It felt surreal to see civilization again when she got to Damascus, and she walked around the airport literally feeling dazed, not sure what to do, overwhelmed by people, crowds, and airport shops, after what she’d seen and lived for two months. And on the second flight from Amman, Jordan, she slowly returned to the land of the living as she ate a light meal and watched a movie. She wondered if her stomach would ever be the same again. And all she wanted to do was forget what she’d seen in the camp.
It had been a depressing trip, she had never cared for so many people, all of them children and young people, for whom she could do so little to help. She knew the memory of it would be with her forever. Everything had been ten times, sometimes a hundred times, worse than they’d said it would be. But she was still glad she’d gone, even to do the little she had. She felt as though she’d been gone for a year, not a mere eight weeks. It was the first week in August and she was hoping to go away with Blue for a few days somewhere before he started school, and she had to leave again.
When the plane landed in New York, she wanted to kiss the ground. As she walked through the airport, she looked like a refugee from some terrible place. She couldn’t wait to get home and sit in the bathtub and soak, but she had promised Blue she would pick him up on her way in from the airport. She had been traveling by ground and air for more than twenty hours by then. She gave the cabdriver the address of Houston Street, and told him there would be a second stop after she picked someone up.
Blue knew what time she was due in, and she texted him when she left the airport. He was waiting with packed bags when she arrived at the shelter. She looked exhausted as she came through the door and beamed when she saw him. Blue was shocked, but happy to see her, too. She was deathly pale, rail thin, and had dark circles under her eyes. Her two months at the camp had taken a heavy toll, more than she realized.
“Holy shit! You look awful. Didn’t you eat while you were there?” He was visibly thrilled to see her, but it looked like she had starved.
“Not much.” She smiled through the grime of the trip, her hair loose down her back, and gave him a fierce, tight hug. She was so happy that he was healthy, whole, and uninjured, and would never know the hardships of the young lives she had just seen. Whatever happened to him, it could never be as bad as that. The young people she’d worked to help had no way out, but he had a whole life ahead of him, with great opportunities, particularly now going to a high school where his talent would be nurtured and he’d learn new things every day.
Blue carried his bags downstairs after they thanked Julio Fernandez, who grinned at Blue. He was carrying the autographed bat and glove he’d gotten when Andrew took him to the Yankees game. He had shown Ginny immediately and said he wanted to put them on a shelf in his room.
“Something tells me we won’t be seeing you again, champ.” Julio glanced at Ginny as he said it. She was his way off the streets, and although she wasn’t his legal guardian, he wasn’t really homeless anymore. He had her. They looked like a family as they left the shelter. “Don’t be a stranger, come to visit. I’ll miss you,” Julio said to Blue sincerely. Blue hugged him, then raced down the stairs to the cab and followed Ginny in. She had come back, just as she had said. That had registered strongly with him. He knew he could trust her, as long as nothing happened to her. And she had e-mailed him from Syria as often as she could, to reassure him.
She gave the driver her address, and they headed home. It was a steaming-hot day in early August, as she peeled off the layers she’d been wearing on the trip, and they chatted in the cab. She wanted to throw away everything she was wearing when she got home. She felt even dirtier than she looked, but they were smiling at each other, and Blue was talking a mile a minute.
“So what have you been up to that you didn’t tell me in your e-mails?” she asked as they rode uptown.
“Andrew invited us to a Yankees game on my birthday.” Blue looked excited about it—he was turning fourteen, and she was thrilled to have made it home in time. “Can we go?” She had no plans except to be with him for the next four to six weeks. She’d had an e-mail from Ellen, saying they might send her to India. But all she could think of now was Blue, spending time with him, and getting him into school after Labor Day.
“Of course we can go.” She grinned at him.
“Andrew is a cool guy—he knows all the big Yankees players. It’s hard to believe he used to be a priest.” It was high praise from him, as he chattered on about the two Yankees games he’d been to with him. Andrew had taken him to a Mets game, too. And Jane Sanders, in charge of the police investigation, had dropped by to see him at the shelter. He said he’d played the piano for her. But Blue made no mention of the investigation, and Ginny didn’t ask. She was going to call Jane Sanders herself to catch up on the news.
Her apartment looked like heaven to both of them when they got home. She sent Blue out to buy groceries while she headed for the bathroom. She could hardly wait to take a real bath. And when she emerged, clean and scrubbed in a pink terry cloth robe, she ate a sandwich with him, told him she loved him, and went to bed. She could barely stay awake. Blue settled in to play video games and watch movies, ecstatic to be home with her, and sleep in his own room again, and his own bed.
She slept until the next day and woke up feeling full of energy and ready to get busy with Blue. She called Jane Sanders for news about the case, and Andrew O’Connor to thank him for his kindness to Blue and to accept his birthday invitation to the Yankees game.
“Your e-mails described a rugged life,” Andrew commented when she called him. He sounded impressed.
“It was pretty bad,” she admitted. “It feels good to get home. Blue looks great. Thanks for taking him out and visiting him.” She had a life to come home to now. It made a huge difference to her, as well as Blue.
“He’s a fantastic kid,” Andrew said easily, “and unbelievably talented. He played for me a couple of times when I visited him.”
“He says you’re pretty good, too,” Ginny said pleasantly, enjoying the exchange.
“I’m a pathetic amateur compared to him. He composed a piece of original music for me.”
“LaGuardia is going to be great for him,” Ginny said happily.
“You’re great for him. He couldn’t wait for you to get home,” Andrew said honestly.
“Me, too. It was a rough trip, shorter than usual, but a lot harder.” It had been eight weeks in hell, which he had guessed, even from the little she said.
“Where to next? Do you know yet?” he asked her with interest.
“I’m not sure. Maybe India, in September. I hate leaving Blue again so soon.”
Andrew didn’t want to tell her how much Blue had missed her. He had talked about her constantly and had been worried about her. She was the hub of his existence and the only adult he’d ever known whom he could trust and rely on and who had never let him down.
“Maybe they’ll let you spend a little more time at home between trips,” Andrew said hopefully. She had been thinking about that, too, although she didn’t know how Ellen would react to it. The nature of her job was to be gone at least nine months of the year, which was her agreement with SOS. And she had told them she had no attachments, and was unencumbered and free.
“We’ll see,” Ginny said vaguely, and Andrew said he’d call her in a few days to check in.
She and Blue made lunch after that. He looked as if he’d grown two inches in two months. She was sure it wasn’t that much, but he looked taller to her. And healthy. They had fed him well at Houston Street, and the portions had been generous, since most of the residents were teenage boys.
She was happy to be home. She had worried about him, but this time he had stuck it out at the shelter. She was proud of him for that and said so, as they finished lunch and put their dishes in the dishwasher, before going to a concert in the park.
“You said you’d kill me if I ran away, so I stayed,” he said, teasing her. And then he showed her his d
iploma. He had found it in the mail while she was sleeping that morning. She promised to frame it and hang it on the wall in his room, along with his autographed Yankees memorabilia.
She had sent Becky a text the night before, and hadn’t heard from her, so she called her after lunch. They hadn’t spoken to each other or communicated at all, in more than two months. Their last conversation, if you could call it that and not a fight, had left a bad impression on both of them. Neither was anxious to talk to the other. Becky thought she had gone off the deep end again, as she seemed to do all the time now, with one crazy thing after another, and Ginny thought she had a heart of stone and her head on backward, if she was willing to protect sexually abusive priests out of respect for the Catholic Church, with total indifference to the children who’d gotten hurt, like Blue. But Ginny wanted news of their father and had had none since June. She assumed nothing had changed.
Becky sounded surprised to hear from her when she answered.
“You’re back?”
“Yes. Still alive. How’s Dad?” Blue listened with quiet interest as he sat at his computer. Lizzie had told him in texts that her grandfather seemed about the same.
“Fading away slowly. He just wakes up a few times a day now and goes back to sleep,” Becky answered. “He doesn’t recognize any of us anymore.” Ginny’s heart went out to her—she knew it must be hard to watch day to day. It made her less angry at her sister, for her diatribe about their case against the priest.
“And how are you?” Ginny asked her, sounding gentler.
“I’m okay. What about you? Ready to give up your witch-hunt?” Becky was hoping that her mission in Syria had swayed her from her outrageous plan to help Blue bring a lawsuit against the archdiocese, and criminal charges against a priest. Becky still got upset about it every time it came to mind, and Ginny’s heart sank as she said it. She was still Becky, with all the same limitations and prejudices and narrow point of view. It was disappointing to hear.
“It’s not a witch-hunt,” Ginny said coolly. “It’s real. Real kids have gotten hurt by those priests, who committed real crimes. Think how you’d feel if it was Charlie.” Becky ignored what her sister said.
“For heaven’s sake, Ginny. Give it up,” she said in exasperation. And Alan didn’t approve of the plan, either. They had discussed it at length and were both shocked at what Ginny was going to do. He was even more incensed than Becky. He thought the case was sinful, and would bring disgrace on them all. He was just praying that no one he knew would find out. And they had told their kids how wrong it was, too. Lizzie had reported her parents’ position to Blue, and told him she didn’t agree and thought he was really brave. He thanked her and was pleased, and she didn’t ask him any questions about it. She was a polite girl and liked him a lot and didn’t want him to feel awkward with her, now that they were friends.
The conversation with Becky was strained, as there had been no mellowing of their positions, on either side. Ginny got off the phone as quickly as she could. She had wanted information about her father, Becky had given it to her, and there was nothing else to say. Ginny tried to put it out of her mind, and half an hour later she and Blue left for the concert in Central Park.
It felt strange to Ginny at first, listening to Mozart in the peaceful setting, surrounded by happy, healthy-looking people, after two months in the rigors of Syria. Being back still felt unreal to her, but she and Blue loved the concert.
And Andrew called her when they got home. He had heard from the archdiocese that afternoon and the timing was perfect, since she was in New York.
“They want to see us,” he said, sounding pleased. “We have a meeting next week with the monsignor in charge of these cases, at the archdiocese. He’s a stubborn old guy, also a Jesuit. I worked with him for two years in Rome. He’ll be tough. But he’s also smart. Eventually he’ll cave. They don’t have a case,” Andrew told her. “I spoke to Jane today. More and more victims are coming forward—some of them are men now. The oldest one I saw on the list is thirty-seven. He was fourteen when Father Teddy molested him, fresh out of the seminary, in Washington, D.C. None of this looks good for him. He’s obviously had a problem for years, and they know it. It makes Blue’s case even stronger.”
“What about Blue’s friend Jimmy Ewald?” she asked him, satisfied with what he said.
“The police investigator talked to him. He denied everything. He says Father Teddy is the greatest guy he ever met. I don’t believe him, but I think he’s too scared to tell the truth. Father Teddy must have threatened him, too.” As things stood now, even before the end of the investigation, the evidence was building, and Andrew said that fifteen more boys had come forward, with stories almost identical to Blue’s, about sexual abuses committed on them by the charismatic priest. The monsignor wanted to meet with her and Andrew, but not Blue. It was going to be a very interesting meeting, and Andrew reassured her that it would go well. She was worried that all the archdiocese’s energy would go into defending Father Teddy, and the church, instead of making up to Blue for what had been done to him. Andrew had warned her that they still might do all they could to debunk and undermine Blue, and probably would at the first meeting.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” Andrew said, “even if they play hardball in the beginning. They don’t scare me. Don’t forget, I used to be one of them. It’s a distinct advantage, and I know a lot of the players, particularly the ones with any power. I know this monsignor very well. He’s a hard man, but he’s honest and fair.” Listening to him made her curious again about his history, and why he had left the church, but she would never ask, just as he wouldn’t ask what terrible crimes she was atoning for with the life she led in refugee camps around the world.
They agreed to meet half an hour before the meeting at the archdiocese on Monday, at a coffee shop nearby. She told Blue about it when she hung up.
“Is that good or bad?” he asked, looking worried about the meeting.
“Just standard procedure,” she said calmly. “The monsignor wants to meet us to talk about it. You don’t have to go. Just me and Andrew.” He looked relieved at that, and they went to a movie that night, and to Coney Island the next day, so Blue could ride the Cyclone, which he said was less good than the roller coaster at Magic Mountain, and he texted Lizzie about it. Then he and Ginny lay on the beach for a while. They were happy together, and Ginny was thrilled to be home.
They were on their way back to the city, when Becky called Ginny on her cell phone. She could hear the sorrow in her sister’s voice when she answered and knew immediately what had happened before Becky said a word.
“Dad?” was all Ginny said, and Becky confirmed it.
“Yes. About an hour ago. I checked on him after lunch, and he was sleeping peacefully. And when I went back half an hour later, he was gone. I never got to say goodbye.” She started to cry then, and so did Ginny.
“You’ve been saying goodbye to him every day for over two years, with everything you did for him, the way you took care of him, letting him live in your home. He was ready to go. It wasn’t a good life for him anymore. This is better for him,” Ginny said quietly.
“I know. It’s just sad. I’ll miss him. It was nice being able to do things for him. He was always so good to us,” Becky said, crying. He had been a wonderful father, all their lives. They’d been blessed to have him, and their mother had been a kind, loving woman, too. They’d had good parents, unlike Blue, who had no one after his mother died. Stories like his always made Ginny want to give back to others less fortunate.
“He’s with Mom now,” Ginny said peacefully through her tears. “He’d rather be with her.” They both knew it was true—they’d had a love affair for their entire marriage.
“When are you coming out?” Becky asked her.
“I don’t know. Let me figure it out when I get home. I guess tomorrow. Do you know when you want to do the funeral?” Ginny asked her. The recent friction between them had been instantly set a
side, faced with their shared grief. This was more important and drew them together. In spite of the battle they’d had recently, both of them put their weapons down. For now at least, there was a truce.
“In a few days, I guess. I haven’t called the funeral home yet. They just took him away.” It had been painful watching him leave the house on a gurney, wrapped in a blanket that covered his face. She’d been relieved that all the kids were out. She hadn’t told them yet. She’d wanted to tell Ginny first, although she’d called Alan immediately at his office and he was on his way home to be with her. They’d been expecting it for months, but it was still sad when it happened. And it made Ginny feel even more adult, thinking that both her parents were gone now. And all she had left was her sister and her family, and now Blue. She no longer had parents or a family of her own.
“I’ll let you know our flight when I book it,” Ginny said softly. “I’ll text you,” she promised. Ginny went online as soon as they got back to the apartment, and she booked two seats for her and Blue on the first morning flight the next day.
And then she called Andrew O’Connor and told him that she couldn’t make the meeting at the archdiocese because her father had just died in L.A., and she wouldn’t be back in time.
“I’m so sorry. Of course I’ll rearrange it. When do you think you’ll come back?” He sounded sympathetic and practical, and he could hear how sad she was.
“Maybe in four or five days, a week at most,” she answered. After the arrangements and the funeral, she and Becky would have to dispose of their father’s things, although he didn’t have much left. They had sold his house when he moved in with Becky.
“Was this very sudden?” Andrew sounded kind and compassionate, and listening to him, she could suddenly imagine him as a priest. He had a gentle way about him, cared about people, and listened well.
Blue Page 19
