The Greatest Evil (13 page)

“Wait a minute!” Tony’s tone was challenging. “We can’t give up! If Ma doesn’t get this treatment, it’s … curtains. She’ll be dead! That’s for sure, isn’t it, Doc?”

“I’m afraid so,” Schmidt said.

“Well, maybe I haven’t been around as long as some of you people,” Tony said, “but I’ve learned one thing: If you don’t compete you can’t win. If Ma doesn’t take the treatment, she isn’t competing … she hasn’t got a chance!”

Lucy looked at the doctor. “Please … be very realistic. We aren’t asking you to play God. But you know more about this than we do. You’ve had experience with pancreatic cancer when the patient chose radiation. What’s it like?”

“Pretty much as you’ve already said. Especially with cancer of the pancreas, which is inoperable—which is what your mother has. Radiation may retard the disease somewhat. But in the end …

“What you and the good father have said is the situation as I have observed it. The effects of the radiation add to the discomfort and pain—so much so that there is not much of any quality of life.”

“So where does that leave us?” Tony did not attempt to hide his bitterness. “We’re going to give up? Give up without a fight?”

“Tony,” the doctor said in as conciliatory a tone as possible, “this may be difficult for you to understand, with your youth and your strong, athletic body. But,” he said very deliberately, “there are worse things in life than death.”

Tony snorted.

“Unless …” Vincent had been silent so long the others had virtually forgotten his presence. “Unless there is a miracle.”

Silence.

“I know you’re going to get ordained soon,” Tony said after a moment, “but that’s crazy.”

“Miracles don’t happen to ordinary people like us,” Lucy said, as she looked from face to face. “Do they?”

Dr. Schmidt, now clearly out of his league, become a spectator at an event he had heretofore been directing.

“Vinnie,” Koesler said, “isn’t what you’re proposing a
deus ex machina?”

“A what?” Lucy asked.

“We can’t find a rational acceptable solution to this problem of illness,” Koesler explained, “so we drag God in from left field to solve the situation for us.”

Vincent bristled. “I’m not suggesting that we pull God out of a hat. I’m suggesting that we dedicate ourselves to prayer for a cure for our mother. And I’m hoping that we’ll enlist the prayers of everyone we know. Prayer, Father Koesler, is not a
deus ex machina!”

For the second time during this meeting, Koesler felt as if he had spoken too hastily. “Of course. It goes without saying that we’ll pray. Each of us.” Even as he said it, he wondered: What about Tony? Would Tony—who could not envision a body that would not fight for health … for life—participate in this group prayer?

“But,” Koesler added, “prayer is one thing. A miracle is something else again.”

“How can you say that, Bob?” Vincent seemed bewildered that he needed to explain this to a priest—a priest in whom Vinnie had confidence. “The Gospels are packed with the marvels possible through prayer. The mustard seed, teaching the disciples to pray—the examples go on forever. The one necessary ingredient is faith. Faith won cures. Faith won even a return from death to life. Faith won miracles. That’s what I’m proposing: prayer backed by faith in a miracle.

“I’m pleading with all of you to pray for a miracle because … because it’s our only hope.” Vincent seemed closed to tears.

“I’m with you, Vinnie,” Lucy said. “I’m going to start today, and by tomorrow everybody in St. William’s will be praying for our miracle.”

“And”—Koesler volunteered his parish—”at St. Norbert’s.”

Actually, Lucy found the notion well beyond her capacity of faith. But at least outwardly she joined forces with Vincent and the priest because it offered an alternative to radiation or death, which, until the potential miracle, had been the only choice on the table.

“We seem to have left someone out,” Dr. Schmidt said softly. He turned, as did everyone else, to look at Louise.

She did not attempt to control her tears, which flowed from a mixture of fear and love. “I am so lucky to have such a family and friends.” She tried to smile through her tears. “I want Vincent to have his miracle.”

Everyone seemed bolstered by, or at least satisfied with, her decision—with the very clear exception of Tony.

“It’s mid-February now,” Vincent said, “and Lent has just begun. Easter won’t be here until March twenty-ninth. We have a month and a half before Easter. What a marvelous feast to celebrate the miracle of life.”

“Now you’re putting a deadline on your miracle?” Actually Tony was trying to go along with the invocation, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“No deadline, Tony,” Vincent said. “Just that we’ll be celebrating the epic feast of the Resurrection. It should inspire everyone we enlist to pray for our cause.”

“All right now,” Dr. Schmidt said after the discussion seemed at an end, “but before I leave, there are some practical matters that must be addressed. For instance, Louise, you can expect to be up and around, though not as comfortable as you’re used to being.

“In time, short of the miracle”—the doctor tipped his head toward Vincent—“you will need more help. If we’re talking of a visiting nurse, a practical nurse, someone in the family who has a nursing background …?”

“I’ll ask the seminary for a leave of absence,” Vincent said immediately. “I’m sure they’ll grant it.”

“But, baby, what will that do to your ordination?” Louise protested. “It’s less than four months from now.”

“We can talk about that. If it has to be postponed, well, then, so be it.”

“Vinnie, I have lived for that day ever since you went away to the seminary twelve years ago. What if I haven’t got a lot of time? I can’t take a chance on not being here for your ordination and first Mass. It can’t be postponed … it can’t!”

“All right, Ma, all right. Don’t worry,” he soothed. “But I’ll talk to the rector anyway. I’m sure he’ll let me come home at least once a week.”

“I’m almost positive that kind of arrangement can be worked out.” Koesler was well aware that the seminary faculty appreciated Vincent’s talent and gifts. Even though the request would be out of the ordinary Koesler was certain it would be granted.

“I’ll try to get home as often as I can,” Tony said. “Finals are coming up. They won’t be tough, but I’ve got to work on them. Then, I’ll be making the rounds of the clubs, to see if anybody wants to sign me up …”

There seemed to be a feeling that Tony was begging off a service he should shoulder. Tony sensed this. “I know, I know: I should try to get out of the whole thing like Vinnie’s doing. But it’s not the same. Vinnie can get ordained in June, or July … or September, for that matter. The thing is, he’s gonna get ordained. If I don’t follow up now … if I don’t give it everything I’ve got right now, while I’m still in the picture, I’ll lose out for sure … and there goes my life …” Tony became aware that his voice had taken on a whiny tone—like a child trying to evade responsibility. He fell silent.

“We understand, Tony,” Louise assured with motherly acceptance. “It’s just like you say: You’ve got to take care of your future now, or you won’t have a future. C’mere, sweetie …” She spread her arms wide. Tony sat down beside her on the couch. They embraced, as Louise lightly stroked his back.

“For what it’s worth,” Koesler said, “I can juggle my schedule around a bit and come over three, maybe four times a week. I’d be far from skilled nursing care. But at least I could relieve somebody for a while.”

“Oh, Father …” Louise wanted to thank him; she wanted to tell him that her family could not make such an imposition on someone as busy as a priest.

It was Lucy who interrupted. “Wait a minute, Mama. I’m the one who’ll be here for you all the time—and I think I’d like to get relieved once in a while.”

“Lucy, darling,” Louise protested, “this is a very big time for you. It’s graduation. There’ll be so many parties and celebrations, you’ve just got to be able to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“Mama, I’m not going to miss hardly any of it. Besides, you can take care of yourself … and me,” she added lightly. “And don’t forget: We’re looking for a miracle, remember? Just think … Vinnie’ll be lucky to get out to see us once a week, and Tony’s gonna be stressed even more.
I’m
the one who is already home. And I want to do it. Why can’t we leave it at that?” She turned to Dr. Schmidt. “Sound okay to you, Doctor?”

Schmidt smiled. “It sounds like an angel planned it.” He put his hand on Lucy’s head, indicating which angel he was referring to. “Now …” Schmidt stood. “I want to talk to you and”—he turned to Koesler—“to you, Father, before I leave.”

Lucy and Koesler accompanied him to the vestibule.

“This afternoon,” Schmidt said, “I’ll send over some prescriptions. They’ll be mostly for pain. You’ll be impressed by the quantity. Do you know, Lucy, whether or not your insurance covers this sort of thing?”

Lucy shook her head. “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.”

“Okay. Drug companies are forever sending me samples. I’ll put in as many as I have on hand. But some you’re going to have to get at the pharmacy.”

“I’ve got some money,” Koesler offered.

Schmidt looked dubious. “A priest? I’ll try to keep the cost down. But it’ll still be expensive.”

Koesler smiled. “We don’t make much. But then, we don’t need much.”

“Well,” the doctor concluded, “we’ll take it as it comes. One way or another we’ll want to protect Mrs. Delvecchio from pain. And in this kind of illness, pain can be a formidable enemy.

“Now,” Schmidt emphasized, “I think it very important that Louise be on her own as much as possible.”

Lucy looked puzzled. “I’m not sure I understand.” Gradually, she was becoming more cognizant of what her role involved. She would be the hands-on “nurse,” taking daily care of her mother. The responsibility would grow the longer her mother lived and, sans miracle, her condition worsened.

“What I’m getting at,” Schmidt said, “is that the more Louise can take care of herself, the healthier her disposition will be. If we overcare for her, she may retreat into her illness. So, until she is unable to medicate herself, for instance, by all means encourage her to handle as much as possible.

“Do you see what I mean? As much as possible relate to her as you would to someone who is ill but in many ways can care for herself … understand?”

Both Koesler and Lucy nodded.

“I am singling out the two of you,” Schmidt said, “because, Lucy, you’re going to be the primary care person. And you, Father, will be relieving her from time to time. I don’t expect much physical presence from either Tony or even Vincent.”

“But they’ll be here sometimes at least.” Lucy’s brow tended to furrow much as did her mother’s. “What do I do then?”

“Don’t worry, Lucy. It’ll be easier in practice than it seems in the abstract,” the doctor said. “They’re big, strong, and young. They may want to carry her up and down the stairs, for instance. Or give her-her medication. Discourage that. You can do it. We’ve got confidence in you.” He turned to Koesler. “Haven’t we, Father?”

“Absolutely.” Koesler smiled at Lucy. “Call anytime you need help … or even if you just want to talk.”

“Thanks, Father. And you too, Dr. Schmidt.” She smiled, though her eyes looked suspiciously misty. “I feel better now.”

Schmidt departed. Koesler returned to the living room, where both Louise’s sons, sitting on either side of her on the couch, were comforting and encouraging her.

After a few minutes, Koesler gave the family his blessing, and left.

He started the engine, but hesitated to put the car in gear. He was thinking about parish boundaries. Among the discoveries he had made during his few years in the ministry was the importance placed on parish boundaries. Koesler, who tended to think of a soul as a soul, had quickly learned the Church has rules and regulations regarding souls.

He recalled an experience one of his classmates had had early on. The young priest had stopped in to visit a hospitalized parishioner who happened to be in a canonically invalid marriage—thus “living in sin.” The priest was surprised to learn that the parishioner had slipped into critical condition and was not expected to live.

What to do?

Convalidating a marriage was usually a long and difficult procedure. This gentleman obviously did not have the luxury of time.

But he was dying.

Deciding to err on the side of faith, hope, and charity, rather than law, the priest gave his parishioner absolution and the sacrament of Extreme Unction—or the last rites.

By the time the young priest returned to the rectory, he was torturing himself over whether he had done the right thing. To settle his conscience, he phoned the chancery and happened to get that rare creature, a most sympathetic chancery official.

The priest explained what he’d done. The chancery reply was, “Father, you did exactly the right thing. That man was fortunate you happened upon him as he neared the end.”

Koesler’s classmate was so amazed he spent the rest of that day phoning other priests with the good news, “Hey, the chancery cares about souls!”

Personally, Koesler thought it lucky that the absolved man happened to be a parishioner. Otherwise there would’ve been a problem, if not with the kindly chancery official then with a pastor whose boundaries had been violated.

Just such a violation loomed in Koesler’s near future.

His first assignment had been at St. William’s parish. In all his time there, there had been only one technical deviation in protocol in which he was involved: that was when Frank and Martha Morris had slipped out of Nativity parish to try to convalidate their marriage. But Father Keller of Nativity had clearly demonstrated that he was not going to stake a claim on that couple.

This was a different situation.

Koesler no longer was in any sort of assignment to St. William’s. Yet he intended to go well out of his way to care for a former parishioner. Without doubt there was a base here that needed touching. And no better time than now to touch it.

13

It took Father Koesler all of five minutes—he hit only one red light—to reach St. William’s church and rectory.