Immaculate Reception (19 page)

“We may be jerks. I don't doubt we are. But at least you can count on us. Hell, we're the least likely men in the world to run off and become a priest.”

I sputtered. What was happening today?

“‘Big Father' is here,” said a plainclothesman who I
believe was from the FBI. Even an eight-year-old would figure out he was talking about the pope.

Honnett said, “Catch you later,” and walked over to the glass doors to join the other security men.

I turned to go and find Xavier. I knew he would want to be here when the pope arrived. But instead, I bumped into Holly going down a service hall to where the restrooms were located.

“Hi, Holly,” I called to her.

She stopped and turned around, waiting for me.

“There's a men's room down this hall,” Holly said. “I thought I just better go check it out.”

“I'll go with you,” I said.

We walked down the long service hall and found ourselves outside an area that was used as a storage room. Across from the storage room was a men's room that was for the use of the Otis Mayfield Pavilion employees.

The entire area looked deserted, since the party was going strong on the other side of the building.

Holly stood outside the men's room and looked at me. “Well, here goes.”

She pulled on the handle and nothing happened. She jiggled it. Nothing. She pulled harder.

“Madeline, this door is locked,” Holly said, surprised.

“Let me try,” I offered. I grabbed onto the handle and gave the door a hard yank. It didn't budge. I thought it was strange. They never lock restrooms.

“Together,” I suggested, and Holly and I both gripped the door. “One, two…three!”

The stuck door gave way and I waved to Holly. “After you.”

Laughing we walked into the men's room together. I dropped my shoulder bag on the floor, holding the door ajar, so we couldn't get locked in. And then, I noticed something odd. When we first opened the door, I'd thought I'd heard some noise coming from inside, but as soon as we entered, it went silent.

“Donald, honey?” Holly called out. Neither of us was
anxious to walk all the way into a men's room, in case a strange man was making use of the facilities.

There was a long pause. Then we heard Donald's voice, “Uh, Holly?” he said, and he walked out of the furthermost stall, the extra-large one that is meant for handicapped use, zipping his fly.

“Sweetie?” Holly said, confused. “Were you just taking the longest whiz on the planet?”

“I, uh Donald saw me standing back by the entrance to the men's room. “Oh, hi there, Maddie. That door was stuck. I called for help, but then, well…”

“Whatcha doing in here all alone all by yourself for so long, you naughty boy?” Holly asked, getting ideas. She began to pull Donald along, moving back toward that furthest stall he'd just emerged from, the one with all the room and the door that could be latched.

I ran over to stop her.

“Wait, Hol. I mean, the pope will be here any second. Is this really the right time to…”

We were standing outside the toilet stall at the end of the row. The door stood slightly open, the way Donald had left it. But all of a sudden a movement from inside that end stall caught my eye. It had apparently caught Holly's eye as well. She was closer to the stall than I was. Her view was better. Holly screamed. Then she pushed open the door.

Standing there, buck naked, was the lovely Dottie Moss.

H
olly, her pale skin even paler, ran out of the men's room without a word. Donald, red-faced and stammering, hit his fist on the tile wall and then took off after her.

“Hi, Dottie,” I said.

“Well, don't that beat all!” Dottie said, displaying her perfect body without a trace of shame.

I turned to leave the men's room and retrieved my shoulder bag from the floor where it had been holding the door ajar. Could I allow the inevitable? I contemplated the ruckus of having the press discover a guest locked into a faulty john and the headlines if that guest was our own beloved Dottie Moss. Even if she managed to get back into her clothes by then, it wasn't good P.R. Wedging my foot into the doorway, I pulled a spare pad of Post-its from my purse, positioned it between door and frame, and then carefully removed my foot. The yellow pad kept the door just far enough ajar to prevent it from sticking shut again.

Holly and Donald were long gone and the service hallway was deserted. I called on my radio and Wesley answered. The pope had finally arrived, he told me. The mayor and other city officials were delaying their remarks until the pontiff made it to the banquet, but His Holiness was not quite there.

“So is Xavier with the pope?” I asked.

“Nobody's seen Brother Xavier,” Wes said. “Perhaps he's with the missing Donald.”

“No. Donald's been found,” I said. “So you can call those dogs off.”

“Good,” Wes said over the radio.

“I'm going to look around for Xavier,” I said. “Radio me if you see him first.”

“Roger that,” Wes said.

I did a complete round of the Otis Mayfield complex, from the loading dock, where I saw my Wagoneer proudly occupying its supremely good parking spot, to the steps outside the Mayfield, and back again. By the time I'd retraced my steps, I found myself pulling on random doors, looking into broom closets and empty custodial offices. Every time I saw a security guard or police officer, I told them about Brother Xavier and my search. No one remembered seeing him. When I made it full circle and was back down the original service corridor, I once again noticed the storage room door that was opposite the employee restrooms. Many doors like this one had been locked. But as I tried it, the handle turned.

Startled, I pulled on the door and walked into the darkened room.

“Xavier,” I called.

There was no response.

I looked around and saw a roomful of storage boxes, piled into stacks on pallets. One wall featured loading dock bays with motorized garage-style doors. I calculated where I was in the Mayfield complex and figured this storage garage must allow forklifts to move equipment and goods into the facility. High factory-style windows allowed some faint morning light to filter into the space, but the overhead lights were off, and the dimness in the shadows of the mountains of cartons made it difficult to see clearly.

“Hello,” I called out. The skin on the back of my neck became chilled.

I pulled out my radio and called for Wesley to pick up. In a few moments he did.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Some storage area downstairs near the employee rest
rooms,” I said. “I wonder if you could get some security guys to meet me down here.”

“Something wrong?” Wes asked, his voice sharp.

“Not really. I'm just feeling spooky.”

“Well we've got a little situation going on up here,” Wes said calmly. “They seem to have lost the pope…”

I looked at the black handheld Motorola with its aggressive rubberized antenna.

“…so the security team is pretty much up to their ass in…”

“Wes, how can someone lose the pope?”

“That, my dear, is the question of the day up here. Luckily, no one inside the banquet hall has heard this bit of strange news. I think they are just going to inform the mayor, now.”

“Have I missed anything else?”

“We had a wonderful compliment on your spiced raisin waffles from Julia Child.”

I was missing everything.

“Call me when they find the pontiff,” I said, and then signed off.

I had become used to the dim stillness of the room, so I nearly fainted when a voice from very close behind me said, “Madeline?”

I spun. Moving quickly down the row, I found him. Behind the second nearest pallet of boxes, lying prone on a full-sized crate.

“Xavier! What happened? Are you all right?”

“Madeline,” he said again, his voice thick like he was just waking up.

“Did you fall?” I was at his side, looking at him, giving him my arm to help him sit up atop the low crate. When I'd pulled him up I noticed his left arm was caught in something. I looked close. He was handcuffed to the metal handle on the crate.

“Oh my God.”

“I'm okay,” Xavier said, feeling gently along the back of his head.

“Who did this to you?”

“I'm not sure. I was told to come here. Some change in the pope's plans. What happened after I got here, I just don't remember. I think I may have been ambushed by some old man. Does that make sense?”

“Victor Zoda,” I said, swearing to myself and then feeling guilty about it in front of Xav. “Don't worry,” I told him. “The police already have him. This is somehow connected to Zoda's past in Rome.” I filled him in quickly.

“But what time is it? Has the pope arrived?” Xav asked, concerned that he was not at his post.

“I'm told he's here.” Why get Xav all worked up about the pontiff's present whereabouts when there wasn't a thing he could do about it handcuffed to a crate.

I tried getting Wes on the radio.

“Madeline,” Xavier said, looking at me with a jumble of emotions, revealing more of his feelings than he'd let show since he'd come back to town. He reached his free right hand out and put it on mine, lowering the radio from my ear.

Just then the radio chirped to life. Wesley listened to my story and he said he'd tell the cops.

“While we wait here,” Xavier said, speaking carefully, “maybe we can talk.”

I perched myself on a large carton next to his crate, trying to maintain some dignity in my finest clothes. The metallic skirt, being rather tight, crept up.

“So,” I said. “Here we are.”

“You look beautiful, Maddie,” Xavier said with a sigh.

“So do you. I guess there's no chance we could start dating again, huh?” I asked, mostly just to keep it light.

“Jesuits don't date.”

“I didn't really think so.”

“But we can have friends of the opposite sex,” Xav said, seriously.

I watched his eyes as they inadvertently swept over my hips and legs and then quickly looked away.

I didn't have the strength, anymore, to avoid the truth. I
don't know. Maybe it was the morning I'd been having. I tried the direct approach.

“I know you're a Jesuit now, Xavier, but can you actually stop yourself from being attracted to a woman?”

“No,” he confessed, looking directly at me.

Tears sprang up, just like that, and rested inside my lower lids.

“Maddie, nothing happens to us at the time of entering the seminary that eliminates normal human needs.”

“What about normal human desires?” I asked, noticing the clench of his strong jaw, the softness of his wide mouth.

“As celibate people,” he said carefully, “we choose to channel these feelings and express our love for others in a wide range of means other than in…well, physical expressions.”

“Ah,” I said.

Xavier felt gently along the back of his head, moving his fingers through his thick blond hair, where I imagined he'd discovered quite a lump.

Propped up against the stiff carton, I shifted my weight, which seemed to bring a bit of comfort to my back but also hiked my skirt a few inches higher. I tugged it back down. When I looked up, Xavier was staring at me.

“Maddie, I loved you. You cannot doubt that, can you?”

“Oh, of course not.” A single tear escaped, but I tried to ignore it.

“How can I explain? I knew I had a calling. I felt the pull of it. My family was always religious, you knew that.”

“But I told you I would convert to Catholicism,” I said, rushing in. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

“My sister, Teresa, talked to me, Maddie.”

Teresa? I suddenly felt I was finally going to hear the truth. His twin sister, Teresa, lived back with his family in Philadelphia. At least she did when Xavier and I had been engaged.

“What about Teresa?” I asked, perhaps a little too harshly. “Did she tell you I would ruin your life? Does she hate me so much?” I began to suspect that his jealous twin
had somehow gotten to Xavier all those years ago, turned him against me so she could bring him back east, back to the family.

“Maddie, Teresa is dead, may God rest her soul.”

That stopped me cold. How anyone who hadn't been raised a Catholic could so swiftly be overtaken with guilt, I couldn't say, but I started blathering, “Oh, Xavier. Oh I'm so sorry. Why didn't you ever tell me?” I moved from my perch and came to sit next to him on the large crate.

“Teresa had wanted to become a nun. But her health was never good. When she found out she was not strong enough to make it into a convent, she called me. We talked about our dreams as kids. We had each of us felt that our relationship with God gave us strength, gave our lives special meaning. I was reminded, Madeline, of who I have always wanted to be. When I realized Teresa might not live, I was struck by what I had to do. Can you understand? I loved you, but I couldn't promise that I would always be happy with the life we had planned. Talking with my sister, I felt strong enough to make the commitment I needed to make. To join the Society of Jesus. To enter the novitiate. To take vows of poverty and chastity and obedience.”

“I see,” I said. “And what does your order suggest a future priest should do with the girl you've fallen in love with?”

I was sitting so close to Xav that our shoulders were almost rubbing. When he turned to look at me we were close enough to kiss. He didn't pull away.

“The basic responsibility is to preserve our commitment to our life in Christ,” Xav said, reaching for my hand.

“And what happens to the poor girl who loves you?”

“Sometimes that means developing the relationship with the woman, but within the bounds of one's commitments to celibacy.”

“I see,” I said, barely audible, but close to his ear. “But you disappeared.”

“Other times,” Xav continued, avoiding my eyes, “if the stress of the temptation seems too great, it may be nec
essary to drop the person out of one's life all together.”

I winced in pain.

“Maddie, what can I do to make you feel better?”

I looked at his blue eyes. Sitting so close, I could smell the clean soap smell of his face and neck.

“Hold me,” I said.

Xavier paused. Then he lifted his chained arm as high as it would go and circled it around me. It's what I wanted, but it only made the hurting worse. I melted into him, tears falling now.

“How can I feel good about my decision, Maddie, when it causes you so much pain? Can't you see what I did was for the best? I have an opportunity to serve God. I feel blessed to live this life. And I believe you are living a better life as well.”

“That's just not true,” I said fiercely. “Don't twist this. It may have been the best decision for you, Xavier, but leave me out of it.”

“Really? That's not how it looks. You wanted to follow me, Maddie. You wanted to help me be a great chef. But what kind of life would it have been for you?”

“Oh, Xavier,” I said, thoroughly frustrated. “You're a genius in the kitchen. You were so talented.”

“No, Maddie. You were always the gifted one. Don't you see? You could always do anything with food and people. If we'd gone on together, you might have taken a back seat as you helped me move ahead. Maybe this was really the way things were meant to be. Perhaps God meant for you to face this challenge and become your own person. Look where you are today. Look how strong you are.”

I rested my head on his chest and thought about the years.

“I don't think God was planning anything for me,” I said.

“You know how frustrated you get with me when I tell you that sometimes I can't always understand God's plan?”

I nodded against his shirt.

“But, Maddie, sometimes I suspect you can. You can
understand things other people can't. That understanding, that may just be your calling. That's why it always made you crazy when you couldn't figure everything out at once. That's why you get so burnt up when you do figure things out and no one will pay attention.”

I sat straight up, about to tell him how wrong he was about me. Tell him he had no idea who I was. Tell him that God was not pulling my strings. But, suddenly, I couldn't. Instead, I felt this odd sensation that perhaps, after all, there might be one individual on earth who truly did understand me.

I heard the door open to the storage room. Our rescuers here at last. I hoped it was someone with a key to Xavier's handcuffs. I was about to call out when a voice spoke up from beyond the stacks of boxes.

“Young man? Are you awake? I'm afraid I must finish some unpleasant business.”

It was the voice of Victor Zoda.