Who could be knocking at this time of the night? Father Hernandez angrily thought. One of his parishioners could be in emotional or spiritual distress. It might be Jerome Bellows. The priest had counseled him during the last several months for his recently deceased wife. Then Agatha Pannetti came to mind. Recently diagnosed with advanced lung cancer, she had requested special prayers and rosaries for healing health, asking the Father to research a patron saint for intercessions.
The Father’s anger subsided. He was upset at himself for having entertained indignant thoughts. Still, he questioned whether it couldn't have waited until daylight. Glancing at the wall clock, he noted 3:10 a.m. Tying off the belt of his robe, he approached the front door, turned on the porch light, and moved the curtain on the door window to view his visitor. It was Bishop Andrew Grielle, his mentor and the Diocese superintendent.
“Your Excellency?” Father Hernandez exclaimed while opening the door. “What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to disturb you so early in the morning Father Hernandez,” Bishop Grielle responded as he worked his way into the parsonage and sat on the ample rust-colored leather armchair in the living room before he was invited into the house. “We have a situation. I'm not sure if you heard about what transpired at the funeral home yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes, evidently there was a visitation with tragic consequences. We’re still sorting out the details with nothing yet officially released. You know your Excellency, if this is true, it could have some very serious ramifications for the Church.”
“I’m well aware of the ramifications. The same as I was when the millions disappeared, including much of the clergy and church leadership.”
“What’s the Church’s stance on what’s happened?”
“That’s why I’m here. There’s no official position at this time until we investigate this more.”
“I don't understand?”
Bishop Grielle gave a heavy sigh while looking around the living room, unsure of his next statement. He focused his attention back to Father Hernandez. “I'll get straight to the point. How much do you know about angels?”
“I wrote several dissertations while in seminary and a few essays several years ago when the eulogy supposedly began.”
“Yes, his Eminence noted he read some of your work and found them quite intriguing. A couple quite controversial if I remember right.”
“Many did find them controversial. I attempted to bring up alternative points of view to my own as well as those of traditional church teachings, everything from when they were created to their purported roles and functions. I even began an initial examination as to the importance and possible meaning of their names. By questioning our beliefs, I truly believe we solidify and ratify them.”
“Hmmm, and from my understanding, you never partook of a visitation during any funeral services you presided over since this whole angel affair started?”
“No.”
“Good, because of that, I believe that’ll work well in keeping you objective. I need you to investigate what may have happened on behalf of the Church.”
“Shouldn't this be done formally with the ...”
Bishop Grielle interrupted, crossing his leg and taking the unyielding position of sitting back in the chair with his hands behind his head. “We need to keep this as informal as possible. We don’t need to bring attention to what you’ll be doing.”
“I'm sorry. I still don't understand your Excellency.”
“You must attempt to find out if there was a visitation, and why this evil has befallen those poor souls.”
“I'm not sure if I have that level of expertise. I've been here for years at Our Lady of the Light serving as a modest pastor. Wouldn't this be better suited for someone in the Diocese hierarchy instead of me?”
“While communicating with his Eminence, we decided we didn't want to involve those with preconceived religious political viewpoints on what is happening,” Bishop Grielle answered. “Besides, we’ll be assigning someone to work with you who’s a bit more experienced. She'll be meeting you later today.”
“She?” Father Hernandez asked, unconsciously raising an eyebrow.
“Sister Justine Dawson. You'll find her background to be extremely beneficial to your investigation. I’m going to ask you to humble yourself and follow her lead if need be.”
Father Hernandez was a little agitated by the bishop's comments. “You presume I'm going to undertake this investigation.”
“Understand I would like for you to take this on voluntarily. If need be, take this as you being strongly induced and persuaded by his Eminence and myself.”
“Not to be obstinate, I still believe I’m not,” Father Hernandez said, emphasizing the word not, “the best person for this. There’s just too much that I don't know.”
“That’s why you’re well suited for this. Your objectivity will help guide you to discover a true clarification of what did happen. Realize this, there are things you may learn that I cannot pass on to you at this time. During your investigation, Cardinal Millhouse noted you’d find out things that you’ll need to keep to yourself. You must not question what you do find but report back to us immediately.”
“I don't know if I can agree to that your Excellency.”
“There is one thing I will tell you. It appears several members of the congregation from your sister parish passed away in the incident. Two were prominent long-term deacons.”
Father Hernandez's eyes widened from the shock. “Holy Mother of God. How many from St. Augustine's perished?”
“From initial news reports, 98 souls in all were lost. We estimate 20 to 25 from St. Augustine. However, the deacons are of most concern.”
“What were their names?” Father Hernandez asked.
“Morgan Bradfield and William Sumner; they were active in the parish. More important, they and the company they worked for were instrumental in working on significant endeavors for the Church.”
“What company?”
“Everest International Bio-Medical Group.” Bishop Grielle saw Father Hernandez didn’t understand the significance. “They were working on ways to produce inexpensive vaccines for underdeveloped countries and lower income families here in the United States. And they sponsored and funded several free clinics here in the city.”
“And what of Father Gates? Was he officiating the funeral?”
Bishop Grielle scratched his balding head and sunk deep in the chair. “Jeffrey Bradfield, the decedent, was a Protestant. He was never confirmed in the Church. His own pastor officiated the ceremony. Father Gates wanted to attend in support of his parishioners.”
“So then he's fine?”
The bishop rubbed his forehead with the fingertips of his hand as if giving himself a massage. “On the way to funeral home, he came across an accident and stopped to render help. A pickup truck traveling in the opposite direction was carrying a tire that wasn't properly tied down in the back. The truck hit a bump, which hurled the tire from the rear of the truck, and then it rolled, bounced down the shoulder, jumped the median, and struck Father Gates, who was assisting one of the accident victims. He was killed instantly.”