Page 14 of Dead Rattled
“Forgiveness is the only way back to the Lord,” Father Baker said, gently.
“I understand that, Father, but I think being able to bury her lost child in holy ground would go a very long way in repairing not only her relationship with the Catholic Church, but with Jesus as well.” Ten crossed his fingers that the priest would just tell him what needed to be done.
“We’d need the mother to present two forms of identification; a driver’s license and a birth certificate. A U.S. passport would also be acceptable. She would need to provide us with the name of the cemetery the remains are being moved to along with a plot number. Once I have all that information, I can begin the process.”
Ten didn’t know how Natalie would get around having a grave for Amanda’s remains, but they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. “I appreciate your help, Father.” Ten opened up his gift and read the priest. He felt nothing but sympathy for the mother and was trying to figure out what to say to Ten that would gethis butt into a pew at St. Agnes this weekend. “I do have one question though.”
“That’s what I’m here for, my son.”
“Now that the Catholic Church has done away with Limbo, is it possible for a priest, such as yourself, to bless the land so that the other children could rest in peace?” Ten never understood the concept of Limbo in the first place, not to mention the additional pain parents of unbaptized babies went through at the thought that their child wasn’t in heaven.
“Hmm.” Father Baker was silent for several seconds. “I would need to speak with someone at the Diocese in order to see if that was possible.”
Ten sniffled. “The thought of those poor lost souls breaks my heart. I would be willing to pay any fees associated with this blessing and would be willing to entertain the idea of attending Mass with my husband and kids.”
“We have a lot of same-sex couples who regularly attend St. Agnes. Don’t worry, I don’t preach fire and brimstone to those people. We’re all one family in Christ. Don’t you agree?”
“I do, Father,” Ten agreed. “You’ve got my number on your phone. If you have any news or questions, feel free to reach out any time.”
“I will, Tennyson and go with God.”
“You too.” Ten’s phone beeped as the priest hung up the phone.
“Why did you ask about blessing the ground?” Ronan asked. “Everly told us the graves were empty.”
“The three of us know that, but I wanted to find out if Father Baker knew as well. I don’t think he does. I got the impressionfrom him that he’s a genuine man of God and wants to help right wrongs wherever he can.” This was the first time in Ten’s career that he’d ever read a priest for deception. Hopefully it would also be the last.
“You want us to attend Mass?” Ronan asked. “I haven’t done that voluntarily since before my mother died.”
“If Father Baker is able to help Natalie and any of the other mothers whose children were allegedly laid to rest at Angel of Mercy, then I will absolutely attend Mass. I’m not eating that weird cracker, though.”
Ronan snorted. “You don’t actually eat the host. You’re supposed to let it melt in your mouth. Only heathens chew the body of Christ.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ten grabbed his laptop and opened Facebook. His first search was for St. Agnes Church and found several groups. One was for current church members. Ten scrolled through twenty or so posts. Most were notices for church events. Potluck dinners on Friday. Bingo on Saturday night. Mass three times on Sunday and the sacrament of First Communion on Mother’s Day. Ten scrolled through pics of previous dinners and Bingo nights, but didn’t find anything to do with St. Agnes House. Lastly, he searched the entire group for mention of the place but there were none.
Ten went back to Facebook’s home page and performed a second search, this one more to the point. He typed in St. Agnes House and pressed search. Seconds later, he found just what he was looking for, a group called Children of St. Agnes House. A chill tore through Ten’s body. He didn’t need his gift to know what the purpose of this group was; children who were adopted through the church were now searching for their birth parents.
Grabbing his phone, Ten opened the calculator app and did some quick math. The St. Agnes House opened in 1955, which meant the first babies born then would be seventy-one years old with their mothers being in their mid-eighties to early-nineties. Natalie was on the younger end of the spectrum, with Amanda having been born in 1972.
The ads on the page were heartbreaking. Adoptees looking for their birth mothers, elderly mothers looking for absolution, younger siblings looking to connect with long lost brothers and sisters.
“Are you okay?” Ronan asked, setting a hand over Ten’s.
Looking up from the screen, Ten realized he was crying. “I found a group page dedicated to St. Agnes House children and mothers searching for each other. There are a couple of ads from mothers who say that giving their babies up was the worst mistake of their lives and how it’s haunted them every day since.”
“I’ve been reading posts from the same page.” Ronan shook his head.
“I couldn’t help thinking about Lizzie.” Ten’s attention was on Jude.
Jude nodded, looking near to crying himself. “I never met her mother because I was still in the ICU recovering from my premature death. Cope met her and he told me the woman couldn’t wait to get Lizzie out of her sight. She agreed to a closed adoption, which was fine with us.”
“What would you do if Lizzie wanted to find her birth mother one day?” Ten asked, not sure if he should have.
Jude sniffled. He got up from the table and grabbed a tissue. After he dabbed his eyes, Jude sat back down. “If Lizzie wantedto find her mother I’d do everything in my power to make that happen for her, but in the meantime, I’m spending every day showing her how much Cope, Wolf, and I love her.”
“It wouldn’t hurt your feelings?” Ronan asked.
“Not one bit,” Jude affirmed. “Lizzie wanting to find her mother isn’t a knock against me and Cope. It’s the first step in her own self-discovery. I could never keep her from that.”
