A Ship Run Aground (part 2 of 4)

"A Ship Run Aground" is Robert Miller's second consecutive contribution to the annual short story anthology The Event ... A streak Bob maintains to this day. In this chapter, the author introduces us to more crucial characters and several set pieces as the detective mystery rages on.

A SHIP RUN AGROUND

Robert S. Miller

Chapter 2

II.                Sister Dorothy Mallory

I thought that Tommy and I would ride together up to the monastery that evening, but Tommy told me he wanted to ride his motorcycle instead.  I guessed that Tommy had some other plans after the meeting took place.  So we went up to the monastery separately, with Tommy arriving well ahead of me. 

In my years of living in California, I had never visited a monastery before.  Religion had little interest to me.  Yet I was curious about how this one would look and what we would find out.  Mostly, I was curious about this nun.

It took about a half of an hour to get there, and I arrived just before twilight.  I parked my car next to Tommy’s motorcycle.  But even with what light was left, I was unprepared for how magnificent the buildings and grounds looked.  I learned that the Mission San Pedro la Roca was a huge attraction for tourists, and it hosted a number of retreats for various guests throughout the world.  It consisted of a church, a couple of sanctuaries, two office buildings and five or six seminaries.  Though a couple of the dorms on the site were no more than twenty-years-old, the Spaniards built the church and sanctuaries at the time of the founding of the mission in the late 1700s.  The adobe architecture, the gardens and absence of sound seemed out of place in the 21st Century.

I made my way to the church where I found Tommy sitting on the front steps.  But instead of taking me inside, he led me towards a seminary a hundred yards to the north.  Inside, the seminary was like a labyrinth.  And while there were people living in the seminary, I could barely hear a noise as we made our way down the ancient corridors.  There were no telephones or televisions on the premises.  Even Tommy never said a word, but merely signaled for me to follow him. We went up to the second floor, walked down a long hallway and came to a doorway that was slightly ajar.  Two young Mexican children, a boy and a girl, ran past us.  At most, they were nine-years-old. The two stopped upon seeing us, but then continued on their way.  I could also hear a man and two women speaking quietly inside of the room.

“¿Tu crees que los niños estarán bien?” the man said.

“Sí,” one of the women replied.  “Aunque el pretende ser un hombre fuerte, el se preocupa por los niños come si fuera una anciana,” she said to the other woman in the room.

“Yo no lo culpo, Maria,” the second woman replied.  “Los niños son hermosos.”

“Y si Sofia se sigue poniendo más hermosa,” the man replied, “Yo la voy a internar en un convento como tus padres debieron haber hecho contigo.”

There was laughter in the room.

“No te preocupes de eso en este momento,” the second woman stated.  “Ahora lo mas importante es que tu te recuperes.”

Growing up in North Dakota did not make me conversant in Spanish, but I could comprehend enough to understand they were speaking about the children.  I also understood there was some banter going on between a husband and wife.

Tommy knocked on the door.  A woman in nun attire answered the door and came out into the hallway to join us.  She shut the door behind her.  Though she looked differently from what I expected, I knew that this was Tommy’s friend, Dorothy. Tommy told me she was in her late thirties. She had dark red hair barely protruding from the side of her coif.  Though the face had some of the markings of age, her face also had what I’d call a stubborn beauty.  Her face expressed pure joy and that made you forget any signs of age.  In a strange sense, any small blemishes made her face even more alluring.   And while probably just a bit over five-feet tall, she seemed lively and energetic.  “Who is inside?” I asked her before there were any introductions.

“We will talk about that,” she replied.  “I’m still trying to figure out what I should and should not answer.”  With a quick step, she walked down the hall. 

The small boy and girl ran past us again while the girl shouted: “Hola, Hermana Dorothy!”

Dorothy turned around and said to them: “Eduardo!  Sofia!”  The boy and girl stopped running and looked at her.  “Dile buenas noches a tu papá y tu mamá.  Tu papá esta cansado y necesita descansar.  En un momento te cuento una historia. Y quizás nosotros podemos hacer un poco de travesuras cuando tus padres no esten presente para vigilarte.”

The boy and girl went to the doorway where we were just at and entered.  Dorothy then led us to a stairway.  We returned to the first floor and she led us to an office in the seminary.  In the office sat a Caucasian gentleman, probably in his early forties, scorched from the sun and with a set of wrinkles on each side of his eyes that you only see in those who have spent time at sea.  In a few decades I could picture him looking just like Winthrop – though this person had two good eyes.  “This is Captain Josh Johnson,” the nun said.  “I believe that he can answer some of your questions.  Though in fairness, I’m letting you know that he is seeking sanctuary at our mission.  And we will sternly oppose any efforts to have him removed from here.”

Dorothy spoke with the authority of someone in charge. 

“From what Tommy told me, I was imagining you being someone in the outs with the church,” I remarked.

“Right now I still belong.  And I have no plans on departing from my calling until his eminence, Pope Francis the First, decides I need to go – or until my maker calls me home.”

Dorothy smiled sweetly at me.  This nun who did not yet even know my name was teasing me.  “Fair enough,” I replied.  “My name is Mike Landry.  While I’m with the federal government, let’s try not to be too formal.  I don’t even know enough of what is going on to take any action.”

When Captain Johnson spoke, his voice sounded like someone from California.  “I am the one who sought sanctuary.  I also brought a Mexican family along with me to stay here until we figured out all of our options.  However, I will not remain here if it causes any problems for my good friend, Sister Dorothy.”

“Josh, please do not say too much,” Dorothy said to him while looking directly at me.  “This is not a confessional.  And while I trust my friend, Tommy, I have reservations on whether to trust this Mister Landry.  I believe he has more worldly concerns than spiritual concerns regarding this matter.”

She had a right to not trust me – though she obviously knew more about me than she pretended.  At some point she would have to trust me if she asked Tommy for assistance in protecting the captain.  Also, I understood why a Mexican family would seek sanctuary.  But nobody from California sought sanctuary like Captain Johnson did unless they were in some sort of legal trouble.  “I came here because Tommy asked me to come,” I said.  “Yet with all of this secrecy going on, how am I not going to be suspicious?”

Sister Dorothy sat on top of the desk in the rectory like she was a teenage girl.  “That is a fair question.  And I promise I will answer as directly as I can without putting anyone under my care in harm’s way.”

Tommy sat down in a wooden chair in the corner of the room.  It appeared he was not going to say much of anything during this conversation.  I remained standing.  “Okay.  Let’s start with the Mexican family.  They are seeking asylum?”

“Yes,” Dorothy replied.  “And also medical care.  The father, Juan, was badly injured on his way to America.  I had a doctor examine him, and I am trying to care for him as best I know how.”

“And Captain Johnson was in charge of helping them arrive?”

Captain Johnson nodded his head.

“So he was injured in what way?” I asked directly to the captain.

“It was about forty people I was bringing into the country,” he began.  “The arrangement was that a party cruiser would meet us just a few miles off the coast.  However, a few of the passengers on my boat it turned out were carrying drugs and decided to highjack the cruiser for themselves.  When I tried to intervene, one of them took out a gun and started firing.  I stopped the shooting by stabbing that person in the arm.  Unfortunately, a bullet struck Juan in the chest.  Thankfully, the bullet did not lodge there.  I radioed Dorothy to see if she could send help.  She sent a boat to pick up myself and the remaining passengers.  I left my own ship to drift.  I didn’t think it would make it all the way to shore.  It’s one of those coincidences that can’t be explained.  The rest of the passengers were taken elsewhere … other than Juan, Juan’s wife Maria and the children who came here.”

“And where did those other passengers go?”

Captain Johnson shook his head.

“So how is Juan doing?” I asked Dorothy.

“He’s stoic about it, but he’s in pain.  I have him on a regimen of antibiotics, so I’m hoping that no fever sets in.”

I turned to Captain Johnson.  “So who really owns the boat stuck in Iron Bay?”

“It belongs to some drug kingpins down in Mexico,” Captain Johnson replied.

I was in a monastery so I didn’t say what I was thinking.  But Captain Johnson had been dealing with the wrong people and was now in danger.  Probably, too, was the Mexican family.  And even Sister Dorothy or anyone else in the drug kingpins way.  There was no way to keep this quiet.  I also knew the penalties Captain Johnson was facing.  From what he told me, he was guilty of assisting illegal immigrants into the country, aiding gun and drug runners who were crossing international borders, and associating with known drug lords in Mexico.

“The dog and the cat were yours?”  I asked.

“Yes.  I’ve taken care of both since they were born, but I was not able to bring them along in the boat we took to get here.  I couldn’t get to my cabin to retrieve them before I had to leave the ship.”

“That’s the least of your problem anyway,” I told him.  “And the dog and cat are being well cared for.”

Sister Dorothy asked Tommy and me if we wanted any refreshments.  I shook my head.  I asked a few more questions but figured I wasn’t going to get any more information than I already had.  “Let’s walk up to the church,” I said to Sister Dorothy.  “I’d like to see what it looks like inside.”

“Certainly,” she replied.  “The doors are always open.  But first I have to put the children to bed and tell them a bedtime story.  Give me a few minutes.” 

Dorothy left the office to go upstairs.  I asked Captain Johnson where the boat left port in Mexico, but without Dorothy there he refused to say anything about the matter.  He did volunteer information about how he served in the navy for twenty years.  When I asked him what else he’d been doing since leaving the service, he only mentioned something about sailing around the world.  He said he had offers to work in the tourist industry, but he felt such an occupation was beneath him.  “So you worked with drug dealers instead?” I asked.  One thing I did understand: he had never been in trouble before.  Otherwise, it would not have been so easy for him to leave and reenter the country.

After about fifteen minutes, Tommy and I went upstairs to see why it was taking Dorothy so long.  Captain Johnson remained where he was at.  While walking down the corridors of the second floor we could hear giggling and laughing.  It was the only noise we could hear in the hallway as the children were in a separate room from their parents. 

When we were just outside of the door to the room where the children were staying, I could hear Eduardo, the young boy, saying a prayer.  “Jesusito de mi vida, eres niño como yo, por eso te quiero tanto, y te doy mi corazón,” he prayed.

Then I heard Dorothy join in with Sofia and Eduardo in saying another short prayer:

Cuatro esquinitas tiene mi cama,

cuatro angelitos guardan mi alma.

Con Dios me acuesto, con Dios me levanto,

con la Virgen Maria y el Espiritu Santo.

Dorothy opened the door and I could see inside the room which was barely lit by a candle.  I saw the two beds that the children were in with their mother, Maria, sitting on a chair besides them.  Dorothy said goodnight to them in Spanish and quietly shut the door.  She didn’t say anything to us as she escorted us back to the entryway.

On the way over to the church, Sister Dorothy explained to me about how much of the grounds was identical to when the Spaniards first were here.  The dome on the bell tower was completely original.  The same was true of the altar. 

We arrived at the front entrance, and Dorothy allowed for the two of us to enter first.  While dimly lit, I could still make out the interior.  I’m guessing that Tommy had seen the inside of the church before, but I had never seen anything like it.  It was extremely different from the austere Lutheran churches I had seen growing up in North Dakota.  The church at the mission was lavish and could have sat a thousand parishioners.  The frescos and stained-glass windows and icons depicting the nativity and the figure of the Virgin Mary were from a different faith and different era.  For whoever attended mass here, religion was the center of everything.

Dorothy pointed out a number of things about the stain glass and the altar.  After fifteen or twenty minutes, we came back outside to the steps of the church.  The lighting on the outside of the church actually made it easier for us to look at each other than when we were inside the chapel.  “I can see why you stay with the church,” I said to Dorothy.

“It’s glorious here, but that has nothing to do with why I wish to stay with the order.  Without each person carrying something inside them, this whole mission would be nothing but a series of empty buildings.  And that includes people like you, me, Captain Johnson, Juan and his family, and even Tommy Burns.”  Dorothy gave Tommy an amused look.

“I prefer being outside to attending services,” Tommy remarked.  “The coastal highways all along the Pacific coast are my sanctuary.”

“Tommy pretends to be a pagan, but he is really like the early Christians before we had monasteries or masses or bells ringing to tell the whole world our presence.  We could all learn from Tommy.”

“I’ve never heard Tommy described in that manner before.”

Tommy didn’t want to accept any labels someone else was attaching to him.  “I think of myself as an American and American only.  Not born to love prosperity but to love freedom and independence.  We can’t have all of these luxuries and have freedom as well.”

Dorothy looked out towards the ocean.  “American poetry is wonderful, Tommy” she said. “You get wild-eyed when you start talking about the Pacific.”  This made Tommy embarrassed.  “And I mean that with only the utmost affection.”

I sat down on the steps of the church.  I looked over at the seminary building where we earlier visited.  “So what were the prayers the children were saying?”

“Just a couple of prayers that children from Guanajuato like to say.  Eduardo said a prayer about how Jesus was a little boy just like him.  Then we all said a prayer about four little angels protecting every corner of the bed.”

“And what was all of the laughter about?”

“I told the children a story I’d heard during my travels to Mexico City.  It was a tale about a burro, so gentle and easy to ride, who some local rascals treated badly.”  Dorothy gestured theatrically as she recited to us the fairy tale.  “So devoted, sweet and kind was this little burro that during Christmas pageants and festivals, it was he that Mother Mary would ride during the trip into Bethlehem.  When not participating in festivals, the little burro would make his way up and down the main street of the little town.  Still, about a dozen young boys in the town known for causing trouble decided to make sport of the burro.  They did this by seeing how many of them could ride the burro at one time. 

“So the boys lined up.  First, one jumped up on the burro and then another jumped up upon him.  At first, the burro was very patient with the antics.  But after a third boy jumped on the burro, the poor little animal began to bray.  This only made the boys laugh while still another boy jumped on top of him.  Well even this sweet, gentle, kind burro could only take so much and he began to rear.  At first, the boys thought it was funny, but soon the burro reared so violently that the boys began to wonder if the creature was possessed.  They even began to imagine that the burro was getting larger and larger.  The burro began throwing the rapscallions off one at a time.  After he had thrown them all off, the bravest of the boys tried to approach him from behind, but the burro kicked up his hind legs to warn the boy away.  In doing so, the little burro broke wind.  I mean he really broke wind.  So hideous was the sulfur smell the burro emitted that the boys were now convinced it was the devil himself inside of the donkey. The young boys ran away and never caused problems again.” 

Dorothy gave a measured pause before concluding her telling of the story.  “I assured the children that the burro was a good burro and would never let himself be possessed by the devil.  It was just that even the most good and holy and saintly of all God’s creatures must break wind now and then.”

This was not the story I expected.  “And Maria had no problem with you telling the children that story?”

“She was the one laughing the most during the retelling.”

There was a cool breeze coming off the ocean and it felt pleasant sitting on the steps.  When no traffic came by on the nearby highway, I could even hear the waves splashing up on shore.  This was so very different from being in Los Angeles.  I could picture the homeless people from the big city lying down on these church steps and getting an actual rest.  “So do you believe that Juan will be all right?  I didn’t get a chance to see him.”

“I believe he will be fine,” Dorothy replied.

Tommy unwisely inserted himself into the conversation.  For once, he had been so quiet that I had almost forgotten he was there.  “I told you she was a nurse,” Tommy said.  “I brought Dorothy the supplies that she needed.”

“Which included?”

“Bandages, antiseptic, painkillers and other supplies.”

“And antibiotics?” I added.

Tommy didn’t answer because he already knew he had said too much.  And I didn’t have to ask where the supplies were from.  It was government stock.  Tommy could not have picked up those supplies from anywhere else.  Unauthorized use of these materials – especially the painkillers – was a federal offense.

“Didn’t you have a little history with drug use?” I asked Dorothy.  I figured under the circumstances, I had every right to ask her this.

“I’m doing my penance. Therefore I cannot use the supplies and drugs anyone generously provides for my own personal use.”

“So when was the last time you did use any such supplies for your personal use?”

“It’s been a while.  At the latest, I think it was last Wednesday.”

  I would have felt better if I knew she wasn’t making that up.  I wanted her to be straight with me.  I also knew that everyone I’d just spoken to concerning this matter was engaged in something illegal.  As part of my job, I was obliged to act.

Dorothy came over to my side and put her hand on my shoulder.  “I think I understand who you are,” she said.  “At least I can see the kind of person you are.  I think that you will do what you believe to be the right thing – even if it means reporting me.”

She squeezed my shoulder, walked down the steps and made her way back to the seminary.  Tommy and I watched her go.  Tommy was about to speak, but I did not want him to say anything.  He knew what kind of position he had placed me in.  Even so, after walking back to the parking lot and while I was opening my car door, he did try to explain things.  “Mike, let’s not end the evening on a bad note.  I know a nice little place in Carmel where we can have a couple of beers and talk things out.”

I just wanted to go back to the hotel and try to get some sleep.  I turned to face him.  “It’s going to take more than a couple of beers for me to figure out what were you thinking.  You knew about this before we even came out here.  Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Because it wouldn’t have convinced you to help.  I know you.  If I told you what was going on before we came, you’d already have immigration agents going through every room.  I also knew that Dorothy could do a better job of convincing you than I could.”

I leaned back against my car.  “And what am I expected to do?  Look the other way in this political climate?  I can’t change the thinking in Washington.  I’m not Vladimir Putin.”

That didn’t even get a laugh from Tommy.  “I’m not asking you to do anything about all the illegal immigrants in the country.  That’s too big of a fight.  But we have a family of four and a couple of good Samaritans trying to help them out.  Let’s just work on saving them.”  Tommy then spoke more quietly.  “Look, Mike.  You understand how to take quick action.  Nobody knows where anyone is at yet.  Maybe they’ll check some hospitals for shooting victims and forget about searching here.  Dorothy knows how to take care of Juan.  You’ve seen her for yourself.  She also understands the difficulties.  She just needs help from the outside so she can take care of the family.”

“You told me she was a drug addict.  I’m supposed to rely on someone like that?”

“That was close to twenty years ago.  The most she possibly does anymore is smoke a little medicinal marijuana and maybe take a Vicodin or two.  At the most.  And she would never jeopardize the health or safety of any patient by stealing their medication.”

I got in my car but opened the window.  “Tommy, while you may believe in redemption, I do not.  If people are capable of doing something once, they are always capable of doing it again.”

I knew there wasn’t any point arguing about this at the monastery.  This whole discussion was going to take too long, so I asked him where the establishment in Carmel was at.

Within a half an hour, we were in this small beer joint talking about how he got to know Dorothy.  Tommy drank beers with shots of bourbon, and he was drinking it down quickly.   Though he was willing to talk more than he should, I couldn’t keep him on topic.  Eventually, the conversation turned towards his relationship with Dorothy.  “We met when she was twenty or twenty-five.  I get mixed up on the dates, but she already had her nursing degree and had taken her vows.  Anyway, it was the first nun for me and I was the first man for her … I think.  But it was tough keeping it a secret.  She damn near broke my bed and practically woke up the whole neighborhood.”

“Okay, okay,” I replied trying to bring the conversation back to the present time.  “So how did she ever come to rely upon you for something like this?”

“Because I can’t say no to her.”  He said that with the innocence only Tommy could bring to a conversation.  “What else do you want me to say?”

I still had my first beer in front of me, and I had not even drunk a quarter of what was in the glass.  “I hired you on because I wanted someone that could say no to people.  You need to understand that.”

“I do know, I do know,” he said waiving his hand as if to dismiss what I just said.  “Don’t insult me.  But she’s a compassionate person.  Not helping someone would go against her nature.”

“And that compassionate nature will come in handy if you both are in jail.”  Tommy didn’t respond and instead called over for another beer.  “Okay, Tommy,” I continued, “what do you want me to say?  That everything’s not lost?  That these Mexican drug lords would have no idea where Captain Johnson would go, that he’s never talked to anyone about this nice nun he knows, and that nobody is going to tie him to Dorothy?  That the Mexican family is going to be able to hide in that sanctuary forever?  I can’t say those things.”

“It will take time before anyone finds them,” Tommy replied.  “Even if they think the family is seeking sanctuary in some church, there must be more than twenty missions up and down the California coast – let alone all of the other churches across the entire state of California.  So we have time.  And so long as Captain Johnson has no outstanding warrants on him, he can move here and there as he pleases.  But the family is the issue.  They get in a car, get pulled over, and everything comes to an end for them.  They either end up in some detention center or are returned to Mexico.”

What Tommy was giving me was propaganda straight from Dorothy’s mouth.  Tommy didn’t come up with that by himself.  “Tommy, I didn’t promise I’d help out.  You already knew something about what was going on before we even came up here.  And then you go deliver her supplies?” 

Tommy guzzled down the beer that just arrived and he was now sulking.  “I never said you had to involve yourself.”

I was going to reply that it was a little late concerning my involvement, but I left it unsaid.  Instead, I asked,  “Are you going to be able to ride home?  You could have ridden with me.  That would have made more sense.”

“I’ve ridden this entire coast in worse shape than this.”  I’m guessing he was telling the truth.  “Besides, I wasn’t sure if I was still going to have my job after you found out about this.”

I stood up, walked up to the bar and handed over thirty dollars to take care of the tab.  Up until now, I believed in Tommy’s loyalty to me.  Now I could see he was even more devoted to someone else.  I returned to the table where Tommy was sitting.  “Sleep in tomorrow,” I said.  “There’s really nothing to do until around noon when the engineers tell us how they think they can get the ship out of the harbor.  But don’t bring me any more problems.”

I walked out of the saloon and back to my car.

The next day was Thursday.  The engineers told me around midmorning that the ship in the harbor seemed operational, though there really wasn’t any way to know that for sure until they got the boat back out in open waters.  But operational or not, they said it would float if pulled by toll cables.

Since I told Tommy not to arrive until noon and since there wasn’t much else to do for the time being, I decided to take a walk through the village of Iron Bay.  Everything about Iron Bay resembled a sea community right down to the vendors on the boardwalk next to the beach.  As I walked along the boardwalk I came upon a fruit stand and saw Sister Dorothy.  She was facing in the other direction from me, and seemed to be contemplating what to purchase.  Even though she was not wearing her habit, I knew it was her.  I suppose Dorothy was dressed appropriately enough for a nun in casual attire, but there was no mistaking her for a tourist.  She was wearing a navy blue summer dress with a skirt that came down just below the knees.   She was also wearing sandals and a black scarf.  Without her coif, her dark reddish hair hung down loosely to around the middle of her back.  She picked out two oranges and turned around facing me like she knew I was there all along.  “Hello, hello,” she said and smiled.  “I was hoping to find you here.  There’s a park bench just down on the end of the walkway.  Would you join me there?  We can eat our oranges and look out at the ocean.”

We walked together about two hundred yards to the bench in question.  On the way, I asked her about her about not wearing a habit in public.  She stopped and turned towards me.  “I have my crucifix with rosary beads,” she said pointing at it with her finger.  “Though frowned upon by my other sisters, what I wear fits my particular circumstances.  Today is one of those days where casual dress seemed more appropriate.”  While we went on with our walk, Dorothy continued with her explanation.  “There’s been a debate for decades regarding whether the public respects the nun’s outfit, or respects the person inside of the habit.  There shouldn’t even be an argument.”

When we reached the bench, Dorothy sat down and crossed her legs.  She did that with the poise and balance of a Hollywood starlet sitting down in a chair for an important audition.  Her legs were surprisingly comely, and I think she was hoping I would notice that.  But they were also the legs of a woman who had walked many, many miles.   “I think I need to make amends,” she began after I also sat down.  “I believe I caused a rift between you and my dear Tommy.”

“We’re grown boys,” I said shaking my head.  “We can get by this.”

“And sometimes boys are more sensitive than we can ever imagine.  Especially Tommy.”  Dorothy handed me one of the oranges.  She looked out at the water and began peeling her orange.  She discarded the peels in a paper bag.  We had the entire Pacific Ocean in front of us.  There were also a number of seagulls beginning to assemble.   Some were scouring the shores.  Others were diving from the sky into the ocean and quickly ascending, searching for food.  Still others were flying a long distance out over the ocean.  Dorothy was watching their doings with interest.  I didn’t want to interrupt her pleasure, but I felt if I didn’t we would be sitting on that park bench all day.  I was about to say something, but she then spoke up.  “My ancestors came from Ireland to America by way of Australia.  Prisoners of the Brits,” she commented.  “So I guess it’s only fitting that I’m now stationed in California.”

 “Where are you originally from?”

“Too many places,” she replied turning to me.  “I was born in Milwaukee, but moved at least a half dozen times before I graduated from high school.”

“Your father was in the military?”

“No,” she said sadly.  “He did try to enlist, but they wouldn’t let him in because of his criminal record.”  I was beginning to wonder if she wasn’t making all of this up.  Dorothy looked at me and tilted her head to one side.  She seemed to understand what I was thinking.  “I’m guessing you’re absolutely above board when it comes to doing your job.  You’re not much for disobeying rules, are you?”

“Never even had a parking ticket.”

She turned her head away.  “That’s not the same thing as saying you never disobey the rules.”

“No, it’s not the same.  But I don’t knowingly disobey the rules.”

“And you work with a group as straight-laced as you are?  With the exception of Tommy?”

“Until last night, I’ve always trusted Tommy.”

Dorothy ate a slice of her orange.  She seemed to relish the taste.  “Please do understand I did not mean to cause problems.  I think you’re a good person, but I need to be cautious.  And I don’t think you judge people too harshly – even those like me who cause trouble.”  She kept speaking between consuming orange slices.  “I know you’re worried about my past.  But my past is not my whole story.” 

“I never said it was.  But I’m also not sure why that’s relevant right now.”

She then held up her crucifix for me to see.  When I looked at it, all I could see was an intricate design.  “We were talking about my father.  My father bought this for me after acquittal for one of his arrests.  Perhaps the only acquittal.  He was so grateful to not have to go to jail that he bought me this cross.  I’ve cherished it and my father ever since.”  She finished the last slice of her orange.  “And as part of joining the order we also wear a ring.  The ring symbolizes our marriage to the church.  But I hardly ever wear it.  The way I earned the ring still has no personal significance for me as does this crucifix.  The ring wasn’t handed mysteriously to me in a way that gives it distinction.” 

“Meaning what?  You don’t feel married to your job?”  I meant that to be cynical, but I came to regret saying it.

Dorothy looked at my hand.  “I notice there’s no ring on your finger, either.  With your blonde curls, blue eyes, responsible position and money that would seem impossible – unless you were either married to your work.”

She was perceptive.  “So you were planning on meeting me?” I asked.  “When you turned to greet me by the fruit stand, it was like you expected to see me there.”

“Yes, because I need your advice.  If you don’t mind, let me ask you a hypothetical question about our situation.”

“I’m not always so good at hypotheticals.”

She ignored my remark and continued.  “Let’s suppose I really have no intentions of cooperating with authorities.  And just suppose I was thinking what I should do.  I could move Juan and his family around to different locations in the monastery so they’re never in the same location two evenings in a row.  Being about two-hundred-fifty-years-old, the monetary has a few thousand hiding places.  But I probably can’t do that because of Juan’s health.  So I was thinking that maybe I could find someone to supply the family with identity papers – papers that nobody would ever know were fake.  Maybe a government official who could get them for me?  The papers would say the family had been in the United States for years and would show they were here legally?  Would that cause any issues?”

Dorothy turned to me with a questioning gaze.   “I’m not in love with you like Tommy is,” I replied.

“Nor am I asking you to be.”  Dorothy let out a sigh.  “I’m not sure you have a very high opinion of me in any case.” 

I was trying to figure her out.  She either didn’t understand that there was little possibility I could trust her, or she was willing to gamble on me to do something I’d never done before.  “My opinion of you isn’t the issue.  You seem to be under the impression that we’re legally obligated to grant sanctuary just because Captain Johnson and the family are hidden away in a church.  That’s not the case.  Captain Johnson hauled drug runners into this country.  It’s a mere courtesy on my part that I’m not hauling them out of there right now.”

“Courtesy to me or to the church?” she asked.  I didn’t reply.  “But you must be weighing your options,” she continued.  “Otherwise the mission would already be searched.”

I shook my head.  “No, I’m not weighing anything.  It just doesn’t look good on television handcuffing people in a monastery.  Look how hard it already is arresting priests for what’s going on all over.”

Dorothy sat up straight.  It was the first time I got a rise out of her as I could see tears coming to her eyes.  It seemed her mood could change as spectacularly as the waves striking the rocks on the edge of the cove.  “I certainly hope you are not comparing what I’m doing now to that,” she said.  “I have a reputation for disobedience because I’m so often at crosshairs with the church.  It wasn’t my choice to get a Catholic education.  I was sent there.  I was a wild child, resentful of authority.  I still am I suppose.  When I was around ten years old, my father was put away in jail and my mother told me he might be gone for over a year.  So that day in school, while thinking about my father, I started crying.  One of the sisters teaching class that day, without asking me what was wrong, came over and slapped me.”  Dorothy then paused for a moment.  “The rotten things going on in the church never turned me away from my faith.  It only made me more determined to be the kind of nun that would never harm those in my care.”  Dorothy took a handkerchief from her purse to dry her eyes.  While I didn’t doubt she was trying to manipulate me, she seemed absolutely sincere in what she was saying. 

“So why stay in the church?”

“It won’t make sense to you.  But how I’ve lived my life – sometimes successfully and more often unsuccessfully, which includes the liaisons and smoking pot and talking back ... I’ve done in hopes of growing closer to God.  Not to church authority.  I’m hoping I can do some good here.”

Dorothy sat back and again crossed her legs.   “What the authorities would do with Juan and his family is wrong,” she continued.  “Juan and Maria have worked hard to bring their children to America, and they have to do so by sneaking in on a boat.  The family has paid its price, and Juan has the wound to show for it.  And they have two wonderful children who would be sent back to a life with no future.” 

“And so what do we do about Captain Johnson?”

Dorothy looked down in front of her and said quietly, “You mean turn him over and put him in jail?  He made a mistake and broke some laws.  But look at the penalties.  Not at the hands of the courts but from the drug lords.  They hold him responsible for a drug deal gone wrong and the loss of a boat.  Put Captain Johnson away and the drug lords will make certain he never comes out.  That’s what you want to see happen?  He was trying to save lives!”

I understood now why she came to me.  She needed me.  Dorothy was smart enough to know what actions to take, but she needed someone like me who could keep this matter quiet.  And I also would know what actions to take if everything did not go as planned.  Tommy was not capable of doing that.  “Look, I’m not promising anything,” I said in a soft tone to convey that I had made no decision.  “You’re asking me to do something I’ve never done for anyone.”

“I understand.”

“And don’t be talking about this to Tommy, either.”

“Mum’s the word,” she replied and put her finger to her lips.  She said that like a young teenager making a promise to another to never reveal a secret.  I gave her a look.  “So what’s wrong?” she asked apparently seeing my expression.

“What’s wrong is I doubt you’ve heard a word I’ve said.  What’s wrong is you probably don’t understand the consequences.  What’s wrong is you’re a world saver.  Like the rest of your kind, the world will eventually turn upon you.”

  “I suppose so.”  It appeared I hurt her feelings. 

“And I don’t mean disrespect in saying that.  I have to say these things because what you are trying to do will likely have a high price tag.  You’re living a quiet, serene life.  What you’re trying to do could cost you all of that.  You’re trying to keep something secret when there are no secrets anymore.  Everyone knows what everybody else is doing.”

I think she actually heard me.  At least she didn’t make a response.  After sitting there quietly for a minute or so, she reached over and took my hand.  I wasn’t sure what to make of it or what she was doing.  “If I make a move on you, please remind me of my vows,” she whispered.

She remained holding my hand and closed her eyes.  I realized then that she was saying a prayer.  That made me feel uncomfortable.  After a minute or so of silence I said: “I have to go back to work.  Tommy should be getting over his hangover about right now.  We will have to talk later, but I will also need a physical description of each member of Juan’s family.  Height, weight, approximate ages, that kind of things.  There might be other things I’ll need to know as well.”

She let go of my hand – it seemed reluctantly.  “Thank you,” she remarked.  “And you will get back to me soon with your answer?”

“It will have to be soon,” I replied.

After taking out a small notebook from her purse, she wrote down a telephone number, tore the page out and handed it to me.  I handed her my business card.  Then, I walked back down the walkway while Dorothy remained sitting on the bench.

**

"A Ship Run Aground" can be read in its entirety in The Event: Iron Bay, available from Amazon. https://www.amazon.com/Event-Iron-Bay-Steve-Metcalf/dp/1719024286 Blog cover photo by Dimitris Vetsikas via Pixabay.