The Greatest Evil

17

Monday and Tuesday of Holy Week were spent largely shoring up against the special demands of the final four days of that week.

Of course there were the children’s confessions. Public school catechism classes were heard in the afternoon and evening. Students of St. Norbert’s recently opened grade school were taken care of in the morning.

Instruction sessions and meetings ordinarily held during the last four days of any week had to be capsulized into the first two.

There were the special liturgies of Thursday morning: Chrism Mass at the Cathedral with the blessing of three oils used throughout the coming year, and, in the parish, the evening commemoration of the Last Supper. Friday saw a Communion service as part of the noon-to-three Tre Ore. Saturday was the Easter Vigil service.

Tucked tightly around those services were individual confessions. By no means were there as many penitents in Koesler’s suburban parish as there were in St. William’s. However, St. William’s supplied four priest confessors; St. Norbert’s, only two.

All in all, Father Koesler was as busy now at St. Norbert’s as he had once been at St. William’s. And equally exhausted by the close of Holy Week.

At the conclusion of the noon Mass on Easter Sunday, he wanted nothing more than a place to stretch out horizontally and ease the tired muscles used for sitting, listening to endless confessions.

But he had a commitment at the Delvecchio home.

He was surprised to find only Vincent, Tony, and Lucy there. He had expected to see some of the relatives-or at least some of the kids’ classmates. He expressed this.

“Oh,” Lucy said, “some of our aunts and uncles and cousins plan to stop by later in the day-but just for a short time. Mom’s kinda tired. As far as our classmates”-she shrugged-“it’s Easter: They’re with their families.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, same with my gang: Easter break; most of ’em went South.”

“Some of the guys said they’d come to visit during the week,” Vincent said quietly.

Vincent looked about as tired and washed out as Louise had the last time Koesler had visited. And thinking of Louise …

“How is she?” Koesler asked.

“Weak. But hanging in,” Lucy said.

“We’ve been taking turns being with her,” Tony said. “She seems more comfortable without having the whole gang of us at once.”

The three kids were right here, in front of Koesler. It seemed no one was with Louise now. “Do you suppose I might go up for a little while?”

“We hoped you would,” Lucy said.

Somehow, Louise’s condition did not surprise Koesler. In his modest experience, cancer could wreak a devastating punishment. So it was with Louise; Koesler had to look intently to recognize her features clearly.

But she was awake and alert-much more than he’d expected. They greeted each other and Koesler took the rocking chair after pulling it closer to the bed.

“You must be exhausted, Father, after your busy schedule this week. You don’t have to visit with me.”

“How about I want to?”

Her smile evidenced embarrassment, though her cheeks showed no blush. “But you must be tired,” she insisted.

As if triggered by the word “tired,” he yawned, segueing into a chuckle. “You mesmerized me. I’m not really all that tired. I’ll recover. But you: How are you feeling?”

“To be honest, it’s been a tough week. But I’m still able to care for myself, which is a blessing. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to continue doing that. But I’m grateful,”

“Yeah, I guess that is a blessing …”

Koesler didn’t understand why she was so reluctant to let Lucy do more for her. He knew Lucy was ready and willing to take over.

“To tell you the truth, Father, I think I’ll be with Jesus soon.”

Koesler shook his head. “No. No. Not if Vincent has his miracle.”

Louise’s smile was no more than pulling back her lips from her teeth. It was almost ghoulish. “Vincent’s miracle,” she mused. “It better hurry along.”

“Maybe it would help if I prayed,” he suggested.

“Yes. I’d like that.” She folded her hands over her chest.

Koesler removed from his suit pocket his ritual book of prayers and the small stole, which he draped over his neck. He opened the book and began to read:

“‘O God, full of love, forgiveness and compassion, graciously receive our prayer that we and this Thy servant, who are bound with the chain of our sins, may by your kind forgiveness be graciously absolved.

“‘O God, the one only help for human infirmity, give to your servant in this hour of her need the power of Thine aid, that by the assistance of Thy loving kindness she may be restored in health to Thy Holy Church.

“‘Grant, O Lord God, we beseech Thee, that this Thy ill servant may enjoy continued health of body and soul. And through the glorious intercession of Blessed Mary ever virgin, be freed from her present sorrow and enjoy eternal gladness. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.’”

He traced the sign of the cross over her. “The blessing of God almighty, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost descend upon you and remain with you always. Amen.”

She nodded, and whispered, “Amen.”

“I’d better let somebody up here to take my place,” Koesler said. “I don’t know whose turn it is.”

“They’re taking turns?”

“Uh-huh. They seem to think that having one visitor at a time is easier on you. I think they picked up this routine from a hospital … seems hospitals are always real concerned about the number of visitors. How do you feel about it?”

“Hmmm. I think it’s better on them. I’d just as soon have all my kids with me. But don’t tell them that, Father: They’ll feel better doing it their way. Besides, I am awful tired. It’s probably better I don’t have a crowd now. Just let whoever’s next come up. I’ll try to keep track of them.”

He smiled and briefly held her hand. “Remember, I’ll be down there if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you when my turn comes around again.”

It reminded him of wrestling’s Australian tag team matches, where a beleaguered contestant tags his partner, who, in turn, enters the ring a bit fresher for battle.

When Koesler reentered the living room, Lucy stood up. Evidently, she was next to be at her mother’s side.

That left Koesler, Vincent, and Tony in awkward silence.

“The Tigers are on TV,” Tony announced. He looked from the priest to his brother. “Any objections?”

There were none, at least none stated.

Van Patrick was saying that the score was Chicago White Sox 4, the Tigers 2, in the bottom of the fifth inning.

Somehow, to Father Koesler, watching a game seemed inappropriate with Louise so ill just upstairs. On the other hand-life goes on.

But the first few minutes appeared to have reached Vincent, who retreated into the dining area. He sat at the table and buried his head in his hands. He was praying, Koesler knew. And, while affecting interest in the ball game, Koesler joined, in spirit, the praying Vincent.

His prayerful thoughts were interrupted by Lucy’s appearance at the living room door. It seemed to Koesler only moments since she had gone upstairs. He checked his watch: fifteen minutes. Lucy seemed startled at the televised ball game, but seeing how absorbed Tony was, she said only, “Your turn, Vinnie.” Her tone carried wonder that he would need to be reminded.

“Oh … oh, uh, sure.” He rose and headed for the stairs.

“She seems to be taking little naps,” Lucy said. “When she comes out of them, she kind of looks around to see if anyone’s with her. So, don’t go to sleep.” Seemingly, the latter remark was intended as humor.

If so, Vincent didn’t get it. Somberly, he climbed the stairs.

Koesler glanced at his watch: He would time the upstairs visits.

He was somewhat surprised to see Lucy seat herself on the couch next to Tony and gaze at the television. She must need the distraction, he thought.

Her admonition for Vincent not to doze reminded Koesler of the Good Friday liturgy when, in the Garden of Olives, Jesus is disappointed in His specially selected Apostles when they cannot watch, with Him for even an hour.

With nothing better to do, and feeling “prayed out,” Koesler became interested, if not absorbed in the ball game.

Someone of the Tiger persuasion hit a home run. Koesler missed the name, but Mr. Kell was waxing poetic about the batter’s “extension of his arms” and how he had gotten the ball high into the wind that was blowing toward the right field stands.

Koesler got into a conversation with Lucy about the salaries paid to baseball players, as well as to professional athletes in general.

Suddenly he became aware that Tony appeared distracted; he seemed to be paying no attention to either the conversation or the game. So focused was Koesler on Tony’s state that he didn’t hear Vincent enter the room; he was startled when Vincent spoke. “She seems a little worse. She’s slipping in and out of consciousness. I don’t know …” His voice trailed off.

Tony rose and without a word climbed the stairs.

Koesler checked his watch. Vincent had been with his mother a little better than fifteen minutes. He wondered if the kids had an understanding on the timing of their visits. He hadn’t checked Lucy, but he thought the length of her latest visit mirrored Vincent’s.

Vincent took Tony’s place on the couch. But it was immediately evident that he would pay even less attention to the TV than Tony had been.

Koesler and Lucy continued their observations on the state of payment for services rendered according to vocation. It was, they agreed, a crime that teachers and nurses were paid so much less than working actors and many athletes.

They were interrupted again, this time by Tony’s hurried footsteps descending the stairs. Koesler checked his watch. Fifteen minutes. It had to be an agreed time.

Because Tony had come down the stairs so rapidly, they all stood and turned to him.

“I think … I think …” His voice betrayed near panic, and he was breathing hard-unusual for a conditioned athlete. “I think you’d better come-all of you.”

He and Vincent led the way, followed closely by Lucy and Koesler.

None of them would ever forget what they saw.

Louise’s eyes were closed. But her mouth was stretched open as if that were the only way she could breathe.

Both her forearms were lifted while her elbows rested on the bed. Her hands were pointed at the ceiling.

“She wants … she wants someone to hold her hands. That was the last thing she said before she … before she got like that.” There was no doubt that Tony was over his head. He had never seen anyone in such a state. And it was his mother. He was not going to be part of her wish to have her hands held.

Quickly, Lucy knelt on one side of the bed, Koesler on the other. Each of them took one of her hands in theirs. Each held it tightly. Her hands were almost icy and she did not return their squeezes.

Tony sank down in the doorway, as far from the bed as he could get and still be in the room. He could not nor did he attempt to hide his bewilderment.

Vincent nearly collapsed at the foot of the bed and grasped both his mother’s ankles, to let her know he too was there. He murmured something. It sounded like “Now.”

Koesler assumed Vincent was calling for the miracle. It was, Koesler was all too willing to admit, time. This, the brink of mortality, would clearly be recognized as well beyond what could be expected from human nature at its strongest. Koesler had never beheld such a scene. Yet instinctively, he knew Louise was on the threshold of death.

Without taking his eyes from her, Koesler said, “Tony, call the doctor. Ask him to come. If he can’t come immediately, tell him forget it. We need him now.”

No one could be sure what good the doctor might do. This was it: either a miracle or death. And if he were more calm, Koesler would have admitted it. He wanted the doctor there at very least to certify death. If it came to that.

Koesler’s gaze was riveted on Louise’s face. Her expression was frozen. To him it seemed she was half here and half … where? In transit to eternity?

“I think she can hear,” Lucy said softly. “I read that someplace. Let’s say the Rosary. She always loved the Rosary. You lead, Vinnie.”

Silence.

“I said lead us in the Rosary, Vinnie! Come on!” She would be obeyed, even by her elder brother.

Absently, Vincent felt around in his pockets. From one, he pulled a plain black, much used rosary. “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. I believe in God …”

And so the familiar prayers followed’ one another, with the others joining in. He chose to meditate on the sorrowful mysteries, those events that immediately led to the crucifixion and death of Jesus.

He announced the first mystery: the agony in the Garden of Olives. He began the “Lord’s Prayer.”

Koesler continued to study Louise’s face. Suddenly, there was a subtle change in her expression. Hitherto it was as if she were carved from stone. Now she seemed to wince as if she was struggling for another breath but could not find one.

He thought of the etymological origin of “expire”: to breathe out. To breathe one’s last breath. To die. Louise had done just that. And he had witnessed this solemn moment. “I think … I think she’s …”

Without rising from her knees, Lucy reached to the night table and pick up a hand mirror. She pressed it to her mother’s lips. After several moments, she turned the mirror and studied it. There was no sign of condensation. She looked at Koesler and shook her head.

Vincent, who’d had his eyes closed, started to recite the “Hail Mary.” But there was no response. He opened his eyes and looked at his mother. She had not changed in any external way. Tears streamed down Lucy’s face and Koesler was draping the stole around his shoulder.

Vincent seemed bewildered.

“The doc is on his-” What Tony saw from the doorway told him the story. He turned on his heel and went back downstairs.

Lucy made no effort to stop him-or her tears. She said only, “Keep going, Vinnie. Maybe she can still hear us.”

Now tears were flowing down Vinnie’s cheeks as well. He stumbled on. “… the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

“Holy Mary, mother of God. Pray for us sinners now, and at the hour-” Lucy choked, “-of our death, Amen.”

Almost in counterpoint with the rosary prayers, Koesler read from his ritual. “‘Into Thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit. Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. Holy Mary, pray for me. Mary, mother of grace, mother of mercy, protect me from the enemy, and receive me at the hour of my death. St. Joseph, pray for me. St. Joseph, in company with thy spouse, Mary, open to me the bosom of divine mercy.

“‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I give you my heart and my soul.

“‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, assist me in my last agony.

“‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph, may I sleep and rest in peace in your holy company.

“‘Depart, Christian soul, out of this sinful world in the name of God the Father Almighty who created you; in the name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, Who suffered and died for you; in the name of the Holy Ghost, who sanctified you; in the name of the glorious and blessed Virgin Mary, mother of God; in the name of blessed Joseph, the illustrious spouse of Mary; in the name of the angels, archangels, Thrones, Dominations, Virtues, Cherubim and Seraphim; in the name of the Patriarchs and Prophets, of the holy Apostles and Evangelists, of the holy Martyrs and Confessors, of the holy monks and hermits, of the holy virgins and of all the saints of God. Let peace come to you this day, and let your abode be in holy Sion. Through the same Christ, our Lord. Amen.’”