Three Marys

by Glenn Cooper

  The nuns began chanting the Angelus and while they did Torres caught Sue and Mary quickly exchanging an eye-roll.

  Anika: ‘The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary.’

  All: ‘And she conceived by the Holy Spirit.’

  All: ‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.’

  Anika: ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord.’

  All: ‘Be it done unto me according to thy word.’

  All: ‘Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.’

  When they were done, Sister Anika looked up and said, ‘Blessed Marys, to be in your presence and the presence of your infant boys is the greatest moment in our lives.’

  Mary Riordan blinked at her, her mouth curling wickedly. ‘You might have begun with hello.’

  Maria Mollo and Maria Aquino understood Mary well enough to giggle.

  Torres mumbled something about the Irish sense of humor and Sue began hoisting the nuns off the floor.

  The eldest one, Sister Consuela, once on a chair, pointed an arthritic finger at Maria Mollo and said in Spanish, ‘Are you the one from Peru?’

  Maria had a brief conversation with the nun about how beautiful a girl she was and how handsome a baby Jesus Juan was. The old woman reminded Maria of her great aunt and she was respectful.

  Sister Henrietta, a huge woman sweating through the air conditioning, found the coolest place directly under a vent. She waved her hand in blessing toward each baby. ‘Jesus David, Jesus Juan, Jesus Ruperto. They are glorious and handsome babies! To think that we are in their holy presence.’

  Mary Riordan was not going to furnish the same respect as her comrade. ‘Can you tell which is which? I mean if we scrambled them like a Rubik’s Cube, could you put them back in their right places?’

  ‘I hope I could but I don’t know!’ the nun said.

  ‘Cause now that they’re all almost the same size, us mums would have a task if they weren’t in their outfits.’

  Mrs Simpauco had come in and was translating for Maria Aquino.

  ‘I could,’ Maria said. ‘Jesus Ruperto is the most clever and has the best smile.’

  ‘Not bloody likely, Minion,’ Mary said. She stepped on the Filipino girl’s foot just hard enough to elicit a screech and a retaliatory thigh pinch.

  Sue sensed that things might go sideways from here. She’d seen their playful competitiveness turn nasty. She positioned herself in between the warring parties.

  Anika asked if she could touch Maria Mollo’s baby and when the girl agreed, the nun laid her hand on its head.

  She closed her eyes and whispered, ‘They will die for our sins and our faith will be reborn.’

  Sue heard her and snapped angrily, ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the nun replied, withdrawing, ‘I didn’t mean to offend.’

  Sue was trembling. The girls had never seen her genuinely angry and they stared. ‘Don’t ever say that again,’ Sue warned.

  ‘Again, I am sorry I offended, but my faith is strong.’

  Mrs Torres changed the subject. ‘Did you come a long way, Sisters?’

  ‘From Oklahoma,’ Sister Nancy replied, giving off a high-pitched wheeze with each breath.

  ‘Will you be heading back soon?’ Sue asked flatly.

  ‘Oh no,’ Sister Anika said. ‘We plan to stay for the Mass. We wanted to make sure we got seats inside the cathedral.’

  Mrs Torres said, ‘I’m sorry but I wasn’t told your situation. What kind of community are you from?’

  ‘We’re a closed community of Carmelites,’ Anika said. ‘We left a note for our Mother Superior.’

  ‘She didn’t know you were coming?’

  ‘Oh no. She wouldn’t have permitted it. We told her in our letter that regretfully we were leaving the Old Catholic Church and joining the New Catholic Church. The words of Pope Peter resonated with us no end.’

  ‘Mother Catherine probably had a fit,’ Sister Nancy said.

  ‘So, you intend to stay here for nine days?’ Sue asked incredulously.

  ‘We passed by the tent city. We’d be very happy there,’ Anika said.

  Anika’s fellow nuns all agreed.

  Then Mrs Torres stunned Sue by saying, ‘Nonsense. You can all stay in this house. They want this to happen. We have extra rooms.’ Then she looked straight at Sue. ‘They think the girls would do well to be around women of faith.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  Randall Anning wasn’t camera shy. He regularly appeared at trade fairs, investment conferences, and financial television shows as an advocate for oil and gas drilling interests, particularly his own firm, Anning International. But even though this interview was on familiar ground in his Houston office, and wasn’t live, he had butterflies as the pancake make-up was being applied to his face. This was 60 Minutes, after all, the most venerable and most watched interview show in the country, and his interviewer was none other than Harry Stone, the godfather of the program, whose silver tongue distracted his prey from the stiletto he might suddenly thrust. And Stone was a well-known New York liberal whom Anning expected could turn openly adversarial to an arch-conservative Texas oil and gas man.

  The lights were on and the lead cameraman checked to make sure Anning’s bald head wasn’t showing glare. He gave a thumbs-up to the producer who asked if Anning was ready to go.

  ‘Yeah, let’s do it. I haven’t got all day, you know,’ he said gruffly.

  With that, Harry Stone entered, his silver-streaked hair magnificently wavy, his suit and tie natty, his red pocket square jaunty.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Stone said, extending his hand. ‘Don’t get up. They’ve got you where they want you. Sorry for being just in time. I was taking an important call.’

  ‘Maybe you just wanted to spring yourself on me at the last moment for maximum effect,’ Anning said.

  Stone showed his capped teeth. ‘Would I do that? What would you like me to call you?’

  ‘How about Mr Anning?’

  ‘Mr Anning it is. You can call me Harry. Let’s begin, if that’s all right with you. If you want to take a break at any time just say so. We’ll edit it out.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll edit the hell out of it to get the story you want,’ Anning said.

  ‘It’s your story, Mr Anning. We’re just helping you tell it.’

  Stone took his seat opposite Anning and winked at the producer who simply said, ‘Go,’ to the two cameramen.

  Stone: So we have three young women – teenagers, girls really – one from Galway, Ireland; one from Manila, Philippines; one from Lima, Peru. All named Mary or Maria, all ostensibly virgins, all pregnant. Why is a Texas oil and gas tycoon getting in the middle of this?

  Anning: Not ostensibly virgins. Proven virgins, certified by a leading expert.

  Stone: Dr Richard Benedict, President of the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology. We talked to him and yes, he does believe they are virgins.

  Anning: I got involved, as you say, because I’ve taken seriously – very seriously – the notion that this is a sign, a sign that needed to be heeded.

  Stone: You’re a man of faith, are you not?

  Anning: I believe I am. I’m a Catholic, an observant one.

  Stone: And three years ago, that faith was tested. You were in a plane crash in a remote wilderness. Multiple people died. After an ordeal, you were rescued. How did that test your faith?

  Anning: I prayed like hell and God heard me. I was saved, literally and figuratively.

  Stone: You said that these girls are a sign. A sign from whom? God?

  Anning: Absolutely.

  Stone: And what does this sign say to you?

  Anning: That God sees
fit to renew the tree of Christianity, particularly Catholicism, by once again sending the Holy Spirit down from Heaven to bring unto us not one but three of his sons.

  Stone: And why do you think God feels Catholicism needs renewal?

  Anning: Isn’t it obvious? We have a pope in Rome who is turning the Church into a global social service agency instead of what it’s meant to be.

  Stone: And what is that?

  Anning: A religious institution. An institution that provides moral and spiritual teaching, that gives the faithful a path to salvation based on the principles of Jesus Christ.

  Stone: Don’t you mean your admittedly conservative interpretation of Catholic doctrine?

  Anning: Not just mine. I am not alone in feeling that leftist, socialist values have permeated the Vatican and have perverted its core, foundational principles.

  Stone: You don’t like liberation theology, the notion that people – poor people – first need to be liberated from social, political, and economic oppression before they can be saved?

  Anning: I despise it.

  Stone: And you despise Pope Celestine.

  Anning: I don’t despise him. I pity him. I think he’s misinformed, misguided, and has surrounded himself with yes-men.

  Stone: Cardinals.

  Anning: He promotes his friends and alienates those who don’t agree with him.

  Stone: Like Cardinal Pole, or should I say, Pope Peter of the New Catholic Church?

  Anning: That’s right.

  Stone: You didn’t like it when Pope Celestine sold off artwork and statues from the Vatican collection to aid the poor.

  Anning: I thought it was a betrayal of Catholic traditions.

  Stone: Even though Jesus had plenty to say about charity and helping the poor.

  Anning: There are other ways. I, for one, have given millions to Catholic charities and millions of other lay individuals have contributed mightily. The Church’s cultural heritage is not something, in my view, that ought to be sacrificed for any reason. For me, it was among the last straws.

  Stone: Last straws. All right. So, you see a sign – three girls who become pregnant by, let me just say it, virginal conception, and you use your considerable resources to remove these girls from their homes, from their families, from their countries, and bring them to a ranch in west Texas.

  Anning: I wanted to make sure they had the best possible care, that they had the best chances of delivering healthy babies. And that has come to pass.

  Stone: You made that decision on your own. Not with George Pole?

  Anning: He is a friend of mine and a spiritual advisor. I discussed my intentions with him.

  Stone: And now he’s a pope. What does that make you?

  Anning: A friend of the pope.

  Stone: Mr Anning, don’t you think this is awfully in your face? You’ve formed this entity, the so-called New Catholic Church, you install a friend as Pope Peter, you build a mega-church, a cathedral in west Texas of all places – hardly a bastion of Catholicism. Isn’t this just a stick in the eye to the Vatican?

  Anning: No, it’s an appropriate reaction to the greatest miracle that’s occurred since the birth and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s a miracle that’s occurred right under our noses, that’s real and verifiable. And it’s not a single miracle but three, simultaneous ones. And why west Texas? I’ll tell you why. I own the land. Permitting was easy. There’s a lot of hard workers in these parts. You’re right about not being all that many Catholics in the area but here’s the thing. We don’t see the NCC—

  Stone: The New Catholic Church.

  Anning: That’s right. We don’t see it as a church that only Catholics will gravitate to. Pole said as much in his national address. We see it as a destination for all the faithful: Catholics, Protestants, Jews – you name it. All are welcome.

  Stone: All are welcome to your new cathedral next Sunday.

  Anning: Where our pope will celebrate his first Mass in the presence of the girls and their infant sons.

  Stone: How much did you spend on the Cathedral of the Blessed New Virgin Marys? By the way, who came up with the name?

  Anning: Our pope named it. Cathedrals don’t come cheap.

  Stone: Millions of dollars.

  Anning: Certainly.

  Stone: Tens of millions.

  Anning: Certainly.

  Stone: A hundred million or more?

  Anning: It was worth every penny.

  Stone: President Griffith is a Catholic. He hasn’t made a statement yet. Have you talked to him?

  Anning: The president and I are friends. We talk on occasion.

  Stone: He’s no fan of the Vatican either, is he?

  Anning: He, like me, is a conservative.

  Stone: Have you talked to him about the NCC?

  Anning: I wouldn’t ever discuss the subject of a conversation with the President.

  Stone: How did these three girls get visas to enter the United States?

  Anning: Usual channels.

  Stone: Really? Usual channels. We checked with the State Department and the Department of Homeland Security and their spokesmen said they had no information on how visas were issued. Did President Griffith personally intervene on your behalf? Was the President in on this scheme to bring them here and stick it to the Vatican?

  Anning: This would be a good time for a break, Harry.

  Cal had one hand on a vodka on the rocks and another on Jessica’s right breast. He was accomplishing this feat of ambidexterity on a Sunday evening seated on a sofa at his house, an arm looped around her back.

  ‘You want to make out or watch TV?’ she said.

  ‘Both, obviously. I’m on next.’

  They’d just watched the Stone–Anning interview and after the commercial break, the Stone–Donovan interview was coming. Harry Stone and the 60 Minutes crew had filmed him in Cambridge only three days earlier so the edit had been a rush job and Cal was keen to see how it turned out. He thought it had gone all right but one never knew. He now had a pretty firm opinion on how Anning’s interview had turned out. He and Jessica agreed that the brash, unsympathetic Texas billionaire came across like a brash, unsympathetic Texas billionaire.

  ‘He was kind of a prick, don’t you think?’ Jessica said.

  ‘Not a guy I’d want to have a drink with,’ Cal agreed.

  ‘Christ, Cal, you’d have a drink with anyone.’

  ‘Yeah, probably. What do you think people will think of me?’

  ‘Probably that you’re kind of a prick too. A cuter prick but a prick nonetheless. And let go of my tit so I can get more potato chips.’

  He didn’t love watching himself but he thought he did pretty well. It wasn’t hard to work out that Harry Stone liked him a hell of a lot more than Randall Anning. The journalist’s face was more benign during his interview, his smiles more frequent, his questions generally friendlier. The idea was for him to be a counterpoint to Anning, an objective academic with a view of how this breakaway sect figured into the history of Church schisms, a confidant of Pope Celestine, and someone who had met the Marys. While watching the segment, Jessica told him he was coming across sober as a judge – ‘As opposed to the way you are now’ – and he toasted the comment with a refill of his glass. But when Stone asked him a question about the girls he had become more passionate.

  ‘Look, I don’t have a rational explanation for their pregnancies. Are they miracles? That’s not for me to say. But after meeting with them and their families I can tell you this: these girls were taken from their homes against their wishes. Their extremely disadvantaged families were coerced and bribed to part with them. Mary Riordan’s mother died under circumstances that are being investigated by the Irish police. I believe they are being used as props by the people behind the New Catholic Church and I think it stinks.’

  ‘Stinks,’ Stone repeated.

  ‘To high heaven.’

  ‘Well that got a rise out of you,’ Jessica said, slipping her hand on to
his crotch. ‘Bravo.’

  ‘They wouldn’t let me in to see the girls again. I was pissed off.’

  ‘Come on then,’ she said, pulling him off the sofa. ‘Use some of that aggression on me.’

  They were in a post-coital mood of lethargy when his landline rang.

  ‘Aren’t you going to get it?’ Jessica grumbled at the fourth ring.

  ‘I mostly get junk calls on the house phone.’

  ‘On a Sunday night?’

  He reached for it on his nightstand. The phone showed an unknown number.

  It was a man. ‘Hello, is this Calvin Donovan?’

  ‘Yeah, who’s this?’

  The caller sounded nervous. ‘My name is Steve Gottlieb. I’m sorry to bother you. I found your home number online. I just saw you on 60 Minutes. I think we should meet. I don’t want to say too much on the phone.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Cal said. He was on the verge of hanging up. ‘Meet about what?’

  ‘The girls. The Marys. I have something you need to hear.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Cal wasn’t much of a mall guy and, to his eyes, the Connecticut Post Mall in Milford, Connecticut was no different from any other big, soulless jumbles of big-box stores and parking lots. The day after the 60 Minutes piece ran, he gave a lecture at Harvard then jumped in his car for the two-hour drive to Connecticut. Steve Gottlieb had sounded credible. He wouldn’t have blown half a day if he had the smallest notion that the guy was a crank. Gottlieb had steadfastly refused to give Cal any idea about what kind of information he possessed or who he was, repeating that he didn’t trust the phones. What convinced Cal to make the trip was his voice. Unless you’re a trained actor, he’d told Jessica, you can’t fake fear. As they lay in bed afterwards, they’d Googled him and, lo and behold, there were a ton of Steve Gottliebs, including over a dozen in Connecticut – if that’s where he lived.

  The traffic was light and the drive down from Massachusetts had been quick. He arrived half an hour early and parked in the lot in front of the store Gottlieb had mentioned: Buybuy Baby. Did the guy have a sense of humor? He’d ask him that by way of breaking the ice. Inside the mall he found a Sbarro and a Starbucks and, loaded up with pizza and coffee, he returned to his car to wait for the mystery man’s arrival.