The Secret of Fatima

by Tanous, Peter J;

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. And if I go, what would I be doing there?”

  “Obviously, trying to see one or more of the visionaries. Maybe they’ll help us with what we’re missing in the secret of Fatima.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  Max was prepared for the question. He scribbled something quickly on a piece of paper and handed it to Kevin. “Here’s a name and contact info for a friend there. Ivan Koncik. He’s not a cleric, but he’s well connected, knows everybody in town. He’s a friend I studied with. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

  Standing up, Kevin traversed the room. Pacing back and forth, he wasn’t sure what to do, but Max’s plan certainly wasn’t without merit.

  “Any questions?” asked Max.

  Kevin sat down again. “Tell me what you know about the Medjugorje secrets.”

  Max consulted his notes. “The apparitions started in 1981. The Virgin Mary appeared to six children, now called ‘the visionaries.’ Ever since, she’s been appearing to three of them. By the way, if they were children in 1981, they’re now in their fifties.”

  “And there were secrets?” Kevin asked.

  “Correct. Ten of them. This becomes confusing.” Max consulted his notes again. “Three of the visionaries have received all ten secrets; three haven’t. When all six visionaries have received all the secrets, Our Lady will stop appearing to them. One of the visionaries chosen by Mary, a lady by the name of Mirjana, will receive the most important message when Our Lady makes her final appearance. We don’t know when, except we know Our Lady’s last important message will come during Mirjana’s lifetime.”

  “Any clues as to what it is about?”

  Max shrugged. “There’s speculation, of course. But other revelations suggest a need for prayer to prepare for a major event.” Max handed the folder of information to Kevin. “Here’s some reading material for your trip.”

  “While I’m gone, see if you can make progress on the missing pages.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thanks, Max,” said Kevin.

  “I’ll try, but if they’ve been missing a long time, this may be water under the bridge. Impossible.” Max said.

  Kevin smiled. “Max, the impossible is what we’re good at.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sarajevo, Bosnia

  The flight from Rome to Sarajevo was short. Kevin was studying a guidebook on Sarajevo he’d picked up at the Rome airport.

  Kevin hadn’t been to Sarajevo, but he’d studied it in college. Sarajevo was the capital and largest city of Bosnia and Herzegovina. In 1914, it’d been the site of the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria, which had triggered World War I. More recently, during the Bosnia war for independence, following the breakup of Yugoslavia, the city had become infamous for the Serbs’ siege of Sarajevo. For four years, from 1992 to 1996, the city was under attack. It was the longest siege in modern history.

  On the taxi ride from the Sarajevo airport into town, Kevin was struck along the way by the number of dreary, homogenous Communist-era apartment buildings, detracting from the breathtakingly beautiful mountain vistas and idyllic countryside.

  Once in town, the charm of the old city revealed itself and Kevin was eager to take a tour. He checked into the Bristol Hotel, where he and Katie had agreed to stay. The desk clerk said Katie had already arrived.

  Kevin went to his room and unpacked. He’d brought his vestments to perform the baptism, including an alb, the long, white garment worn by priests, a stole, a cincture, a braided white cord worn around the waist, and a chasuble, the long, colorful cape. Unpacking, Kevin had to smile, remembering one of his students seeing him in his vestments and saying he looked like Batman.

  Before leaving for an exploratory walk, Kevin dialed Katie’s room. No answer. He left a message and went out. Dressed in his travel clothes, dark jeans and a blazer, he hadn’t shaved; he knew he looked scruffy, but didn’t care.

  Old town Sarajevo was much as he’d imagined it, a fairytale labyrinth of uneven streets and quaint buildings, some dating back to the sixteenth century. An open-air market was bustling with bargaining patrons filling their bags with fragrant flowers and fresh vegetables. In close proximity, highlighting the new and the old, were churches, mosques, and synagogues, contrasting ancient and modern architecture. Packed cafés and charming restaurants were doing a brisk business of well-dressed young people chatting away.

  Kevin went into St. Anthony’s, the Catholic Church completed in 1912. His gaze was drawn to the stained glass windows radiating a mosaic of rich purples, reds, and yellows. Then he went to the statue of the Virgin Mary and knelt before her.

  Kevin looked up at the Virgin Mary, into her eyes. He began to pray, and then was distracted by a childhood memory of an old church custom. Entering a Catholic Church for the first time, a newcomer would get three wishes. Smiling, he decided to reenact the custom in this new church.

  But he then realized he wasn’t sure what to wish for. Something about Katie? What could he possibly ask? About his future as a priest? He wanted no part of that, preferring to give God the leverage on that one. So what else was there to wish for? Not much, really. That he learn quickly about what was in the two missing pages of the secret.

  Kevin said a few prayers and left.

  Back at the hotel, he dialed Katie’s room and this time she picked up and the familiarity of her voice cheered him.

  “I’m so happy you’re here, Kevin. I can’t tell you how much!”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said.

  “I spoke to the orphanage. We’re meeting there tomorrow morning. They’ve asked if the mother could join us. They said she wanted to meet us.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I wasn’t sure at first. But then I said it was fine. I wanted to assure her the baby will be in good hands with me. And having you there as my support will boost me.”

  “Sounds good to me. Is Jimmy here?”

  “He doesn’t get in ’til later. Let’s have dinner together.”

  He was counting on this. He didn’t let on that this was reason enough for the entire trip.

  At the front desk, the concierge of the hotel directed Kevin and Katie to a local restaurant, Nanina Kuhinja, whose stone walls and arches had the feel of an old Parisian wine cellar. The two were seated and offered scrolled menus with elaborate calligraphy. As lovely as they were, the copy was completely illegible. With the help of the waiter, they ordered a dish, one with lamb, and a cornucopia of colorful vegetables.

  As they were eating, Katie asked, “What’s going on with your 007 super-secret assignment?”

  “Yep, that’s me. James Bond.” Kevin smiled, his expression turning serious. “This is my life, Katie. Here is something no one knows. When somebody tried to assassinate the pope not long ago, my friend and I stopped it.”

  Katie almost choked. “My God!” she said. “You’re not joking?”

  “Nope. Deadly serious.”

  “How’d you stop it?” She put her fork down and looked intently at him, wanting to reach out and touch his hand.

  “Let’s just say I got to the assassin before he got the pope.”

  “You … you mean you killed him?”

  “Well, yes … something I had to do.”

  “My God, Kevin. But … but … are you now in danger?”

  “I’ll be fine, Katie. Let’s not talk about it now; let’s celebrate your new baby.”

  “Kev, is anyone following you?”

  “You’ve been watching too many detective movies!” said Kevin, trying to lighten the mood. Knowing this was one of the last times he’d be with Katie alone, he didn’t want to spoil it.

  “I … I just don’t want anything to happen to you, Kev. It sounds like you might be in too deep.”

  “I can handle myself.”

  “I know that … but …”

  “But nothing, OK?” He touched her hand with his
, then withdrew it. “Dessert?”

  Reaching over, Katie took Kevin’s arm in hers. She turned his wrist and smiled. “The Mickey Mouse watch?” she said.

  Kevin smiled. “I kind of got used to it,” he said.

  Katie pointed to the pin on her blouse.

  “Oh yes, I noticed it,” Kevin said. “I guess there’re parts of you and me that’ll always be there.”

  Katie refilled her wineglass. “Often I’ve thought the moment you really fell in love with me was when I gave you this watch. I can still the expression on your face—”

  “Wrong,” Kevin interrupted, smiling. He realized the wine was loosening their tongues, maybe too much.

  “Hmmm.” Katie was thinking. “Then maybe it was when I told you about Vukovar, and my dad dying a hero?”

  “Wrong, again,” Kevin said, playing along.

  “Then, when?” Katie asked, lowering her voice, frustrated.

  Kevin hesitated a moment. “It was before you gave me the watch. It was that day when we were in Teehan’s having a beer after class and you challenged a classmate for thanking God for saving his life. Remember?”

  “Not sure …” she said.

  “Some guy had been in a bus crash on the way to Georgetown. He was one of three survivors. Twenty people died. He thanked God for sparing him. You had a fit.”

  Katie nodded. “Damn right,” she said. “God had nothing to do with it. I said, ‘Listen, asshole, if you think God spared you, then why’d he let the other twenty go? What makes you so special?’ God doesn’t choose either the survivors or the ill-fated. How dumb!”

  “I agree, Katie. I admired your spirited resolve that day. You weren’t afraid to speak your mind, and you did confront that guy.”

  “Okay, do you really want to know when I fell in love with you?”

  Kevin sensed the conversation was heading in a dangerous direction.

  “Let’s leave it, Katie.”

  “Okay.” She looked away.

  After dinner, they strolled through the cobblestone streets. Kevin again resisted taking her hand.

  “I really hope you’ll like Jimmy,” Katie said. “I want you two to be friends.”

  What a great idea, Kevin thought. Inside, he groaned. Katie had just brought up the one subject he’d hoped wouldn’t come up tonight. It was ruining the wonderful feeling, the utter denial, the joy of hope. He was enjoying just being with her … alone. Now he was left with the cold truth: This would probably be the last time he’d be with her.

  They kept sauntering quietly through the dark streets, now illuminated by tall lampposts.

  “You’re quiet, Kevin,” Katie said.

  “I’ve got a lot on my plate these days.” But in fact, he was consumed by feelings he knew he shouldn’t be having. As they walked, Katie put her arm through his. It felt good and natural.

  As they approached the hotel, Kevin reciprocated, taking her arm in his, and turned toward her. With half a smile, she pecked his cheek. He caught the faint scent of lavender.

  “Meet me downstairs at 9:30 tomorrow morning?” she said.

  Sure. Good-night, Katie. Sleep well. Can’t wait to meet your guy. Kevin smiled as the elevator door closed shut. He didn’t feel like going up to his room. As he exited the hotel, his cell rang.

  “Are you in Sarajevo?” Max asked.

  “Yes, just finished dinner with Katie.”

  “Your voice sounds terrible. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing and everything. Let’s not get into it. What’s new there?”

  “A lot. I suggest you go to your room and turn on the news. Pope Quintus II is dead.”

  “My God! What happened?” The image of the robust pope flashed before his eyes. Inconceivable the man had died.

  “A heart attack.”

  “Good God!”

  “Kevin, when’re you coming back?”

  “Katie is picking up the baby tomorrow morning. We’ll have a baptism ceremony, then I’ll rent a car to go to Medjugorje to see your friend. Depending on how long I stay there, I should be back in Rome Wednesday or at the latest, Thursday.”

  “Come back Wednesday. Cardinal Porter will see you at three p.m.”

  As Max hung up, Kevin stood staring at his phone. This couldn’t be—the pope. Dead?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sarajevo, Bosnia

  Kevin hardly slept that night, tossing and turning. His mind went from thoughts of Katie to news from CNN and the constant news coverage of the tragic death of the pope. His first thought was that Opus Mundi had been behind it, but official reports all spoke of a heart attack. Given the tremendous pressure the pope had been under, which Kevin knew more than almost anyone, a heart attack was within the realm of possibilities. Now he was regretting his promise to Katie to baptize her child. His mission was getting more complicated and dangerous. There was little room to veer from his mission for any personal distractions whatsoever.

  He was counting the minutes of agitated sleeplessness (unicorns, sheep, cows, goats, the steps of the cathedral, the steps to heaven) until the sun was rising and it was time to get up. He would get through this somehow, but his mind kept drifting back to Katie. Being with Katie was one thing, but he dreaded the thought of meeting the man who’d replaced him.

  Slowly putting on his cassock, the alb and cincture, and the green chasuble, he looked in the mirror. “FATHER Kevin Thrall, Father Kevin, Father Kevin Thrall.”

  If only he could convince himself. Besides his personal neuroses, he had a mission to accomplish in Rome which was getting complicated. The death of a pope brought everything in the Vatican to a standstill. But Kevin couldn’t stand still.

  Meeting in the lobby, “Good morning, Father,” Katie said. She was beaming. Next to her, Jimmy was grinning, like the cat who’d swallowed a canary.

  “Kevin, I’d like you to meet Jimmy Stein.” She turned to the new Mr. Katie and Kevin took a quick take, extending his hand.

  He wore a gray business suit, white shirt, and a bowtie with white pin dots. Jimmy was tall and slim. The bowtie, ridiculously goofy.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Kevin said.

  “Likewise, Father,” Jimmy said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Call me Kevin, please, Jimmy.”

  “Sure.” Jimmy seemed monstrously full of himself.

  “I’ve got a car and driver outside waiting to take us to the orphanage,” Katie said. “It’s twenty minutes outside of town.”

  “Well, let’s go,” Kevin said. “I’m eager to meet your new baby.”

  They left the hotel and climbed into the black sedan. Kevin sat in the front seat with the driver. Katie and Jimmy sat in the back. As they pulled away, the driver put on some classical music. They sat together in silence looking out the window at the lush and verdant landscape of rivers, farmlands, and hills.

  “A beautiful day for a baptism,” Katie commented. No one responded.

  Entering the driveway to the orphanage, a young Sister ran out to open an iron gate. The driver stopped in a shaded parking area. His passengers got out and walked the gravel path to the wooden double door where an elderly nun, no doubt Mother Superior, was awaiting them. The main building was a huge stone structure with small framed windows. Nearby, a steepled roof topped the orphanage’s chapel.

  “Welcome, Father, and welcome Mr. Stein, Miss O’Connell,” the Mother Superior said warmly. “I am Mother Rosa in charge of this orphanage.” She had a Slavic accent and wore a dated nun’s habit with a white headpiece covering her gray hair. Through it, her face was rosy and reassuring.

  Without waiting for handshakes, Mother Rosa said, “Come inside.”

  They entered a long vestibule and followed the nun into a parlor furnished in well preserved, turn of the century, rustic furniture. Small tables were covered with hand-embroidered white lace doilies.

  “Please have a seat.” Mother Rosa gestured toward some worn chairs and a sofa. “Knowing you must be impatient to see your son
, we’ll complete the paperwork formalities after the ceremony. Before I introduce you to him, may I know the name you have chosen?”

  “William Kevin O’Connell,” Katie said.

  Kevin’s heart skipped a beat. He looked pointedly at Katie, aghast.

  “William was my father’s name and the Kevin in the name is for Father Thrall here, a longtime family friend,” Katie said.

  “Well then, let us proceed.” Mother Rosa approached a side door to the parlor and opened it. A young woman entered, cradling a tiny infant swaddled in white. A middle-aged man in a suit, with a stethoscope hanging from his neck, followed behind her.

  “Father Thrall, Mr. Stein, Miss O’Connell, may I introduce you to William Kevin and his natural mother, Gileesa?” Mother Rosa turned to the man with the stethoscope. “And this is Doctor Florian Janiusz. Under our laws, the doctor must give a health report on the newborn to the adopting mother.”

  Dr. Janiusz nodded and smiled.

  Gileesa, the child’s mother, smiled at them. She wore a floor-length sky-blue peasant skirt. Her head was covered with a white scarf. Without a word, she handed the infant to Katie. Kevin watched Katie closely. If eyes could convey love, he saw it in hers. The infant’s eyes were open and alert, his little hands closed in two tiny fists.

  Kevin leaned over and smiled.

  “Hello, William Kevin,” Katie said as a tear ran down her cheek.

  Dr. Janiusz approached Katie and patted the baby’s head. “I have performed the examination. He is healthy,” he said. His voice was stern and deep, his accent pronounced, although he had a good command of English. “Breathing, blood pressure, hearing, and sight all normal,” he added. The doctor unwrapped the baby, pointed to his legs. “He has a case of talipes equinovarus, which in English means congenital clubfoot. His right leg turns in. When he’s older, this can be corrected.”

  Katie’s face went pale.

  “That isn’t serious, Katie,” Kevin said.

  “I … I … understand,” she said slowly. “And he’s otherwise healthy, doctor?”

  Dr. Janiusz smiled for the first time. “Yes, he’s is a healthy infant boy.”