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On Friday morning, in the lower level family room of the Tracey’s Farmington Hills tri-level, Zack and Jennifer were preparing for the Downtown press conference scheduled for later in the day. Jake and Kenny were sent to sleep over at Aunt Lynne’s house. They’d be in safe hands and have ample recreational options. Lynne, Jennifer’s sister, had four sons, ranging in age from eight to fifteen years old. Lynne and Jennifer’s boys were good buddies. Jennifer’s boys always welcomed a sleepover at Aunt Lynne’s, until the infamous camping trip. While the suggestion this time did not spark the usual excitement in her boys, Jake and Kenny did appear enthusiastic about the sleepover and the idea of quality time with their cousins.
“Jenny, the boys would love to see Jake and Kenny. How are they doing?” Lynne wondered.
“Reasonably well, all things considered,” Jennifer reflected.
“Jen . . . I don’t mean to pry . . . but . . . what exactly happened with the priest?”
“Lynne, I really don’t want to—”
“Come on, Jenny. I don’t want to find out from the papers. What did that son-of-a-bitch do to my nephews?”
Lynne’s motives weren’t totally pure. She wanted the gossip, but she was right. She should know before the general public, so Jennifer laid it all out for her. It wasn’t any easier this time.
Lynne was floored. “Has this guy done this before?”
“We don’t know. We think so. We’re hiring an investigator.”
“I’ll bet he has, the scumbag. I suppose you’ve seen the light and given up this obsession you have with religion?” Lynne groused.
“I am not obsessed, and religion has nothing to do with this. Father Jon has been very supportive, and so have the families at Lakes.”
“Jenny, if you weren’t religious, this never would have happened. I certainly wouldn’t send my kids on a camping trip with some pervert priest,” Lynne argued.
“Lynne, ‘perverts,’ as you call them, come in all shapes, sizes, professions, and religions. This could have just as easily been your boys’ baseball coach or teacher,” Jennifer retorted.
“But it wasn’t, was it? They won’t let these priests have normal relationships, and that attracts a unique element to the priesthood,” Lynne persisted.
“Thank you, Dr. Lynne,” Jennifer chuckled.
“You can be a smartass if you want, but you need to get a life away from the church,” Lynne insisted.
“How much do you charge for this advice? I didn’t need a therapist; I could have hired my sister,” Jennifer mocked.
Lynne softened. “Very funny. As long as I’m giving advice, do you really think going public with this thing is going to be good for the boys? Haven’t they been through enough? They’re going to take a lot of abuse once the details are disclosed.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve had second thoughts, but Dr. Rothenberg believes a public airing of Gerry’s crimes might actually help the boys. I’ve asked the boys, and that’s how they want to proceed.”
“But you could talk them out of it. The boys take the lead from you. I don’t think I would embarrass them in public like this.”
Jennifer was fed up with the conversation. “You’re my older sister, and I love you, but the last thing I need is a bunch of I-told-you-so’s or this-couldn’t-happen-to-me. I certainly don’t need you telling me what you would or wouldn’t do. I’m going to hang up now. Will you watch the kids or not?” she demanded.
“You’re right, Jen, of course,” she capitulated. “I’m sorry. You’re going through hell, and I’m pontificating instead of being compassionate,” Lynne admitted.
“Pontificating? Interesting choice of words for a nonbeliever,” Jennifer chuckled.
They both laughed, and the tension that had developed between them evaporated as it often did during their childhood arguments. Their mom used to say, “One minute, you’re mortal enemies, and the next, you love each other.”
“Maybe I’m closet religious.” Lynne laughed. “Of course, I’ll watch the boys. Being with my boys will do them some good.”
“Thanks, Lynne. I’m sorry if I seemed harsh.”
“Nonsense, I deserved it.”
“You’re right. You did.”
Both ladies laughed again, uttered their goodbyes, and hung up. Jennifer wondered why the church was where she turned for help before her own sister. Perhaps, that was what Lynne was referring to. Perhaps . . .
“Jenny?” Zack brought her back to the here and now from far away. “Where were you this time?”
“I was replaying a phone conversation I had last night with my sister. Zack, I sought help from the church before my own sister. Isn’t that weird?”
“I don’t think so, Jenny, unless your sister’s a therapist or something. I’d expect to get more help from someone who counsels others for a living, like Father Jon.”
“I guess you’re right, but I sensed Lynne was somewhat hurt.”
“Well, that’s her problem, and it’s a lot less of a problem than those you and your boys are facing.”
“You’re right again.”
Zack, as was his habit lately, was making her feel better. She appreciated Lynne’s concern, but she’d handle the situation her own way.
“Jenny? There you go again.” He snapped her out of it again. “We have a couple of hours before we head downtown. Do you want to go over it again?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No!”
“But, Jenny—”
“Zack, we’ve been over and over this ‘dealing with the press’ business. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Just remember, if you don’t want to answer a question posed to you, look over to me—”
“I know, Zack.” She interrupted him. “You’ll answer it for me.”
“If they ask you about the boys—”
“They’re going through hell, but they’re tough kids. They’re getting excellent therapy, and we’re very hopeful. Still, to have something like this happen at this time in their lives . . .”
This time it was Zack who interrupted. “Coupled with the loss of their father and Father Bill . . .”
“I know, Zachary! I know,” Jennifer snapped.
“What’s wrong, Jenny?”
“I don’t know, Zack. I guess I’m having second thoughts about this publicity thing.”
“Why?”
“I’m just not sure it’s right for the boys,” she moaned.
“Dr. Rothenberg seems to think it may help the boys.”
“Psychology is not an exact science, Zack. He doesn’t know it will help. He sets up scenarios and deals with the results. He doesn’t deal with prevention. He deals in solutions after the development of a problem,” she reasoned.
“Thank you, Dr. Tracey.”
“I said the same thing to my sister, only I called her ‘Dr. Lynne’.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, she called me a smartass,” Jennifer teased.
“I get the message. Jenny, it’s not too late to cancel the press conference,” Zack offered.
“Yes, it is, Zack. I allowed the boys to decide, and they want to go forward. I trust Dr. Rothenberg’s judgment. I wish I had a crystal ball and knew things would turn out all right.”
“A magic wand would be better.” He smiled warmly and took her hand in his.
“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling back at him. “I could wave it and make all of this go away like it never happened.”
Zack was gently caressing her hand. It had been a long time since a man had caressed her in any way. It was nice. Her eyes met his. Blue like mine, she thought. Zack was a handsome man. Under different circumstances . . .
“There you go again.”
“What?”
“Wandering off somewhere.”
“I wasn’t wandering. I was looking . . . at your eyes. You have nice eyes.”
She couldn’t believe the words came out of her mouth. The timing sucked.
“Back at you,” Zack stuttered, surprised and somewhat embarrassed.
He’s blushing. So cute . . . stop, Tracey. He’s your kids’ lawyer. The case is our number one priority. Get your mind back on this afternoon’s business.
“So, Jenny . . .” Zack returned to matters at hand. “Yes or no to the press conference?”
“Yes.”
“Let me do the talking unless they ask you a direct question. Even then, wait to see if it’s a question I want you to answer. Take a deep breath, count to five. I’ll chime in before five seconds are up to save the day.”
“Ah, my knight in shining armor.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m glad I didn’t fire you, Zack.”
“So am I, Jen. So am I. Let’s get going.”
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