"Hell, yes, it's different. I don't want her, or our baby, killed because the Germans are after me."
"Then you will have to make provisions for her. Bring her out here, for ex-ample, after you're married."
"The immediate problem is to get married," Clete said. "How do I go about that? Show up at his door? 'Buenos dias, Se¤or Mallin, you're about to be a grandfather, and I'm the sonofabitch who did it?"
Welner chuckled.
"You're asking for my advice?"
"I guess I am," Clete said after thinking it over.
"Well, then, I would suggest you first tell your uncle Humberto, and then Se¤ora Carzino-Cormano. Overlooking the missing sacrament, she is de facto your father's widow. She would want to know; she would be deeply hurt if you didn't tell her. If that bothers you, I'll be happy to talk to them for you."
"And then what?"
"And then Humberto and Claudia and I will call upon Se¤or Mallin to dis-cuss the problem we have regarding the children."
" 'The children'? And then what?"
"What can he do, Cletus?" Welner asked. "Shoot you... ?"
That's the first time he called me by my Christian name.
"Throw Dorotea out on the street? You and Dorotea are not, you know, the first two young people in history who let their glands overwhelm their brains. He loves Dorotea, and in time he may even learn to tolerate you."
"That'll be a cold day in hell," Clete said.
"A newborn, they say, can melt stone hearts."
"You really think there won't be a problem?"
"There is a problem. We can deal with it. And I'm sure the bishop, after prayerful consideration, would be willing to accept my suggestion that he waive the customary banns for the Patron of Estancia San Pedro y San Pablo. You could be married here at the chapel. Possibly as soon as next week."
"By a Catholic priest? The Old Man will shit a brick when he hears about that!"
"Now, there's a colloquialism I never heard before," Welner said. "'The 'Old Man'-presumably you mean your grandfather-will 'shit a brick'?"
Clete nodded, smiling.
"A little vulgar, I suppose, but accurately descriptive."
"I am sure that Dorotea, or her mother, knows one of my erring brother priests of the Anglican persuasion who could be induced into performing, qui-etly, one of your pagan rituals. You could tell your grandfather about that cere-mony."
"I'll be damned," Clete said.
"Not for getting married, I wouldn't think."
"I mean, that's all there is to it? It can be arranged?"
"It can be arranged, because it has to be arranged. Would you like me to speak with Claudia and your uncle Humberto?"
Clete nodded. "I'd be grateful. I'm a coward."
"No," Welner said. "A confused young man, perhaps, but not a coward." He looked at his watch. "I'll have to telephone Buenos Aires and break an appoint-ment," he said. "No problem. I really didn't want to drive in there and then have to drive right back. Humberto and your aunt Beatrice will probably arrive here in time for tea. I'll go see Claudia now, and come back in time to be here when they arrive."
"I'm very grateful," Clete said. "Thank you."
"That's what priests are for, you know. Trying to help people follow God's commandments."