Gone

CHAPTER 71

The food had come out perfectly, even if Mary Catherine said so herself. The chicken wasn’t dry, and the mashed potatoes and stuffing were seasoned to her exacting standards. Leo certainly seemed to enjoy it, from the way he cleaned his plate and reloaded. He especially seemed to enjoy the homemade pepper gravy, she noticed with delight.

It was the kids who were doing their level best to make the meal as unpleasant as possible. They ate with their heads down, slowly and all but silently, except for the harsh, scraping clicks of silverware off plates. Even Eddie and Ricky, who could eat their weight these days, were holding back, acting like they were at a funeral.

“Don’t let these people fool you, Leo,” Seamus suddenly called out in the dead silence. “This fine bunch of formal young lads and lasses is usually quite lively come mealtime. You’re having quite an effect on them.”

“A positive one, I hope, Father Seamus,” Leo said with a polite grin.

“Aye, without a doubt,” Seamus said, chewing as he looked around the table. “Now tell me, Leo. I couldn’t help but notice, that’s quite some firepower you bring with you every evening. What kind of rifle is it?”

“Now, Seamus,” Mary Catherine said, “is that polite dinner conversation?”

“Perhaps not,” Seamus said with a shrug. “But I figure, even somewhat impolite dinner conversation is a tad better than none at all.”

“It’s an M-four,” Leo said.

“An M-four?” Seamus said, nodding. “Is it not an M-sixteen?”

“Well, the M-four is sort of the latest version of the M-sixteen,” Leo said. “The main difference is that it’s smaller and lighter and has a shorter barrel, for close-quarter combat.”

“Hmm,” Seamus said, chewing. “What round does it shoot? A.223?”

The kids started to smile and giggle as they saw Mary Catherine roll her eyes. At least the little ones. The older crew of boys looked like they were silently praying to disappear.

“No, a new 5.56 round, actually,” Leo said.

“To account for the shorter barrel?” Seamus said.

“Exactly,” Leo said, exchanging a smile with Mary Catherine. “Do you shoot, Father?”

Seamus’s shoulders sagged as he sighed.

“Oh, no,” he said. “They won’t let me.”