confessions, and being available for consultation.
“Well, the ways of the chancery are strange, to say the least.”
“Amen!”
“I guess,” Koesler said, “they thought two priests part-time equaled one full-time.
“Anyway, neither Delvecchio nor I was assigned to parochial duties at the time. I was at the paper and helped out at various parishes on weekends. Vince had a similar schedule.
“So, we were told to work Fuller’s place for a month, minimum. And those were the days when you went where you were sent.
“Delvecchio and I had lived together only during our Camp Ozanam days. And that could scarcely be called living together-not like rectory life. It was Vince and me and the housekeeper. And there was the rub.”
“The housekeeper?” Tully hazarded.
Koesler nodded and winked. “Exactly. Sophie cooked.”
“That’s it?” Tully asked after a pause.
“That was it. Another woman came in once a week and cleaned. There was a secretary during the day- Monday through Friday.”
“And Sophie?”
“As I said, she cooked-and none too well. For breakfast the first day, I asked for a couple of poached eggs on toast. What I hadn’t counted on was the blistering-hot plate they were served on.”
“The eggs kept cooking.”
“Exactly. By the time I got to the second egg, it was hard-boiled. Neither Vince nor I was there for lunch. But dinner? Sophie served dinner in common dishes. I quickly learned to take a taste of everything and then start with what had cooled most and work toward what might hold some of its original heat.
“Also I quickly learned to request cold cereal for breakfast. Fortunately, Sophie didn’t cook that before serving it. Lunch remained trouble-free because I wasn’t there.
“Dinner was nothing but a penance. But I stayed with it.
“However, other things followed, from the given that Sophie cooked and nothing more. Sophie neither answered the door nor the phone. She had her own phone and answered that only.”
“Meaning that you and Delvecchio got the phone and door even during meals.”
Koesler nodded solemnly. “After the secretary left for the day and before she came in the morning, none but a consecrated ear touched the phone. Same thing on weekends.
“Bottom line: Sophie cooked-none too well-and that was it.”
“Didn’t you wonder why Fuller hired her? Or even more of a puzzle, why he didn’t let her go?”
“Absolutely. And at the same time, Vince was exceptionally kind, considerate, and patient with her. Whereas I was barely civil at times.”
“Ah …” Tully sounded as if he comprehended yet still was a mite doubtful. “So Delvecchio could be compassionate. But why? Especially given his reputation, why would he act that way?”
“That’s it!” Koesler said with vigor. “Vince took the time and effort to look into Sophie’s history. He took time to talk with her and with people who knew both Fuller and Sophie.
“It’s a funny thing, Zack: She was just Sophie to me. In reality, and what Vince discovered, was that she was Sophie Fuller.”
For a brief moment, Tully wondered whether this could be a “Mr. and Mrs.” Or, perhaps, a “Father and Mrs.” Then, intuitively he knew: They were brother and sister.
“Left to my own devices I never would’ve tumbled to it,” Koesler said. “But I should have. I should have realized that there had to be an explanation for Sophie’s continued presence in the rectory. The only thing she did- cook-she couldn’t do. But, Zack, I wasn’t perceptive enough to follow through and dig out the whole story. Vince was the compassionate one, Zack.”
Tully pondered that. “Okay, she was the pastor’s sister. Just as a matter of curiosity, what was she doing in the rectory? Except getting in the way … and, I assume, getting a salary?”
“This was Fuller’s third crack at being a pastor,” Koesler explained. “His first pastorate was out in the boondocks. That parish could barely pay his salary. So, his mother took her never-married daughter aside and told her it wasn’t right for their priest to take care of himself. In effect,’ Sophie had to-give up her own, independent life to serve her brother.”
Tully pulled on his lower lip. “To understand is to forgive all,” he said finally.
“The thing is that Vince went the distance. He peeled back the layers of misunderstanding. He finally understood what made her the way she was. She was bad at something she didn’t want to do. That’s not so hard to understand. Vince understood. Then he communicated that understanding to me.”
“Hmmmm,” Tully mused.
“But, see,” Koesler prodded, “all Vince had to do was to appreciate the pressure Sophie was under. Everything was all right then-her deficiencies were accepted without problem.”
“And you think that the same thing could happen with me?”
Koesler raised both hands in a gesture of victory. “Why not? If we could make Vince understand what your conscience dictates …
“Once he saw the difficulties Sophie had as a housekeeper, and once he understood her sincerity in sacrificing her life for the sake of her brother, everything was more than all right. I don’t see why we couldn’t expect a similar … happy ending.”
Tully was wrapped in thought.
Koesler caught himself looking at Tully in much the same way as Kingfish would study Andy in that landmark period piece “Amos and Andy.” Regularly, Kingfish would try-and usually succeed-to sell a bill of goods to a gullible Andy. Then Kingfish would give Andy “that look,” anticipating whatever Andy’s response might be.
Koesler quickly wiped that expression off his face and sat back to await Tully’s reaction. He hoped Tully would be encouraged by the Sophie anecdote. On the one hand, it was a true story. And, on the other, it would help Tully’s case measurably if they could confidently enter into a dialogue with Delvecchio.
Additionally, he hoped Tully would be motivated by the Sophie anecdote because Koesler didn’t have another in his sack; it was the one and only expression of compassionate understanding on Delvecchio’s part that Koesler was aware of personally.
Oh, it was bandied about that Vincent was kind and considerate to those in need. The sick and suffering, the troubled, the deserving poor most often received an attentive ear and, where necessary, a generous wallet.
It was said by many that Delvecchio’s day off each week began with a visitation to hospitalized parishioners.
But compassion? Especially toward those considered to be challenging the Church or its traditional theology? No Sophie happy endings there!
Indeed, just a few months ago, a much more typical story involving the bishop had gone the rounds. It was not an incident that would have encouraged Father Tully at this moment, so Koesler had no intention of telling him.
Koesler had heard the story-well documented-during a priestly golf foursome.
The story was related by Father Joe McCarthy. He had been a classmate of Bishop Delvecchio and thus, owing to the bishop’s five-year delay after his breakdown, was ordained five years earlier than Delvecchio.
McCarthy was one of those who had stepped back from his pastorate to be an assistant. In his case, it was not any theological or canonical problem; it was because his health could not sustain the pressure of pastoral duties. The priest shortage had placed an extra burden to provide services for a growing number of Catholics on a diminishing supply of priests.
So it was that Joseph Patrick McCarthy requested an assignment as an associate pastor. The chancery, as was its wont, had the last laugh in assigning him as an associate to Delvecchio.
The chancery was in no mood to grant McCarthy an early retirement. Thus, to qualify, he would need to hang in there until age seventy. Meanwhile, he had to take orders from a man he did not respect, as well as from a man who had less parochial experience than he.
McCarthy’s story was compelling, first-rate clerical gossip. It was one of the rare times Koesler could recall that a golfing foursome was glad to wait on the tee and even ignored the invitation of those ahead to play through.
