The Secret Cardinal

3

Clad in one of his new suits, Kilkenny walked out of the eastern pavilion of the Casina — the sixteenth-century summer residence of Pope Pius IV — and descended a few steps into an oval court paved in a geometric pattern of light and dark marble. A low wall framed the perimeter of the ellipse, a boundary broken at the far ends by a pair of arched gateways and along the short axis by porticos fronting the Casina’s two pavilions. The artisans who built the courtyard had envisioned it as an ancient nyphaeum, decorating the idyllic space with a High Renaissance flurry of statues and reliefs, stucco-framed depictions of riders atop water-spewing dolphins.

The Vatican gardens in their autumn splendor surrounded the Casina, and beyond the archway to Kilkenny’s left, the white marble dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica glistened in the late-day sun. Cardinal Donoher ambled through the southern archway with a warm smile on his ruddy face. He wore the traditional black cassock and mozetta trimmed with scarlet piping and buttons, a broad scarlet sash around his ample waist, and a matching zucchetto atop his thinning head of gray hair. Donoher had received the zucchetto from the current Pope when he was made a cardinal, and the scarlet details in his attire were a sign of his position as a prince of the Church. Suspended from a gold chain around his neck was the pectoral cross that Kilkenny’s father gave him at his consecration as a Bishop. The gilded cross bore the embossed image of the risen Christ vested as a priest.

Donoher’s face turned solemn when he saw the bruises on Kilkenny’s face. ‘I see you had yourself quite a morning.’

‘I’ll live.’

‘Sadly, the police tell me the same cannot be said of the young woman.’

Kilkenny nodded grimly.

‘The police have nothing as yet on your attackers, but I feel certain the truth of the matter will be revealed in time.’ Donoher glanced at his watch. ‘We’d best be moving along.’

Kilkenny followed Donoher’s lead toward the archway facing the basilica and noticed a slight hitch in the cardinal’s stride.

‘Are your knees bothering you?’

Donoher nodded. ‘My physician thinks I should replace both of these creaky old joints. He tells me there’s not much cartilage left between the bones, but I’ve been putting it off. It’s the price for all the fun I had playing football — of course, it’s your father’s fault.’

‘How so?’

‘When my family emigrated from Ireland, he was my first friend when we arrived in Detroit’s Corktown — and he’s responsible for introducing me to American football. Had he not dared me to try out with him for the team at Catholic Central, I might still be able to dance a jig.’

‘But Dad’s knees are fine,’ Kilkenny offered.

‘He wasn’t a lineman, and he didn’t play in college. Four years I started for Notre Dame, and I feel it every time the weather changes.’

‘That’s why I run and swim.’

As he walked with Donoher through the gardens, Kilkenny’s eyes wandered across brilliant floral displays, teasing out the details of a landscape design that had carefully evolved over the centuries. Deftly orchestrated views opened at precisely the moment that maximized their effect. The organic and the man-made blended harmoniously as a reminder that creation has both a physical and spiritual nature.

‘Do you think anyone could ever get jaded working in a place like this?’ Kilkenny asked.

Donoher considered the question. ‘I can’t imagine. You were just a child when I first came to work here, and still not a day passes that I don’t discover something new. I believe it was Michelangelo who said “Trifles make perfection — and perfection is no trifle.” An inquisitive mind never grows bored. And on the subject of inquisitive minds, how are you coming along on my little project?’

In trying to frame a response to Donoher’s question, Kilkenny found he was having some difficulty separating the man from his office.

‘Fine,’ Kilkenny replied, his answer straddling the line between honest and polite.

‘Your enthusiasm is underwhelming.’

‘Don’t get me wrong—’

‘But…’ Donoher interjected.

‘But you have a lot of very bright people working here, and I don’t really see why you need my help. To be honest, this job feels like an excuse to get me out of Ann Arbor.’

As he spoke, Kilkenny studied the cardinal’s face, expecting to find disappointment. Instead the older man shook his head and smiled.

‘Figured it out, did you?’

Kilkenny nodded.

‘In a sense, you’re right,’ Donoher admitted. ‘Why I brought you here has nothing to do with shelving my books. And don’t tell your father, but it has nothing to do with your grief either. To be honest, I need your help with something that is terribly important, and frankly, any personal benefit you may derive from being here is simply a bonus.’

‘I didn’t derive much of a bonus today.’

‘That much is evident, but you can bear those wounds as proudly as those you carry in your heart. That you would risk your life for a stranger says as much about your character as the relationship you shared with Kelsey.’

‘Both women died.’

‘But they were not alone in their last moments of life — you were with them. As brief as your marriage was, I thank God for the fourteen months the two of you shared as husband and wife.’

‘Eight months,’ Kilkenny corrected. ‘We were married in January.’

‘You and Kelsey renewed your vows in January, but you were married the previous June. I know, because I gave your priest permission to bless your union. I must admit that your sudden elopement came to me as something of a surprise.’

‘Kelsey was dead-set against the idea until the Shenzhou-7 tragedy.’

Donoher nodded. The fiery deaths of three Chinese astronauts had been global news, ultimately involving Kilkenny himself.

‘If the worst happened during her mission,’ Kilkenny continued, ‘she wanted to die as my wife.’

‘A brilliant physicist, a daring astronaut, a talented athlete and teacher, a cherished daughter and sibling, a beloved wife, and the bravest of mothers,’ Donoher said, recalling his eulogy. ‘And a kind and gentle beauty to boot. That woman may have been better than you deserved.’

‘I’m sure of it,’ Kilkenny agreed.

Barely a month into her long stint in orbit, Kelsey had told him over a secure connection that she was unexpectedly expecting. Their joy was matched only by NASA’s perturbation over the logistical nightmare of a pregnant astronaut in orbit, but both were short-lived. Within a week of Kelsey’s announcement, her pregnancy ended in miscarriage. She completed her mission as planned and returned home, where she publicly married Kilkenny, and the two resumed their efforts to start a family. Her second pregnancy came as quickly as the first, but on its heels came the illness that would ultimately take both Kelsey and her child. She and Kilkenny had known each other since childhood and been friends long before falling in love. Kilkenny couldn’t remember a time when Kelsey hadn’t been a part of his life, and every day he found it a struggle to go on without her. ‘So,’ Kilkenny said, breaking the silence. ‘What do you need my help with?’