?What can I do for you, Dr. Jessup?? I ask.
The surgeon?s mouth works behind his closed lips for a few moments, as though he?s being forced to chew and swallow a day-old lemon wedge. When Dr. Jessup finally speaks, I realize his voice is choked with indignation.
?Did you see who just left??
?She looked familiar, but she passed me so fast, I didn't recognize her.?
?Charlotte McQueen.?
I blink in surprise, but it takes less time than a blink for me to
decode the subtext of this situation. Charlotte McQueen is the mother of the boy who died when Tim ran his car off the road in college during his beer run to the county line. In fact, she?s the one who pushed the DA into making Tim do jail time. Mrs. McQueen is an influential member of the Catholic church, and I doubt she came to express her condolences.
?I see,? I temporize. ?Well, how exactly can I help, Doctor??
Dr. Jessup jerks his head toward Father Mullen. ?I'?ll let
explain it to you.?
The priest tries a conciliatory smile as he stands and walks around his desk, taking care to make a wide arc around Dr. Jessup. I can only imagine what must have transpired before I entered the rectory. ?Mr. Mayor,? he begins in a soft voice, but then he stops and looks closely at me. ?Are you all right, Mr. Cage??
?What do you mean??
?Your eyes are very red.?
?I haven'?t gotten much sleep this weekend. Please go on.?
?I'm not sure we should even be having this conversation, but Dr. Jessup feels that your input might help shed some light on the situation.?
?What exactly is the situation??
?Well, as you may know, Timothy Jessup was??
?Just tell him what the woman said,? Dr. Jessup snaps. ?Tell him what she wants.?
Father Mullen gives the surgeon a pained look. ?Dr. Jessup, I really don'?t think you need worry about Mrs. McQueen?s request. What she asked??
?Demanded.?
?Yes?yes, I suppose she did. Nevertheless, it?s really very rare nowadays. Only in the most extreme cases does??
?Stop all the mushmouth! Just tell him.?
Father Mullen turns to me. ?Well, as you probably know, Mrs. McQueen?s son Patrick died twenty-seven years ago on a highway near Oxford, Mississippi.?
?Yes, I know. Tim Jessup served time for manslaughter as a result. How does that bear on the present??
?The vindictive old bitch doesn?'t want Tim to have a Church funeral,? Dr. Jessup says in a choked voice.
Blood rises into my cheeks. ?Is that true??
Father Mullen diplomatically retreats a step. ?Not exactly. But in broad terms, yes. I don'?t believe Mrs. McQueen has ever gotten over the death of her son.?
?Of course not. No one does. But I fail to see how that would have any bearing on Tim?s funeral.?
?Well,? Father Mullen says in the tone of a man being forced to point out the most inconvenient of truths, ?according to canon law, certain persons may be prohibited from having Catholic funerals. If the person is known to be an apostate or a heretic, or is such a publicly manifest sinner that having a Church funeral would cause a scandal among the congregation, the mass may be?and occasionally is?withheld.?
Dr. Jessup is shaking his head in disgust. ?I can?t believe my ears. I?'ve been coming here for thirty-seven years, and??
?Just a moment, Dr. Jessup,? I say. ?Father, are you seriously considering Mrs. McQueen?s request??
?Well, not in the way you might think. But given the situation, I don'?t feel I can simply reject it out of hand. The problem is that the congregation has become aware that a large quantity of drugs was found in Tim?s home on the night he died.?
?The night he was
? Dr. Jessup corrects. ?Isn?t that right, Penn? Wasn?t my son murdered??
?He was.?
Father Mullen nods awkwardly, as though this information hardly advances Tim?s cause. ?It seems that some embarrassing pictures have surfaced as well?pictures of a young lady not Mr. Jessup?s wife. They were also found in his home.?
Dr. Jessup snorts. ?You want to start going through the closets and computers and cell phones of everyone in this congregation and see how many pictures like that you find??
Father Mullen blanches at the prospect. ?From an ecclesiastical point of view, the issues are several, and I suspect Mrs. McQueen researched them thoroughly before she came to me. Canons 1184 and 1185, to be precise. First, Tim hadn'?t been a practicing Catholic for many years. Second, he never had his child baptized into the faith nor showed any intent to do so. Third, he?s known to have made statements to members of the congregation that he stopped believing
in God decades ago. With all respect, Dr. Jessup, Tim appears to have led a life of dissolution from the time of the drinking incident in which Patrick McQueen died up to the night of his own death, when police say he was selling drugs for a living. But most important, if Tim was indeed murdered, it?s unlikely he got a chance to repent these actions. Any or all of these issues could technically make Tim ineligible to receive the liturgy at his funeral.?
Behind all the Churchspeak, I sense a man being tested in a way he never foresaw until tonight. ?What do
think, Father??
?The padre thinks it?s time to punt,? Dr. Jessup says bitterly. ?He wants to call the bishop.?
?Dr. Jessup,? Father Mullen says in the soothing voice he must use at hospital bedsides, ?almost no one is denied a funeral, or at least a Catholic burial, nowadays. With our modern understanding of psychology, the Church frequently gives even those who take their own lives a mass and burial. I think that in this case, it?s simply a matter of showing Mrs. McQueen that I?'ve taken her request seriously by passing it on to the bishop, who I am sure will make the appropriate decision.?
?Translation,? says Dr. Jessup, ?they don'?t want to upset any big contributors. Or the women who keep the Church going. I guess I didn't put enough of the Almighty Dollar in the plate over the years.?
?Doctor,? the priest says with an edge of indignation, ?I don'?t think that?s fair.?
?I thought you asked me here to talk about Tim?s wake,? I say, still not quite believing the situation.
Dr. Jessup brings a quivering fist to his mouth, and I realize I'm seeing something I?'ve never witnessed before. Jack Jessup, a surgeon who, for as long as I can remember, appeared to be as stony and remote as a Victorian banker, is crying.
Father Mullen starts toward him as though to commiserate, but I warn the priest off with a glance. When a man like Jack Jessup breaks down, he?s capable of anything.
?Mr. Mayor,? Father Mullen says softly, ?Dr. Jessup felt that before I called the bishop, you might be able to give me some details unknown to the public?things that might mitigate the present appearance of things.?
Despite my desire to help, I'm hesitant to reveal anything about
what Tim was doing. It?s not that I don'?t trust the priest. My fear is that Dr. Jessup, in his desire to amend people?s opinions of Tim, might reveal more than he should. In truth I never liked the surgeon, but he?s suffering terribly now, and if I can ameliorate that, I should. The risk of Tim not getting a Catholic funeral must be remote, but one never knows what bureaucrats will do to keep from offending those who subsidize their existence.
?Gentlemen,? I say reluctantly, ?I want both of you to give me your word that what I'm about to say doesn?'t go beyond these four walls.?
Dr. Jessup?s eyes narrow. ?I'?ll never repeat anything you say here. As God is my witness.?
