theology major. I didn’t even bother trying an employment agency. I’d feel foolish. What would I say when they asked what I could do? ‘Baptize’? ‘Preach’? ‘Anoint’? More likely I’d have to say, ‘Nothing.’”
“Don’t be so down on yourself, Charlie. You’ve had six years of experience in management of, in effect, a small business. You’ve got great organizational and leadership abilities. And, beyond that, you’ve got a fine liberal arts education. And you always liked to write. If you need a letter of recommendation . . .”
“I might, Bob. Especially from you as editor of the
“You did? That’s great! What’d they tell you?”
“That I’m not ready for the major leagues. It didn’t surprise me. There’s no reason to expect to walk out of a parish and right into a publication like the
“How about the
“I’m not real fond of rejection. If I’m not ready for the
“Then maybe I can help you land a job at one of the suburban dailies,” Koesler offered. “I do have some contacts with some of them.”
“That I’d appreciate, Bob. What’s discouraging is starting at the bottom of the job ladder at age thirty-one. I’m a solid ten or more years behind everyone else.”
“Maybe, honey,” Lil said. “But you’ve got experience the younger guys don’t have. That’s got to count for something.” She turned to Koesler. “Charlie’s going to write a book! He’s told me the plot and I think it’s terrific. It’s got a Catholic background. How’s that for using his experience!”
“That’s great!” Koesler tried to catch her enthusiasm, but with some experience in the literary field, he had an inkling of the enormous obstacles that would confront Charlie.
“I’m not kidding myself,” Hogan said. “It’ll be rough. But I know what I’m up against and I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.”
“We’re going to make it!” Lil echoed his confidence. “And when we put it all together, Bob, we’d like you to marry us—if you don’t mind.”
“If I don’t mind! Don’t be silly. It would be an honor. You’ve got me so excited with your enthusiasm that I can hardly wait till you make it really big, Charlie. I can hardly wait to tell everybody that I knew you when.”
They all laughed. But Koesler was the one who picked up the tab. As he did so, it occurred to him it might be a long while before these two loving people would be able to afford a night on the town.
16
Charlie Hogan left the priesthood and embarked on a new life. Meanwhile, Father Koesler had no way of knowing that a dark eminence would cast a relentless shadow over the lives of those perceived as archenemies.
Not long after Bob Koesler made his bogus visits to St. Joseph’s Retreat, Ridley Groendal was discharged from the sanitorium. Groendal emerged from that institution changed almost antithetically. He had entered beaten, submissive, passive, defeated, and profoundly depressed. He emerged confident, assertive, controlled, crafty, and planning his resurgence.
Never again would he blunder, never again enter into any situation without careful preparation. Not if he could help it. And so he took a series of carefully calculated steps.
He cemented several previously casual friendships. While he would be leaving the Detroit area to establish an entirely new life, he did not want to lose touch. Specifically, he wanted to know precisely what was happening in the lives of the four people who, according to his lights, had brought him down. Soon, as offhandedly as possible, he commissioned his newly established friends as informants.
He was careful not to create the impression that his informants were spies. They were simply friends who would keep Groendal informed about the doings of other friends he would necessarily leave behind.
Greg Larson was a good case in point.
Larson: So, you’re off to Minnesota. That’s a big jump.
Groendal: I know, Greg, but it’s a chance I can’t turn down. A partial scholarship at the University of Minnesota and a job that’ll take care of the rest of my expenses. It’s just too good to pass up.
Larson: I guess. But we’ll miss you. I was just getting to know you.
Groendal: If I could do it any other way . . . But . . . Anyway, I know I’m going to miss Detroit.
Larson: Geez, yeah. You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you?
Groendal: Uh-huh. Mostly around our parish, good old Holy Redeemer. That and Sacred Heart Seminary, of course. Golly! When I think of how much of me is wrapped up in those places!
Larson: It’s a shame, just a rotten shame that you’ve got to go. But you’ll be back, of course.
Groendal: I don’t know, Greg. It just depends. It depends on where destiny leads. I’ll just have to rely on God. But who better?
Larson: Jeez! Is there anything I can do to help?
Groendal: I don’t think so, Greg. At least I can’t think of anything. Except, maybe . . .
Larson: What, Rid? Anything . . . you name it.
Groendal: Well, if it’s not asking too much, do you think you could send me copies of the parish bulletin? Just so I can keep up with what’s going on. Golly, it’d be fun even reading the altar boy assignments. Always nice to read those familiar names. Then, as the years go by, I’ll be able to keep up with the marriages . . . who’s having babies. There’s no end to what a parish bulletin can tell you.
Larson: Sure, Rid; won’t be any trouble at all. And if I see anything in the papers about the seminary, I’ll include that too.
Groendal: Are you sure, Greg? Are you sure this isn’t too much trouble . . . I mean, the postage and all . . .
Larson: Good grief, Rid, if I can’t spend a few pennies a week for a friend, what kind of world is it?
Groendal: Well, old pal, I’m grateful. I just can’t tell you how grateful. I can really depend on you. That’s really something.
Larson: Jeez, Rid; think nothing of it.
Groendal: But I do think about it, Greg. I can’t help it. I’m really depending on you, boy. Oh, and Greg, by the way, speaking of who’s having babies, there’s one in particular I’d be interested in. Remember Jane Condon? Redeemer, class of ’50? You know her?
Larson: Well, not till recently, Rid (grinning mischievously). She would have just gotten lost in the shuffle if it hadn’t been for . . . well, the rumors. You heard them too, eh? Well, I guess it must be so then. Jeez! Having a baby out of wedlock! Not many Catholic girls do that, eh? What about her, Rid?
Groendal: Well, she used to be a friend of the family. We kind of lost touch with her lately. But I learned about her condition. And . . . well, I tried to get in touch with her, but there was no response. I can understand it, of course. She’s pretty embarrassed. I don’t blame her. But I’m still concerned about her. Even though we haven’t had much contact lately, I still care what happens to her. I mean, she was a family friend and all. I’d just like to know how she’s doing . . . how this pregnancy comes out and all. Would it be too much trouble to keep me informed as to what happens with her? I’d really appreciate it. Of course, if it’s too much trouble . . .
Larson: Don’t be silly, Rid. (Soberly, since the girl turns out to be a friend of the Groendal family), I’ll let you know exactly what happens.
Groendal: Thanks a lot, Greg. I’d ask my parents to do that but they don’t want to have anything to do with her. Now that she’s in disgrace and all. You know how these traditional Catholics can be. It’s not their fault . . . the way they were brought up. So, I’d just as soon my parents weren’t involved in this. Just between you and me, buddy.
Larson: Of course, Rid, just between you and me.
And so it went. Jane Condon, Carroll Mitchell, David Palmer, and Charlie Hogan. Pour enemies, four informants. It was not easy to firm four hitherto random relationships into four fast friendships. Nor was it easy introducing the underlying reason why Groendal wished to stay in touch with his newfound friends. But Ridley pulled
