TUESDAY MORNING TERRY WAS UP, Debbie still in bed:

Terry coming through the dining room with coffee for Debbie, heading for the foyer. He glanced at the window as the limo was turning into the drive 11:15..M. Fran back from Florida with the family a good five hours before they were supposed to arrive. Terry placed the mug of coffee on the dining room table, flew across the foyer and up the stairs two and three at a time. He was going to wake Debbie up with the coffee and tell her she slept like a teenager. What he did in stead was get close to her face and say, "They're back." It opened her eyes. "Fran, the whole family, they're here." He heard her say "They can't be," but that's all. Debbie was cool, rolled out of bed in her T-shirt and they tugged and smoothed and tucked the covers together; Terry ran out to the hall and was on the stairs as the front door opened, the two little girls running in, stopping as they looked up and saw him.

Jane the older one and Katy still a baby the last time he was here; the girls would be eight and six now. Coming down the stairs he said,

"Hey, girls, you remember me? Your uncle Terry."

Mary Pat was behind them now, looking a little surprised but okay, so far. Fran came in with the luggage, placed the bags on the floor looking at Terry but didn't say anything until Terry said, "You're early," and Fran said, "Yeah, we decided to get going. You take the one o'clock flight, the one I told you we'd be on, it only gives you a couple hours in the morning, get any sun… Hey, I called Padilla.

He said you had a good talk and he's, you know, satisfied."

"Yeah, he seemed like a nice guy."

Mary Pat hadn't moved, staring at him, Mary Pat in a long black coat with some kind of black fur collar, her blond hair in the same suburban bob he always pictured when he thought of her. She said, "How are you, Terry?" sounding like she wanted to know. But then as he was saying "Fine, good to see you, Mary Pat," she said, "Girls, your uncle Terry is now Fr. Terry, Fr. Terry Dunn. He's become a priest." She gave each of the girls a push and they came over to hug him, putting their arms around his hips and his legs until he got down with them and they each hugged him around the neck. He gathered them to him, his hands feeling their small bones. The older one, Jane, said, "We know where you were. You were in Africa." He said, "Yes, I was, and if you'd like, I'll tell you about it and show you pictures I have brought with me." He wanted to be natural with them and not sound like he was talking to children, but he did, talking much too slowly, picking the words. He said, "Listen, you little curies, we'll sit down later on, I'll show you a bunch of little African kids and tell you what they do… you know, how they live…"

Fran saved him. He said, "So you did take pictures."

"Yeah, a lot."

He straightened and the girls were moving around him, going up the stairway and he wanted to stop them, but there was nothing he could say. They would go upstairs, run into Debbie-Mary Pat said, "Is that your coffee on the table?"

It brought him around again, thinking fast. "Yeah, I was coming from the kitchen when I saw the limo pull into the drive…" Thinking too fast why was he coming down the stairs if the coffee…

It didn't matter. The girls were on their way down the staircase now and Mary Pat and Fran were looking at Debbie standing at the top in her sweater and jeans.

She gave them a nice smile. "Well, hi. You must be Mary Pat. I'm Debbie Dewey." She was coming down the staircase now. "You know I do investigative work for Fran every once in a while? I stopped by to pick up Father and he offered to show me the house I've heard so much about, and I love it. You have excellent taste, Mary Pat." She was down to the foyer now saying, "Well, hi, girls," and offering her hand to Mary Pat, Fran saying, "Yeah, this is the Debbie I've told you about," Debbie saying to Mary Pat, "I finally get a chance to meet you." They shook hands, Debbie saying now, "I was going to take Father to visit parishes, line up a few Sundays when he can make his mission appeals, the Little Orphans of Rwanda Fund. But, listen, you probably want to visit, I'll get out of your way," but then took time to bend over, hands on her knees in front of the little girls. "Hi, I'm Debbie. Let me guess, you're Jane, right? Hi, Jane. And you must be Katy. Hi, Katy. You both have lovely bedrooms, neat dolls."

Terry watched with a smile fixed to his face. She didn't know how to talk to kids any more than he did. He said, I'll get your coat," and started for the hall closet.

"I think it's in the kitchen," Debbie said.

Now Terry was heading toward the dining room. "That's right, you came in and we made coffee…" He picked the mug up from the table telling himself to keep his mouth shut, for Christ sake, Mary Pat following him now as far as the dining table. He got the raincoat from the kitchen and was back in time to see Mary Pat inspecting the table, rubbing the tips of her fingers over the place where the mug of hot coffee had been sitting on the polished surface. She didn't say anything.

Not until she was in the foyer again and Terry was helping Debbie on with her coat.

"I wondered whose car that was in the drive."

Debbie said, "Oh." She said, "Oh, yeah, that's mine. Well, listen, it was really a pleasure meeting you."

Terry watched Mary Pat, the suburban lady pretty cool so far, meeting Debbie, not making an issue of the stain on the table, Mary Pat telling Debbie it was nice to have met her, too, and Debbie was out.

Fran got out next. He said every day you stay in Florida more work piles up. He said he had a pile of work to do, a pile of work.

That left Terry with Mary Pat and the luggage.

She said, "You want to help me up with these?"

Three nylon hanging bags and two backpacks, he slid them from his shoulders to the carpeted bedroom floor and stood waiting for Mary Pat to look at the bed. He knew he was acting like a teenage kid a girl upstairs and all of a sudden the family walks in-but couldn't help it; there was no way to explain the situation, the bed most of all. He watched Mary Pat walk past the bed to a matching white love seat and chair, a low table between them, in the window alcove.

There were plants on the table, plants all over the house, he'd forgot to water. Mary Pat sat down in the love seat looking at the plants, then motioned to him.

"Shut the door and come over here. I won't hurt you."

He could hear the girls down the hall as he pushed the door closed.

He started toward Mary Pat and she said, "Do you have a cigarette?"

He raised both hands to touch his T-shirt. "Not on me."

"Look in the top drawer of the dresser, the one close to you. There should be a pack in there."

He opened the drawer, felt around among panty hose and brought out a pack of Marlboro. "There's an ashtray in there, too."

"And there should be a lighter, a pink Bic. Bring everything."

He handed her the cigarettes and lighter and placed the ashtray on the table. "I didn't know you smoked."

"You thought I made casseroles and cookies and went to PTA meetings. Fran thinks all I do is vacuum the kitchen floor."

"Do you?"

"Not more than twice a day."

"Does it need it?"

She smiled at him. "Does it matter? Sit down, Terry. Would you like a cigarette?" He shook his head and she lit one with the pink Bic.

She said, "You never know what to say to me, do you?"

"We talk."

"Not really. How was Africa?"

"It wasn't too bad."

"See what I mean? You spent five years in Rwanda and it wasn't too bad. What wasn't, the food, the incidence of disease? Did you like living there?"

"I was comfortable."