Till Death (22 page)

“You mean …”

“I mean I’m sick of having these tiresome if predictable periods. I want a child. I want
your
child.”

Rick couldn’t stop the boat dead in the water. But that, figuratively, was the state of his mind—frozen and immobile. Her statement was completely unexpected. “How about another hot dog?” he said.

“What!”

“You said there were more.”

“I am proposing having a child and all you say is ‘another hot dog’?”

“It’ll give me a chance to think.”

Lil shrugged and stepped into the galley. She emerged with the dog on a bun slathered with mustard—the way he liked it.

Rick held it in a paper napkin. It was too hot to chew. He let it cool in the brisk breeze.

“Well?”

Lil waited for a response to her demand.

“We’ve been over this. Lots of times.”

“I know. The question is still the same. But I’ve changed.”

“To me, it’s moot.”

“What?”

“Whether you’ve really, radically changed. Or whether your ‘female problem’ is depressing you.”

“You’re referring to my ‘curse’?” she responded sarcastically.

“Just that your reawakened concern may be a passing thing.”

Lil attempted to comment but Rick held up his hand. He wished to retain the floor. “Granted,” he said, “I am not now nor have I ever been a woman. So all I know about your ‘biological clock’ is secondhand at best. Nor have I experienced any of what goes on during menstruation. So, I guess I can just sympathize from a distance—”

“I’m well aware you’re not a woman. Matter of fact, I’m grateful you’re all man. But I assure you, the plain and simple truth is I want a child. My present period is just a nagging reminder of the fact that I am barren—childless. And I don’t want to be that way.”

Rick bit into the hot dog. It was tasty and just the right temperature. But his mind was too occupied to appreciate the savor.

They had, indeed, been over this question many times. He did not wish to flog a dead horse. But Lil gave every indication that she would be satisfied with nothing less than a definitive conclusion. Even if it was the same conclusion they had reached at the end of all previous similar disputes.

“First off,” he began, “we don’t know we’re both fertile. We know I’m potent; we know we’re both orgasmic—plenty orgasmic. But neither of us has ever proven fertility—”

“So, we go to our doctors and take simple tests.”

“Fine for you. As far as your doctor is concerned, you need to find out because you’re planning a child and you want to know what your chances are.

“But me? I go to a doctor to discover whether I’m fertile. Or exactly how fertile I am. And just why does a priest need to know this?”

“You’ve got this backward,” Lil protested. “We—you and I—don’t go running to our respective doctors. It’s far more simple than that. I merely go off the Pill. We don’t even have to change our relationship. We make love when we want to. Maybe a little more often when I ovulate. We don’t visit a doctor, unless, after a few months of trying to conceive, nothing happens. With any luck there won’t be any visit to any doctor. We’ll be an ordinary couple. We’ll be parents.”

Rick finished the hot dog. He wadded the paper napkin and pitched it into the river. As the paper left his fingers he remembered that Lil had much stronger feelings than he about littering. For once, she didn’t call him on what he’d done. She was too involved in their conversation.

Despite the cooling breeze from the river, Rick was perspiring freely. Sure, that’s all they’d have to do: She could cease taking the birth control pill and they could take their chances. Both of them were healthy adults. Of course he was in his sixties. But that didn’t make much difference—or so he’d read. Men, unlike women, could become parents at almost any age.

For the first time in their relationship he felt pressured.

He had enough trust in Lil that if he were to veto her proposal, he was confident that she would not deceive him. She would stay on the Pill. Plus, they would continue to be cautious during her fertile period.

Maybe he could yet convince her that parenthood probably would prove to be a disaster for them. “Suppose—and this is purely hypothetical—that you found yourself pregnant. Then what?”

“Then what what?”

“We won’t be able to get married. You don’t, all of a sudden, want me to leave the priesthood, do you?”

“Heavens, no!”

“Then, again: What? You become a single parent? What about your job at St. Enda’s? Do you suppose Father O’Leary is going to tolerate an unmarried mother being principal of his parochial school?”

Lil shook her head decisively. “I would resign.”

“Nice! And live on what?”

“I’d line up a job in a public school. With my résumé and experience that shouldn’t be so tough.”

“And the baby? You gonna take him to school with you?”

“Nursery school, day care, Montessori. There’s lots of places—good places—for a child while the parent or parents work. I’d have him with me in the evenings and early mornings. You’d be with us at least as often as you’re with me now.”

The invisible noose was tightening.

“And when the baby is old enough to know, with all the implications, that its father is a ‘Father’?”

“By then, who knows? It might not be all that uncommon for priests to have families. We’ll just be a bit ahead of the game. And, if not? He, or she”—for the first time she introduced the possibility that their baby might be a girl—“whichever—in any case, we will have been good enough parents that our child will be able to deal with this lifestyle.”

She paused. Then: “What happens to children whose parents are expriests and ex-nuns? What happens to the Episcopalian priests who convert to Catholicism and bring their wives and children with them?”

He continued to sweat profusely. This was not off the top of Lil’s head; this was something she had long thought about and planned.

“Lil, honey, this is a momentous decision. If we were to go ahead with your idea, our lives would change completely … radically. This isn’t the kind of thing you bring up during a pleasant ride on the river.”

Neither spoke for several moments.

Then Rick said, “Look, why don’t we think about it? Talk about it some more? Later?”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Give me a chance to consider the possibilities. We don’t need a timetable or a scheduled meeting or anything. Just let it rest for a while.”

“Is this your way of putting this on an eternal back burner?”

“Of course not. It’s just not something to rush into. There are lots of things to think about, to talk about. There’s … there’s … uh … adoption. We haven’t ever discussed that.”

“You mean you’d be willing to adopt?”

“I didn’t say that!” he responded hurriedly. “It’s just another facet of what might be open to us.” He was taken off guard by her seeming acceptance of the notion of adoption.

“Be up-front honest with me, Rick: If I agree to put this matter on hold, will we ever seriously consider it again?”

“Of course …”

“Rick, love, up-front honest!”

His brow was creased in painful thought. “Probably … not,” he admitted.

“It doesn’t matter how important this is to me?”

“I’m banking that in a little while you’re going to look at this in an altogether different light.”

Lil smiled with absolutely no humor. “I see. It’s like if a Catholic doesn’t agree with the Pope: He’s advised to go pray until he sees the light.”

She’d struck a nerve. It was this sort of slavish, forced agreement with the teaching office of the Pope that Rick abhorred. “No, of course, that’s not what I meant. And it’s unfair of you to accuse me of trying that on you.”

Their tempers were drawing short. They were on the verge of heated disagreement, something they seldom experienced with each other.

“I would not do anything underhanded to you,” she protested. “You know that without your consent I wouldn’t take any chances—like fooling around with the Pill.”

“Does the lady protest too much?” The line was delivered reeking with sarcasm. She was offended, but he didn’t care.

She studied the river until its rapid current became a sort of mantra. He saw no reason to continue this conversation. Not in the direction it was going. So they sat in silence. There was no sound but the lapping waves, the cries of the seagulls and the soft purr of the motor.

Without looking at him, Lil said, “Do you ever confess us?”

He figured her period was giving her more than the usual inconvenience. “Do you mean,” he restated, “do I go to confession to a priest and confess our relationship?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever asked me anything like that. You’re treading on pretty private territory.”

“There were supposed to be no secrets between us.”

“With an exception every now and again.”

Again time passed in silence.

The boat was nearing other water craft. Rick steered away from them. The maneuver once more reminded them of their state of virtual solitary confinement. A wave of pity passed over him. Their companionship was much more trying for Lil than for him. She was still young. Yet she was deprived of a normal existence.

It was only natural for her to think of having a baby. But Rick was confident that this craving for a child, this too would pass. The trick was to maintain their union during this crisis. Maybe a little sharing of himself with her would help. “The question, darling,” he began, “is not do I confess you—us. The question is: Do I confess? And the answer is that I haven’t. Not for a long time.”

She surely had not expected that. Truth to tell, her status vis-à-vis the sacrament of penance was about the same as his. Even so, she was surprised that he was not confessing regularly.

Rick had grown up as a Catholic about a generation before Lil. He was a practicing Catholic and more. He had been a seminarian on the way to becoming a priest. Normalcy for him called for confession every week. More casual Catholics confessed every month. In that era, Catholics who confessed only once or twice a year were marginal by anyone’s measuring.

“You haven’t been to confession in a long time?” she said with wonder. “How long?”

“You’re not my confessor, nor my spiritual director.”

They were quiet for another while.

“I have nothing against confession,” he said finally. “It’s just that I came to the conclusion that the sacrament is put to much better use if it occurs when events call for a radical change in one’s habits or behavior.”

“Like me entering your life?”

“No, actually not. If the Church would wake up and face reality, you long ago would have been Mrs. Rick Casserly. I don’t see any reason why I need to turn away from you, to exclude you from my life. It’s not a sin. Just because we have been denied a priest to witness our marriage doesn’t mean we’re not married. We are—certainly in the eyes of God if not the Church.” His expression evinced a mixture of entreaty and irritation. “We’ve been through this many times, Lil. Will you ever be at rest in this matter?”

“If you,” she said firmly, “are so certain sure that we are man and wife before God—if we are Mr. and Mrs. Rick Casserly—then why can’t we have a family—one child—to seal our relationship?”

Only with difficulty did Rick control his anger. He had bared his soul to her and she had taken advantage of his openness. “Honey,” he said with finality, “we are not ever going to have a child. Not ever. So just get that out of your mind. Now and forever!”

“Fine!” she responded in the same tone. “Then you can take me in to shore.”

“Now, Lil, there’s no reason—”

“I said take me in! Now!”

Wordlessly, he veered sharply toward shore.

She disappeared into the forward berth. She packed her things, leaving his gear and the supplies they had brought aboard.

As he eased the boat into its slip she stood on the foredeck. The instant it touched, she was off the ship and on the dock, striding away from the boat and Rick.

Angrily he reversed and pulled back into the river’s flow. This time he opened the throttle to peak speed. He wished for the rushing wind to blow away his frustration. Where had this day gone? It had started so beautifully. Until she brought up the idea of a kid, things were moving along in routine fashion. This whole mess was due to that damned period! She looked at it with the fear that life was passing them by. That damned biological clock! If he’d had any thought relating to her period, it was that each one was another step toward menopause. Once they achieved that, there would be no more talk or even thought of having babies.

This was by no means the first argument they’d had. But it certainly ranked among the most heated.

She’d get over it. He’d get over it. But it would take time.

Meanwhile there was that crazy reunion of the Father Angelico club. He wondered whether Lil would attend after their tiff. Maybe seeing what was left of the old bunch would get him into a brighter mood.

Time would tell. He glanced at his watch. Just a little more time.

Fifteen

Father Koesler and Tully were alone in the basement of St. Joseph’s rectory, a structure that had witnessed many significant events over the past several years.

Tonight, in Koesler’s opinion, would be the final meeting of the St. Ursula club. It wasn’t just the dwindling membership; by this time the get-together of the informal group had pretty well served its purpose. Persevering with the organization was akin to endlessly pumping embalming fluid into a well-aged corpse.

Feeling that he would have little to add to whatever would be said this evening, Father Koesler resolved to be the thoughtful observer. With a few exceptions, tonight’s guests should prove to be quite articulate and thus in no need of Koesler’s help. Besides, he had long since learned that it was more blessed to listen than to speak.

Father Tully glanced at his watch, an act more characteristic of Koesler. “It’s time,” Tully announced. “Nobody’s here.” He sounded as if all was lost: Not only was no one here, no one was coming.

Koesler smiled. “The only one I’m not totally certain of is Harry Morgan. The rest will show up, I’m sure.”