Read Online One Year by Mary McDonough - Free Book Online Page B

insult PJ or his family by mentioning her discomfort. That was a topic for conversation with Father Robert. He had tried to explain to her the difference between belief and faith—supposedly, you could have faith without belief but not belief without faith—and he had counseled prayer and active good works as two ways in which she might experience God and Christ “in action.” So far she was afraid she had failed to make much progress via either avenue.
    But PJ was so grateful for what he called “the gift” of her conversion. Was conversion the right word in her case? After all, she hadn’t belonged to another faith before belonging to the Catholic Church. She had sworn allegiance to nothing other than the American flag, and that without much thought.
    Knowing PJ had changed all that. From the very first, Alexis had admired his passion for heritage and history. She had seen it as an indicator of a stable person, one who wouldn’t succumb to the allure of someone or something new. PJ was someone who appreciated the value of tradition and inheritance.
    Alexis looked fondly at her wedding ring. It had once belonged to Mary Bernadette’s Aunt Catherine. “I think,” Mary Bernadette had said, “that you should have this. It’s been in my family now for almost ninety years.” Alexis had thanked PJ’s grandmother profusely, and it was only much later that night she remembered that she had had her heart set on a platinum wedding band, to match the platinum setting of her engagement ring. Oh well, she had reasoned. It was no longer a faux pas to mix metals. And if Kate Middleton could do it, well, then, it was all right for Alexis Trenouth, soon to be Alexis Fitzgibbon.
    â€œAren’t you at least going to hyphenate your two names, like I did?” her mother had asked on the morning of the wedding. “Or are you going to subsume your entire identity in PJ’s?” Oddly, Alexis couldn’t remember her reply. Her parents also hadn’t been happy about their daughter converting to Catholicism, but rather than argue with her they had simply said, “Do what you need to do. You can always get out of it later.”
    But Alexis didn’t want to get out of any of it, not her marriage, not her membership in the Catholic Church, not her place in the Fitzgibbon clan. Though, if she were completely honest, lately a few things had given her pause. Take the matter of St. Brigid’s cross. She had been hoping for an amethyst pendant and had even dropped a few hints to PJ. But he had taken his grandmother’s advice and bought the cross instead. It was no big deal but . . .
    And then there was the matter of the mail, delivered to a box next to his grandparents’ mailbox. From the day they had moved in, Mary Bernadette had taken it upon herself to bring their mail to the cottage, making her privy to every card or bill or magazine they received. A few weeks ago, Alexis had worked up the nerve to suggest to Mary Bernadette that there was no need for her to act as courier, to which Mary Bernadette had replied, “It’s no trouble at all.” And that had been that.
    Well, Alexis thought now, getting off the chaise lounge and going back inside the cottage for a glass of water, her husband was worth putting up with a domineering grandmother living within spitting distance. He was kind and good, and every single day he told her how much he loved her. The fact that he was also physically perfect didn’t hurt his case any. She was very much looking forward to having his children, though they were using birth control at the moment; they wanted to sock away a fair amount of money before starting a family. Very rarely was she careless, and she always felt badly when she realized she had forgotten to take her pill.
    Alexis’s musings came to an abrupt halt as she heard PJ pulling into the driveway. She rushed out of the cottage to greet him, a smile