Title: Trinity
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries
Characters:Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan, original character
Rating and word count: G, about 2,900 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Richard Stevenson.
Summary: Timothy Callahan leaves the seminary, disappointed in himself and unsure of his future.
Author notes: at the end of the story because they contain movie spoilers. As always, thank you to nyteflyer for the beta.



May 1995

Timothy Callahan wished he’d seen her first. If he had he might have been able to avoid Sister Kate by ducking back into the pharmacy. He might still have escaped had she not called out to him in a voice he’d been trained since childhood to obey.

“Timothy! Timothy Callahan!”

Timothy waved at the elderly nun, a tiny woman who still wore the full habit. Most of the sisters Timothy knew wore everyday clothes, but not Sister Kate. She was timeless, never-changing, and he realized he’d always taken comfort in that.

He liked Sister Kate, but his former teacher was the last person he wanted to see. He’d quit the seminary only two weeks before, and the pain of separation was raw. Sister would want to talk about it, would probably try to convince him to return. But he couldn’t. He knew who he was, what he was, and he couldn’t serve God because he refused to denounce himself. He did not regret his decision, but it was hard to face everyone’s questions — and their disappointment.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said as she reached him. She carried several plastic shopping bags, one of which was far too heavy for her. Timothy took if from her, earning a smile of gratitude.

“You’ll carry it to the school for me, won’t you?” She started down the sidewalk, and Timothy couldn’t help grinning. Sister took it for granted that he would do as she asked.

“I’m running late,” she said as they strolled along at a sedate pace. “I probably should have taken the parish car, but it’s such a lovely day. The doctor said I needed to get more exercise, so there you have it.”

He would have offered an inane remark about the weather, but Sister didn’t give him a chance.

“How have you been, Timothy?”

Timothy steeled himself for the familiar volley of questions. “I’m doing all right.”

She glanced up at him. “Lying is a sin, Timothy. Now you’ll have to go to confession.”

Timothy swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. This was the Sister Kate he remembered — honest, forthright and kind. He was transported to his childhood where nothing was unexpected and everything was explained. And if it couldn’t be explained, then it was accepted on faith.

Faith. He wondered if he still had it. He hoped so.

Sister began a one-sided conversation about her students, the flowers she’d already planted in the church garden and the fund-raising drive for the church roof. Timothy listened, knowing Sister didn’t expect a response. He liked that about her. She knew people would talk in their own good time, and there was no sense pushing someone to say something he wasn’t ready to say.

“You may walk me to my classroom,” she said as they approached the school. “I’ve got today’s after-school art class, so I’ll need a little help setting things up.”

Timothy glanced at his watch before he realized he had no place to be. If he were still at the seminary, he and the other men would be praying the Divine Office. As he followed Sister to her classroom, he silently recited the familiar words, knowing he’d never forget them.

“The children have been studying Asia in their social studies classes, so I thought this would be a good time to teach simple origami. We’ll show them how to make paper diamonds that they’ll glue together into eight-pointed stars.” Sister motioned Timothy to a long table at the back of the room. “Just spread out all the glue bottles, one for every two chairs.”

Timothy did as he was told, setting out rulers, crayons and stacks of colored paper while sister drew a diagram on the chalkboard. Timothy examined her directions and wondered aloud if the children would be able to do what she wanted.

Sister smiled at him. “In third grade you were hanging upside-down on the monkey bars and singing songs of questionable taste. By the fourth grade you were asking my opinion of Ronald Reagan. I’m quite certain my students can master paper diamonds.”

Timothy laughed. “I guess you’re right.”

“You bet I’m right. I’m right about a lot of things.”

A group of children burst into the room before Timothy could ask what she meant by her remark. They crowded around the table, demanding to know what they’d be doing and why was this old guy here anyhow?

Sister clapped her hands. The children fell silent.

“A little peace and quiet is in order.” She touched Timothy’s arm. “This is Mr. Callahan. He’ll be assisting us today as we make origami stars.”

“I—”

“If you’ll all take a seat, we’ll get started.”

Timothy rolled his eyes. “You haven’t changed a bit. I remember getting roped into doing all kinds of things for you.”

“You were doing the Lord’s work,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.

Timothy sat down and watched as Sister explained the project. Every child was told to make a practice diamond, and, after a few fits and starts, they all exhibited some degree of success.

“It’ll get better as you practice,” she said. “Each one of you will make eight diamonds, enough for one star. Make more if you can. I’d like to use some of them to decorate my bulletin board.”

She took a seat at the head of the table and began folding an orange piece of paper. Timothy watched her, a little sad to see how gnarled her hands had become. Sister Kate had to be nearing eighty, but here she was, still helping children, still contributing to her order and to the parish. Her sense of purpose had never faltered in all the years she’d been serving God. He found himself jealous of her confidence.

“Make one, Mr. C,” a little girl said. She held up a wrinkled red diamond. “It ain’t hard.”

“Isn’t,” Sister said.

“It isn’t hard, either.”

Timothy started folding a piece of paper, taking care to make sharp, precise points, and set it aside. Sister slid another sheet of paper his way. “Keep going. Fold eight pieces, and you can have a star to take home to your mother.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

“How is your mother, by the way? I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks.”

“She’s fine.” Disappointed in me, but fine. She and Dad are in Washington right now.”

“You’re staying at their house, I assume?”

“Yes.” Please don’t ask me anything else. Please.

“I’m sure they’re happy to have you home.”

Timothy didn’t say anything. His parents had left two days after he arrived. The situation was awkward, and he’d been glad when his mother decided to join his father in Washington. She’d never expressed her disappointment in so many words, but it was there. He hadn’t spoken to his father.

“Lookit, Sister! I made a triangle instead of a diamond.” A boy placed the triangle on his head, trying to balance it. “This is more fun than making stars.”



“You’re ‘sposed to make diamonds,” a girl said. “Sister said.”

“Sister says a lot of things,” the boy said, sticking his tongue out at the girl. “She—”

“It’s a lovely triangle, Justin.” Sister kept folding while she talked. “Maybe you can tell me what the points of the triangle represent.”

“God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit,” Justin said. “But it could be Moe, Larry and Curly, too.”

The children laughed. So did Sister Kate.

“Since God has a wonderful sense of humor, I think you could be right,” she told Justin. “But for now, indulge me and make some more diamonds.”

A hour later, the table was covered with colorful paper stars. Sister had the children punch a hole in each one and gave them strings to loop through the holes. As they left to go home, each child received a hug or a high-five according to his preference. They rushed out the door, eager to show off their stars, and then the room was quiet.



Timothy collected and stacked unused paper, corralled glue bottles and bits of string, and found a broom to sweep the floor. Sister sat at the table, writing in a notebook the way she always did after classes. When she closed the notebook he assumed she was ready to leave.

He was wrong.

“Timothy, bring me a sheet of that paper we were using. I’d like to show you something.”

He handed her the paper and took a seat beside her, watching as she folded the paper into a triangle.

“Justin, bless him, is a creative child. Today he taught me that a lot of things must come in threes. One can hardly have Moe and Larry without Curly. Just as we can hardly have God without Jesus and the Holy Spirit.”

Timothy kept silent, wondering where she was going with this.

She picked up her pen and wrote “God” on the top point of the triangle. “God is at the top of it all. Our lives are really nothing without him. Certainly, we can physically live without God. Many people do. But life is richer with him than without him.”

Timothy nodded. He could go along with that.

“We have two more points. Two more things that can go with God. She wrote “Timothy” on another point. “Now we have you and God. Two great things, right?”



Timothy touched the star. “And what goes on the third point?”

She shook her head. “Only you can answer that question. But I can tell you it was never the seminary.”

Timothy stared at her. “But I was so sure. I prayed about it, I talked to Father John a million times. I went on retreats—”

Sister held up her hand, forestalling his protests. “Not that I’m the Oracle at Delphi, but you should have spoken to me. I could have told you the seminary wasn’t the right choice. And you know why.”

Dread, cold and fearful, hit him in waves. He tried to tell her she was wrong, but he couldn’t find the words, not without denouncing himself, denying what he knew to be true.

She patted his hand. “It’s all right, Timothy. I’ve been a teacher for many years. I know my students better than they know themselves. I knew you very well, indeed.”

Timothy took her hand, holding it in both of his own, needing the reassurance only this elderly nun could give him. He didn’t know how to voice what was in his heart, and he hoped she’d be able to do it for him.

“I know that God made you a little differently from other men. I also know, contrary to popular belief, that there’s nothing wrong with that. If there was, then I’d have to sit here and tell you that God makes mistakes. And he does not make mistakes. He made you who you are for a very good reason.”

Timothy dropped his gaze to the table. What had given him away? What had he done to arouse her suspicions? He’d always been careful to hide away that part of himself so that no one could see it. No one except him and God.

“Besides a few things that don’t matter now, you spent an awful lot of time staring at Bobby Cantor. Even a blind man could see how you felt about him.” She leaned over and whispered in his ear. “He’s out, as they say. He lives with a nice gentleman in California. They came to see me a year ago.”

He didn’t dare look at her. He remembered Bobby Cantor, a handsome, athletic boy who had returned Timothy’s regard, if not his affection. They’d parted ways after their senior year, and Timothy hadn’t seen him since. That Sister had suspected them was embarrassing, to say the least.

She laughed and squeezed his hand. “You’re not the only one who made a mistake. Father John was wrong, too. He should have encouraged you in another direction. But I don’t blame him. Men, in general, see what they want to see. Women are much more on the ball when it comes to things like this.”

“Everyone is so disappointed,” Timothy said in a quiet voice. “Mom and Dad, Father John—”

“Their disappointment is their own to bear. And really, I’m sure they’re more worried than disappointed. Above all else, your parents want you to be happy. If you weren’t happy at the seminary then you made the right decision.”

She touched his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You can’t serve God with half your heart, Timothy. Nobody can.”

Timothy nodded, at a loss for words. He had been serving God with only half his heart. A priest needed to give everything to the Lord, be what the church wanted him to be. His inability to do that seemed like a failing on his part, but what else could he have done? Maybe Sister was right. Maybe leaving had been the right thing to do.

Sister Kate opened the paper triangle, wrote something inside it, then asked Timothy to fetch the Scotch tape from her desk. She secured the back of the triangle with tape and handed it to him.

“Now, when you figure out what goes in the empty corner, you can open the triangle.” She shook her finger at him. “No peeking beforehand. Altar boy’s honor?”

Timothy smiled, feeling better than he had in months. “Altar boy’s honor.”

He walked her to the convent, an enormous house that was home to Sister Kate, two middle-aged nuns and the parish housekeeper. It was too big for so few people, but the parish wouldn’t hear of selling it.

“I remember when we had a dozen nuns living here,” Sister said as they climbed the front steps. “We were so busy, coming and going and doing good. I miss those girls. I’m the last of my class, I think.”

“Maybe you’ll get some more next year,” Timothy said as he opened the door for her. Even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true. Fewer people every year took religious vows.

“We won’t. When we’re gone, we’re gone. But God will provide, just as he always does.”

She placed her bags on the hallway table and held out her arms. Timothy went into them, holding her close, grateful for her years of kindness, charity and understanding.

“Don’t forget the church, Timothy. Lay people are more important than ever before, and we need people like you to help us carry on.”

“I won’t forget.”

He kissed her cheek and said good-bye, not yet knowing his path, but excited now to discover what it was.

****

As the years passed, Timothy found work he enjoyed. He felt useful again, and in a way he was still serving people, doing good in the world. Once he’d accepted himself as the person he was destined to be, he reveled in living openly, unafraid of what other people would say. He made friends, dated and had fun, but his life lacked something. The empty corner of Sister Kate’s triangle was always in the back of his mind, unfinished and incomplete. The right word never came to him, and sometimes he wondered if it ever would.

****
May 2000

“You were one hot altar boy.”

Timothy looked up from his dinner preparations. Donald was leaning on the kitchen counter, leafing through a photo album.

“Did all the altar boys look this good?” He turned a page, not waiting for an answer. “If I’d known that, I would have turned into a Catholic.”

Timothy laughed. “I think you mean converted.”

Donald flashed him a wicked smile. “Would you covet a converted Catholic?”

“If he can alliterate as well as you do, then sure.”

Timothy finished mashing the potatoes. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Just a sec. What’s this for?”

“What’s what for?”

“This.” Donald held up a paper triangle. “It’s got your name on it. And God’s.”

The afternoon with Sister Kate flashed through his mind — her faith in him and in God, her ability to see what he himself could not.

“What’s supposed to go on the other corner? Why is it taped shut?”

Timothy started to answer him, but as he stood there looking at Donald, everything came together with sharp, blinding clarity. He knew what his life had been missing — the man standing right in front of him.

“Your name. Your name goes on the other corner.”

He wanted to shout, dance and scream for joy. He had the answer, the one he’d been waiting his entire life to discover. Timothy settled for yanking Donald into his arms and squeezing him so tightly that he gasped for air.

“Mine? Why mine?”



Timothy loosened his grip a fraction. “Trust me. Your name goes there.”

He kissed Donald, barely allowing him to breathe, then took the triangle from him. He eased the tape away from the paper and read the message inside.

“When you find him, bring him to me so that I may give you my blessing.”

Sister Kate knew. She’d known his path all along but understood that he had to be the one to find it.

Timothy took Don in his arms once again, but gently this time.

“Are you busy tomorrow? Can you go somewhere with me?”

Donald laughed. “Kiss me like that again, and I’ll go anywhere you want.”

“We need to go to Poughkeepsie.”

“Why?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”

****
A/N: Timothy’s Catholic background presents much fodder for fic exploration, both in movie and book canon. The only time we hear about the seminary in movie canon, however, is during brief conversations in “Shock to the System” and “Third Man Out.” Since I saw those scenes, especially the one in “Shock,” I wondered how and why Timothy made his decision to leave a place he so obviously loved. I also think Timothy would have remained devout for the rest of his life, albeit in a life very different from the one he first imagined.

Check out this website if you’d like to make your own paper star!