The very first thing Koesler noticed was the young man’s clerical garb: black suit, black vest, and at the top the roman collar-not the fairly modern and more comfortable narrow white plastic insert, but the full white collar that encircled the neck. Koesler also noticed French cuffs peeking out of the jacket sleeves.
The young man stayed seated, smiling all the while.
Koesler approached him. “Father?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“I hope so. There may even be something I can do for you. I’m your new associate.”
2
Technically, but far more importantly, in actuality, Father Nick Dunn was not a “new associate” pastor at St. Joseph’s parish. He was “in residence.”
Father Koesler clearly remembered having received Father Dunn’s query letter. Dunn planned to take some psychology courses at the University of Detroit Mercy, a Jesuit institution located near the city’s north-central center. Would it be possible, he’d inquired, for him to live at St. Joe’s for the duration?
Koesler realized Dunn’s contribution to parochial life would be minimal. Help with Masses on weekends could be taken for granted. But little else.
Nevertheless, Koesler promptly assented to the request. Having another priest in the house would be boon enough. In effect, he had forsaken companionship when he’d accepted the celibate life. But St. Joseph’s rectory was the embodiment of a hermitage. Though easily adequate for a very large family, the house was home for only one man. And most evenings were so quiet, Koesler could easily imagine raising the drawbridge over the moat.
Quickly recovering from his surprise at finding Father Dunn in church, Koesler took his temporary colleague on a tour while showing him how to lock up the facility. Then the two moved Father Dunn’s baggage from his van and got him established in his suite. After which, Father Koesler left him to get settled in.
“Come in, ” Father Dunn said, answering the knock on his door.
Koesler entered, carrying a bottle and two small glasses. “I thought a spot of port before bed might be in order.”
“Absolutely.” Dunn turned away from the bureau where he had been stowing clothing.
They sat opposite each other in the spacious study. Each held a glass partly filled with the ruby liquid.
Dunn raised his glass. “To us, Father.”
Koesler nodded, smiled, and sipped. “How long since you were ordained, Nick?”
“Three years.”
“That gives me about thirty-five years on you. So I could easily be your father … even your grandfather. Still, I think it’ll work out better if you call me Bob. We are colleagues, after all,”
“Suits me fine, Bob.”
Koesler looked around the room. “Is this adequate?”
Dunn followed his gaze. In addition to the large study, there was a bedroom not much smaller, plenty of closet space, a lavatory, a queen size bed, desk, chairs, sofa, basic furnishings. “More than adequate. In my parish in Minnesota, I’ve got about half this much room.”
Koesler nodded. “Sorry about the bathroom being down the hall, ” he said.
“That’s okay. What it lacks in convenience it more than makes up for in size.” He sipped the wine, “You seemed surprised to see me … in the church, I mean.”
“I
“Yeah. Well, I was able to get away a little earlier than I figured. So I just came on down.”
“Are you all set at U of D? This is kind of late in the term, isn’t it? Mid-September? Haven’t they started classes?”
“There was no trouble about that. They were very helpful with preregistration. Probably because I’m a priest. Also, I’m not going for credit; I’m just auditing some classes.”
“No credits? You aren’t going into the counseling business?”
“Not unless I pay for the training. I think the diocese got burned a few times too many. Some of the guys went away, came back with MSWs, quit the priesthood, and went into private practice. So now the policy is to pick up the freight only if the priest audits. Or if he’s going for a theology or canonical degree, Not much call for theology majors in business or industry.”
Koesler chuckled. “Keep them barefoot and pregnant, eh?”
Dunn nodded. “It doesn’t matter to me. I have no plans to leave. I just wanted to increase my skills. I discovered I was counseling people on a pretty regular basis, so I thought I’d better try to learn to do it right. So here I am. Courtesy of the archdiocese of Minneapolis-St. Paul.”
Koesler held the port up, seeming to study it in the light. “Yes, here you are. Funny, give or take quite a few years, this could have been a straight player trade.”
“Oh?”
“Years ago-good Lord, it must be twenty-five years ago-there was this family that I became friends with. Parishioners. Then the father was transferred to Minneapolis. For quite a few years I spent some vacation time with them. He was transferred a couple more times, then retired. I sort of lost touch with them. Though I do get a Christmas card every year or so. Anyway, for short periods back then, I was a Detroit transplant in Minneapolis. Now here you are a Minneapolis transplant in Detroit.”
“That is a coincidence.”
“Isn’t it? Where’s your parish, Nick?”
“Golden Valley … you know the place?”
“Sure; one of the neighboring suburbs … but not
Dunn seemed puzzled. Then he brightened. “Edina.”
Koesler nodded. “And is downtown Minneapolis still the hub of activity? As I remember it, all the major movies opened downtown. All the major stores were there, and there were skywalks that connected the buildings.”
“Still there, all right. You can go pretty nearly everywhere without getting your feet wet.”
“Or frozen.”
“You were there in winter? Voluntarily?”
“No, but I’ve heard about it.”
“Actually, they do a pretty good job of pushing the snow around and cleaning the streets-even the alleys.”
“Impressive. But what else could you expect from those industrious Scandinavians? Those Lutherans are still burying their sins under a blanket of snow.”
“It is a pretty Lutheran culture. But, hey, what can you say for a Lutheran town whose three main streets are named after Catholic clergy!”
Koesler tried to remember the street names as Dunn continued. “How is it in Detroit … winter, I mean?”
Koesler shook his head. “Don’t ask. Just enjoy this September while it lasts. If we get a big snow later, count on getting cabin fever. But then,” he reminded himself, “coming from Minnesota, you’d be used to that. However, you’re about to experience what’s worth the price of admission-fall, and the most breathtaking colors you could imagine.”
Koesler became aware that his right knee was quivering. Casually, he slid his hand down his leg and applied pressure on the knee until it stilled. He hoped Dunn had not noticed. Koesler knew the cause of his edginess was that confession of murder he’d heard earlier. He would have preferred to have been alone now. But there was no way of avoiding a courteous welcome for the visiting priest.
If Dunn had noticed the involuntary tremor, he said nothing about it. Koesler was grateful. “The only season I experienced in Minnesota,” he continued, “was summer-“
