Matilda considered this idea for a moment. “I do wonder if things could have been less contentious throughout history between Christians and Jews if the Christians had just created their own religion. Looking back through our family’s history over a thousand years, we have had many dealings with Jewish bankers and merchants. Their stories are sad ones of good people having their property taken and being moved into ghettoes. I wonder whether we Christians just took what we wanted of Jewish wisdom. We’ve even been taught Isaiah anticipated Jesus, but to be honest, that has always felt fishy to me. After all, we know translators were always rewriting things. Worse, we used our Bible to persecute the Jews whenever they got any power and money.” She sighed. “I see why you’re looking into this.”
Sarah felt a strong sense of relief that this valued friend of her family was open to her emerging ideas, and she continued eagerly, “I feel that we are living in an exciting time of great reflection. We have access to all of these lost sources even at the same time people are still fighting and killing each other over their gods. It is said Jesus came to redeem us, yet everything is collapsing! I wonder what Jesus would really think of what’s happening today.”
Father McBride was listening to the discussion between the ladies while he stood by the fireplace with Sarah’s father. He said, “William, I think you’d better ask your daughter some questions about her research. She may be investigating things that should be left to the theologians who protect the Church against error. That’s why the early Fathers defined these questions in the first place. I have to wonder, why would a woman, even if she is your daughter, be investigating things that are meant for theologians?” Swigging his double cognac, he actually was thinking: She is too beautiful to have much of a brain. She won’t last long around here, but she bears watching. I’ll phone Father Ignatio about Sarah Adamson tomorrow morning.
William Adamson met Father McBride’s intense red-rimmed eyes. He vowed to spend some time alone with Sarah before returning to Boston.
6
Dinner at Alfredo’s
Bliss overwhelmed Sarah on the morning after the Pierleoni dinner party while she gazed out to the garden as her coffee brewed. Her garden, the only green space amid multistoried apartments, was the street’s nature preserve. Stimulated by rising heat drying the morning dew, dragonflies unfurled their wings and flew around in circles above the fountain’s surface. Iridescent rainbows shimmered in the mist generated by water pouring from the lion’s mouth into the white marble basin. Sunrays flashed through the tall cypress trees that edged the circular drive, reflecting on crystalline specks in the marble. Pungent eucalyptus, yew, and cypress aromas perfumed the mist.
The phone ringing in the parlor startled her out of her garden contemplation so she grabbed her coffee mug and walked into the other room. Anticipating her father’s voice, she was instead pleasantly surprised to hear Simon eagerly wishing her a lovely morning and apologizing for not being in touch for more than a week.
“I didn’t anticipate such a big reaction to the priestly abuse article. I had to spend hours on my blog answering people’s questions and dealing with a tidal wave of objections. I’m not everybody’s favorite right now. So, how’ve you been? Did you like the article?”
“It was excellent. And I’m so glad it’s gotten so much attention. I wasn’t at all surprised not to hear from you.”
“I miss you,” he continued. “I still have a lot of work today, but can we have dinner tonight?”
“Well, sadly I can’t, and for reasons that involve you,” Sarah said. “You’re not going to believe this, but my father is in Rome. He came three days ago, and I’ve been spending all my time with him. Actually, it has been very challenging. We had dinner at my father’s friends, and he introduced me to the Vatican official in charge of American parishes. This priest got wind of my research and told my father he should watch out for what I’m looking into. So my dad gave me a hard time all the way home in the cab. Except he doesn’t know the difference between Marcion and Tertullian. “Sarah grinned. “Actually, I was pleasantly surprised by my own confidence about my research in the face of a pompous Church official. So although I would love to, I can’t have dinner with you tonight.”
“Hey, wait, I want to meet your father,” Simon replied. “I assume he doesn’t come to Rome that often? I must meet him; I insist. Can I take you both out to Alfredo’s tonight? It’s really hard to get in there, but the owner is a friend of mine. Americans love the place. It would be a real treat for your father and a great way for me to meet him.”
Sarah moved her laptop aside and dropped heavily down onto her window seat, making an effort not to spill her coffee. “Oh, Simon, I don’t think it’s a good idea at all! He just read your article and it really got him going. That’s actually why he rushed to Rome. He’s dealing with terrific pressure in our parish, and he thinks you just made it all worse! The minute he hears your name, he’ll launch into a tirade.” She paused, considering. “Well, he might. He is usually respectful and polite when he’s socializing regardless of what he actually thinks.”
“I’ll take my chances. Look, I’ll make you a deal. Just tell him a good friend of yours insists on hosting him while he’s in Rome. It’s better if he starts out in debt to me. Just introduce us. I’ll bet he won’t even realize it’s me at first. When he does, I can handle whatever comes up. Who knows? We might end up having a great conversation. After all, we have mutual interests.” Simon kept talking, deliberately not allowing Sarah the chance to break in or protest. “I’ll reserve for 8 p.m., so bring him a few minutes early and get seated and then I will join you. Since he’s an Irishman, order him a stiff drink. That way he’ll already be relaxing at his table before he hears my name. I want to meet him. I insist!”
Sarah had her doubts about Simon’s plan but, charmed by his determination to meet her father, she assented.
Evening was settling in as William and Sarah were led to their table at Alfredo’s, and the restaurant was already jammed with glittery gossiping Romans. The beefy older man following a stunning young woman got their attention. Mistress or daughter? Must be a daughter, since she’s so understated. Her upswept hair revealed diamond and pearl earrings, and the deep V neckline of her elegant light blue sheath showed off another large pearl on a small gold chain. What a beauty! Could they be Americans? He looks like it.
While they were being seated, diners near William and Sarah’s table continued to indulge in periodic quick glances at the mysterious pair. Next a tall, elegant young man in a black Armani suit slowly and deliberately approached the table. Resting his hand on the back of the remaining seat, Simon smiled sweetly at Sarah and conversation hushed at the nearby tables as Sarah and her father rose for introductions. Simon turned to gaze directly into the eager and friendly Irish blue eyes of William Adamson, who extended his hand while taking the full measure of the confident young man—Sarah’s “friend.”
Reaching for the hand perfectly encircled by starched white cuffs cinched in gold bars, William liked the look of this friend’s fresh smiling face and direct dark eyes. Whoever he is, his manners are impeccable. When Sarah announced a name he thought he’d heard before, William was surprised to realize Simon was an American. He responded, “Nice to meet yuh,” but couldn’t quite register the name—Apelle, Apple, Amen?
Simon, amused by all the nosy Romans sneaking peeks while gossiping heatedly at their tables, seated himself. He’d spotted a few people who knew him, but he didn’t acknowledge them because he wanted to focus on Sarah’s father. Simon took in William’s typically Irish florid face, balding reddish blond hair, bright blue eyes, and happy, solid round body and noticed, from his protective glances at Sarah, that he also seemed like a loving father.
Drinks arrived right away, and William raised his glass, followed by Simon and Sarah. “To you, Simon, for hosting us this evening in this beautiful city and for being a friend here to my gorgeous and intelligent daughter.”
In r
esponse to Simon’s polite questions, William explained that he was a developer in Boston and then got right down to business by asking where Simon was from, what he did for a living, and why he was in Rome. Simon explained about his upbringing in Brooklyn Heights and his work for the New York Times and other papers. Then William asked Simon to repeat his name again.
“Simon Appel, sir.” Simon said clearly and enthusiastically as Sarah touched her lips to her Manhattan, demurely sniffing the sweet cherry. Simon watched William’s eyes narrow as the sound landed in his brain.
“Well, young man, I believe I know who you are! Are you the author of the recent article in the Times about the priestly scandal in America?”
“Yes, sir, I am. I wanted to host you in Rome because your daughter has become a good friend, and she says you had quite a reaction to my article. Sarah tells me you are very active in your parish in Boston, in one of the parishes that thankfully was not closed a few years ago. So I think we have some common concerns, although I could see why you might not welcome my article. Oh well, as a journalist, I’m used to that,” Simon said, smiling broadly with a twinkle flashing in his dark eyes.
For the first time, Sarah noticed the well-bred and sensual curve of Simon’s upper lip, as he looked expectantly at her father. Simon exuded self-confidence and was so incredibly good-looking in the Armani suit that she knew her father was impressed.
Simon’s comfortable boldness and directness had also disarmed William, who had just been about to get testy, especially at Sarah for setting him up without so much as a warning. This guy sounds like a damned Jew, like a nosy, know-it-all kike! But he’s got balls. It took a lot of nerve to set up this dinner with me as a guest. And what the hell, it’s a balmy night in a great Roman restaurant. With a Rob Roy sliding down his throat and warming his belly, William felt magnanimous. Being a man with a big heart, he put fun and good cheer first. He also felt expansive like he always did when he travelled in Europe. It wouldn’t be good manners to badger his host. But what was that name, Appel, exactly? Italian? Greek? French?
“Well, I can’t say your article thrilled me. But you’ve got the right to write about it; anybody does. Your paper, the New York Times, of course has a heavy Jewish influence, so we Catholics don’t like it much. We prefer the Boston Globe, don’t we, Sarah?”
“Yes, Daddy, but I like the Times too, and I think Simon is a very good writer. I liked the depth of his sources and comprehensive coverage, didn’t you?”
“Well, it creates a lot of trouble for me, since you suggest that the Vatican knew some things, which is ridiculous, just plain ridiculous. No way that’s possible,” he said, still trying to figure out whether Simon was French Jewish (which would have been not so bad) or what. But mainly he was just enjoying himself. Damned good-looking buck, that’s for sure. Smart dresser, warm smile with engaging eyes.
All three agreed that the butter lettuce salad with goat cheese croquette and candied pecans drizzled with balsamic vinegar was outstanding. William ordered an expensive bottle of wine, insisting it was his contribution to the dinner. As the waiter poured the rich, ruby red liquid just before the arrival of pasta carbonara, he felt warm and fuzzy. He wondered if she was dating this guy. At least he was no peon. Williams and Harvard, hmmmm . . . He still couldn’t believe Sarah hadn’t given him any background about Simon prior to this dinner.
“So how’d you two meet?” he wondered. “Did you know each other at Harvard? Probably not, since I think you are a little older than Sarah?”
“Yes, I am, I’m thirty-five. I’m aware Sarah also went to Harvard, so we have that in common, but I graduated a few years ahead of her. After I graduated, I went out to become a journalist because I like to write. Luckily, I got a lot of breaks, I’m making a living, and I get to travel a lot. The Times sent me here as a stringer covering Vatican news, and they don’t care if I write for other papers. Needless to say, my understanding of how the Vatican works is valuable for the Times, and so they asked me to write this recent article.”
“But how did you two meet?” William persisted.
Sarah quickly popped in. “We were both interested in an early Roman archaeological site, and we met there during a tour.”
Simon sent an amused glance Sarah’s way. Obviously she didn’t want to say she’d just met him on the street. “Mr. Adamson, don’t worry, we are just friends,” Simon said, which made all three of them laugh.
Funny thing is, her father likes me. He can’t help it. Of course he likes me, since his daughter likes me. Simon was using his journalistic eye to discreetly study William whenever Sarah was chatting with him. He’s a hard-working man, callused hands and a healthy outdoor face. He must be second- or third-generation American since he’s easy with money for her education, for her travel. The diamond ring on his right hand is a dead giveaway: he must have made a pile at some point and treated himself. This is a man I can respect. He’s not a Mr. Mills, the father of my old girlfriend, who was snide, took pride in his patrician blood, never worked a day in his life, and scorned anybody who was not a certified blueblood. I think I can trust Sarah’s father.
“Now I’m ready! And call me William, Simon!” William announced once the main course was served. He rolled Alfredo’s famous homemade spaghetti in freshly pureéd tomato sauce on his fork and said, “Let’s not mince words about your article. How long do you think everybody has to feel guilty about what happened, Simon? Do you understand what these financial settlements are doing to our parishes? Do you realize the Catholic Church in America is reeling financially like a drunken circus elephant? Is it worth it to hype up the public by bringing out all the dirty laundry just when the people in charge are dealing with it as best they can?”
Sarah flushed. What’s Simon going to do with that?
Simon, however, wasn’t the least bit nervous. Instead he was eyeing Sarah, thinking she looked sexy as hell. Sitting here with big Daddy tonight, I feel like I’m going to know her for the rest of my life!
Sarah felt his gaze warming the side of her long neck, so she glanced over at him with green eyes flashing excitedly. Her moist shell-pink lips narrowed slightly as she wondered how he’d respond to the challenge.
She likes it! She’s enjoying seeing her father go at it with me. Great!
Simon set down his fork and met William’s eyes. “With all due respect, William, there’s no sign the hierarchy has or ever intends to create systems that will protect children from these abusers. To be candid, I’ve been here in Rome for almost three years, and I see no signs that anybody here gives a damn. They just want the problem to go away. They want Catholics in America to obey again and go back to Church, pray, and send the money. But how can you do that when your parish church closes? How do you educate your kids as Catholics when the school is closed? I don’t write about these things just to get paid. I care a great deal about these problems. The pain in New York over shrinking parishes is terrible, just as it is in Boston. Catholic communities have been a fundamental American social system in cities and towns for generations. I write about this because I believe the Vatican will clean up its act only if people keep the pressure on them. Italian society is ancient and decadent and not aware how destructive these losses are for a young culture like America.”
Two bulls were about to charge and lock horns, so Sarah interjected. “Hey, I’m the third part in this trinity, and I’d like to say my piece. What if this disaster—a crisis that really is on par with the Reformation—what if it’s really about celibacy?” She lowered her voice very delicately as she cut into a firm slice of sweet lemon and basil chicken on arugula, wondering what her father would think about what she had to say. Neither man replied, seemingly preferring to focus on their entrees, so she went on. “I assume you both know that the Church adopted celibacy only about one thousand years ago for financial reasons? The Church needed to hold assets in perpetuity, yet property was leaking out into the families of married priests through inheritance. The Church wasn’
t accumulating enough money, and now the financial basis of the Church is shrinking anyway. Maybe marriage for priests needs to be allowed again, since it would appear that lifelong celibacy is impossible for most men.”
Simon noticed that her cheeks had flushed slightly since they had gotten into their second bottle of wine. Her pouty lips are just asking for kisses as she sits here talking about celibacy when she won’t have sex with me. Oops, better control my thoughts or Daddy will know something is going on. Simon looked over to William. “This wine is fabulous with my steak. How is it with your food?”
“Great! And if the problem is celibacy, then maybe it’s because there are too many gay priests because, you know, gays screw around a lot. I don’t know if it has always been that way, but it sure is now. Did you run into the gay issue during your research, Simon?”
“Of course I did, but I’m not sure if it’s anything new. I tend to think the priesthood has been a refuge for gay men for a long time before the 1960s sexual liberation movement. Before that, homosexuals had to deal with a lot of judgment and suffered with heavy guilt. So for a gay person who was inclined to be spiritual and also moral, it was easier to become a priest and try to be celibate than it was to live in society as a homosexual. Then with the sexual liberation during the 1960s in America, suddenly many gay priests came out. I don’t really think the Vatican knew this was happening at first, especially since many older priests had managed to be celibate, at least most of the time.”
Revelations of the Ruby Crystal Page 6
