm under the Virgin’s outstretched hand, but the mild face seemed turned away.
Father Sherry raised his paper cup and, in a jovial but decidedly formal voice, began, “Ladies and gentlemen?
“I would like to take a moment to thank our hosts, the Tabachniks, for turning this moment of transition into a celebration, indeed, an affirmation of our community.
“You know, we Catholics are enamored with the idea of incarnation. We speak of the incarnation of God’s love in the person of our Lord, Jesus Christ. This sublime metaphor — the creation of an all-powerful metaphor-maker — is extended in our tradition to include the saints, and especially the Blessed Mother.
“Nevertheless, the idea that God’s love is incarnate in the world is not limited to Catholics, I think. For all of us here” — the priest nodded toward the rabbi — “Jews and Christians alike, God’s love indeed does take shape in the world. In the glory of sky and sea. In the beauty of forest and garden. And most of all, in the faces of the people who surround us with understanding and compassion, with friendship, respect, and with love.”
Father Sherry raised his glass above his head to murmurs of “Amen,” “Salud,” and “L’chayim.”
He beamed, turned to Michelle, and said, “Rabbi?”
“I was tempted to tell one of those jokes that starts ‘A rabbi, a minister, and a priest were in a rowboat.’ But maybe I won’t,” she said. The Loquastos looked relieved.
“We Jews like to say blessings,” the rabbi continued in a more sermonic tone. “There are Jewish blessings for almost everything that happens in the course of a day. There is a blessing for waking up, a blessing before and after eating, a blessing for seeing planets in the sky. There is even a blessing to say if you should hear bad news.
“If we happen to forget which special blessing we’re supposed to use, or on a uniquely happy occasion such as this, there is an all-purpose blessing of thanks. It is called the Shehecheyanu, and it praises God for the gifts of the moment. So at this precious moment of fellowship and good feeling, I am moved to say:
“Baruch Ata Adonai, eloheynu melech ha-olam: Holy One of Blessing, Your presence fills creation.
“Shehecheyanu: You have kept us alive to reach this glorious afternoon among our neighbors.
“V’keyamanu: You have sustained us with bonds of friendship.
“V’higianu lazman hazeh: And you have enabled us to reach this precious moment in this sun-drenched place of beauty.”
At that moment Jack emerged from the kitchen with an enormous tray, and the rabbi quickly added, “And this amazing strawberry shortcake.”