The Accidental Pope (62 page)

“I remember him,” Bill laughed. “Your Uncle Brian and I worked in his father's fish market in Newton when we were in the seminary.”

Colleen nodded. “By the way, that phone over there connects directly to the Vatican should you need to use it.”

“Good idea. I need to talk to the Castel Gandolfo team about some changes in the encyclical we made on the plane.” He sighed and sat down. “I'm exhausted from the plane ride. I'm going to get some rest. Call me when the other kids are all back.”

The following day was not a good one for Bill, although he managed to conceal his sickness from the family. But he enjoyed all the family news.

“Tonight is the wedding rehearsal and a dinner party, Dad, if you are up to it. If not, Bishop Sean Patrick said he'll take care of everything,” Ryan assured his father.

“I'm feeling fine and I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world. I'm so happy for you, my boy. Paula is lovely. I'm looking forward to meeting her family tonight. Poles from Milwaukee, huh? The only reason they sent their daughter to Rome in the first place to study was they thought she would meet the Polish pope. So what happens? Their daughter marries the son of an American fisherman pope.”

The events and arrangements leading up to the wedding went without a hitch. Colleen served as Paula's maid of honor. Jan stood by to serve as Ryan's best man. Maureen Kirby, with her father and mother, represented the United States at the pope's son's wedding, an important political affair. Ever mindful of the Catholic vote, the president of the United States sent a personal message to be read at the reception. Brian arrived on schedule from Ireland to perform the ceremony the next morning with Bishop Sean Patrick. The pope stood up well at the rehearsal with Paula's parents. All was well until after he retired for the night and the younger men and women decided to go into Hyannisport for a few drinks with Senator Lane. Some of the Lane family were at their compound nearby for the weekend and were looking forward to the wedding next day.

At a favorite bar Ryan and his fishing crew once again expressed their thanks to Senator Lane for his perseverance during the hunt that had saved their lives. Ryan was about to say he hoped he'd have the opportunity to do something for the young senator from an old political family. Then he cut himself off, remembering in a flash that Lane was mixed up in a flap over the annulment he had been granted by a Virginia bishop from his first wife. Lane's new, pretty, staunchly Catholic bride was devastated at the idea that she and her husband could not take Communion together if the annulment was reversed by Rome. And Lane's first wife, mother of their three children, was vigorously pursuing her appeal against it. A thorny problem was raising its head. If, in fact, an annulment was obtained, decreeing that a marriage had never taken place, then what was the status of the children?

Much as he would like to, Ryan knew he would be dissuaded by the senator of asking his father to intervene on the senator's behalf. As he drank a beer, Ryan believed that Lane would not appeal to the pope for special treatment. It was something Ryan would have to face later, but he wished it would not be necessary to disturb his thoughts just now. Then, putting his mug on the table, an off-duty Swiss guard inadvertently came to rescue him from his daydreaming.

One of Jan's guard friends had put five dollars' worth of quarters in the jukebox at the 19th Hole Irish Pub. As he sipped Irish whiskey, the guardsman played the only two rap songs in the jukebox over and over, which fascinated the Europeans. A fight broke out with two locals who wanted to hear either Irish or country music.

Ryan, summoned by Jan, ran next door to stop the fight. When the police came, the owner, Chris Doherty, who just happened to come in, told them it was only a misunderstanding. The police looked at the Swiss guard with blood coming from his nose and a cut above his eye. “He looks more like Swiss cheese than a Swiss guard,” said Officer Ed McGuillan. But the interruption took Ryan's mind off the annulment issue, for which Ryan was grateful, especially so close to his wedding day.

*   *   *

Saturday, July 7, was a big day for the Kelly family. At the beginning of the wedding ceremony, Pope Peter stood next to his son at the altar, looking out over the rustic Church. In the front row on the groom's side sat Roger and Meghan. Beside them were Senator Lane and his wife. The row directly behind them was filled with the Kirby family—Ed, Kathy, Maureen, and the rest of the children.

“I haven't had a chance yet to personally thank the senator for his part in saving you, son,” Bill said quietly.

“You know he admires you, Dad,” Ryan replied.

“I know, son.”

“It was his clout that saved me and the crew,” Ryan said.

“The senator and both his wives are in quite a bind.”

“I know, Dad. It's too bad, seeing what he's done for you.”

Bill glanced up the aisle. “Look now. No bride was ever as beautiful as your Paula.”

Ryan looked up and smiled at Paula, on her father's arm, sweeping majestically toward them. All was well. His mind was immediately cleared of Lane's problem upon the vision of his bride.

The crowds of sightseers surrounding St. Margaret's Church were backed up all the way to the Cape bridge. Police and traffic control guards had been sent in from Plymouth.

*   *   *

The crusty, outspoken society editor of the
Boston Herald,
Susan Downs, muttered comments on the wedding scene as she elbowed her way through the crowd. “A beautiful Saturday, July fourth weekend afternoon down here is crowded enough already, but now you have the biggest event on the Cape since JFK's election or, for that matter, his wedding in Newport.” She fought her way forward and finally captured a close-up photograph of the pope, his son, and his new daughter-in-law.

The reception was held near the dock of the Kelly home in a big tent. The music was a combination of Polish, Irish, Swiss, Italian, and American songs. Noel Henry's Band provided it, and Paddy Reilly made a special appearance, singing “Ave Maria” and “Our Lady of Knock,” in homage to the late Frank Patterson, a favorite of the Kellys. He later sang “My Son” and “Wind Beneath My Wings” at the reception while Bill Kelly danced with his daughters. Few guests could help inadvertently thinking to themselves that, given the way he looked, this might well be their last dance together.

Later Brian Comiskey and Bill relaxed on the porch in the same rocking chairs they had sat in the previous October 4. They looked out at the sea and listened to the laughter and music coming from the tent near the foot of the dock. Bill asked Meghan to collect Bishop Sean Patrick, Ed Kirby, Gus, and Tim to join them on the porch. They talked about the encyclical, the pope's health, and his happy family. Bill did not want to upset anyone on this special and joyful day, but Brian had to leave that night for an important service in Glasgow. Bill wanted to talk more openly with this special group of trusted advisers and friends about the future.

*   *   *

The following day Bill and his family, along with Gus, Tim, Ed and Kathy Kirby, and Dr. Biaggio left by the same chartered commercial plane for Rome. They had great fun reminiscing about the wedding and the fireworks display over Cape Cod Canal, which they had witnessed from their front lawn. No serious palaver broke the spell.

The plane landed in Rome, and the pope was transported directly to Gemelli Hospital, where he stayed overnight for a complete checkup. At some point, he realized, he would have to be up front with the public about his health.
The wedding is over. I should level with my friends and the Church,
he resolved.

43

HOME IS THE CAPTAIN, HOME FROM THE SEA

It was a stiflingly hot morning on August 13 in Rome when Brian Cardinal Comiskey disembarked after his Aer Lingus flight from Dublin, Ireland. Rome in August is usually the last place in the world that clergy would go. Everyone at the Vatican leaves around July 10, and if they can help it, they are not seen again until early September.

The pope himself travels to the mountains in northern Italy for a ten-day retreat, then goes to Castel Gandolfo, his villa in the hills some thirty miles outside Rome. Generally he would travel to the castle by helicopter, especially when so many tourists escape by car to the popular and beautiful Lake Albano region, which surrounds the papal summer home.

When Brian picked up his bags, the rector of the Pontifical Irish College, Monsignor John Fleming, met him. They went first to the college for a meeting to discuss future construction plans. Brian was obviously distracted. He was constantly thinking of his friend, the pope, Billy Kelly.

Brian did, however, present John with a beautiful leather-bound photo album of the pope's recent visit to Ireland for the college library. Cardinal Comiskey, himself a graduate of the college, told John that the pope was going to give the city of Dublin a marble sculpture of Irish children to be permanently placed in Phoenix Park. Dublin was going to present a large color painting of the pope and his entire family at Knock, with Our Lady of Knock looking down at them and St. Patrick himself behind her. “It will be beautiful, and after I spoke with the Holy Father on the phone yesterday, he indicated that he would like to donate it to the Pontifical Irish College. Isn't that great!”

“Oh, glory to God,” said John. “It will look wonderful in the main lobby right alongside Oliver Plunkett. How is the pope, by the way? We hear all kinds of rumors. You don't know what to believe.”

“I am heading up to Castel Gandolfo for a couple of days to visit him. I guess we all hear the same things. No secrets anymore, God knows, with all the media attention his health is getting,” Brian sighed.

“Would you like me to drive you there?” John offered.

“No, no, thank you. I'll take the train. It's my favorite ride and I can grab a taxi when I get to the station. I'm told that there is a lot of press at Liberty Square, so nobody will recognize me if I duck in the side entrance rather than enter through the main door,” the cardinal replied.

“I can at least drive you to the Stazione Terminali, but call me if you need anything. It's quiet around here, so I'm available, Eminence.”

Off Brian went with an overnight bag and another photo album that he had proudly carried with him all the way from Ireland. He was going to give the second one to the Kelly children. When he got to the town, the square was crowded with tourists and TV trucks and the traffic couldn't have been worse. But it was cooler in the hills.

Thank God I went by train,
Brian thought to himself. He avoided press recognition by walking around the main street leading up to the front door, then slipping into the side entrance. Inside the villa Brian knocked on the door of the study and found Bill sitting in a big leather chair looking out at the beautiful lake below. His son Roger was standing at the window watching something through a large telescope. As Brian gazed at Bill, countless memories of happy days raced through his head. He remembered Bill teaching him how to hit a curve ball when they were at the seminary. Fishing trips on the Cape and the day he married Bill and Mary came rushing back to him with memories of the rugged, handsome fisherman he once knew, now a tired and frail man half himself.

They looked at each other, realizing what they both were thinking, and before they could say anything, Roger cried out, “Hey, Uncle Brian, look at this! You can see everything going on with this telescope. Kids water-skiing and even the mountainside villas and villages.”

Brian walked over to Bill and held his two hands, smiling warmly, looking into his eyes. “Hey, buddy, how are you doing?”

“I'm doing just great now that you're here. How was your trip? Is it as hot in Eire as it is in Rome?”

They chattered a few minutes, and then Colleen came in and gave Brian a big hug. “Oh, Brian, it's so good to see you again. We're so happy that you can spend some time with us. It's really peaceful and beautiful, isn't it?”

“I used to come up this way years ago when I was down at the Pontifical Irish College. The British College had a summer place on the other side of the lake, and they would invite us up for picnics on Sundays after Mass. It was the first time I ever had a gin and tonic with one small ice cube.”

“You're always great for stories,” said Bill. “Pull over a chair or get into something more comfortable. Your room is just down the corridor. I told them to leave the air conditioner on for you, but it's not very cool. Not much electric power up here, you know, what with the girls' hair dryers going all the time and Roger's computer games. We hardly get enough power to see the hand in front of you.”

“What do you hear from the married couple?”

“They're grand. So happy that everything turned out well at the wedding. You were great to come, Brian, all the way from Ireland, then back again and travel to Scotland.”

They talked for hours, Brian with gin and tonics, Bill sipping hot tea, stopping only when the nurse came in. She gave Bill a shot and left. The nurse made soup and sandwiches, but Bill only took a few sips of his soup. Colleen joined in the conversation and blushingly told them how fond she was of her Swiss guard, Jan. They ended the night with Brian leading them in the Rosary.

*   *   *

Next morning, after Mass in the chapel and breakfast, Brian said he was going to take Meghan and Roger water-skiing on the lake.

“Now, Roger, don't go out very far,” Colleen entreated.

“You can see us if you look out the telescope over there by Dad's window,” Roger suggested.

Colleen announced that she and Jan Christensen were going to drive around the lake and have lunch at a restaurant on the other side.

That evening there was a concert in the next town, so a couple of the nuns took the kids to it, but they were back in less than two hours.