Chapter 4 A Unexpected Revelation
Sunday morning found Booth, Christine, and little Hank in the fourth pew back at St. Patrick's. It was not their usual parish but extremely significant to Booth. He had taken Brennan along the morning after she and Hodgins were rescued from the quarry, to thank God for 'all of us' while shushing her blunt questions.
"I'm okay with you thanking God for saving me and Hodgins," he remembered her saying.
And then his response, "That's not what I thanked Him for; I thanked Him for saving all of us. It was all of us, every single one. You take one of us away and you and Hodgins are in that hole forever. And I'm thankful for that."
On the way out, Brennan had noted the unique design of St. Patrick's Leo Irerra crucifix; its dual depiction of Christ both risen and crucified; and he was astounded that she was aware of it.
Their other worst partnership experience was Pelant forcing Booth to inexplicably break their engagement. During that torment, Aldo had saved his life for a second time; convinced Brennan that Booth loved her deeply; there was a reason behind his actions, urging her to have faith; to trust. That evening in Paradise Lost, his sarcastically-named little bar, Aldo Clemens had assured Booth's Paradise Regained.
Their exchange leaving St. Patrick's back then echoed in Booth's head.
"I knew you wouldn't give up," she told him.
"I knew you wouldn't give up," he assured her.
Then they looked at each other. "What's that mean?"
Ten years later, he knew 'what that meant'—their wonderful life together, which Aldo had made possible. No wonder he had stuffed Booth's pockets full of business cards when Pelant was doing his worst!
Lost in remembering, Booth felt a tug on his suit coat.
"Daddy, it's over. Can we get donuts?" Hank asked. "I'm really hungry."
"Chrissy, you think Hanko here deserves some donuts?" Booth asked his daughter with a smile. She gave him her mother's look, and replied, "Oh, I sup-pose so," and broke into giggles.
Hank clambered off the wooden seat, and took Booth's outstretched hand. Christine primly genuflected and gazed at the crucifix that had caught her mother's eye.
"Daddy, that's a very strange cross. Why is the middle scooped out?"
"I think it shows Jesus rising again after Good Friday, honey. See how it's shaped like a body?"
"Weird, Daddy!"
"The artist was trying to make people think."
Father Donovan greeted them as they exited. "Seeley, can you call me later this afternoon?"
"Sure thing, Father. After we get these monkeys fed; about two o'clock?"
"That'll be fine. You guys have a good week, and tell your mother hello for me."
"Daddy, Chrissy's your monkey, I'm your Tiger!" Hank protested.
B&B B&B
Driving home, Booth listened to the prattle of his children, and wondered what Father Donovan wanted to discuss with him. Perhaps the priest had some ideas about the veterans' fund he had Brennan were planning in Aldo's memory. Suddenly he had the sensation Pops had called 'a ghost walking over your grave' as a stark thought doused his Sunday calm with metaphoric cold water.
Pelant. What if Raddatz' son had electronic resources? While Booth might assume, from the box of files Brennan had found at the abandoned recording studio, that Raddatz was a low-tech guy; his planning of Aldo's captivity had been exquisitely detailed. Just because the man knew to avoid traffic cameras, didn't mean he wasn't computer-savvy. Booth swallowed hard, took a deep breath, glanced back at his kids, and drove to the bakery.
After Hank's treasured donuts were selected and purchased, (a serious process which tried his worried father's patience) the trio headed home. Booth was careful not to drive any faster than usual, because like her perceptive parents, Christine noticed everything. Once home, he dispatched the children to change into play clothes and headed for Brennan's office where she was working on her latest book.
"We need to talk." His serious expression conveyed more than his words, and she nodded, closing her computer. While he changed into jeans and t-shirt, she lifted Hank onto a stool and distributed pastries as he directed. She loved the croissants Booth had brought, but her mouth was dry. She filled two mugs with coffee as he returned to the kitchen. He kissed her gently and extracted a chocolate sprinkle crème filled puff from the box. Handing him a mug, she took a seat beside him.
"Mommy, eat your kwa-sont," Hank urged. She took a few bites, which tasted like chalk.
"How was church?"
"I was good!" the little boy declared. "Chrissy said so! Can I go play outside? Plllleease?"
"What do you say to your dad for the donuts?
"Thank you!"
"Christine, honey, will you keep an eye on him? We don't need any more balls in the Fremont's back yard."
"Sure, Dad," she replied with a grin. A sister grown up enough to mind her brother could take certain liberties.
"'Dad'? What happened to 'Daddy'? Okay, Monkey, you'll be my little girl no matter how tall you get!" Booth said, ruffling her bangs.
B&B B&B
Brennan refilled their mugs and returned to the table. "What's wrong, Booth?"
"Father Donovan asked me to call him this afternoon. I don't know what it's about, but I think we need to take Pelant precautions. Does Angela still maintain electronic blocking in the Bone Room? Can you ask her to make sure? I'm going to call Max and see if he feels up to reading with the kids."
"Booth, maybe you should just call Annie down the street, and see if she's free. If my dad gets wind of something, he'll want to be in the middle of it or contact one of his buddies. We need to limit who knows about this. Call Father Tim to meet us at the Jeffersonian."
Booth went down to his man cave, closed the door, and pulled up the priest's cell number on his phone. "Hey, Tim, before you start, we need to talk someplace secure…."
An hour later, the couple picked up the priest in Brennan's Prius. She scooted her seat forward as he folded his lanky frame into the back seat.
"You two could improve security at the Vatican," he joked. "How do you fit in this tiny thing?" he asked Booth.
"I drive an SUV, Father, but Bones' car is less obvious."
Tim Donovan was as fascinated by the Jeffersonian as he had been as a child, and quietly elated to see more of it, despite the sadness of the opportunity. The lab's elevator doors opened at the basement level. Donovan's eyes widened as they walked down low-lit aisles of stacked plastic drawers. He watched as she paused to select a box and signed it out on the log. Once they were in Brennan's exam room, Booth closed the door.
"Sorry for the extra rigamarole, but we've been pursued by psychos before. Can't be too careful," Booth told his friend, while his wife pulled on gloves and arranged the bones. She needed routine to calm herself and knew the priest would be interested. The two men watched her precise movements.
"After you asked about Aldo's funeral yesterday morning, I spent a lot of time thinking about that poor man. I decided I needed to share something with you I've kept private until now. Last month, I got a phone call requesting assistance, which isn't unusual in my line of work, as you know. But the results were very surprising. A woman asked to come see me, and made an afternoon appointment in my office. She told me quite a story."
"It seems she met Aldo at a bartending course five years after he gave up the priesthood. It was offered by Northern Virginia Community College-Alexandria, of all places. They hit it off, became friends, and started dating. Things got serious after a while, and she found herself expecting a child. Aldo, of course, wanted to do the right thing," the priest paused to sip his coffee.
"This sounds all too familiar," Booth muttered to himself.
Father Tim continued, "Anyway, they had a very small wedding before the baby arrived; a little girl. They made it okay together for a couple years before their divorce. They loved each other, but Aldo was burdened by guilt for getting things out of order, and she resented his gloom."
"He sent support money regularly, but she returned home to North Carolina, moved back in with her folks for help with the child. Neither of them had much money to travel often, so regretfully, he saw very little of his daughter."
"She sent pictures and letters and called him frequently. Over the last year or so, their contact has been increasingly sporadic, then stopped altogether. As Aldo grew distant, she lost patience and quit trying. He always called on the girl's birthday, but last month he failed to do so. She's a junior in high school, and wanted her dad to come see her graduate next spring."
"Her mother has been trying to re-establish contact with Aldo on their daughter's behalf. She had business in Baltimore last week and decided to stop off in DC to track Aldo down if she could. Dropped by his bar, and found someone else owned it. He no longer worked there. Checked his old apartment address without any success. I guess from their conversations, she knew he attended Mass at St Patrick's from time to time since it's so close to his bar."
"So she stopped by to see if I knew his whereabouts, or could give her any suggestions. Obviously, at the time, I didn't think too much about it. Aldo was a good man, but felt betrayed by God. He came to Mass occasionally, in fits and starts, sometimes for several weeks in a row, sometimes not for months. I told her as much, but promised to keep my ears open, ask around, and let her know if I heard from Aldo or anything about him."
"Your coming to Confession a few days ago, and calling me yesterday made me feel like I've got to let this lady know what has happened to Aldo. She still seems to care for him, and I think his daughter has a right to know that her father was an incredibly courageous man."
Father Tim stopped talking, and waited for Booth's reaction. There was only silence.
"Booth, you still with us?"
Brennan came around the table, removed her gloves, and took her husband's hand. He blinked at her for a moment.
"Yeah, Father, I'm here. I'm just speechless-flabbergasted-overwhelmed! Aldo was married? Has a daughter? Never got to spend time with her? This situation just keeps getting worse and worse. I thought I had problems with Rebecca. Mine were nothing compared to this! How can I help?"
"You think I should tell his ex-wife what happened? It's so horrific, the girl may be traumatized; her mom may think I've been totally inappropriate and crass to open these wounds for the two of them. I can't think of a gentle way to reveal such horrific information! Usually, I'm pretty good at giving people bad news, breaking it to them gradually, but there's no way to make this palatable, bearable, acceptable in any way."
"What do I tell them? How? In person? By phone? Believe me, they didn't cover this kind of situation in our seminary training, grief counseling workshops, or anywhere else I know of!"
"Do you want me and Bones to go with you to North Carolina? Or set up a video conference for you at the Jeffersonian to speak with them? We could postpone the memorial service until the two of them can decide if they want to attend. They'll release Aldo's remains by Tuesday or Wednesday. I hadn't decided what to do with Aldo's body yet, whether to bury or cremate him."
"But in light of this; finding he has a daughter and ex-wife; family, cremation makes more sense. It would give them time to come to grips with the news and let us know what they want to do; if they wish to be involved, help plan the ceremony, attend his service, or not come at all until later," Booth continued.
"If the situation was reversed and I had been killed, I would want Parker to know the facts. Christine and Hank are with Bones and me, but Rebecca and I had a situation similar to Aldo's family. I didn't get nearly as much time as I wanted with my elder son when he was small, but things improved over time between his mother and me. She's a fantastic parent, and realized I wanted to be also. I can't imagine Parker never knowing what happened to me, if I died in the line of duty. Which I believe Aldo certainly did."
"Talking though this with you makes me think burial in a military cemetery would be the most appropriate. I believe Aldo would want a memorial service that includes Mass, Father. The only question is where to inter him. I think he deserves to rest in Arlington. Sam Cullen, my boss at the Hoover is also a veteran, and he has friends in the Cemetery Administration who can make that decision."
Booth mused out loud, "Aldo's daughter might gain comfort in helping with the Wounded Warrior canine project Bones and I are starting up. The VFW guys will benefit by helping care for the dogs, and if their PTSD is serious enough, they can apply for a support animal."
"Why don't you consider this overnight; a trip to tell them in person versus a video conference, and let me know in the morning. Either way, Bones and I will be with you to tell Aldo's family, Father."
"Thanks, Booth. I can see why the Army called you back to Afghanistan. You analyze problems well, and put yourself out on behalf of others."
"Just like you do, Tim," Booth told him. "Come by tomorrow morning and let Bones know what you decide. By the way, what is her name?"
"Marisa. Her mom is Elaine. I have a lot to consider. I will talk to you in the morning, Seeley. Meanwhile, not to be crass, but Temperance, this is amazing. How do you know where to place each bone?"
"She's a genius, Father!" Booth grinned.
"Seeley Booth, you are truly blessed!"
Booth grew serious. "Aldo said the love we share is the reason people draw breath."
Brennan looked at him through tears. "You've never told me that," she said softly.
The couple shared a silent conversation, and the priest watched, quietly awed.
"We gotta blow this popsicle stand and get home to pay the sitter. I promised Christine I'd practice kicking soccer goals with her," Booth declared. "Let's get you back to the rectory, Tim. Thanks for understanding about talking here. We all need to watch what we say, and where until this guy is apprehended."
As he extracted himself from Brennan's car, Father Tim smiled at the pair. "God bless the rest of your Sunday, and the work you do to protect us."