Fall on Your Knees

Margery Temple had experienced something of an emotional catharsis after the death of her late husband caused, in part, by a dull lack of focus in her otherwise busy life. Consuming herself with her horse farm and her children for most of her life kept her occupied and involved. When she was suddenly widowed she found herself drifting and alone, rudderless and without a reason to get up in the morning. Kat and Suky were both busy with their own lives and it wasn’t long before Margery decided to look for a pied-a-terre in the city. She planned on rekindling some old connections with her girlfriends while getting “out and about to really enjoy the city.”

In her loneliness she turned to the one true source of comfort that can always be found in times of need.

Religion—as opposed to alcohol—gave Margery a new, upbeat tempo to her life and put a bounce back in her step. In due course it was time to announce her new joy to the family. Her own children encouraged a “spiritual journey” and were happy to learn that their mother wouldn’t have so much time on her hands. Suky was particularly encouraging and suggested that her mother explore other, more esoteric faiths.

Beebe and Ardie, however, were a different matter.

Ardie, of course, wasn’t overtly concerned about the new and exciting religious odyssey that Margery was contemplating; he was more interested in where she intended to live in the city, and if she intended to keep the farm in King City.

Beebe was happy enough to know that her sister was “interested in church” but shocked and dismayed to discover that Margery had been receiving instruction at The Church of Saint Vitus, a Roman Catholic institution, for several months and—even more horrible to consider—was planning a baptism for herself.

“Father Greg says that it is so much more welcoming if a number of people are baptized at one time,” reported Margery, “and I thought I would have a reception for everyone who attends the ceremony afterward. I’ll invite everyone who is baptized that day along with their families,” she said, firmly.

“Who, I wonder, is Father Greg?” asked Beebe, her bright eyes staring Margery down.

“Father Greg is my confessor and the new rector at St. Vitus,” mumbled Margery, unwilling to engage in a pitched discussion with her sister.

“St Vitus? Isn’t that a Catholic church?” asked Beebe, knowing full well that St Vitus was a large brick edifice that catered to the few Roman Catholics who called Rosedale home. Beebe reached for her purse and rummaged for a small bottle of Tylenol.

Ardie realized that religious conversion was not a popular topic of discussion and it didn’t look like Margery was going to back down. With battle lines being drawn right in front of him he decided to skip the war and move to the peace talks without even a quick stop at détente. He lit another cigarette and looked for a way to change the topic of conversation.

Poor old Margery, he thought, always looking for some sunshine outside of the family shadows. Beebe really did give her such a hard time about things and it wasn’t fair; she was so defenseless against her sister.

“Sounds wonderful, Margo, and a party is great idea. You can have your little reception at my apartment,” Ardie offered, his voice raspy from the night before. “Anything for my sister!” He winked at her in solidarity. She smiled back, grateful for an ally.

Beebe’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing. Margery could be a very determined girl if she was pushed at the wrong time and Beebe was convinced that she could “knock some sense into her" if she spoke to Margery when Ardie wasn’t around to interfere. For the time she would say nothing. Clearly it was time to take Margo under a protective wing before she made a fool of herself in public.

Beebe believed that everyone should belong to a church, of course, with the Anglican Church as the first among all churches. Subsequent rungs on her ladder of belief were reserved for the other mainstream protestant religions, with a bottom run crowded with Jews, Hindus, Muslims and Catholics.

Reconsidering briefly how own prejudices gave Beebe a momentary pause; she supposed that even Catholics deserved their own pious and Christian rung.

Beebe’s form of religious observation involved attending church on Sunday morning when she was in the city, but not while at the cottage or on holiday. She made donations to the church, of course, and leveraged the family foundation to support a number of private schools in Toronto and Bermuda. These were solid institutions that offered the comfort of allowing the generous to direct the use of their financial gifts. It would not happen in her lifetime, however, that The Ardwold and Martha Beebe Foundation would donate money that would end up in Rome! The Vatican wasn’t going to be receiving a cheque signed by Beebe Grade anytime soon.

Beebe suggested that “a lovely reception in the church basement” would be more in keeping with the tone of the event, and would have the added benefit of ensuring that everyone could attend without having to park twice. “Cater it” was good advice and Margery determined then and there speak to Father Greg about placing a small notice in the church bulletin; the entire congregation of her new church would be invited to celebrate her baptism as one “community of faith.”

Beebe got up to make another round. Community of faith indeed! She had never met a cleric who wasn’t looking for a handout and Catholic priests were the worst of the lot.

She dropped three ice cubes into her low-ball glass and heard the satisfying noise they made as they swirled in the scotch. “That sound is the bells of St Beebe, Margery, and it is the happiest sound in the world,” she cackled, focusing her bright unblinking eyes at her sister. “And today you are the one who has made them ring. Believe me.”

She poured in a tight measure of soda water and stirred her drink with her finger.