Flower of Heaven (9 page)

The grounds were even prettier behind the building than from the entranceway. There were ball fields, walking trails with young men strolling the grounds, and a pond complete with a gazebo surrounded with benches. Inside the main building, there were two huge parlors for greeting visitors and their parents. There were very ornate tables and racks of literature depicting life as a seminarian and Father Gleason told Dick to read as many as he could during his brief stay in the coming week. The building’s main floor had wide hallways lined with statues and religious pictures leading to the double doors of the chapel. As you walked the hallways, you could hear the footsteps echo against the twelve-foot high ceilings from the marble floor below. Dick smiled. As he set foot through the doorway of the chapel, he immediately was besieged with the huge glimmer and radiance of sunshine streaming through the stain-glassed windows extending nearly thirty feet high. This chapel was three times the size of St. Barnaby’s Church and the biggest place of worship he had ever seen.

As if some magnetic force drew him forward, Dick found himself headed toward the altar and the accompanying pulpit. When he reached his destination and turned to face the vastness that confronted him, he merely smiled. “How does it feel, Dick? Is it a bit scary, overwhelming?”

“It’s magnificent, Father, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, it’s beautiful.”

“Come on, let me introduce you to your roommate; he’s been here for two years now, his name is Ed McNeil, I think you’ll like him.”

The dormitory building was adjacent to the main building and housed all seminarians during their entire stay at St. Ignatius. The odds of keeping the same roommate for all four years, Father Gleason related to Dick, were very slim and rarely did it happen. Many postulants lasted for as much as two years, some only one year and many for less than a year. Ed McNeil already had two roommates; Dick would be the third, if only for a week. If Dick decided to enroll at the seminary following the week’s activities that depicted life as a seminarian, both he and Ed McNeil would have to agree to continue as roommates; compatibility was essential because of the rigorous schedule of classes and training involved. It was not uncommon, Father Gleason related as they treaded across the lawn to the dormitory, that roommates who eventually both became ordained into the priesthood continued their friendship for the rest of their lives.

August, 1945, was warm in Baltimore and as the two made their way through the dorm entrance and up the stairs to the third floor, Father Gleason could not help but curse how uncomfortable and hot it was wearing his cassock during this kind of weather. A priest in his mid-fifties, he was definitely the typical picture of a priest who had to always look and dress like one, Roman collar and all, even if it meant undue perspiration and discomfort.

“Ah, three-one-one, here we are. I told Ed you’d be arriving this morning, so he should be in.”

“Ya, come on in, the McNeil palace awaits you,” the voice sounded at the end of Father Gleason’s knock. There stood a towering blond man, wearing a baseball cap, a tee shirt full of holes, a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts and sandals. Clothes were strewn across chairs, the beds, and even the dressers. The room looked like it had been ransacked and ready for the demolition team to finish the job.

“Ed, say hello to Dick Merrill, the fellow I said would be rooming with you this week to see if priesthood training is something he really wants to consider or something that’s been on his mind for a while and just needs to be dealt with.”

“Dick, nice to meet you. I don’t know why Father Gleason is hooking you up with me; I don’t have a good track record with roommates. There are those here who even think I’m the cause of new guys changing their minds about becoming a priest. I’m even starting to believe that myself, although I can’t imagine why. The Lord sure didn’t know what he was getting into when he allowed them to let me in here two years ago, I guess.”

Dick had never seen such a messy room. The floor was piled with boxes and the wall had baseball players’ pictures all over, and the crucifix, in the midst of these posters, was almost unnoticeable. Ed McNeil could sense the look of concern in Dick’s expression as he discreetly noticed his eyes scanning the room he would be calling “home,” at least for the next week.

“Sorry about the mess; really, I’m not that bad. I just got back from summer vacation at home and I sort of just threw things around to empty my suitcases and get them out of the way. I’ll have this place looking like McNeil’s palace in no time. Sit down. Where you from, Dick?”

Father Gleason excused himself as he informed Dick that Ed would take care of settling him in and acquainting him with the schedule for the week. “Thanks, Father,” yelled Ed, “I’ll take good care of him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” sighed Father Gleason as he shut the door on his way out.

The two seemed to hit it off immediately and Dick was quite comfortable carrying on a conversation with Ed McNeil. McNeil was from Rochester, New York and the son of a film company executive who wasn’t too keen on his son’s announcement to leave LeMoyne University for the seminary.

In September of that year, Dick Merrill enrolled as a new seminarian at St. Ignatius and decided to room with Ed McNeil, who, as it turned out, really wasn’t the sloppy guy that Dick had first thought he was.

Eddie McNeil and Dick Merrill really got to know each other in Dick’s first year at the seminary. It seems, as Dick found out, that Eddie’s father wasn’t just a big executive for a film company, but its president and a very wealthy man.

Ed McNeil was ordained in June, 1948, and was assigned to a parish in Wisconsin. On that day, Ed was surprised and pleased to see his father attending the ceremony and, while he still had doubts about his son’s selection, he respected his determination and apparent love for religious life.

Dick Merrill was ordained three years later and was assigned to a small parish in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, just two hours north of Rumney, his childhood home. Alice, Sean, and Jean all attended the ceremony, as did Father Ed McNeil and Father Gavin, and the Merrills flew back to Florida together where Dick spent the summer before leaving for his new parish in late August.

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CHAPTER 7

Paris in the summer is lovely to visit and Father Dick Merrill was thrilled to be there in August 1950, a gift from his Uncle Sean following his ordination. The week’s stay at a small hotel included breakfast, but Dick’s excursions around the city would be on his own, leaving him to decide what sights he wanted to see. On his first day in Paris, it was no wonder that he asked the hotel concierge about the best way to tour the city and arranged for a tour bus from Le Bourget to pick him up.

Françoise found it easy and interesting talking to Dick and the Quinlans following her brief experience with the tour driver. She had always found American tourists very friendly and their involvement during the war years at liberating France made her quest for knowing more about America that much greater.

“Tell me about the Statue de Liberte in New York and about the winds in Chicago. Do you still have cowboys in the Wild West? What about Miami, the White House, and the movie stars of Hollywood?”

It was one question after another and Dick found himself overwhelmed by this barrage of inquiry from the French girl. He could not help but notice her beautiful blue eyes against a suntanned complexion and the long flowing brown hair with a beret atop that seemed to fit perfectly on her head. Her every motion and bubbly personality captured Dick’s attention immediately. Once lunch was over and the tour resumed, now with a much more experienced driver than before, Dick seemed to find himself very much interested and attracted to Françoise’s every word and move. His smile met her eyes often during the next several hours of the excursion around Paris and he suddenly flashed a frown as the bus approached his hotel, signaling the end of the tour.

Françoise bid farewell to Dick and other passengers as they disembarked. “Perhaps we can continue our conversation about America at another time,” Dick was quick to state, surprising himself at his boldness, a far cry from the shy New Hampshire boy most people knew him for.

“Perhaps, monsieur, perhaps.”

Dick had dinner with the Quinlans that evening and they mentioned what a delightful person Françoise had been on the tour. Mrs. Quinlan went so far as to state how it seemed that Françoise was attracted to Dick and wouldn’t it be nice if Dick had a chance to see her again sometime during his stay in Paris. Following dinner, the Quinlans excused themselves and bid Dick good night and wished him well during the remainder of the week as the Quinlans were off to Nice and the Riviera the next morning.

There is something empty about being alone in a strange city at night. Although the streets of Paris on a summer night were very inviting and filled with people and cafes, where does one go alone at night? It was probably no strange coincidence that led Dick back to the Café Royal as he strolled through the city that evening. Nightlife in Paris begins at 9:00 p.m. and so it was no surprise to see the restaurant bustling with activity and the sidewalk tables bristling with casual conversation and glasses of wine being lifted throughout. Louis Dupont recognized Dick at once as he entered. Anyone aiding Françoise held an instant place in Louis’ memory bank and that afternoon’s incident with the inexperienced bus driver was no exception.

“Monsieur Merrill, I believe,” Louis stated with a beaming smile. “Are you here for dinner, or are you looking for Françoise?”

“Uh, no, I’ve already had dinner Mr. Dupont, and I was just walking around on this beautiful night. I did not expect that Françoise would be here, I didn’t think I’d even end up here!”

“Henri, be sure that table number five is well-taken care of. That is the police chief’s son and his fiancée. We need to stay on the good side of the police, you know,” Louis motioned to one of the waiters as he was busily about his duties of running a very busy café.

“I was wondering if Françoise ever did separate walking tours when she was not doing the city bus tours. I don’t really know anyone else and there is so much to see.”

“I am certain that Françoise on her holidays explores more of Paris, Monsieur Merrill. That is an appetite that she has had since she was a small child before the war. She lives in Paris on her own now and if you wish to call her to ask her, you can telephone her at Madame Gagnon’s house where she lives, numereau seven-six-one, three-six-one-seven. Nice to see you again, monsieur, enjoy your stay in Paris.” Dick copied the number down and left the café as he gestured goodbye to Louis.

Dick never gave much thought to the time of night it was and, as he found his way back to his hotel, picked up the telephone in his room as he entered. The voice at the other end of the receiver was soft and low, “Madame Gagnon, ici.”

“Do you speak English, Madame?”

“Yes, un petit peut,” she replied. “How may I help you at this late hour?”

“May I speak to Françoise Dupont, please?”

“No, you may not, monsieur,” she answered in a more harsh tone. “It is after ten and Françoise is already to bed in her room, I am certain. I can leave a note for her and she can telephone you tomorrow. She gets up early and is usually gone to work before I am up. Who may I say was calling?”

The following day, Dick headed for an early train to Rome and the Vatican, where the Pope made his weekly Wednesday appearance to the public. As a newly ordained priest, Dick had been afforded an audience with His Holiness along with a small group of clergymen. The audience would be brief and, just as well Dick thought, since he had purchased a round trip ticket back to Paris that same afternoon. It was late in the day when he returned to the hotel and received a message from the desk clerk along with his room key. The message read, “Will stop by the hotel again at 7. Françoise Dupont.”

“Hello again, Françoise,” said Dick in the lobby of the hotel when she arrived a few minutes later. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you came by earlier, but I was in Rome and the Vatican today.”