In God's House (49 page)

“What about Quinlan, Blassingame and those guys?”

“God took ’em all. Wonder where he put ’em. And I know you musta heard about your old friend, Sean Robinette. Died one night while he was sleeping. It’s just us from those days.”

“And Dubois?”

“Fuck Dubois, son. I told ya long time ago he ain’t no kind of human being.”

“You were right about that, Joe.”

Rossi put down his bourbon and Coke. “I just wanted to see ya
one last time. Ya know. Tell ya I’m sorry and shit like that, ya know.”

“I know.”

“Ren, you know I’m named in a big indictment with the governor and some of my friends.”

“I read something about it.”

“Son, I got that short little shithead lawyer, Wiley Darby, outta Shreveport. A fucking Yankee on top of everything else. He’s got wiry, dirty-looking dishwater hair knotted on his head. It’s Audubon hair – oughta been on a mule’s ass. Paid him yacht money. Even he don’t know how I’m gonna beat the Feds.”

“Ya gonna beat ’em, Joe.”

“Damn straight, son. Trial is set for next spring. I got cancer all over – less than three months to live.”

Rossi paused, looked straight at me. “Don’t worry, son. I’m ready. I done lots of good things in my life, but I only let people know ’bout the bad things. I’m gonna go through the pearly gates. When the time comes, my estate lawyer will find ya wherever you are. I’m leaving you some oil and gas royalty that’s gonna last till hell freezes.”

Joe Rossi was dying. I couldn’t believe it. People like Joe never died.

“You’re a good boy, son. You did some brave things. Somebody oughta give ya something, even if it’s only me.”

I thought I saw tears welling in his eyes as he walked me to the door. When I stepped into the hall, Joe looked at me and shrugged his shoulders, saying, “I guess this is it.”

I reached for Joe, hugged him tight. “I love ya, Joe.”

“I know, kid, I love ya too. Wish you’d been my son.”

I nodded as tears filled my eyes.

“POPE SUMMONS AMERICAN CARDINALS TO ROME”. The headline topped the front pages of every newspaper in the world. It was unprecedented for a pontiff to summon all the cardinals from one country to discuss the issue of clergy sex abuse, a subject until now mentioned only in whispers in the halls of the Vatican. The sense was that the Vatican would finally act. Devout Catholics believed their pope would reach out to all of the broken children, and that he would severely chastise the cardinals and bishops implicated in the scandal.

A week before the two-day conference with the American cardinals, Cardinal Hans Kruger hosted a small meeting with the two other senior cardinals in his cabal. They convened in a salon adjoining Cardinal Kruger’s office. Cardinals Gregorio Bertolini and Niccolo Paginini arrived together. All three men bitterly disagreed with the Holy Father’s decision to bring the American cardinals to Rome. “What a disaster,” complained Cardinal Kruger, “to walk the problem of clergy abuse through the front door of the Vatican when we have kept it from coming in the back door.”

None of them had been consulted by the pontiff before he issued the summons. Their power was almost absolute at their level in the Curia and down through the ranks, but they had exerted little influence over the Pope in recent years.

The cardinals sat in large chairs in Kruger’s parlor. The
meeting was conducted in the native tongue of the two Italian cardinals. Cardinal Kruger fingered a coin in his hand, turning it over and over. “We have let the bishops, clergy and laity drift for too long in America,” began Cardinal Kruger. “The laity live outside of the Church’s teaching on birth control and other matters. They make their own rules, their own religion, and still claim to be Catholics. The seminaries produce perverts, too many homosexuals. Bishops ordain inherently disordered men, homosexuals, who are looking for warm bodies on the altars. We cannot change these things today. But we must hold the line today.”

“Yes,” Cardinal Paginini said. “And so what can be done? Two billion dollars lost.”

“This thing happened in a country that has gone mad with liberalism. It’s the lack of morality in America that is the root of this. Even their President Clinton was a pervert. The collapse of morality has touched everything. It has even infected the priesthood.”

“And what would you do, Hans?”

“We must issue a decree, something to state that no homosexuals will be admitted to seminaries, ordained, or allowed to be priests. We must enforce the decree. We must make people focus on the American culture where this was born. It is that culture that caused this.”

The aged Cardinal Bertolini twisted his hands in his lap. “I am told that the Boston cardinal, Bernard Law, wants to quit. I hear he has a letter of resignation for the Holy Father and he is coming to Rome ahead of the others. To give the letter.”

Niccolo Paginini laughed. “Is he Irish? He must be Irish. They have the same lack of fortitude as Mexicans. He cannot be allowed to resign. If Cardinal Bernard Law resigns in Boston, he will be giving a great victory to the enemies of the Church. This victory must be denied.”

“You are right, Niccolo,” replied Kruger. “Very right. And, my friend, there is another reason this Cardinal Law cannot be
allowed to resign. If the press and the attorneys can force a cardinal in Boston to quit, they will believe they can do this in Los Angeles and all over the country. We could lose bishops all over America. Maybe we would have no bishops left in America. Now the aggressors against the Church in America have the scent of a cardinal’s blood. Once they taste meat, their appetite will never be satisfied.”

Cardinal Bertolini said, “One of our best Catholic friends in Boston, the powerful politician, called me Sunday afternoon. He said all he hears are rumors but he suspects there are criminal investigations going on and he thinks the wise thing would be for Cardinal Law to resign and leave Boston. If this happened, our friend said he did not think the prosecutors running criminal investigations would make any attempt to make a criminal case against the cardinal. Resigning in disgrace would be enough punishment. Even if it is just rumors, sounds like Law does need to resign. Our friend in politics said no matter what the truth is, things are bad in Boston and the cardinal must resign for the good of the American Church.”

Cardinal Kruger shifted in his chair, then stood and walked to the window, keeping his back to the others. He quickly processed what he had just heard. Turning back to the Italian cardinals, he said, “We cannot have a cardinal named as a criminal. If he must resign, it becomes very important how we treat him. Every bishop in America will be watching us to see what support the cardinal in Boston is given from the Vatican. We must prepare the most prestigious post for Bernard Law, bring him to Rome, and place him in a higher position than he held as Archbishop of Boston. The message to the hundreds of bishops in the United States will be clear, no? All will understand that if forces in America seek to destroy one of our bishops, we will not only protect the bishop and keep him in his post, but if he must resign we will elevate him, give him a better life.”

Paginini asked, “What would you do with this Cardinal Law?”

“Make him Archpriest of Basilica Santa Maria Maggiore. The
archpriest of the basilica is dying now. It is the most important church in the Catholic world outside of Saint Peter’s. It will be for Cardinal Law, and he will have the villa, its stipend, appointments to Vatican commissions. Let him come back to Rome like a conquering Caesar. Send a message to every bishop in America – they fight our enemies and we will reward them.”

The old man, Cardinal Bertolini said, “Many years ago, we…” pointing to Cardinal Paginini, “the two of us had that document thrown at us by the dying priest from Washington. I would not take it. He threw it on my desk. I gave the document to you, Hans. The priest said his papers named hundreds of priests in America and the bishops who supported the criminals. It was true?”

Kruger pocketed the coin. “Yes, yes, it was true.” Picking up a paper from a side table, Kruger said, “This fax came from Maryland, from Bishop Franklin. At my request, he attempted to gather information about how many American dioceses are like the Boston diocese. And about how many of those dioceses are having reports of their problems appear in the press. You don’t have to read his report. The problem is everywhere, in all of America. Almost every American bishop has this same problem Cardinal Law has in Boston, to one degree or another. In many places the bishops have been able to influence the press and state prosecutors, minimizing the scandal to the Church. In other places, the scandal is almost as bad as Boston.”

“That’s no good,” Cardinal Paginini said. “Is anything good?”

“What is good is that this plague in the Church has not yet spread to every country. But there are serious problems in places – Canada, Australia and Ireland. There are indications in Europe and Latin America that the plague is taking root there too. Until now, this problem has never been identified as a problem for the Vatican.”

Cardinal Paginini shook his head and groaned. “That was yesterday. This is today. Now our Holy Father is making this the Vatican’s problem.”

Cardinal Kruger looked directly at Cardinal Paginini. “I
cannot even get an appointment with the Holy Father. The man is very sick. He can hardly hold his head up and his limbs move erratically. He’s sick, but he’s not stupid. How can he do such a stupid thing?”

Cardinal Bertolini slapped his hands on the arms of his chair. “What is important is the laity. If seventy million Catholics in America remain loyal to the Church, we win. Catholics are bound to the Church – they are bound from birth, from baptism. They believe in their Church. They believe their salvation can only come through the sacraments of the Church. We must make any attack on a bishop or cardinal look like an attack on all Catholics. Catholics believe this Church is their Church.”

Cardinal Paginini chortled. “Yes, but we know – we do know, don’t we? We are the Church. The three men in this room.”

At sundown, I was stretched out on the bed in my hotel room, holding the subpoena for my court appearance in my hand. As I stared at the ceiling, I covered the same ground over and over in my mind. What was I supposed to do in court? Lie? Tell the truth?

Julie was scrunched in a chair, bare feet on the cushion, working a crossword puzzle. It felt good to have her so close.

A knock pulled me out of my trance, and opening the door gave me a shock. Sasha, Jake and Shelby stood in the hall, grinning.

Jake had driven in from Austin, Shelby had flown from Los Angeles, and they’d picked up Sasha, who was living in Thiberville again, attending the university. Kate had orchestrated the visit. She knew I did not want her or the children around Thiberville now, but she’d set this up as a 24-hour visit, knowing they would distract me.

They were really excited to see Julie, having spent a lot of time with her in Europe over the past decade. Sasha gave her a big hug and said, “When are you going to marry this man so I don’t have to worry about spending my life taking care of him?”

Jake said, “Yeah, Julie. He tells us nothing. When you gonna take him off of our hands?”

Shelby was smiling. “Come on, guys. Go easy. Be nice to the lady.”

Julie laughed. “What you gonna pay me when I take him off your hands, Sasha?”

“You better work cheap,” Sasha said.

The children insisted Julie join us and protested loudly when she refused. “You guys go on without me tonight. Just this one time. I’ll never refuse another invitation. But I know what you mean to your dad. He has me here and I’ll be with him a long time now. Maybe he’ll tell you we’re getting married. Tonight, he needs to be with you guys.”

They had arranged a private dining room at one of my favorite restaurants so we would not be bothered by anyone. I had little appetite, but I laughed more than I had in months. Jake played his role as the family comic and he and Sasha reprised some of their better bickering routines from childhood.

Back outside, Sasha pointed to the old stadium and said, “They’re going to demolish that old stadium and make a green area, plant trees, set out benches and stuff.”

“The old stadium?” I said.

“It’s coming down next month. They’re going to explode it or implode it, or whatever you call it. Nobody ever paid any attention to it before they announced they were going to blow it up. Now there are art students sketching it every day and some kooks are passing around a petition and planning a demonstration to save it. Who gives a hoot about an old stadium?”

“Let me show you something,” I said.

When I crawled through the hole in the fence, they followed. I led them to the top of the old press box and all the way to the top of the light standard.

“You’ve been here before,” Shelby said.

“When I was a kid, I snuck out of the house and came here all the time. I thought of it as my hideout. But I was never hiding from anything or anyone. It was more like I came up here to dream. I even came here sometimes when I was a lawyer and we lived out in Coteau. This has always been one of my favorite places. When I was growing up, it was the most special place I knew. I never told anyone about coming here.”

“Does Mom know about this place?” Sasha asked.

“No. Just you guys and one other person. No one ever knew. Until now. Tonight.”

Sasha, Shelby, and I were seated on the platform. Jake was standing. He said, “It would have been really something to watch a football game from here.”

“Never did that.”

“Look,” Jake said, “you know we’re all here because we want to be with you this weekend. And there’s something I want to ask you.”

Shelby said, “We love you, Papa, and we’re proud of you.”

Sasha said, “Me too. And Jake too, but, ya know, Jake doesn’t say ‘I love you’.”

Jake laughed. “I love you, Sasha-Belle, even if you are spoiled rotten. If there’s reincarnation, I wanna come back as you.”

I asked them, “You know, all this stuff with Francis Dubois supposedly ended eighteen years ago. You guys were young. What do you remember most from that time?”

“I guess I remember you were on TV all the time. Not much else,” Sasha said.

Shelby said, “Of everything, I think I most remember the weeks at the beach after you and Mom separated, and how you took us back to the beach a couple months later.”

“Me too,” Sasha said.

Jake said, “I don’t remember much. But I want to ask you something.”

I knew what Jake wanted to ask me, but I said to them all, “How you guys like it up here?”

Shelby said, “It’s strange how everything looks so different in the dark. The dark does strange things. I can see you up here as a kid.”

“When I was a kid, I couldn’t come here in daylight because the campus security police would have caught me. So, I always came at night. There were times I wished it would have stayed dark longer, that the night would have lasted longer. It was my
secret world. In life, there are only a few places you will ever go that will become part of you, of who and what you are. For me, this was the first place.”

“Ya think anyone else ever came up here?” Jake asked.

“Naw.”

“Then you put this here,” Jake said, fingering some remnants of cloth tied to a crossbar.

I smiled. “Those are two of my ties. I always hated ties.”

Sasha, always the brassiest of the bunch, bluntly broached the subject no one had addressed yet. “Mom told me that if you lie in court Tuesday, the Dubois guy will probably spend the rest of his life in prison. He will never be around another little kid again. And she said if you tell the truth, this guy will be let out of jail. Is that how it is?”

“Not exactly, but close,” I said.

Jake said, “That’s what I want to ask you. What are you going to do in court Tuesday?”

Shelby said, “I wish you weren’t making us go home tomorrow. We all wanted to be in court with you. Can I ask you something? You’re a writer. Are you gonna write a book about this stuff?”

“I’m not sure anyone would want to believe the truth. It’s a terrible truth that goes back about eighteen hundred years. The Catholic Church has always been a haven for perverted priests like Dubois, and they’ve covered up their crimes all the way up to the popes. Ya think people are ready to read such a terrible truth?”

Shelby said, “Yes, I do. But that doesn’t matter. I think you’re still carrying all of this inside of you. And you need to write this for yourself.”

Sasha raised her hand like she was in class, wanting to talk. I nodded at her.

“Look, Dad, the deal is… the deal is… I mean if you write about this… if ya do, can you do something for me… please?”

“What?”

“Leave out the part about me sinking my trike in the pond so I could get a two-wheeler – leave that part out, okay?”

Jake laughed, “Confessing now, are you?”

Shelby mussed Sasha’s hair. “Tell us how you got that thing out in the middle of the pond. You couldn’t have possibly done it alone.”

“Nope. You’re right. I had a co-conspirator. I told the yard guy, old Mule, that Momma wanted things on the bottom of the pond so aquatic plants would grow as food for the fish. He was so strong he just flung the trike way out to the deep part.”

Shelby turned to me. “Really. Please. Let us go to court with you. We all want to stand by you. I don’t think many people understand what really happened, what you were really trying to do for the children, and what price you’ve paid.”

I shook my head. “I really have to do this alone. I hope you will honor that.”

Jake said, “In court… you gonna tell the truth or lie?”

“I was kinda thinking I should do the right thing. I just gotta figure out what that is.”