An Unholy Mission Read online

  Just as he was about to respond to the interrogative barrage, the phone rang. Frederick reached for it, greeted the caller and handed the receiver to Olympia. “It’s “Sister Patrick.

  “I’ll take it in the bedroom, Frederick. Will you ask her to hold?”

  In Olympia’s absence Frederick busied himself in the cluttered, comfortable kitchen. The ever-persistent cats circled around his feet. He noted there was still half a serving of cat food on the floor, but the soft-hearted Englishman was an easy mark and gave them each a couple of kitty treats before rinsing and stacking the dishes in the dishwasher. Once the machine was loaded, he smacked the start button with a flourish and watched a grim-faced Olympia come into to the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Patrick talked to Luther this morning. He denied everything, and then he told her about the cancer and that he was not going to undergo any medical treatment for the illness. Then this afternoon she found his letter of resignation from the program tucked under her office door.” Olympia rubbed at her forehead in disbelief. “I don’t believe this, but she’s asked me to come in early again tomorrow morning.”

  “Do you think you should call Jim?”

  “Let me talk to Sister Patrick first and see what she has to say. She’s nobody’s fool, and she’s the boss.”

  Timothea Jones came in through the front door of her condo, dropped her purse and keys on the coffee table and picked up the jangling phone before the answering machine caught it. It was set to pick up on the sixth ring because she wasn’t quick on her feet, and it took a while if she wasn’t right next to it.

  “This is Timothea Jones.”

  “Timothea? This is Luther Stuart. Am I calling at a bad time?”

  Timothea made a quizzical face at the receiver and then replied in her measured cadence, “No, I just got in, but I can talk.”

  “I understand you were the chaplain called in last night to minister to Nancy Farwell’s family after she passed.”

  “That’s right, Luther.”

  Luther hesitated. “I know this might sound odd, Timothea, but I was wondering if you knew what exactly happened to her? I visited her that morning, and it was clear that she was very ill, but I always believed she’d last long enough to get the transplant. So the news that she died came as a shock.”

  Timothea cleared her throat, stalling for time and composing her response. “I didn’t ask for the details, Luther. My job was to comfort the family. All I know is that when I got there, her body was still in the bed and everybody was in the room with her. She was at peace, Luther. That’s all I can really say.”

  And that’s all I’m going to say, she added silently. Sitting alone in her living room, Timothea set her face and body against any further dialogue with this man, even though he couldn’t see her.

  “How was the family?” he persisted.

  “How is any family when they lose a wife and mother? They were in shock and distraught.”

  Why is this man so interested, and why didn’t he come to the meeting this afternoon? Timothea wondered. She was feeling annoyed and uncomfortable but tried to keep it out of her voice. “Luther, a family’s grief is a private affair. There really isn’t any more I can tell you.”

  And even if I could, I don’t think I want to.

  Sixteen

  December 3, 1861

  Success—and then a bittersweet mystery. On Tuesday of this week, I received a letter from the editor of Godey’s Ladies Book saying she will publish my story in the June issue and will be sending me a bank draft in payment under separate cover.

  Merry Christmas, CK Barrow, nee Leanna Faith Winslow!

  I do confess that I was so consumed with actually completing the story and posting it that I gave no thought to what I might be paid should it be accepted. I have much to learn about this writing business. But there was far more to unfold on this auspicious day. Later in the day a second missive was delivered to my door, and it was not one that I was anticipating or expecting.

  This envelope had no return address and contained only a draft for a sum of money folded into a single sheet of paper. At first I assumed it was payment for my story and upon inspection thought the amount was rather large for so short a story. But more curious were the words that accompanied it. There was nothing about my writing, only the chapter name and number of a Bible verse, “Isaiah 9:6. Once I looked it up, the mystery was solved. “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given.”

  Tears flow … words fail,

  LFW

  For the second day in a row, a bleary-eyed Olympia was up, dressed in her chaplain clothes and creeping out of the house well before Frederick and the cats were out of bed. She stopped at the nearest drive-through for a mega-coffee and a breakfast sandwich without the sausage and munched and lurched her way through the very worst of Boston-bound commuter traffic. If there were no tie-ups, she’d have plenty of time to run to the ladies room and then into the hospital cafeteria and refill her coffee.

  As she pulled into the dimly lit garage, she remembered the dead rat Jenny Abelard found the day before and made a point of double-checking the floor outside the driver’s side door before getting out. Olympia knew that city rats and mice had a communal life of their own beneath the city streets but preferred that it not intersect with hers. She opened the door, looked down and breathed a sigh of relief. No rats.

  When she entered the supervisor’s office, Sister Patrick greeted Olympia by holding out the toffee tin and raising her own steaming cup of coffee; but once Olympia was seated, the nun set the coffee down on her desk and went over to lock the door.

  Olympia said nothing, but the look on her face must have prompted the nun to say, “This needs to be a very private conversation, Olympia. I spoke with Luther yesterday morning, and he denied everything and then told me about his cancer. That afternoon I found his letter of resignation on the floor of my office. He must have pushed it under the door while we were in our meeting.”

  Olympia could feel her pulse thudding against her temples. “Did my name come into the conversation?”

  Sister Patrick bit her lip and then nodded. “I had no choice. With Nancy Farwell dead, there was no way I could confirm anything with her, but I can’t let this kind of situation, real or imagined, go without investigation. Talk about a rock and a hard place.”

  Olympia gripped her own coffee and wondered what in the world was coming next.

  “How did he react?”

  “Before I get to that, I need to tell you I talked with our mutual friend, Jim Sawicki, last night. We had dinner together.”

  At the mention of his name, Olympia couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t believe you know each other.”

  “It’s a small world, Olympia, especially the world of Boston-born Catholics who enter the church and stay close to home.”

  “I suppose.” Olympia glanced towards the door. “What did he say about all of this? I haven’t talked to him for a couple of days.”

  Sister Patrick looked down and began twisting her ring. “It should come as no surprise to you, Olympia, that we have a major ethical dilemma. Patient safety, confidentiality and possible sexual misconduct, all of it unsubstantiated. There’s a lot at stake here.”

  Olympia nodded in grim agreement.

  “I am your supervisor, so confiding in you on a matter of this nature is probably against the rules.” She threw up her hands in a gesture of anguish. “But in a situation like this, what are the rules? You absolutely did the right thing by coming to me, and I believe you, so I’ve taken you into my confidence. I cannot have even a hint of one of my chaplains behaving in an unprofessional manner. When I confronted him, he denied it and went on to accuse you of making it up because he felt you were defending your territory on the Transitional Unit.”

  “What?” Olympia started forward in her chair and almost dropped her cup.

  Sister Patrick waved her back down. “It’s possible the cancer may have already trave
led to the brain, and he’s exhibiting classic paranoia.” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”

  “What did Jim say about all this?”

  The nun smiled. “I’ll get to that in a minute. He hasn’t changed. He’s a bright man, but there’s a sadness about him. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel it.”

  Olympia said nothing. If this was an invitation to talk about Jim’s personal life, she wasn’t going there.

  “It was good to have someone to talk it over with, someone not directly involved with the hospital. He’s a good sounding board.”

  “He’s one of my best friends, Sister. I’d trust him with anything.”

  “He said much the same about you. We decided that the obvious first step is to get more information, and here is where you have to withdraw from the action.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Olympia.

  “As I said, I got a letter from Luther saying he’s withdrawing from the program. I think he’s a very troubled man and a very sick one, unless, of course, even the cancer is something he’s invented to draw attention to himself. I’ve done some psych nursing in my time, and I’ve encountered people like that before. That’s why I want you to leave anything that happens from now on to me and possibly Jim.”

  “Jim?”

  “You’re a threat to Luther now. Jim isn’t. But since I have no idea what’s going to happen next, all I can say is that if I need assistance, I might have to call him in. This isn’t a matter for the police, not yet anyway, and I sincerely hope it never gets to that point. I’m going to call Luther and see if I can talk him into coming in for an exit interview. That kind of thing is standard procedure, so he might, or he might not. I’m not sure whether he’s a wild card or a loose cannon, but either way he bears watching.”

  “But if he’s not here, then it’s a non-issue, isn’t it?”

  Sister Patrick shook her head. “Just because he withdrew from the program doesn’t mean we’ve seen the last of him. Until I’ve had a chance to talk with him and make my own decision about whether he’s a threat to anyone but himself, I don’t want you taking any chances. In fact, I think I’d like you to either start taking public transportation or find a less isolated parking space. The staff parking area is in the far corner of the bottom level of the garage. Anybody could be lurking down there.”

  Olympia remembered the dead rat and didn’t like the sound of what she was hearing. While it was true that Luther made her uncomfortable, surely he wasn’t a threat. On the other hand, if someone as savvy as Sister Patrick was telling her to be cautious and aware, maybe she should listen.

  “You’ve made your case, Sister. I can park my car in Braintree and take the train. When I think about it, with winter coming on, I might even start taking the bus from home. It might be easier and less stressful. My van has been acting up lately. I’m trying to keep it going for as long as I can.”

  “I don’t want to alarm you unduly, Olympia, but if we are dealing with an unbalanced person, neither of us should take chances. I’m going to share one more piece of confidential information with you. Luther didn’t withdraw from his previous CPE program of his own volition. He was dismissed for inappropriate behavior involving a patient. When he was confronted in that situation, he became abusive. I just learned that yesterday. Somehow he managed to get that particular detail taken out of his record, but I called the Interfaith Ministry place in New York and found what I was looking for. Let me put it this way. There could be cause for alarm, and that’s what I intend to find out. Besides supervising you chaplains, I’m also responsible for your health and safety.”

  Olympia shivered. “Thank you, Sister.”

  “Jim told me a little about of some of your past adventures with him. For a minister you’re quite the determined little sleuth, aren’t you?”

  Olympia acknowledged the truth of the statement with a tight smile.

  “However, much as you might like to, this time Jim and I do the actual investigating, and you go back to the TU and the Maternity Unit and be a model chaplain.”

  “Sister …”

  The nun folded her arms. “It has to be this way, Olympia. The man is an unknown quantity, and I can’t involve you any more than you already are.”

  Olympia raised her chin. “I understand your need to warn me, Sister, but I think I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for some time now.”

  “From what I hear from Jim, you certainly can, but right now, you are to do as I ask and no more. You can trust that we’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

  “And no more,” said Olympia.

  “That’s right,” said Sister Patrick, “and no more.”

  Luther Stuart was leaning against the wall in the corridor that led to the Maternity Unit as Olympia rounded the corner and walked onto the floor. When he spotted her, he straightened up, smoothed his jacket and walked toward her.

  What the hell do I do now? Answer: act natural.

  Hello, Luther. We missed you at the meeting. You okay?”

  “Sister Patrick called me into her office yesterday, and I think you know why.”

  “Luther, I …” Olympia felt acutely awkward and was desperately fishing for words as he fell in step close beside her. Too close. He slipped his hand under her elbow and held on hard enough to make his point, but not enough to leave a mark. Olympia tried to pull out of his grip, but he hung on.

  “Olympia,” he said, speaking in a low voice, “I can’t believe you’d spread lies like that about me. I didn’t think you were that kind of a person.”

  Olympia kept her voice level as she answered.

  “I already said that Nancy Farwell told me what you were doing when you visited with her. When I talked to you about it last week, you said it was true, and you’d keep right on because that’s what you believe God wants you to do. You can’t deny that you said that. We were sitting in the restaurant.”

  “I never said that.”

  Olympia yanked her arm free and turned to face him. There was an odd look on the man’s face. Olympia felt as though she was caught in a reality warp. Sister Patrick is right, she thought. The man is unbalanced.

  “Luther, you did say it. I didn’t want to go to Sister Patrick, but ethically, I had no choice. That is not professional behavior any way you look at it. I tried to warn you.”

  “You had no choice but to lie about me?”

  He caught his breath and was staring at her. She could see beads of sweat across his forehead. She could tell he was in pain.

  Olympia wanted to scream in frustration at the utter circular nonsense of their conversation, but it wasn’t nonsensical, it was terrifying. She stepped back and away from him and held out her hands, palms up.

  “I’m not in control of how you see things, Luther, but from where I stand, your behavior with Nancy was questionable. I didn’t want to go to Sister Patrick. I tried to talk with you first, hoping it would stop there, but it obviously didn’t.”

  The two turned to see a nurse shepherding a new mother, cradling her baby, coming toward them. The conversation was over.

  Luther reached out and put his hand on Olympia’s shoulder. “Let’s just put this behind us, Olympia. Nancy was probably out of her mind at the end. God knows what she said. I know you meant well, and I forgive you.” He then dropped his hand and stood away. “You can’t possibly know this, but yesterday afternoon I left a letter in Sister Patrick’s office telling her that I’ve withdrawn from the program. I can’t continue in a place where there is no trust. You’ll never look at me the same way again, and neither will she. That’s really sad, because I could have made you love me, Olympia. I wanted it so much, but if it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be. I’ve learned to read the handwriting on the wall, so to speak. Take care of yourself, Olympia. I wish you all the best, and God bless you.”

  With that Luther turned and left Olympia standing open mouthed in the softly lighted, off-white corridor, wondering what had just hap
pened.

  “But …” Olympia raised her hand, then let it drop. She had patients to visit, new babies to admire and a frantically worried mother of twins to visit. She shook her head and started down the hallway, thinking about the speed with which new mothers were rotated through the system. The term drive-through delivery was not a joke.

  She stopped and leaned against the nursery window as much to admire the new babies as to gather her thoughts. In the soft light she could see a volunteer grandmother rocking a baby swaddled in a blue blanket. Olympia stood for a long moment, trying to think what to do next, continue with her duties on the floor or go to the nearest phone and call Sister Patrick. Just then a baby cried and answered her question. She would tell Patrick later in the day when she got the chance. Right now, she needed to go and visit Grace Mangiani and see if little Giovanni had survived the night, please God.

  Sitting alone in the North End Branch of the Boston Public Library, Luther Stuart was hunched over one of the computers. Over the years he’d gotten very good at using them, but he knew that a personal computer could be hacked into, and whatever the owner was doing could possibly be viewed by others. Luther didn't want people to know what he was researching, so by using a generic name and a free Hotmail address, he could go where he wanted on the Internet with no one the wiser. Today he was researching nontraditional, holistic and dietary treatments for pancreatic cancer. None of it looked terribly well researched or documented, but he couldn’t afford to wait. He found a treatment center in Central America offering mail order herbal supplements that promised, if nothing else, a sense of well-being and a healthier body with which to resist the cellular invasion. Luther went to the website and took out the credit card he used for such purchases. He just needed to make it through Christmas. After that, he trusted that God would see to the rest.