Blue

by Danielle Steel

  “I just do. They’re bad people. They make everyone think they’re good, but they’re not.”

  “Like who?” She was curious now, he was so adamant about it. “Did you know a bad priest when you were a little kid?” She wondered if it was some kind of association with his mother’s death.

  “Yeah, Father Teddy,” he answered, with a look of fury on his face that surprised her. “He’s the priest at my aunt’s church. He used to play with me in the basement.” She nearly fell over when he said it, and tried not to seem panicked or overly impressed.

  “What do you mean, ‘play with you’?” she asked, trying to sound casual about it, but suddenly a flashing red light went off in her head. And it was a measure of his trust in her that he brought it up.

  “He kissed me,” Blue said, looking straight at her then, with his piercing blue eyes that went straight to her soul. “He made me kiss him, too. He said God would like that and wanted me to.”

  “How old were you?”

  “I don’t know. It was after my mom died, maybe nine or ten. He let me play the piano they had in the basement for church socials, but he said he’d get in trouble if I told, so I had to keep it a secret. I couldn’t tell anyone he let me go there. I played all afternoon sometimes—that’s when he’d make me kiss him. I’d probably have done damn near anything to play that piano. Sometimes he’d sit on the bench with me, and once he kissed me on the neck, and then he…you know…he did stuff…I didn’t want to do it, but he said I couldn’t come back anymore if I didn’t let him.” Ginny felt almost faint as she steeled herself. The vision of the scene he was describing was making her feel sick. She wanted to ask him a vital question, but she didn’t know how to phrase it so it wouldn’t make him feel ashamed.

  “Did he…did you do it with him?” she asked, trying to look as bland and nonjudgmental as she could, while feeling rage at the priest who would do such a thing to him, and abuse a child.

  Blue shook his head. “No, I didn’t do it. I think he wanted to. But I stopped going before he could. He just touched me, a bunch of times…you know…there…and put his hand down my pants while I was playing. He said he didn’t mean to do it, but my playing was so good that it tempted him. He said it was my fault, and I’d be in a lot of trouble if I told anyone, for tempting a priest like that. He said I might even go to jail like my daddy. He scared me.

  “I didn’t mean to tempt him, or get in trouble with God, or go to jail, so I stopped going to play the piano. He whispered to me after church and asked me to come back, but I never did. He used to visit my aunt on Sundays after church. She thought he was the best thing that ever happened, and said he was a saint.”

  “Did you ever tell her what he did to you?”

  “I tried to once…I told her that he kissed me, and she said I was a liar and I would go to hell for saying bad things about Father Teddy. Between hell and jail, I never told her the rest. She wouldn’t have believed me anyway. I’ve never told anyone except you.” He sensed how much faith she had in him, and he had felt comfortable sharing the secret he had carried for four years.

  “You know that what he did was wrong, don’t you, Blue? That he was wrong, and none of that was your fault. You didn’t ‘tempt’ him. He’s a very sick person, and he was trying to blame you for what he did.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Blue said, looking like a child again, as his eyes bored into hers. “That’s why I told you priests are liars and crooks. I think he just let me play the piano so he could do that.” He was dead on with that, Ginny knew. It had been a hideous plot to seduce an innocent child, and a total violation of his position of trust in the boy’s life. It was horrifying. She was just grateful that he hadn’t raped him. He could have easily in the church basement with no one else around. It occurred to her that other little boys in the parish might not have been as lucky. Thank God the lure of the piano hadn’t been enough for Blue to allow the priest to abuse him further. And she hoped for Blue’s sake that that was true.

  “He’s a terrible person, Blue. People go to prison for doing things like that.”

  “Nah, they’d never send Father Teddy to jail. Everybody loves him, including Charlene. I always went out when he showed up on Sundays. I didn’t want to be around him. And I told Charlene I was sick every time she went to church. After a while, she stopped asking and just let me stay home. I’ve never been to church again, and I never will. He’s a disgusting old guy.” The memory of it made him shudder.

  “I’m sorry, Blue.” And then she added, “It’s not right that no one knows. What if he does it to others?”

  “He probably did. Jimmy Ewald said he hated him, too. I never asked him why, but I can guess. He was twelve and an altar boy, and his mama loved Father Teddy. Everybody did. She used to bake him cakes. Charlene always gave him money, even though she needed it for her kids. He’s really a bad guy.” After what he had just told her, it sounded like a major understatement to her.

  Ginny was quiet on the way back to the apartment, thinking about what he’d said. She didn’t want to upset him further by asking more, or make him feel embarrassed for telling her. But she was shaken to the core by the thought of him as a nine- or ten-year-old child, being molested by a priest. It was the kind of thing one read about in the newspapers, but it had never occurred to her that it could happen to someone she knew. Blue had been vulnerable, his mother dead, his father in prison, and his aunt completely snowed by the twisted priest. It was no wonder Blue refused to go to church. And she was deeply touched that he had confided in her. She wanted to do something about it, but had no idea where to start or if it was a good idea. And she just hoped that he was telling her the whole story, and that he hadn’t been sodomized by the priest. The thought of that possibility made her sick for him. She truly hoped it wasn’t the case. What he had told her was bad enough and could affect him psychologically forever. The poor child had been through so much. And his faith in her now seemed like an even bigger gift.

  Ginny cooked dinner, and Blue worked on one of his remaining term papers afterward, about the impact of advertising on children watching TV, for his social science class, while Ginny pretended to read a book, but all she could think about was what he had shared with her about “Father Teddy” that afternoon. She was haunted by the thought of Blue in a church basement, playing the piano, with the priest’s hand down his pants, and blaming him for “tempting” him, and threatening him with jail.

  She could hardly sleep that night as thoughts of it came to her again and again. Blue hadn’t mentioned it that evening, and she wondered if it haunted him, too, if he had nightmares about it sometimes. He had sounded angry but calm when he talked about it.

  The next morning, after he left for school, Ginny stood at the window of her apartment, lost in thought. There was someone she wanted to call, just to talk to him about it. Kevin Callaghan was an old friend from her network news days—they’d known each other for years and been very close. But like everyone, she had severed her ties with him when Mark and Chris died and she moved to New York. She had wanted no link to her past, and they hadn’t spoken in more than three years. But she was aching to call him now. He was the best investigative reporter in the business. If anyone would, he would know what to do, how others handled it, and what the procedures were. And he’d know about the possible fallout for Blue. She didn’t want to do anything to harm him, but the sheer injustice of it, of exploiting a child that way, made her want to go after the priest on Blue’s behalf. She didn’t know if it would be the right thing to do. And until she knew more, she didn’t want to say anything to Blue.

  She waited until noon in New York, when she knew Kevin would be in the office in L.A. at nine a.m., if he wasn’t out tracking down a story. Criminal matters were his specialty, and she had a feeling he’d be up to date on this issue, about priests who had molested kids. Talking to him would be emotional for her, since he and Mark had been good friends. And her hand was shaking when he answered his cell phone, a
nd she heard his familiar voice.

  “Kev? It’s Ginny,” she said in a voice hoarse with emotion, and was met with a long pause.

  “Ginny who?” He didn’t recognize her voice, and the last thing he expected, after all this time, was to hear from her.

  “Ginny Carter. Nice of you to forget,” she teased him, and he let out a shout once he knew who it was.

  “Nice of you not to call me for three years, or return my calls or respond to my e-mails and texts!” He had tried to reach her for nearly a year, and finally gave up. He had contacted her sister, to find out how she was, and Becky had told him she was a zombie, spoke to no one, had cut her ties to everyone, and worked for the SOS/HR, in terrifying places all over the world, trying to get herself killed, which was how she saw it. He had been sorry to hear it, although he admired what she was doing. He had written her a number of e-mails, particularly on the first anniversary, and she hadn’t responded to anything he sent, so he hadn’t written to her again. He figured that if she ever wanted to speak to him, she’d call him. But he had stopped hoping years before. And now suddenly here she was.

  “I’m sorry,” Ginny said, sounding apologetic. It touched her just hearing his voice again—it was a little bit like reaching out to Mark, because they’d been so close. That was why she’d never answered him—it just hurt too much. But in this case, it was different. She was doing it for Blue. “I’ve been trying to forget who I am for the last three years. It’s been working well for me so far,” she said honestly. She was no longer a wife or mother, and in her own eyes she no longer had an identity without them. She was just a human rights worker being sent from one assignment to the next in the most godforsaken places in the world; she felt like a ghost of who she’d been. “I missed you, though,” she said quietly. “Sometimes I think of you from a mountaintop somewhere, and send you good vibes. I’ve been to some amazing places. I never thought I could do it, but it gives my life meaning.” Nothing else had anymore, until Blue. “You wouldn’t recognize me, I haven’t worn makeup or combed my hair in three years,” except for the Senate hearing, when she’d even worn heels. The rest of the time she looked like a hitchhiker and didn’t care.

  “That’s a damn shame,” he said regretfully. “You were always so cute. I bet you still are.”

  “It’s not the same, Kev,” she said with strong emotion. “It’s all different, but it is what it is.” She had made the best of it and was helping others. He was one of the few people she thought would understand it, unlike her sister, to whom she was a mystery, and maybe always had been. She was beginning to think so.

  “Are you doing okay?” he asked her gently. “I’d ask you to Skype with me, but I’d probably cry. I’ve missed you, too. It’s not like the old days with the three of us together.” He’d had some hot romances, and lived with a couple of women, but had never married. And she realized that by now he was forty-four years old.

  “I’m doing okay,” she answered his question. “You’re not married yet?”

  “Nah, I think I missed the boat. I’m too comfortable the way I am. The girls seem to get younger and younger, though. The last one was twenty-two years old, a weather girl on another channel, fresh out of USC. It’s a little embarrassing, but I’m having too much fun to give it up.” He was a very handsome man, and women had never been able to resist him. She and Mark used to tease him about it. “So what made you drop from the skies?” he finally asked her. “Just saying hi?” He knew her better than that, and suspected there was a reason for her call. Ginny had always been incredibly professional and focused, even when they were having fun.

  “I’m in kind of an interesting situation,” she admitted to him. “I have an unofficially adopted kid—well, not really. Our paths crossed a few months ago, and I guess you could say I’m mentoring him. He’s a homeless kid, an orphan. He’s thirteen. He’s staying with me right now, and he stayed with me a few months ago. My sister thinks I’m nuts, but he’s a great kid, a bright boy. I’m trying to get him on the right path here, get him into high school. I’m not in town much, I’m on the road for SOS/HR for three and four months at a time, and I come back to New York for a month till I’m reassigned and head out again. I’m trying to do what I can for him while I’m here. He’s a really, really nice kid.”

  Kevin waited as she went on, intrigued by what she’d said. On the one hand, he couldn’t see her taking on a homeless teenager, but on the other hand, he wondered if having someone to take care of again might save her. She had been such a great wife and mother, and her personal compass had been broken ever since.

  “We were talking yesterday and he told me something that stopped me in my tracks. We’ve all read it before, for the past few years. It’s not a new story, but this is a kid I really care about. He was molested by a priest when he was nine. It’s just like in the movies, only worse because it’s real. Dark basement, the priest luring him to church by letting him use the piano, telling him they had to keep it a secret or the priest would get in trouble. Sitting next to the boy at the piano, kissing him, hand down his pants, then accusing him of ‘tempting’ the priest, so it’s supposed to be the boy’s fault it happened, and threatening him with jail if he ever told. That meant a lot to the kid since his father was in prison at the time, his mother was already dead. And his aunt thinks this priest is a saint. He tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen.” It was a typical story they’d all seen on the news, as they both knew.

  “God, I hate those guys,” Kevin said in an angry tone. “It seems even worse to me since I’m Catholic and knew such great priests growing up. Priests who do this are an abscess on the ass of the church. I loathe them, and they give the whole church a bad name. The church ought to throw them out of the priesthood and put them all in jail, not protect them.” But a lot of that had been in the news, too, with their crimes concealed by their superiors and the individual churches. She had known instinctively that Kevin would be the right one to call, and it gave her an excuse to talk to him and connect again. “Did he rape the boy?” Kevin asked, intrigued by the story, and happy to talk to her.

  “I don’t think so. Blue says he didn’t, but who knows? He might have repressed it. He was very young.”

  “You ought to get him to a shrink and see what they say. They might turn something up with hypnosis. If he’s lucky, it was no worse than a kiss and a hand in the pants. It’s a total violation of trust, not to mention criminal child and sexual abuse.” Kevin was reacting as violently as she had, and it was a relief to talk to him about it. It gave validation to everything she felt herself.

  “I don’t know what to do, Kev, or where to start. Who do I talk to? Who do I go to? Or do I leave it alone? If we bring charges against the priest, will it make it worse for Blue, or is it better to punish the molester? I thought about it all night.”

  “I take it Blue is the kid?”

  “Yes, he has incredible blue eyes.”

  “So do you,” he said gently. He had always had a crush on her, but would never have done anything about it—she had been his best friend’s wife. Now she no longer was, but he still felt she was off-limits. Hitting on her even over three years later would have still seemed disrespectful to Mark. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know what the procedure is,” he admitted. “I’ve heard the stories about it, like everyone else, but don’t know much more. Why don’t you let me check it out? Besides, it’ll give me a reason to talk to you again,” he said with a warm tone in his voice and she smiled.

  “I won’t disappear on you again,” she said softly. “I’m better now. Although I’ll be back out in the field again in a few weeks. I just got back from Afghanistan.”

  “Shit. Nowhere near the human rights guy who got killed by the sniper a few weeks ago, I hope.”

  “I was riding in the mountains with him. His horse was cheek to jowl with mine when he got shot. We worked in the same camp.”

  “Ginny, that’s serious business. Don’t risk your life like that.�
� It sobered him to hear it, and he knew how distraught Mark would have been to think of her in a situation like the one she described.

  “What else have I got to do?” she said honestly. “At least this gives my life purpose and meaning, and I’m useful to someone.”

  “It sounds like you’re doing a lot for this homeless kid. And you can’t help him if you get killed.”

  “That’s what he says, too. But I love what I do.”

  Kevin knew human nature, and he had the ugly feeling that she had been risking her life intentionally, maybe even suicidally, since the death of her husband and child, which he knew was what her sister thought, too. The phenomenon wasn’t uncommon, sometimes with tragic results.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” Kevin said practically. “I want to check this priest thing out for you. Do you know if he’s still at the same parish?”

  “I was so stunned by the story, I never thought to ask. I could check it out, or ask Blue. He may not know. He hasn’t been back to church since.”

  “Just out of curiosity, why don’t you find out if the guy’s still there, or was moved? Maybe there were complaints about him. That would be good to know.”

  “Blue says there’s another boy who hates him, and he thinks he did the same thing to him. He was older. The other boy was twelve.”

  “Hang on to all this info, and let me find out the procedure for reporting something like this. And then your boy has to be willing, of course. A lot of victims prefer to stay in the shadows forever and don’t complain. That’s how guys like this get away with it. Everyone’s afraid to rock the boat. Or some people are—not ‘everyone’ anymore, thank God. I’ll call you when I know something. And check out the whereabouts of the priest.”

  “I’ll do that,” she promised. “And Kev, thank you. Really, thank you. It was great talking to you.”