The sun-beaten-green taxi pulled up to the weatherworn Spanish-colonial-style church. Two new, 12-feet-tall, elaborately engraved wooden doors, in contrast to the rustic appearance of the edifice, stood majestically atop 12 aged concrete steps. The cab driver emptied the luggage and gear onto the sidewalk. A tanned, thin Hispanic man, no older than 26 or 27, came out to greet his American guests. His priestly collar, almost too large for his neck, did not fit snuggly or comfortably. If Father Hernandez, Michael, and Sister Justine had anticipated someone older, they were forced to remember that since the disappearance, many parishes had been emptied except for a few remaining members of the congregation, clergy and staff. In other churches, nearly all the congregation remained, yet the clergy and staff disappeared. Many of the remaining priests abandoned the Church, as had Michael. Many of the open positions at local parishes were first filled by clergy from other countries with an excess. Positions in the upper echelons went unfilled for years until replacements for vacant junior positions were recruited and trained. As the new pope had noted during a formal announcement from the succeeding “Council of Paris: Elected Survivors”, their mission was to ensure that both the elected and the remaining faithful sheep continued to be shepherded.
The young priest came down the stairs reaching out to shake each of their hands and greeted his guests with what each took to be a genuine smile, with a firm handshake. “Welcome my friends. I’m Father Victorio Manuel Esteban Dominguez. I received the email from Cardinal Millhouse and Bishop Grielle informing us of your visit. Bishop Listanos and I just want to say we’re available for anything you need.”
Father Hernandez reciprocated the greeting. “We appreciate your hospitality Father. We promise not to be a burden.”
“The Cardinal and Bishop weren't quite clear as to why exactly you’re here. The email said you’re doing some historical research on one of the previous supernatural eulogy events.”
The three reached to grab their luggage, but Father Dominguez stopped them before they could lift any of the pieces. “Don't worry about your luggage, one of the church volunteers will be out in a moment to take it to the visitors’ parsonage. Will you need transportation or anything else for tomorrow?”
“Yes, we'd like to head out to Our Lady of Hope in the El Refugio region.”
Father Dominguez's jovial expression became stone-faced. “You're here to investigate the tragic event of ten years ago? There are those here in the city who still talk about it, especially since what happened in your country recently.”
“Well, we're not sure if we're gonna find anything,” Sister Justine commented.
“Wasn't there a team here ten years ago? I remember a couple of our older parishioners talking about it. They said the team acted more like an old married couple than clergy or church representatives.”
Michael felt he needed to comment. “Myself and Sister Justine were that team, padre.”
Father Dominguez was not sure how to react. “Oh. Sorry. Maybe you can tell me more of what happened, and what's going on, over dinner. Let's go ahead and get the three of you settled in.”