by Peter Murphy
Perhaps if the right opportunity presented itself tomorrow she would, as subtly and diplomatically as she could. The last thing she needed was his getting upset too.
She might just mention it to Rachael; she always knew how to get Martin to listen.
Ritchie was a bit miffed too. He really wanted them to spend Christmas together but she couldn’t, not with all that was going on. She had offered to have him over on Boxing Day—just the two of them. She would cook for him and they could spend the evening together. He tried to look happy with that but she could tell; he was beginning to wonder if she was ever going to tell them about him. He said it made him wonder if she was serious about him.
She almost laughed at that. It was a ridiculous thing for a grown man to think but she understood. His wife had left him. After almost ten years and two children she discovered that she could not be fulfilled in their relationship. He was still scarred by that and, even though Deirdre really liked him, she had hoped for something far less complicated. She wanted them to have the chance to be together without any ghosts of the past whispering in the shadows. She hoped they could work it out but she wasn’t prepared to settle.
Her phone rang as she poured another glass—the one she took to bed as she watched some silly Christmas romance movie. She thought it might be Ritchie or one of the kids. She never expected it to be from the hospital. For some reason she had expected all of that to wait until after Christmas.
Chapter 18 – Spring 2012
It was a miracle, Father. A Christmas miracle.”
“Well, I’m very happy to hear that, Mrs. Boyle.”
Patrick was happy, but he was worried too. He didn’t want this to be like the night in the Church of the Dead. He had decided he would reach out to Danny, but he’d do it his way. There’d be no miracles or magic. He’d just sit him down and talk, man to man, and if God had anything to say to Danny, he could say it through Patrick.
“It’s funny,” Jacinta replied in a voice that almost sounded like when she was young. “Just when you think there’s no hope left in the world a miracle happens, like they used to do in the Bible.”
Patrick smiled to himself. Jacinta, like most people, knew the Bible more through hearsay than through actually reading it. And most of those who had read it were convinced by every word, even though each page contradicted the last. That was probably why the Church had discouraged people from trying to read it on their own. But the Reformation changed all that. The Bible had been given to the people so justification could be found every time the old order had to be changed.
Patrick knew what he was talking about; he had given a course on it for years. At first he found the going very dry until it dawned on him to shift his stance and became the Advocatus Diaboli, picking and poking at it all. That forced his jaded students to engage, but it raised a few eyebrows too. It might even have drawn a bit of censure, but there were far worse things going on further up.
He had read all the bishop’s writings again as he had weighed Danny’s problem in his mind, and had finally digested them. They were not the ravings of heresy he had once taken them for. They were the simple words of a man trying to make peace with all that he had harmed in trying to make the world a better place. His uncle had not renounced his faith; he had just torn away all that was wrong with how they had gone about things.
From the story of Adam and Eve on, we sold them shame and unworthiness in the hope that they would turn back to God. We told them they should not give in to the ways of the world when all along we were a part of everything that was wrong with it.
Patrick had read them like scriptures and his understandings had changed as life had changed him.
We, even those of us who were not yet corrupted, went along with it all because we wanted to believe that, in the final balance, all the good we did would outweigh the bad. We spent hours telling ourselves that and hounding out any and all who would try to speak against that. May all the gods forgive us for we have sinned against everything we held as holy.
Since he had retired Patrick was happy to become a forgotten old monk in the library. They had made him a Monsignor a few years back but he never got used to it. He wanted to remain unaffected by the pomp and glamour of Rome and a call from Dublin, even if it was from Mrs. Boyle, always made him feel like that. He was just a simple priest, and all he had to offer was a bit of kindness. “Well I’m so happy for you. It must be a great relief to you all.”
“Well it is and it isn’t, Father. We’re still not sure how right he’ll be after. He’d become awful dark and brooding the last few years. Not that I’m not happy that he has been given the chance, only what if he has to live in an iron lung for the rest of his life? Or a wheelchair? There’ll be no living with the moods he’ll get himself into. I’m just afraid he’ll go back on the drink as soon as he’s well enough again.”
“Well, maybe the Good Lord is finally showing Danny a bit of mercy.”
He wanted to sound comforting and he didn’t want to sound impartial. He agreed with the bishop; they did owe the Danny Boyles of the world—and all belonging to them.
“And I’m sure we have you and the holy Jesuit to thank for that.”
“And how are Deirdre and the children?” Patrick switched the topic as subtly as he could. He had never actually gotten around to telling John about Danny’s coma. He knew he didn’t have to. John and the bishop had probably been in cahoots for years.
“They’re over the moon, especially Grainne, even though it spoiled Christmas for her little ones. I told her I would make it up to them all. When Danny is well enough, they’re all going to come over and visit Rome with me. It’ll do Danny a world of good to see yourself again and your friend.”
Patrick wasn’t so sure about that. Lately all John talked about was the Mayan calendar. “It’s not the end,” he’d say every time he mentioned it. “It is a warning from the past that the time for complacency is over. The meek must rise up before everything is taken and destroyed.”
“Now that is something to be looking forward to. And will Deirdre’s father be with you?”
“I doubt it, Father. He’s gotten very bad. He gets lost on his way to the toilet. And then he forgets why he was going and wets himself. We can’t have the children see him like that.”
“No, Mrs. Boyle, we couldn’t have that.”
“Deirdre says she might try and spend a few days in Ireland if she can manage it but she’ll have her hands full enough.”
“Will it not be awkward for her—being here with Danny?”
“We’ll manage. After all, we’re still family.”
“Of course, Mrs. Boyle. And please tell them all that I can’t wait to see them.”
*
“Have you gone mad? It will be worse than a Griswold movie.”
“Rome survived the Barbarians; it will survive us.” Deirdre couldn’t look him in the eye; she wasn’t crazy about the idea either. It was something Jacinta and Grainne had cooked up between them and left it to her to break the news to Martin.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to get away this year. We’ve got so much going on at work.”
“You might not have a choice,” Deirdre said softly. She had noticed the change in him where his father was concerned. Before, he would just have refused flatly. Now he was just coming up with excuses. “Grainne is already working on Rachael.”
“She never said anything.”
“What could she say? But she did ask me to talk with you.”
He thought about that for a while. He really didn’t have an option, so she sat patiently while he digested it. He’d probably vent a little more but he’d do the right thing. He always did.
“Isn’t it too soon? He won’t be well enough to travel.”
“I hope that’s concern for his wellbeing. Besides, if it proves too much for him we can just drop him off in the Catacombs.”
“As a matter of fact I have. That’s why I will be bringing someone with me.”
“Who, an exorcist?”
“In a way. His name is Ritchie and we have been together for a few months. We feel that it’s time he met all of you.” That, and she didn’t want anyone to think that she and Danny might ever . . .
“In the lion’s den?”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve told him how well adjusted you and your sister are.”
“I see. You get me to go along with it so Grainne doesn’t get upset. Mother, you can be very Machiavellian.”
“Not at all. You and I are allies. And we have backup. I suggested to Rachael that she invite her parents.”
“Don’t you think they’ve suffered enough?”
“Joel and your father have become friends. Joel goes to see him every day and wheels him outside so he can smoke.”
“He’s still not able to walk?”
“He can, a little, but the doctors want him to ease back into things and you know your father: why walk if someone is willing to push you around?”
“And there is nothing I can say to get out of it?”
“I doubt it. Your grandmother and your sister have formed a pact. We must do the same. Help me with this and I will see to it that you spend as little time as possible with him. That way you and Rachael can have a reasonably romantic vacation.”
“With deranged family in tow.”
“When in Rome, Martin. When in Rome.”
He’d be fine. For all his grumbling, he would be the perfect gentleman to Rachael and Grainne and her and Ritchie. He’d be cordial with his father and that was the best that could be hoped for.
*
“You want to bring your new boyfriend along?”
Deirdre moved the phone to her other hand and rose and closed her office door. This was going to take a while. “Yes, Grainne, I’m bringing Ritchie.”
“Have you even considered how Daddy might feel?”
“Grainne, he just came out of a coma. I think he’ll feel so grateful he won’t care.”
“Mother. Why don’t you just throw him to the lions when we get there?”
“Sweetie, listen to me. Your father and I are okay with all that has happened. We accepted it and have both moved on. It’s time you did too.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this—after all he has just been through.”
“Grainne, the only reason I agreed to this trip was because of what we’ve all been through. And we all have to deal with it in our own way. Now stop trying to impose yourself on the situation. Give everyone the space to deal with it as they want.”
“Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re my mother.”
“I know. It’s still a bit strange for me, too, but don’t worry. We’ll all behave ourselves and we’ll have a wonderful time. And your father will just be delighted to be included.”
“Until he sees who you’re with.”
“I could keep Ritchie locked in my bedroom only I’d probably never come out either.”
“Mother!”
“Oh, relax. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Besides, your father will be so busy with Joel Brand, he won’t even notice.”
“And that’s another thing. Why are they coming?”
“Because your father has finally found a friend who doesn’t spend his whole life drinking. It might be the positive influence he’s going to need.”
“But they’re not even family.”
“They are to your brother and you know your grandmother is hoping that this might be the chance for your father and him to get closer. It could be nice.”
“That’s if Rachael doesn’t drag him off all the time.”
“Sweetie, what’s the issue between you and Rachael?”
“There’s no issue. Why would you say that?”
“Because you haven’t said a kind word about her lately.”
“That’s not true. How could you even say such a thing?”
“Well, forgive me if I’m wrong. It just seems that you had a falling out with her. Is there anything the matter?”
“No, only she thinks she is so much better than the rest of us.”
“I don’t think she’d ever have a thought like that.”
Grainne didn’t answer, and in the pause that followed Deirdre laid out all the pieces in her mind like a jigsaw. She would take the time to put them all together but not now. “I should say goodbye for now. I have a few things waiting. But I’m going to visit your father later. If you’re not too busy, we could go for coffee after?”
“I can’t. Doug’s working late again.”
Martin had pulled it off. He’d managed to save Doug’s job for now. It had cost him a few favors and he’d made it very clear to Doug: it was his last chance. Doug would be grateful and, when they were in Rome, gambol about like a dog. But it would keep Grainne occupied. All in all, it might not be such a bad trip when everything was said and done.
*
“I’m just not up for it, Joel. Look at me.” Danny still looked like death but it was understandable; he’d been almost dead for weeks. “I’m payin’ for my sins now, I can tell ya. Do they really think that a trip to Rome is going to cure me?”
Joel was wheeling him across Bond Street and into the park. They’d told the nurses that they just went around the block for some air but nobody bought that. The doctor had been very critical of his smoking, but other than that Danny was being a model patient—charming but with a touch of contrition—so nobody said too much. They were never gone more than twenty minutes and he wasn’t drinking. That was the big concern. Other than that, as long as he was warm enough, everybody just looked the other way—and it was good for Danny to have the company of a friend. Everybody knew the value of that.
It was very cold and brittle outside but the sun was bright and, out of the wind, warming. There were still piles of old snow everywhere, crusting at the blackened edges.
“You gotta love the spring in this country,” Danny tried to joke when the cold reached in between his new coat and the robe he wore over his pajamas. “It’s no wonder the whole country is going mad. We’re not designed for living like this.”
“It will be nice and warm in Rome,” Joel finally answered. He was still red faced from the exertions he had to go through to dress Danny, who was still getting dizzy spells. Joel had brought him the coat, an extra blanket to cover his legs, and had wrapped Danny like a toddler. And he had brought him a fresh pack of cigarettes.
He wasn’t the worst of them, Danny decided, as he looked up at him. He’d offered to wheel Danny over to St. Michael’s Cathedral, nestled in behind the United Church, but Danny just wanted to get a few drags into him and get back inside. He didn’t like smoking near the entrance where the other patients gathered. They looked so pathetic with their coats on over their gowns and wearing slippers. And some had to bring their drip things too. He didn’t want to be seen with them.
“It’s all my mother’s doing, isn’t it?”
“Well, Danny, you can’t blame her for wanting to have her family around her again.”
“I thought you didn’t care much for family.”
“Just my wife’s. Yours, I like.”
“Yeah, but she’s probably still hoping I’ll be saved or something.”
“She’s your mother; of course she’d want that.”
“How come you never talk about your mother?”
“What can I say? She was a sad woman. Nobody in our house ever smiled. As a child, I always had to hear about all the terrible things life would do to us. I know she had every reason to be the way she was—she was only eleven when they took most of her family away. I just wish she didn’t have to pass it all on!”
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He looked guiltier than usual and Danny couldn’t help but try to reach out to him. Only people who went through things like that could really understand, but Danny had a bit of an idea what it was like. He’d spent enough time in his own hell. He wanted to nudge Joel or something, just to let him know, but he was wrapped too tight. “Tell me about it. Only in our house, my parents used to get drunk and sing about our sorrows.”
“I think I would have preferred that.”
Danny looked up at him and realized he was right. It could have been worse—and it should’ve been after all the shit he’d pulled. And despite everything, he was still being given another chance. Only, that scared him. He’d screwed up every other chance he ever got.
He really wanted to believe that it’d be different this time. When he was in his coma he could hear their voices: his uncle and his parents, and the old priests. They were all telling him there was still time to set things right. He knew he really had to this time—only he couldn’t say that to anybody. He’d been promising to get his act together so often that he’d sound like the boy with the wolf; but being almost dead had shown him how precious life really was. He just had to remember to look at it that way. He had to learn to become grateful and not always be harping on. “I used to be happy back when it was just me and my granny.”
“And what happened?”
He wanted to be positive but even just thinking about it brought up the old shit that was still surging around inside him. “She died and I found out about all the lies she’d told me.
“I suppose it wasn’t all her fault,” he added for Joel’s sake. If he’d been given another chance, he’d use it to try to make the world a little better for those around him, and he’d start with Joel. “After my grandfather was gone, she had to deal with everything on her own. Not that she wasn’t more than a match for the world, I can tell ya, but she always worried about what people might be saying.
“Everybody was like that back then. All kinds of shite could be happening but as long as the neighbors didn’t know . . . only they always did. Everybody used to make it their business to know what everyone else was up to. And nobody was good enough for anybody else.”