have. But she did want to see him graduate.
Then there was Vincent. Louise would give anything to attend his ordination. And who knows, maybe she would. It was altogether possible the miracle would save her and extend her life into many fruitful years. But it definitely would be Vincent’s miracle.
17
Monday and Tuesday of Holy Week were spent largely shoring up against the special demands of the final four days of that week.
Of course there were the children’s confessions. Public school catechism classes were heard in the afternoon and evening. Students of St. Norbert’s recently opened grade school were taken care of in the morning.
Instruction sessions and meetings ordinarily held during the last four days of any week had to be capsulized into the first two.
There were the special liturgies of Thursday morning: Chrism Mass at the Cathedral with the blessing of three oils used throughout the coming year, and, in the parish, the evening commemoration of the Last Supper. Friday saw a Communion service as part of the noon-to-three
Tucked tightly around those services were individual confessions. By no means were there as many penitents in Koesler’s suburban parish as there were in St. William’s. However, St. William’s supplied four priest confessors; St. Norbert’s, only two.
All in all, Father Koesler was as busy now at St. Norbert’s as he had once been at St. William’s. And equally exhausted by the close of Holy Week.
At the conclusion of the noon Mass on Easter Sunday, he wanted nothing more than a place to stretch out horizontally and ease the tired muscles used for sitting, listening to endless confessions.
But he had a commitment at the Delvecchio home.
He was surprised to find only Vincent, Tony, and Lucy there. He had expected to see some of the relatives-or at least some of the kids’ classmates. He expressed this.
“Oh,” Lucy said, “some of our aunts and uncles and cousins plan to stop by later in the day-but just for a short time. Mom’s kinda tired. As far as our classmates”-she shrugged-“it’s Easter: They’re with their families.”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, same with my gang: Easter break; most of ’em went South.”
“Some of the guys said they’d come to visit during the week,” Vincent said quietly.
Vincent looked about as tired and washed out as Louise had the last time Koesler had visited. And thinking of Louise …
“How is she?” Koesler asked.
“Weak. But hanging in,” Lucy said.
“We’ve been taking turns being with her,” Tony said. “She seems more comfortable without having the whole gang of us at once.”
The three kids were right here, in front of Koesler. It seemed no one was with Louise now. “Do you suppose I might go up for a little while?”
“We hoped you would,” Lucy said.
Somehow, Louise’s condition did not surprise Koesler. In his modest experience, cancer could wreak a devastating punishment. So it was with Louise; Koesler had to look intently to recognize her features clearly.
But she was awake and alert-much more than he’d expected. They greeted each other and Koesler took the rocking chair after pulling it closer to the bed.
“You must be exhausted, Father, after your busy schedule this week. You don’t have to visit with me.”
“How about I want to?”
Her smile evidenced embarrassment, though her cheeks showed no blush. “But you must be tired,” she insisted.
As if triggered by the word “tired,” he yawned, segueing into a chuckle. “You mesmerized me. I’m not really all that tired. I’ll recover. But you: How are you feeling?”
“To be honest, it’s been a tough week. But I’m still able to care for myself, which is a blessing. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to continue doing that. But I’m grateful,”
“Yeah, I guess that is a blessing …”
Koesler didn’t understand why she was so reluctant to let Lucy do more for her. He knew Lucy was ready and willing to take over.
“To tell you the truth, Father, I think I’ll be with Jesus soon.”
Koesler shook his head. “No. No. Not if Vincent has his miracle.”
Louise’s smile was no more than pulling back her lips from her teeth. It was almost ghoulish. “Vincent’s miracle,” she mused. “It better hurry along.”
“Maybe it would help if I prayed,” he suggested.
“Yes. I’d like that.” She folded her hands over her chest.
Koesler removed from his suit pocket his ritual book of prayers and the small stole, which he draped over his neck. He opened the book and began to read:
“‘O God, full of love, forgiveness and compassion, graciously receive our prayer that we and this Thy servant, who are bound with the chain of our sins, may by your kind forgiveness be graciously absolved.
“‘O God, the one only help for human infirmity, give to your servant in this hour of her need the power of Thine aid, that by the assistance of Thy loving kindness she may be restored in health to Thy Holy Church.
“‘Grant, O Lord God, we beseech Thee, that this Thy ill servant may enjoy continued health of body and soul. And through the glorious intercession of Blessed Mary ever virgin, be freed from her present sorrow and enjoy eternal gladness. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.’”
He traced the sign of the cross over her. “The blessing of God almighty, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost descend upon you and remain with you always. Amen.”
She nodded, and whispered, “Amen.”
“I’d better let somebody up here to take my place,” Koesler said. “I don’t know whose turn it is.”
“They’re taking turns?”
“Uh-huh. They seem to think that having one visitor at a time is easier on you. I think they picked up this routine from a hospital … seems hospitals are always real concerned about the number of visitors. How do you feel about it?”
“Hmmm. I think it’s better on them. I’d just as soon have all my kids with me. But don’t tell them that, Father: They’ll feel better doing it their way. Besides, I am awful tired. It’s probably better I don’t have a crowd now. Just let whoever’s next come up. I’ll try to keep track of them.”
He smiled and briefly held her hand. “Remember, I’ll be down there if you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you when my turn comes around again.”
It reminded him of wrestling’s Australian tag team matches, where a beleaguered contestant tags his partner, who, in turn, enters the ring a bit fresher for battle.
When Koesler reentered the living room, Lucy stood up. Evidently, she was next to be at her mother’s side.
That left Koesler, Vincent, and Tony in awkward silence.
“The Tigers are on TV,” Tony announced. He looked from the priest to his brother. “Any objections?”
There were none, at least none stated.
Van Patrick was saying that the score was Chicago White Sox 4, the Tigers 2, in the bottom of the fifth inning.
Somehow, to Father Koesler, watching a game seemed inappropriate with Louise so ill just upstairs. On the other hand-life goes on.
But the first few minutes appeared to have reached Vincent, who retreated into the dining area. He sat at the table and buried his head in his hands. He was praying, Koesler knew. And, while affecting interest in the ball game,
