Cat In An Alphabet Endgame

16

Bless Us, Father

As a public relations expert, Temple was used to plunging into new settings and situations as a five-foot-zero bundle of energy on spike heels that dug into any assignment like mountain-climbing pitons.

She’d learned long before that small girls and women have to be dynamic not to be overlooked and underestimated. Or stepped on, physically or metaphorically.

So when Matt knocked on her door to collect her for their errand, he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face.

Temple wore a classic beige summer suit, short-sleeved but long-skirted, and carried a slim navy-blue envelope bag on a thin shoulder strap, not her signature large, jazzy tote bag. He stepped back to view her shoes, navy pumps.

“That’s not a three-inch heel,” he said.

“Two-and-half.”

“That’s not a summer sandal style.”

“Classic closed-toe pump.”

“No hat?”

Temple shook her abundant red-gold curls. “I only wear one when driving the Miata with the top down. I assume we’ll be taking your car.”

“Well,” Matt said, “I suppose the only thing you’re missing is the black lace doily on your head and you’d be the perfect model of a nineteen-fifties Catholic churchgoer. We’re only going to the OLG Rectory, not the church. How did you know that navy is the inevitable color of Catholic school girl uniforms?”

“Is it really?”

Matt nodded, then shook his head. “Are you actually nervous?”

“Yeah. Father Hernandez is…imposing.”

“That’s the man’s temperament, Temple, not the priest’s. He’s just a humble parish priest who’s not so humble.”

Temple stepped very close. “Now, if I were going to see you, I’d wear my new resale shop Manolo Blahnik heels and a thigh-high slit skirt with a cocktail hat tilted over my right eyebrow.”

Matt pulled her close, as close as close could be, by her elbows and kissed her the way a dame dressed like that should be kissed. “Shall we stand up Father Hernandez?”

She teetered back as he steadied her. “No. I don’t see a man about a wedding every day. Now I’m thinking I ought to.”

Matt stroked the linen lapel of her suit. “The prim Save a Soul Mission lady from Guys and Dolls is an inviting look too.”

“Hopefully not for Father Hernandez,” Temple said, well, primly.

The Rectory resembled a grander, bigger house left over from an earlier era, red-brick, two-story, eight stone steps in a neighborhood of established one-story older bungalows. It was not only Father Hernandez Temple dressed to please. She didn’t want to run into parishioner Lieutenant C. R. Molina looking like a frump. Not that Molina, as a professional woman committed to neutral-color pantsuits suitable for covering a gun holster, cared about what Temple would call a “wardrobe”.

At five-ten with the attitude of a mother superior and stern dark eyebrows Temple itched to pluck into a more flattering arch, the two of them were oil and water in all respects. She’d have traded her wishy-washy blue-gray eyes for Molina’s electric blue any day, though.

And now, with a gazillion wedding chapels in Vegas, Temple was going to be married in a family church in Molina’s backyard.

Matt held Temple’s elbow as he rang the doorbell. The housekeeper came at once, an overweight, beaming woman with natural silver highlights in her thick dark hair. “Miss Barr, Mr. Devine, Father is waiting for you in his study.”

“Thank you, Pilar,” Matt said.

Temple checked her analog watch to make sure they weren’t late. Father Hernandez seemed a man you would not want to keep waiting.

To Temple, the “study” was out of a vintage English mystery. Dark paneling, bookcase-lined walls blinking gold from hardcover title spines, a huge old desk, and, behind it, in a broad Golden Oak swivel chair, the neat contained figure of Father Hernandez, with his Old-World bearing and piercing black eyes.

By God, if you were married by Father Hernandez, you would feel “married”. For eternity.

Temple, from her family’s membership in the Unitarian Universalists, an inclusive multi-faith church with humanist and social justice concerns, not dogma, wanted to know what Matt had grown up with, wanted to glimpse the renounced priest side of him. Wanted to see every side of what had made him the man she had to love.

She was startled to find Father Hernandez’s dark eyes regarding her with a shy twinkle. “Miss Barr. How could I miss you that first time in the congregation at Mass with Matt? Quickly grasping the ups and downs, when to stand and when to kneel, and the responses of the Holy Mass, your fiery head of hair shouting you were an outsider in this Hispanic neighborhood, but you would not be caught napping, eh?”

“You’re only as much of an outsider as you choose to be, Father Hernandez.”

He nodded. “Very wise. I made an outsider of myself for a certain bad time, for which I owe Matt, and you, many thanks. I admit I felt disappointed that such a promising young man left our brotherhood, which is sometimes lonely.” He sighed. “But the vocations we are called to may change as we face ourselves, and I am happy to be asked to marry you here at Our Lady of Guadalupe.”

“It’s a beautiful church.”

“My family in Chicago,” Matt added, “wanted the Polish Cathedral.”

“Certainly a majestic site, and honoring your ancestry,” Father Hernandez said diplomatically, for him.

“But it’s so echoing and huge,” Temple said. “Who could hear the vows? My family in Minneapolis would have chosen a parklike outdoor site or a historic mansion. That would have been more intimate but not…personally significant.”

“So we figured,” Matt said, “our families can come to Vegas. My Polish Catholic relatives will love OLG as a site.”

“My family would be all right with a wedding chapel in Vegas or a cathedral somewhere else, so they’d be getting a bit of both.”

“An excellent compromise. I see you’ve thought this out. Families can fly from both cities, meet here, and share the Las Vegas tourist opportunities.”

“We’ll be disappointing our beloved landlady,” Temple said, “who takes credit for providing the place that we met, the Circle Ritz. She also operates the Lover’s Knot Wedding Chapel.”

“Ah, Las Vegas,” mused Father Hernandez. “Commerce is king. Now for the wedding date.” He pulled out a calendar the size of a college annual, paging forward rapidly. “And of course we must book the pre-Cana classes, and announce the banns.”

“Ah…” said Temple.

“A Christmas wedding would be nice,” Father Hernandez said, twinkling again, which was most disconcerting. “Your red hair would be right in season.”

“Father,” Matt interrupted. “Her red hair is always in season with me.” Matt sounded quite definite. “We’ve decided to get married now because—this is quite confidential—Temple and I are embarking on a whole new career together, right here in Vegas, and we’ll have no time to get married that late in the year.”

“Oh, but these things can’t be rushed. Our Lady of Guadalupe is not a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel.”

“Certainly not,” Temple said, “We’re thinking of an evening ceremony so no regular church services are affected. And with my Crystal Phoenix connections, I can pull together a family influx and a gala reception in no time.”

“‘In no time’? But the Church advises—”

“I’ve done pre-Cana counseling for years, Father,” Matt said. “And Temple’s a very quick study, as you note. If you like, we can do the eight-hour online course.”

“Online course,” the priest echoed, dazed.

“You know,” Matt continued, “how much heart and heroism Temple has, when she almost died helping your elderly parishioner and when the convent nuns were being stalked by a profane anonymous caller and poor Peter, the convent cat, was almost crucified like the Disciple he was named for.

“Yes,” Matt went on relentlessly, “our religious backgrounds are a world apart, but the sense of ethics we learned from our families and faiths jibe like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.”

Father Hernandez cleared his throat and looked at Temple. “UU, Unitarian Universalist, you say. Uh, of course no extreme sectarian atrocities have ever been committed by that, er, sort of…non-faith.”

“I must admit,” Temple said in a small voice quite atypical for her. “I’m something of a fallen-away UU.”

While Father Hernandez contemplated how one could be “fallen-away” from a faith that did not even require acknowledgement there was a God, Matt again intervened.

“So there’s still hope, Father.”

The priest threw up his hands. “My failure to keep up with my times before caused a lamentable lapse on my part in the recent past. Who am I to judge, as our Pope Francis has said with commendable humility.”

He glanced at Temple with a smile. “I first remember you bringing your black cat to the blessing of the animals here. St. Francis was a joyous saint, the patron of all living things. When I heard the new pope had taken that name I knew a new era was upon us. A badly needed era.

“Go in peace and in your own time, my children. OLG and I are at your service. We will schedule for your needs and I will try to live up to your faith in each other and me.”

“Wow,” Temple said as they walked down the stone steps on the way out, “a quickie church wedding. His conversion to our cause almost made me cry. We kind of ran roughshod over him.”

“That’s the way the future goes. Are you sure can pull off a wedding by next Friday?” Matt asked.

“You’d be surprised. I’ve got the Crystal Phoenix’s crack wedding team behind me. The groom just has to show up there to be fitted for your tux in the next four days. How does a honeymoon in San Diego sound?”

“Great. I’ll notify Letitia.” Matt liked the idea that keeping Temple busy and dealing with other people and them getting out of town for a while would cool down the Woody stalking situation. Temple and her impetuosity train were gearing up to full speed and he was ready to stop worrying and enjoy the ride.

“Oh, do you have the rings?” she asked.

“I bought them at the same time I bought your engagement ring. You have two guard rings and I have the usual tasteful but boring gold band.”

“Really! You were that sure of me!”

“I was in an agony of doubt, even about the appropriateness of rubies,” he said, taking her hand and watching the rubies and diamonds flash in the sunlight. “The three rings were a wedding set, so I decided to be optimistic.”

“I can’t wait to see them. At the ceremony. Just get me to the church in time.”

Matt grabbed her hand and they ran down the last four steps, breathless and laughing at the bottom.

“You know,” Temple said, gazing around the quiet neighborhood. “Let’s peek in at the church again. It’s been a while since I’ve been a customer.”

“What a way to put it! This way, ma’am.”

When they stood before the brick-and-stone façade, Temple tilted her head back. “The church building seems smaller than I remembered, but there are more steps to climb.”

“And to run down to our waiting Gangsters limo,” Matt said.

“I wonder which model they’ll choose for us?”

“You’re not ordering a certain one?”

“No. I want to be surprised,” Temple said, extending a hand to lead him up the steps.

Going through the heavy wooden front doors immersed them in a cool, dim silent, soaring space. Their footsteps broke the skin of that silence and yet also empowered it.

Matt noticed that Temple dropped her voice to a whisper without thinking. “Look. I’d forgotten how the sunlight shattered the stained glass windows into a multi-color kaleidoscope effect on the floor and pews. like tiny jewels dissolving on the tiles.”

“You UUs miss out on a lot of special effects,” Matt teased her.

“Did I ever miss out. I see I am Goldilocks. Our Lady of Guadalupe is not too big or too small, but just my size. Like the amazing gown I’ve found, which will be your surprise.”

“I’ve never been surprised by the amazing things you accomplish,” Matt said.

They approached the altar on the center aisle.

Said Temple, slowing down to play the part. “I have to make the long, slow approach in perfect time to the music while you slink onstage with a few steps from the sidelines.”

“At least I’m not going to be imported by a Fontana Brother in a pet carrier, like our esteemed Ring Bearer.”

“Poor Louie. He so hates that collar! Still, he looks so handsome in white bow-tie and tails, as you will.”

Temple studied the sanctuary as she would a stage set, which amused Matt.

“Four steps up to the altar,” she muttered. “Lots of space for our small wedding party to stand. And there’s Our Lady of Guadalupe at the back behind and above everything, with her image framed in a fretwork of gold leaf.”

Temple turned to Matt as if he were a docent. “She’s a darker skinned Central American native interpretation of the Virgin Mary, isn’t she?”

Matt nodded. “The legend and the image’s seventeenth-century origins have been controversial, but she appeared to a poor peasant, first speaking an Aztec language, it was said, so she bridged the native Indians and conquering Spaniards. That’s why her Mexico City church is the third most visited sacred site in the world.”

“I love her serene face and star-spangled blue-green cloak. So that’s why the travertine of the altar has inset designs of carnelian and turquoise, really common in Mexican jewelry to this day. And the hanging red light above?”

“The sanctuary lamp,” he explained. “It burns forever, showing that a consecrated host is housed in the tabernacle behind the altar. Listen, I’m sure Father Hernandez would be ecstatic to have me explain Catholicism 101 to you, but I’m also sure that busy brain of yours has many secular details to attend to.”

And he had his own underlying worries that were in danger of ruining the happiest time of his life.

“Yes, we should go,” Temple said. “This will be a small and intimate wedding, but it will have a stunning After Party.” She took Matt’s hand. “I’ve invited both Winslow brothers and their wives, so both your parents will be there, known only to us four, of course.”

“Temple!” Matt turned away.

“Matt?” Temple sounded panicked. Was she thinking he’d be angry?

His fingers tightened on hers. When he turned back, his eyes stung, from the bright sunlight, of course.

“Temple, you’re incredible. We’ve talked about that, but you’ve made the best wedding gift for me in the world come true, that I could never dream of doing myself. When I say these vows, not even eternity will end them.”

“Really? I’d hoped, but it was…presumptuous of me.”

“If you weren’t a presumptuous PR hussy, I wouldn’t love you as much.”

“So. Then. You won’t be upset if I confess that I also invited Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Kelly—”

He frowned, trying to place the unknown name.

Temple gulped. “…and Mr. and Mrs. Kevin Kinsella.”

He couldn’t help looking shocked.

“Too,” she added.

“Incredible.” He blinked again. “Instead of us going to Racine, you brought the shattered family to us. We’re going to do an intervention at the reception.”

“Privately.”

“That means Mr. Max Kinsella is lurking somewhere in the neighborhood.”

“Hunting the IRA treasure with my maps. I think it’s a matter of life and death, but, of course, he wouldn’t say that.”

“So how did you manage to invite two couples we don’t know to our wedding?”

“I lured them onto Skype and made a pitch about poor Max’s memory loss and how he’s a friend of ours, and seeing them all here might help him. Quite true.”

“You convinced, conned, complete strangers, they think, to fly to our wedding to reunite with their lost black-sheep son and nephew?”

“Of course the Crystal Phoenix is footing the bill for all flights and suites. It’s Van and Nicky’s wedding present to me. Us.”

Temple paused. “And I also invited Mr. and Mrs. Sean Kelly from Northern Ireland.”

“Ah,” Matt said. “‘Sean of the Dead’, back again. Now I understand. You made those three couples an offer they couldn’t refuse and have designed a situation I can’t refuse, nor can Max. It’s fiendish, Temple. Simply fiendish. And I’m the designated driver.”

“It’s good practice for our new TV show.”

“Could turn into an ‘After Party’ from Hell.”

“I hope it turns out to be a Happily Ever After Party for everyone,” Temple said. “I—

Oh, that reminds me! I want to drop in on the convent and invite the nuns personally. I have an e-vite list, but they probably don’t do email or texting.”

“You may be right. I’ll check the church again and meet you outside in a bit.”

“While you’re here, thank the Virgin for getting you to me.”

He nodded.

Her short but brisk high-heeled departing steps clattered like hail on the tiles. For the wedding, a carpet would make her step as silent as a ghost’s.

Inside the church again, Matt shivered in the cool silence. He genuflected out of habit and then approached the altar with new eyes. Yes, the Virgin of Guadalupe watched over everything with her prayerful, maternal gaze. Including the altar.

Matt kneeled in front of it, as he had kneeled once to become a priest. Yes, he was right. The central design, carved in low relief from an impressive chunk of turquoise, was the humped serpent symbol of the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl.

And the signature of Clifford Effinger’s work for the mob.

It was lucky Temple had given her groom a simple suit-fitting to accomplish in the next four days. He would have ample time to find out why investigating the Effinger clan, both then and now, was proving so dangerous.