Tad stopped in front of the freezer of organic and gluten-free and vegan boxes, his hands already carrying lactose-free milk and rice crackers. The cheese was not organic, or lactose-free, just a generic cheddar. From his left came a scuffed step, and the freezer door slid open. A cleric collared man, only a little younger than tad, pulled corn-free jalapeño poppers out and added them to a nearly empty basket.
“Just a late-night snack.” The man explained when he met Tad’s eye.
“Guilty pleasure?” He asked, before thinking it through and wincing. “Sorry, I’m new in town. Tad Tobias.” He did his best to cup all the groceries with one hand and offer the other to shake the Priest’s.
“I’m Father Quigg. Priest at All Saints.” He glanced at Tad’s full arms and smiled, “Can I grab you a basket?” He did without waiting for the answer.
“Thank you.”
“It’s alright. I’m new to the community, I’ve been here a while, but I didn’t grow up here.”
“Really. I thought I was the only one.” Tad brought his basket to the only open checkout aisle.
“It may seem a bit strange, but Bear’s Claw is like any other town. The switch from city to suburb strikes us all as hard at first.” He clapped Tad on the shoulder, “but you’ll fit in just like I did.”
“Father, would you like to go ahead of me in the line?” Tad gestured.
Father Quigg put up a hand and smiled, “I am a man of patience.”
“That’s two things we have in common now, three if you include being a father.”
“Patience?”
“Patients. I’m a doctor.”
Father Quigg chuckled, “Funny. You wouldn’t happen to be catholic as well?”
“Mormon actually.”
“Oh.”
“My wife’s Jewish if it’s any consolation.”
“I happen to know there are several fine synagogues in the area.”
“None in Bear’s Claw.”
“We do boast an Episcopalian, Methodist, Baptist and Presbyterian church in addition to the Catholic church here, as well as any number of chapels in the surrounding area. Not all hold weekly services though.”
“Right.”
“I believe the nearest Mormons practice down in Ossining.”
“Really?”
Father Quigg nodded, and Tad didn’t know what to say.
“You’re up.” He pointed.
“That’s all right, Honey, I know our Father Quigg can be quite a talker.” The cashier shared a jokey smile with the priest, Her name tag said ‘Charla’. “If you’re down in Constitution, you may be better off going to one of the chapels there, they hold mass every Sunday.”
“Are you luring away a new member of my flock, Charla?”
“Father, you know I go to mass every Saturday, why would I want to do that?”
“Maybe you’ve been seeing somebody.”
“Caleb and I aren’t that serious.” She blushed, but quickly composed herself after opening the cash drawer, “if Tad here is Mormon anyway, what does it matter, I just wish to present all the options if he wishes to go to a church closer.” She leafed through the bills before looking up again, “If you’re Mormon and she’s Jewish, you might be best off at the Unitarians in Shangrila though. But I’ve heard some churches aren’t so picky anymore. Times are hard.”
“Charlotte, are you running your mouth again?” A boisterous woman wearing at least two scarves plopped her basket on the conveyor belt.
“Nah, I’m just making a list of the churches for this gentleman,” she leaned forward in a confidential manner, “he’s Mormon.”
“My neice is Mormon.” The woman smiled, all was forgiven in her eyes. “Although if you like classical music you really should consider the Methodist church, their organist trained in Vienna!”
“I forgot about Ms. Kincaid! She also bakes for the fundraisers, she’s great. She used to teach, but then was laid off.” She handed Tad his reciept, “and here’s your change. The harpist from St. Patricks in Shangrila also does a service here at the Episcopalean church once every few weeks.”
“I’m sure we’ve overburdened Mr. Tobias with all these choices!” The priest laid his jalapeño poppers on the conveyor belt.
“That’s quite alright, and you can call me Tad.”
The voice of the woman deepened, she didn’t acknowledge Tad at all. “Father Quigg, don’t tell me you would have lured him to All Saints without offering any competition!”
“No, but while you lovely ladies are discussing all the options, my corn-free treat is melting.”
“Oh, he left without signing up for a rewards card.” Charla held up the empty form while the automatic door let in a sudden whoosh of air.
“I’m sure he was just hungry.”
“Those City doctors. They don’t have time for anyone.” She began to unpack her basket.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Ah, hello, Officer.”
“It’s Sheriff, actually.”
He saw the name emblazoned on the side of the sedan.
“Right.”
“You’re not registered locally, are you.”
“I’ve just moved to town with my family, actually.”
The policeman glanced at the key hovering at the car doors lock, the grocery bag threatening to slip, and nodded.
“You’re registration expires soon. You can get it done in Shangrila up the country route. Have a good evening.”
“Thank you.” Tad didn’t move for another second though, running over the conversation in his mind, “What?” he asked himself.
“That took a while.”
“It’s a very friendly place.” Tad put the pizza boxes on the counter and the grocery bags beside them, “Do you think I can still call myself a Mormon even though I never did my Mission?”
Chayah laughed, “Honey, at the very latest, you lost the privilege of belong to the Church of Latter Day Saints when you married me.”
“That’s right. I forgot you were a heathen.” He kissed her.
“Why,” she asked, after they separated and she stuck the pizza into the preheated oven, “thinking about leaving us for one to two years to sing to tribes in Africa?”
“You know it’s nothing like that.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, “but there is a abnormally high church to people ratio in this town, so, it might be worth exploring.”
“How many synagogues.”
“None. But you already knew that.”
“And you know my mother will kill me if my children spend more time learning about a preacher with aspirations to be messiah instead of bearded men who split the seas.”
“I’m pretty sure Jesus had a beard.”
“Dad?” Fionn came down the stairs. “What took so long, I’m starving.”
“I got held up by a couple of people at the grocery store.”
Fionn quirked an eyebrow, “seriously? Unless it’s like Chinatown, you have no excuse.” He took a slice out of the oven and left again.
“He’s not eating with us?” Tad asked.
“He wants to catch up on homework.”
“It’s friday, I’m sure his school had him more than at this level—”
“It’s what he wants.” Chayah cut him off, stepping to the kitchen doorway to yell: “ALEXIS!”
“Ow!”
“Oh, shush you.” She came back and kissed him again, “we’ll be fine.”
Tad was enjoying that cycle of REM sleep where your about to transition to a better dream when the covers were torn off the bed and sunlight streamed into the room.
“Honey.” Chayah was fully dressed and spoke far too sweetly. “If we don’t hurry, we won’t know what sells out at the Farmer’s Market first.”
“Do we want to know?” He asked.
“Get up. If I don’t get goat cheese, I’m blaming you.”
“Do we still milk goats this late?” But she was gone.
“Sweetie, are you coming with us?”
Alexis was hiding beneath a purple comforter and a flannel covered pillow.
“Sweetie are you awake?”
“Unfortunately.”
Tad shifted in the doorway, “do you want to come to town to the Farmer’s Market.”
She paused, and he almost asked her again if she was awake, when she answered, “I need to unpack.”
“That’s a good idea.” He considered the untouched boxes. “Alright.” He left the jamb, but she called him back. “Yes, dear?”
“I’m going to the movies later. With some new friends.” She removed the pillow from her head, “but I guess Mom already told you.”
“She did.” He came into her room and kissed her on the head, “I’ll see you at breakfast.”
She covered herself again completely before he had left.
The Market was pretty empty, the stands weren’t even all set up yet.
“Well good morning!” It was Charla from the Grocery store. “Tad, right?” She was standing behind a nearly completely set up fruits and vegetables stand. “This must be your wife!” She came out from behind to shake her hand. “I’m Charla.”
“Chayah, lovely to meet you. You farm?”
Charla laughed, “Who me?” She continued to laugh, “No, no. My brother helps out on the farm, so I help out with the stand. It’s just a job.”
Christine nodded, unsure of what to say. “Charla is the one who told me about the pianist from Vienna,” Tad prompted.
“Oh! You work at the Grocery store too?”
Charla nodded, but before Chayah could ask another question, Tad broke in. “Do you enjoy much classical music, Charla?”
“Oh, yes, some. I don’t know much, but I knew that.”
There was a lull.
“Can I interest you folks in some cabbage?”
“I would love some cabbage.”
“Here comes the cabbage!” George came from the truck and put a crate on the table beside the radishes. “You folks are lucky, we’ll be moving the Market in doors soon, to enjoy such weather.”
“I’ll say. It’s so much different than the city.” Tad said.
“You can say that again,” George scoffed. “Is there anything in particular you were looking for?”
“Um,” Tad turned to his wife.
“Cauliflower?” Chaya asked.
“Be right back.”
The talk did not return to classical music or church.
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