SEVEN
* * *
I have no answer for my brother, not in this. But as I watch him there, under the shade of the large, old tree, I see again why he loves Lucy Camden. It is not that she is attractive; she is in fact no more or less so than a million and a million other girls. And it is not because she is mature, for she is not that at all. It is not even because she is kind, for whatever kindness there may be in her is often and frequently lost in the selfishness and the immaturity that is the result of her sheltered life.
No. Kevin loves her because he needs her. She is what our mother, unknowing, once was: love, and support, ignorant as to why and yet loyal.
It is common knowledge now, what was done to children like Kevin and me, even though he and I have remained silent for the sake of Ben, for the sake of the oath we both swore so long ago. It is a great scandal that has shaken the Church to its foundations. At first it was denied, then kept hidden, that some men who claimed God as their domain were in fact monsters who abused and molested children. But now there is some justice, however slow and little, in the workings of the secular courts. Rome, in its distant, aloof piety, has been called to task by the voices of those who she in her denial has wronged. And I wonder sometimes, as I fear the nightmares that so often come with sleep, if they knew about the man, the priest, who made Kevin's face so stiff, so wooden, and who made it impossible for me to even endure the touch of a man against my skin. I wonder if they knew, at the lavish funeral of this honored priest, hearing all the words of praise, what he really was.
And I wonder if they will ever suspect the challenge that he has, even in death, placed upon my brother and the unknowing girl Lucy Camden who will someday soon become my brother's wife. Will Lucy Camden be able to understand when Kevin cannot satisfy her passions, when he is unable to look upon her despite his love, because of what he has endured?
I don't know. But as Kevin and I drive back into Glenoak to where his future bride awaits, I find myself wondering and doubting again if she will be equal to the task that lies ahead for her.
THE END
* * *
I have no answer for my brother, not in this. But as I watch him there, under the shade of the large, old tree, I see again why he loves Lucy Camden. It is not that she is attractive; she is in fact no more or less so than a million and a million other girls. And it is not because she is mature, for she is not that at all. It is not even because she is kind, for whatever kindness there may be in her is often and frequently lost in the selfishness and the immaturity that is the result of her sheltered life.
No. Kevin loves her because he needs her. She is what our mother, unknowing, once was: love, and support, ignorant as to why and yet loyal.
It is common knowledge now, what was done to children like Kevin and me, even though he and I have remained silent for the sake of Ben, for the sake of the oath we both swore so long ago. It is a great scandal that has shaken the Church to its foundations. At first it was denied, then kept hidden, that some men who claimed God as their domain were in fact monsters who abused and molested children. But now there is some justice, however slow and little, in the workings of the secular courts. Rome, in its distant, aloof piety, has been called to task by the voices of those who she in her denial has wronged. And I wonder sometimes, as I fear the nightmares that so often come with sleep, if they knew about the man, the priest, who made Kevin's face so stiff, so wooden, and who made it impossible for me to even endure the touch of a man against my skin. I wonder if they knew, at the lavish funeral of this honored priest, hearing all the words of praise, what he really was.
And I wonder if they will ever suspect the challenge that he has, even in death, placed upon my brother and the unknowing girl Lucy Camden who will someday soon become my brother's wife. Will Lucy Camden be able to understand when Kevin cannot satisfy her passions, when he is unable to look upon her despite his love, because of what he has endured?
I don't know. But as Kevin and I drive back into Glenoak to where his future bride awaits, I find myself wondering and doubting again if she will be equal to the task that lies ahead for her.
THE END